#Singularity X ooc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purple-plum-petals · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Is it okay if I ask for another homicipher fic? I just got all the endings, and I'm obsessed. What about Scarletta trying to be physically affectionate with MC after seeing how protective Mr. Crawling is with them (perhaps even secretly peeking/knowing how often the crawling man hugged you, you two petting or shaking each other's heads, and using the word "cute" on each other.) I need Scarletta jealous 🫣

⊱ Blood-stained Lips ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore and Specifically Scarletella Rain Ending), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror Elements), Mild Jealousy, Slightly Suggestive. Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Light Angst (Hurt/Comfort), Pre-established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,140 words Request: “Hi! Is it okay if I ask for another homicipher fic? I just got all the endings, and I'm obsessed. What about Scarletta trying to be physically affectionate with MC after seeing how protective Mr. Crawling is with them (perhaps even secretly peeking/knowing how often the crawling man hugged you, you two petting or shaking each other's heads, and using the word "cute" on each other.) I need Scarletta jealous 🫣” Author’s Note: Okay so, like… Mr. Scarletella is probably one of the more nerve-wracking characters for me to write for, but I absolutely adored this ask, so I gave writing him in drabble format a shot! (It’s also pretty funny how the fandom has unanimously agreed that Mr. Crawling and Mr. Scarletella would not get along and would be actively antagonistic toward each other lmao). I think his dynamic with the MC is fascinating… the whole parasocial relationship the two of them have going on throughout the game is such a unique choice (love the simp energy he gives off, too, since I wasn’t expecting that from his character haha). This ended up being kind of suggestive at the end?? Nothing too crazy or anything, just him being very happy about being able to touch you. Anyway, I hope this isn’t too OOC – enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

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Even though his memories had been forgotten, parts of himself and his identity erased after you successfully defeated him, Mr. Scarletella occasionally found himself thinking of moments he couldn’t even recall witnessing.

In his mind, he sees you with another resident of the realm, their long black hair cascading down their form while their laugh echoes through an empty corridor. He sees their fingers threading through your hair, moving their hands up and down along your scalp, and tousling your locks…

Mr. Scarletella hears your laughter fill the space, too. The sound is light and airy, and he finds his chest tightening at the hazy memory. It’s an uncomfortable feeling and certainly was not one he enjoyed experiencing. It almost felt like knives being shoved repeatedly into his torso, a stinging and aching sensation that spread throughout his entire body from a singular point.

Almost absentmindedly, his hand comes to rest on the left side of his chest, the side where a heart would be located if he possessed one like you did. Mr. Scarletella hears a gentle murmur interrupt his thoughts, a noise that cuts through the fog in his mind like a saw slicing through flesh and sinew.

“You okay?” Your voice echoes, and his pitch-black eyes dart down to meet with yours. You’re holding a red umbrella – his very heart and soul – in your hands. Your hold isn’t painful, nor is it gentle. It was perfect, just like you, he thought to himself.

Rain drips down the water-resistant material of the umbrella that was permanently stained a bright, bloody red, and it falls onto the clear rubber of your raincoat before sliding down your form. Both the umbrella and your coat effectively keep your body dry from the elements. Mr. Scarletella, on the other hand, was completely soaked, having no issue walking beside you while the rain clung to his clothing and chilled his skin.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat of your body spreading throughout his chest and warming his form from the inside out. Oh, how happy he would be if the small flame within him sparked into something more, forming a fiery inferno inside his body. Even if you were to burn him, set an uncontrollable blaze within him that only left an empty husk behind, he would be content.

Your brows are furrowed while you crane your neck back to look at him, the sound of rain around the two of you, effectively breaking up the long stretch of silence. He was acting a bit strange today, you thought to yourself. While the man dressed in red was never really normal in the conventional sense, he was much more quiet today than usual.

Mr. Scarletella’s gaze used to be immensely nervewracking, his hollow stare once being able to cause the hair on the back of your neck to stand on edge, but you had grown used to it after spending so much time together. The two of you were in your old realm, the one you left behind to stay in the other world. You were fairly close to the haunted apartments he used to call his home and the site where you would dump the bodies of anyone unfortunate to cross your path… The start of everything that led you to where you are now.

“You quiet… What you thinking about?” You ask him, shifting the hold of the umbrella in your hand to the other. You hadn’t brought your weapon today, wanting to give Mr. Scarletella a chance to experience a “typical” date, one that didn’t consist of violence and murder for a change. However, he had been in a daze since the two of you arrived, and that was somewhat out of character for him.

Shifting your stance to better face him, your feet sink slightly into the mud beneath you. You look down at your boot-clad feet and frown. While you had grown used to being in a constant state of uncleanliness since the other world didn’t have showers readily or easily available, it was still quite annoying to clean mud from the soles of your shoes. This was the type of mud that threatened to pull your shoe from your foot if you were to try tugging on it, but you pushed your frustration to the side to focus on the man in front of you.

Mr. Scarletella hums and reaches his hand out to your head, placing his palm against your hair, and you freeze. Your hair sticks to his deathly cold hand, almost as if static electricity was coursing through his fingers.

It was soft under his skin, your hair, yet he could feel that some knots had begun to form near the base of the strands. Then, he begins to rub his hand back and forth, effectively messing your hair up even more. Your mind blanks at his sudden movement, the action reminding you of Mr. Crawling.

“Why… you touch me?” You ask, staring up at him as the rain begins to fall even harder, your grip on the umbrella in your hand tightening around the handle. The rain was so heavy that you could barely see into the distance, the horizon completely covered in a thick, gray mist. A sudden gust of wind blew Mr. Scarletella’s red hair, and within his usually hollow eyes swirled something you had never seen within them before.

It reminded you of a storm rolling in across the ocean waves, a variety of emotions spiraling within his ashen irises. His hand never once leaves your body, instead sliding down the side of your head to cup your cheek in his palm. Whenever he touched you, it felt like TV static against your flesh, and you could see white-and-black dots begin to dance across your vision as a light hum filled your ears.

Mr. Scarletella’s flesh is cold, and it reminds you of a corpse the chill his touch leaves in its wake. His head tilts to one side and he whispers to you, his voice barely audible above the rain crashing around you, “I want you – want to touch you.”

Before you can even speak or formulate a response to his words, he quickly pulls his hand away from your skin. It felt like you had burnt him, yet he found himself not minding the stinging sensation that danced across his flesh. His hand dropped lifelessly to his side before he muttered an apologetic, “Sorry. Shouldn’t have touched you.”

After taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you shake your head and tell him, “...You okay,” before turning on your heel to walk away. You glance at him over your shoulder, his form becoming further soaked from the storm. It was kind of amusing, you thought, seeing such a previously powerful entity look like a stray, sopping-wet cat.

Eventually, you gesture for him to come with one hand, the order of, “Follow me.” coming out of your lips, loud enough for him to hear.

He teleports to you before you can even finish your sentence, staring down at you with those unnerving eyes of his as he waits to see where you want to go. A huff of air forces its way out of your nose, chuckling at his obedience before you lightly graze his hand with your nails. It’s strange touching him, his form more like an illusion than a body made of flesh and blood.

The two of you make your way across the waterlogged fields and flooded, muddy roads. Your footsteps splash in the puddles beneath you as you walk while Mr. Scarletella moves without making a single noise, merely a ghost in this world. Soon, however, the abandoned apartments come into view, and you lead him inside the old concrete structure.

You pause as soon as your feet make contact with the cracked floor of the building, making sure that you can’t hear the sound of another living being within the hollow corridors. You close the umbrella when nothing catches your attention, making sure to shake it a few times to try and remove the raindrops that have accumulated on its surface. You watch as the water falls to the ground, making small, dark grey circles on the concrete.

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as Mr. Scarletella watches you in return while holding the umbrella, waiting patiently for you to say something as a shiver runs down his spine. His hands that were hanging at his sides were closed, and he was clenching and unclenching his fingers almost like he was fighting the urge to place his palms against your skin once more.

You can’t help but chuckle at his demeanor, placing the now-closed umbrella down so it was leaning against the wall. You do the same, leaning back on the wall before you hold your arms out to him, saying with a small smirk, “You can touch me.”

You jumped slightly at the speed at which he appeared in front of you. His body hunched over yours while he watched your expression intently, his black eyes partially hidden behind the thick curtain of red hair that cast shadows across his sickly complexion. Mr. Scarletella places his palm on your head, telling you smoothly, “Thank you.”

One of his hands begins to tentatively pat your skull while he enjoys the feeling of your hair against his palm. Then, his other hand soon joins, and you close your eyes while you allow him to pat you like a dog. It felt a bit demeaning in a way, but also strangely comforting, and it reminded you of one of the friendliest residents of the other world you had met.

Your eyes flutter shut almost out of habit, allowing the man in front of you to enjoy the rare moment with you. His hands started out resting against the top and sides of your head, the movement of palms against your hair causing it to become messy and sticking up because of the static he created.

Then, they tentatively travel to your face, cupping your cheeks before he brushes his thumbs underneath your eyes. You jolt a bit when his cold hand brushes against your neck, swallowing harshly when you feel him trace a finger down your SCM. Your breathing hitches while he explores your skin, and your teeth dig harshly into your bottom lip in response.

Then, you feel his touch pause, and Mr. Scarletella whispers against your neck, the pad of his thumb swiping against your lips, “...blood.”

“Oh, uh…” You open your eyes and look at him, seeing the way he’s staring up at you while his face remains close to your jugular. Your hand goes up to your lips, and you wince when you feel the soreness. When you pull your fingers away from your mouth, you see the blood that clings to them. Geez, you didn’t think you had bit your lip that hard.

You tell Mr. Scarletella, patting his head much like how he had been doing with you, “I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He smiles widely and lights up at your words. Suddenly, he grabs your face and hastily presses his lips to yours. Your eyes grow at the sudden act, and a strangled noise leaves your throat. It wasn’t a bad noise, per se, you just hadn’t been expecting that from him. Typically, he waited until you permitted him to do that... He must have been too excited to hold back this time around.

You were speechless when he pulled away from you, noticing your blood that was now smeared across his lips. He licks it away, his tongue peeking out from behind his lips before he asks you, “...You happy?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, reaching up to place your hand on his head while your giggles echo throughout the empty hallways, patting him softly. Mr. Scarletella’s smile falters while he focuses on the feeling of your touch, on burning the memory of your expression and the sweet sound of your laughter into his mind. It made him feel strange knowing he was the one making you react in such a way, but it was good.

He wanted to do it more.

“Yes, I happy. You cute.” You reply, smiling warmly at him while he stares at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I like you.” He says, sounding almost breathless as his body hunches over more, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hands explore the rest of your body, stroking and touching and petting you. Mr. Scarletella didn’t want this moment to end.

You chuckle as his breath fans against your skin, telling him gently as you feel his fingers work out any knots in your hair, “I know.”

“I like you, I like you, I like you…” He murmurs against your flesh, “I love you.”

#🌸 . plum writes #💌 . anon #homicipher #文字化化 #mr scarletella #mr scarletella x reader #mr scarletella x you #homicipher x reader #homicipher x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher drabbles #imagines #drabble

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aphroditesswan · 1 year ago

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Hi! I was wondering whether you could do hc’s on when hsr men and women react when they see a bulge (whether from their cocks or dildo’s) when their fucking you - G

intro: singularity

honkai star rail x afab fem reader

warning : smut, tummy bulge, nsft, rough sex, mating press, degrading, praise, full nelson, cowgirl, begging, body worship, mirror usage (?), size kink, breeding kink, marking, spanking, implied strap on use but never explicitly stated, breath play, i dunno what else ngl, might be ooc

summary : while the hsr characters are rearranging your insides, they notice themselves inside your guts. how do they react?

genre : smut

notes : can you tell i went SO HARD on the women’s.

Caelus

caelus threw his head back as he sank into you, his arms hooked around the back of your legs to spread them wide open for the mirror in front of you both, his hips bucking up to push himself further into you. he brought his gaze back, that the whole point of the mirror was to see your pretty face as he fucked you senseless. he moved in and out, his eyes moving around your body and almost completely tuning out your whines at his agonizingly slow pace. when he noticed the small bump in your stomach that disappeared when he pulled almost halfway out, he only got slower, wanting to see every second that his cock moved in and out of you and really, truly fucked you.

“just wait baby, please please please please… fuck you feel so nice around me.”

Stelle

her hands gripped your hips as she moved you up and down her length, her eyes focused on the way your chest moved up and down with your breath along with each sudden buck of her hips she made up into you. when stelle’s gaze finally met the bulge in your stomach, she bucked her hips up harder than before to get a good look at the tent that appeared and disappeared with each thrust, causing a yelp to be let out of you. she put pressure on the bulge as she thrusted in as deeply as she could, a giddy smile on her face that complimented her dazed eyes that were focused on your stomach and tits that bounced with each thrust. she was completely and utterly memorized with how your body moved and reacted to everything she did, and she was only determined to keep seeing the reactions on that pretty face of yours.

“look at how nice i look in you, baby… you’re sooo gorgeous like this,,”

March 7th

her hands eagerly moved around you, touching, feeling, groping wherever they could as she thrusted in and out of you. march noticed the slight movement in your stomach when she moved her hands down to claw into your thighs, but she didn’t stop any of her thrust. she kept going just as she had before she noticed, one hand digging into your thigh while the other pushed down on your stomach as she giggled softly at the sight. she was quick to grab her camera though, snapping a picture on her blue camera of the bulge in your stomach appearing as she thrusted in and out of you, then one of your flushed out face, getting your pretty tits in both pictures.

“you’re so pretty for me, how could i resist?”

Dan Heng

his fingers were digging into the soft plush of your thighs when he noticed, slowing down his moments which was complete agony for you. dan heng quietly observed with his mouth slightly agape, just gazing at the small bulge in your stomach that could be seen as he thrusted in and out of you harshly. he kept his eyes focused on you and clear, his demeanor seemingly calm, but the very obvious blush on his face and the way he’s staring straight into the little area of your guts spoke otherwise. he’ll return to his fast pace in just a second, just let him admire you for a bit.

“oh… oh, wow…”

Kafka

she had already bent you like a pretzel, you wondered how she hadn’t seen the bulge in your stomach by now as she pressed her hips against yours countless times. kafka had your legs over her shoulders, a gold anklet with the letter ‘k’ on it for her swinging back and forth and dangling next to her ear for her to hear as she pushed in and out of you. her gaze finally shifting from your fucked out expression to trial down between your bouncing breast and while on her way to where your bodies connected, something catching her eye that made her look from your dripping cunt to right above, the small bump going in and out with each thrust. she moved a hand that gripped right above your knee and pressed you against her chest to push down on the bulge, feeling it move under her as the other hand squeezed your neck softly.

“you’re such a slut, y’know? felt that this whole time and didn’t even think to tell me.”

Himeko

she was so,so,so gentle with you. himeko was always taking her time to fully sink you done onto her length as she sat you flat on her lap. she ran her hands over your body, pressing and squeezing where she wanted but was still so gentle with you, letting you set the pace and believe you were in control and everything. she had her eyes focused on you, eye contact being something she valued when fucking you so nicely you saw white. her hands trailed down the sides of your stomach, whispering praises on how good you were for her, how she enjoyed every single second of you on top of her when her hands stopped, fingers grazing over the place where she felt a bit of movement. she caught on rather quickly, laughing under her breath to herself.

“my… how lewd, don’t you think?”

Blade

with your thighs pressed against his large chest, movement for you was almost impossible unless blade was manhandling you or you were rocking back and forth from his harsh thrust. his hands gripped bruises into your hips, groaning into your ear as he restricted some of your breathing with just pressing himself onto you, your knees pushing your tits together and your thighs against your stomach. he was laid on top of you but was somehow keeping his stance with how he thrusted in and out of you. he looked down to see where you two met, seeing the small bulge that popped out whenever he was balls deep in you. he chuckled lowly at the sight below him, smacking your thigh which earned a small yelp and a star seeing clench around his cock from you.

“pathetic, you’re so small i’m practically popping out of you. you can take it, can’t you?”

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nvirskies · 1 year ago

Text

it's getting hot in here - c. la rue

warnings: reader is like half-naked? just no shirt on is all but reader is wearing a sports bra, nothing sexual just like a tad suggestive?, clarisse is a gay mess, kinda ooc clarisse, i know next to nothing about blacksmithing please hang in there with me, fem reader, no use of y/n, self-conscious reader, not beta read

summary: clarisse goes to pick up a custom order dagger from the forge when she's met with an unexpected sight.

hephaestus!daughter!reader x clarisse la rue

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @lvrue @azrielsdiary @b0ok-lover @star-girl69 @petitegavotte

from this post !

a/n: tbh might make this a multi part thing, at least a second part. also, so sorry this took so long to finish- i got sidetracked with a couple other things irl. hope you enjoy! men, nsfw, non-sapphics, 16- / 19+ dni

It was no secret the kids of Cabin 9 ran a side business to make some extra cash. It was pretty lucrative, given that there would always be a line of demigods waiting to have their weapon(s) of choice customized. Custom engravings, patterns cast into handles, ergonomic handpiece add-ons, and so much more. Name it, and it would be done for the right price, forged with impeccable quality.

And that was how Clarisse La Rue found herself heading to the forge just east of the strawberry fields with a thin paper in one hand and a small bag of golden drachmas in the other. The edges of the slip were just barely singed, and the writing on it looked nearly incomprehensible to many eyes, scribbled notes of her order confirmation and gods only knew what else. It didn’t matter to her, she just needed it to get her dagger and go.

Crowds parted for her like the Red Sea, once-lively conversations coming to a grinding halt as she walked straight through crowds and groups with nothing more than a glare and a sharp look in any general direction.

In no time at all, the familiar sounds of machinery clanking, fire hissing and crackling, and hammers striking metal filled the air. It was the forge, the singular place where one could guarantee there would be at least one child of Hephaestus in there at all hours of the day.

She pushed open the heavy metal door, swinging it wide open soundlessly despite its obvious weight. And what a sight she was greeted with. You were there alone, hunched over a piece of blisteringly hot metal, pounding away at it with a hammer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.

Something about you entranced her.

She didn’t know if it was the way your hair was pulled into a low ponytail, some loose strands clinging to the sides of your face, the way you subconsciously bit your lip as you focused completely on the red-hot metal in front of you. Or perhaps, it was the way your muscles rippled in the dim firelight as you struck the metal again and again, a thin sheen of sweat covering the exposed portions of your skin from both the heat and the exertion.

Maybe it was a combination or something else entirely.

As she gazed at you, a light blush dusted her cheeks as she came to the realization that you weren’t wearing much while working. The heat of the forge had led you to forgo wearing a shirt entirely, said shirt reduced to a tiny, crumpled gray bundle of fabric in the corner of the room. You were left wearing a sports bra, dusted with ash and soot and a pair of baggy sweatpants resting just above your hips.

It wasn’t as if Clarisse had never seen people dressed in less before. Hell, she’d seen her own fair amount of skin for various reasons. But this time, it seemed different. The slip of paper and bag of coins in her hands were forgotten momentarily as she simply stared at you from the doorway.

The way the dim light of the roaring furnace illuminated you from behind gave you an almost ethereal glow, the edges of the flames flickering around your moving silhouette.

She could see the muscles in your arm and shoulder tensing and relaxing with every ever-so-precise swing of the hammer, and she found herself silently watching you work from the doorway.

Ultimately, it was the soft clinking coming from the bag of drachmas Clarisse held in her hand that drew your attention away from the project in front of you. Your head snapped up, tense and a tad startled from the sudden sound, having been so zoned into your work that you hadn’t noticed her presence.

The hammer in your hand dropped to the metal workbench with a loud clang, the sound reverberating throughout the forge, ripping Clarisse from the glossed-over, hazy look in her eyes as she watched you move just moments ago, having been completely and utterly under your spell.

“Shit-!” you exclaimed, jumping slightly and wincing at the harsh sound, eyes widening further as you’re greeted with the sight of a Clarisse who seemed far too casual compared to how she normally treated campers, especially given her outward distaste towards children of Hephaestus.

And all of a sudden, you’re all too aware of your lack of a shirt and your cheeks flare with an embarrassed bright red flush.

Flushed the same color as the heated metal in front of you, Clarisse noted absentmindedly. It wasn’t a look she didn’t like. But of course, she would never admit that. The big, bad Clarisse La Rue flustered over something as insignificant as muscles on a girl? Impossible.

Her attention is drawn back to you, observing as you scurry to the other side of the room to grab your stashed-away shirt, slipping the loose grey fabric over your body, any and all views of the muscles she had seen just moments prior completely disappearing in a matter of seconds.

After having taken a few calming breaths, you steeled yourself for a barrage of snarky remarks that you were sure would come spewing out of the Ares cabin counselor’s mouth like acid out of the myrmeke’s mouths, but they never came.

Instead, you’re greeted with the sight of a Clarisse who seemed to be a bit flustered? Her eyes didn’t meet yours for a moment before she straightened herself out. Before your very eyes, you watched her cool and collected facade slip over her like a mask, and that trademark smirk of hers tugged at the corners of her lips.

“I’m here to pick up an order, under my name,” she remarks, holding up the bag of drachmas and thin slip of paper in an outstretched hand. Her gaze seemed like it was scrutinizing everything about your appearance from the baggy grey shirt that hung loosely over your frame to the soot just barely smudged on your forehead. Whether it was a good or bad look you had no idea, subconsciously shrinking into the shadows of the dimly lit forge.

“Right, right, La Rue…” you trail off nervously, scanning the room for the rack that held completed orders and leafing through the tags attached to each object. “La Rue, La Rue, La Rue, where is it-?” you muse to yourself, repeating her last name in a hushed tone until the sight of it comes into view. The dagger she had ordered was at the edge of the table, with the request for a heavyweight handle and an etching of her initials into the butt of it.

Normally, Clarisse would have found your behavior annoying if it were coming from anyone else, but oddly enough, she quite liked the way her last name rolled off your tongue. It felt almost natural, too natural. Quickly, she brushed away the lingering thoughts about how you had looked almost god-like with the flame from the roaring furnace glowing behind you, the thoughts of what your skin would feel like under her hands.

After a beat of silence, you grabbed said dagger, placed a little ball of clay over its razor-sharp tip, and slipped it into a small drawstring bag, pulling it closed.

“That’ll be five golden drachmas, La Rue, or fifteen silver ones. Whatever works for you” you say as you hand her the bag, other hand outstretched for the paper she held and to take the coins. She dropped the five golden coins in your palm and grabbed the bag to turn on her heel and walk out without another word.

Or so you thought.

“Thanks for the weapon. I’ll see you around, pretty girl.”

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse pjo #cabin 9 #daughter of hephaestus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv

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thebeesatemyknees · 1 year ago

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141 as ex-husbands

Some ex-husband (ooc) Simon Ghost Riley, John Price, Kyle Gaz Garrick and Johnny Soap MacTavish x reader headcanons.

Word count: 860 || No warnings (let me know if any). || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns: "you"

Note: In all four scenarios, you got divorced for fairly harmless reasons. You were getting along, you loved each other, there was no fighting. But perhaps you realised that you both have different hopes for the future. Maybe you got sick of waiting for him, missing him, of worrying if he's gonna come home alive and in one piece. Maybe he didn't realise how lonely you felt beside him.

Ex-husband Simon Riley, who still thinks of you as "his", but not in a possessive way. You're still his person, his family. He still would do anything for you and wouldn't even give it a second thought.

You need help assembling new furniture? He can come by after work. Need a ride to the doctor's appointment? He needed to run some errands anyway, it's not a big deal. Anything happens while he's deployed? You can call his base and he'll contact you as soon as possible.

And he doesn't expect anything back. How could he? He's gonna do anything for you because that's what you're supposed to do for your people. And he'll give you your space, keep it clean between you. You wanted a divorce and he respects that, doing his best not to overstep any boundaries. He's mindful of the things he says, keeps his hands away from you. A respectful distance.

But God, does he miss you. If you showed the slightest interest in getting back together, he would agree immediately, going back to what you two had, as if the divorce never happened.

Ex-husband John Price, who kinda forgets that you're not married anymore. Similar to Simon, John still thinks of you as his and would do anything for you without expecting anything back.

But you often have to remind him that he's overstepping. "Darling" or "love" casually added to his sentences. Hands gently holding your shoulders or hips while he directs you to move to a different spot. He doesn't do it on purpose. The last thing he'd want is to disrespect your boundaries or make you uncomfortable. But keeping you close just comes so naturally to him.

He apologises quietly when you reprimand him, pulling his hands away and restating what he said without the pet name this time.

He wouldn't beg you to give him another chance. He's got enough respect, towards you and himself, to not be dramatic, to not make it messy. But he has a hard time accepting this new reality.

Ex-husband Kyle Garrick, who subconsciously goes back to courting you, as if your marriage never happened and all of it was still ahead of you.

He's more distant, doesn't initiate touches, doesn't use pet names anymore. And at first you think it's because that's just how break-ups work, because he'd moved on. But it all seems to be caused by him suddenly becoming almost shy around you.

He sends you messages from time to time, checking if you're doing alright. He asks you out for coffee, just to catch up. You ended things on good terms, so there's no harm in it, right? And you can see him trying to act casually about it. He brings you one singular flower he picked on his way to the café. Cuz you like them, don't you? It's not a big deal, he saw it and put it in the pocket of his jacket. So casual. Then, your conversation stays on a purely platonic path. Well, except for a few compliments and pick up lines he throws your way. But that's what friends do! And if you don't let him drive you home, he asks you to at least text him to let him know you got back safely.

If you confront him about his behaviour, he gets quiet. His jaw twitches, a shameful look fills his eyes as he looks away, unable to fully face you. He doesn't feel like he's in the position to defend himself, to argue. He's guilty. He wants you back for himself. And he so badly regrets letting you go without trying harder to fix things.

Ex-husband Johnny MacTavish, who becomes bitter towards the whole world. He's not happy about losing you and he's straightforward about it. He's hurt, filled with regrets, he's angry - but not directly at you. He understands and respects your wishes, but he's just so angry with himself. Angry that he didn't notice where your marriage was going, that he didn't change his ways, that he assumed that you're his and therefore he's got a lot of time to slowly fix things. Angry that he didn't do enough.

He wouldn't hide his emotions. He wouldn't get shy, wouldn't just quietly yearn for you.

He keeps his hands to himself, making sure he doesn't make you uncomfortable and that you still feel safe around him. But he continuously asks you for another chance. He knows better now. He can be better. Just give him a chance. Or at least let him do this or that for you. And don't act as if him helping you is weird! He's yours, nothing will change that. He promised he'd be there in sickness and in health, and he meant it. No matter how much your life-paths split. So stop pushing him away and just let him help. He'll stop asking you for a second chance, but at least let him be there for you.

He aggressively offers himself to you. Getting upset and moody if you act as if he was more akin to a stranger rather than someone who belonged, body and soul, to you.

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generalsmemories · 11 months ago

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sensitive

✧ sunday x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the wings by his ears are far too sensitive for what you're both about to do to them.

✧ contents: just a lil scenario for the piercings on sunday's wings. and the hc (that has probs become every writers canon take) that his wings are oh so sensitive. established relationship, mildly suggestive cause why not, uhh, mentions of blood? sunday being utterly weak against his lover. ooc sunday cause goddamn i have NOTHING on this man.

✧ a/n: breathes in. listen i don't believe in any god but good lord i would start praying for this man if he asked me to.

jing yuan wips still in order, i just want to be on my best self mentally when writing for my eepy general so have this brainrot so i can function this week at my work and hopefully i'll write something more <3 thank you once again for your patience!

NOT BETA-READ THIS WAS WRITTEN WITHIN AN HOUR CAUSE THIS BRAINROT HAS BEEN BREWING INSIDE THE MIND FOR A MONTH, IM SORRY FOR THE ALL OVER THE PLACE WORDS - I HAVEN'T WRITTEN SINCE THE LAST JING YUAN ANGST PIECE.

Your fingertips have barely grazed the very edges of the feathers when the distinguished leader beneath you flinches in surprise. The fingers that grip your hips tightening further which causes your body that was previously hovering above him to settle down on Sunday's leg. You can hear a tiny sigh leaving his lips before you feel his head rest against your shoulder, the action causing you to chuckle.

"The longer you delay this, the more nervous you'll get, you know?" you muse, threading your fingers through his hair in an effort to coax him to lay back in the same position he previously was in. You're barely able to touch his right wing again before a gloved hand shoots up from his side and you feel a sharp nip at your neck in warning - causing you to immediately halt all of your actions.

"It would've gone a lot faster have you decided to not do it in such an orthodox method, dear." Sunday retaliates with a sigh, pecking the bite mark as some sort of apology, an apology that you knew was not sincere in the slightest.

You giggle once again, settling down comfortably on his legs whilst slightly leaning back to fully look at your lover. Your arms loop over his neck while cocking your head to the side in slight confusion, although said confusion doesn't reach your mischievous eyes or the huge grin on your face. "Why I thought this would help calm you? It was your idea to pierce these wings of yours after all," you remind him, tapping the piercing gun that you're currently holding onto on his shoulder.

The man before you sighs, seemingly in exasperation over your usual antics whilst shrugging away the piercing gun that you're continuously tapping him with. You can however clearly see the slight reddening on top of his ears, while his wings tuck a bit behind his ears - clearly a signal that he's feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You're well aware of the effect you have on me, my love." he admits, the hand on your hip moving from its spot to instead rest against your neck. "Hmm? Then I suggest that you hurry along to let me pierce your wings before said effect makes you lose your patience," you tease with a quiet laugh. "I do have a lot of experience with this lil' gun of ours after all." you cheekily say - causing Sunday to direct his gaze towards your own ears, which have a few more piercings than your average person.

"... I'm well aware." Sunday replies.

Well aware of how sensitive your own ears are, almost as sensitive as his own wings that have yet to be pierced. He could let out a breath beside them which causes you to tremble, a small peck would make you gasp softly, but if he were to use his tongue-

"You're thinking of inappropriate things again, dear." you mutter into his ears before unlooping your arms from his neck to rest against your sides, your whole weight supported by the singular hand Sunday has on your hip.

"Hardly."

For someone not of Halovian descent, you're somehow able to discern his thoughts immediately - quite a hassle to be honst.

"Well then, my dear? Why don't you relax so we can get this over with so you can return to your duties?" you whisper, moving your body to sit between his legs so that you can get a closer look on his right wing, where he preferred the piercing to be on.

"... Just- don't say anything when you're about to do- Ah!"

The single clicking noise of the needle piercing his wing before retracting back to it's original spot makes Sunday jolt in surprise, the grip on your hip increasing in pressure, but you're too busy looking at the placement in glee to care for your distraught lover right now.

You notice the edges of the piercing reddening a bit, extending your finger to gather the tiny bits of blood that had escaped from the wound. Glancing at Sunday, you notice his slightly glossy eyes that immediately diverts from your gaze.

The quiet laugh you let out makes Sunday glare at you, but his eyes widen slightly when you lick his blood away from your fingertips with closed eyes. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask, opening your eyes again to lock eyes with Sunday, diverting your gaze slightly to his right wing.

You decide not to comment on his glossy eyes, deciding to instead scoot closer to peck the corner of his eyes, "Sorry that I surprised you, but as you said - Doing it this way is far more convenient for the both of us," you explain, lips pressing against Sunday's to coax him into relaxation.

"Mhm, thank you for indulging me, dove." he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving.

"Although..." you murmur in between various pecks against Sunday's lips, your lover raising an eyebrow up in confusion and imploring you to continue speaking.

"I think you said you would go for 2 of the same piercings if the first one looked nice, no?" you say before pressing your lips against his once again. Sunday was barely able to understand the meaning behind your words before he could feel the same pain of the needle shoot through his already overly-sensitive wing.

The loud gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips, his open mouth letting your tongue slip inside while the piercing gun in your hand slips away from your lips now that you've done your part of the deal. Your hands settle themselves against Sunday's cheeks now- wiping away the few tears that have now slipped down from his glossy eyes with your thumb.

There's a certain desperation in Sunday's hands by your waist. He had first bunched the material of your clothes upwards by surprise, but now he's slipping his gloved hands beneath them and quickly traveling further up - he moves in a way that you don't know if he's trying to push you away to scold you, or press you closer to him to feel your warmth.

He eventually decides to push you away. His cheeks are reddened and he's heaving for breaths while he's glaring down at you in mild disappointment and a hint of excitement - and yet the hands that's dragging the buttons of your shirt from inside to snap them open tells another desire from the esteemed leader of Penacony.

The same mischievous smile is present on your lips when you part ways, your lips are a bit swollen but it doesn't stop their journey from grazing against his now incredibly sensitive right wing, the jerk of his entire body not bothering you in the slightest as your lips glide over his feathers, your lover shuddering a bit when you let out a breath right over his newly pierced wings.

"All done now, my love," you mutter into his ear, shrugging off your now ruined shirt off of one shoulder, "Do I get any reward for doing this so smoothly and quickly?"

Sunday lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your triumphant expression before shoving you down onto the couch the two of you were previously resting on. "I'm thinking a punishment is more fitting for how you didn't warn me of your actions twice, no?"

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #sunday x reader #sunday honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail x you

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keresnotceres · 2 years ago

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Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut

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aventurineswife · 19 days ago

Note

Castorice and a Reader from Xianzhou directly afflicted with a curse of Abundance (unable to die and the whole shebang that comes with it).

Bloody hell, Castorice and any immortal character (like Bladie and Mydei) sounds like a recipe for very interesting dynamics.

Anyway—

Reader trying to follow the Trailblazer and Dan Heng after they lost contact to find out what happened and make sure they’re still alive and, just like the latter two, Reader’s car ends up getting shot out of the sky by one of Nikador’s arrows — spears? — and they end up crash-landing with some injuries. Unlike Dan Heng and TB, they landed much further away with no one around to call for help, and end up having to hobble along a greater distance before finally reaching Okhema.

Which means they have no idea who the Chrysos Heirs are, much less about Castorice, who happens to be the very first person Reader approaches to ask about a clinical location.

Like, Reader literally walks up to her from behind before anyone nearby can warn them, and even puts their hand on her shoulder to get her attention before dropping dead.

And they wake up with their head on Castorice’s lap. Why? Because TB came across the commotion when Castorice was freaking out and after assuring her Reader would be just fine and eventually wake up, TB decided to be a mischievous raccoon and say that Reader will probably feel more comfortable if their head rested on Castorice’s lap. 😅

The first thing Reader asks when they wake up is, “Since when has death looked so beautiful…?”

A surefire sign that Reader has lost the brain cell (because it went back to Dan Heng).

Reader’s curse acts quickly, though, and adjusts so that the next time Reader accidentally gets too close to Castorice, nothing happens — which means Castorice now has a friend who can safely tag alongside her.

Where Death Cannot Touch

Summary: After a crash caused by a Nikador's spear, you, cursed with the affliction of Abundance (immortality), find yourself stranded and injured. On a desperate search for the Trailblazer and Dan Heng, you collapse on the outskirts of Okhema. There, you awaken in the lap of Castorice, one of the Chrysos Heirs, a serene and ethereal mortician with a deep connection to death. Despite the curse that makes you unable to die, a subtle shift in your magic allows you to safely be near her, and an unexpected bond forms between the two of you, offering the promise of safety and understanding.

Tags: Castorice x Reader, Immortality (Abundance Curse), Comfort/Healing, Slow Burn, Found Family, Romance (Slow/Developing), Prophecy.

Warnings: Injury (Crash-related), Immortality/Curse, Some angst due to the curse, Brief mentions of death, Light humor in dialogue(s).

A/N: Might be ooc (and rushed) because I don't know much about Castorice 😔🙏

The air was thick with the scent of earth and rain as you limped through the unfamiliar terrain. The once-pristine sky above was now marred with an unnatural storm, and though you had been in your car just moments ago, the world had swiftly fallen apart around you. Nikador's spear—had torn through the air, and the subsequent crash left you with cuts, bruises, and a heavy ache in your chest. You could feel the pull of your curse, the relentless, gnawing sensation that came with being cursed by Abundance—unable to die, but cursed with immortality’s burden.

Your body couldn’t die, but it could certainly be battered. You could feel the soreness settle deeper in your bones as you struggled to get back on your feet. There was no one around. No one to help you, no one to hear your calls. The sound of your footsteps was the only thing you could rely on, as you dragged yourself forward with one singular purpose: find the Trailblazer and Dan Heng. Make sure they were still alive.

But, as time passed and the landscape shifted, your weary legs grew heavy. You staggered, trying to focus, trying to hold onto the fragments of hope that hadn’t been crushed. When you spotted Okhema in the distance, you thought it was a miracle. You gathered your strength and pressed on, despite the exhaustion clawing at you.

When you finally reached the outskirts of Okhema, your vision blurred, and your consciousness wavered. You were so close. But the curse tugged at you again, and just before you could even process it, everything went black.

You woke with a soft, unfamiliar sensation beneath your head. The ground was cool and smelled faintly of lavender. As your eyes fluttered open, your vision cleared slowly, and you found yourself lying in the lap of a figure, her presence so serene that it almost felt dreamlike.

The first thing you noticed was her appearance. Her lavender hair, adorned with flowers, cascaded down around her face, framing her gentle, ethereal features. She wore a regal, yet mysterious, black crown, its sharp edges a stark contrast to the softness of her demeanor. Her eyes, a soft lavender hue, were watching you with a calm, almost melancholic gaze.

You blinked twice, your mind still foggy from the sudden and inexplicable change in surroundings. Then, as your consciousness fully returned, you let out a hoarse chuckle, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Since when has death looked so beautiful…?" you mumbled, your voice thick with confusion and exhaustion. You’d meant it as a joke, though it felt absurd. Here you were, in the lap of a woman who seemed like she belonged to another world, and the strange words just slipped out.

The woman’s eyes widened, and a soft blush colored her cheeks. She looked almost startled by your words, but there was something in her gaze that made you feel strangely safe. Before she could speak, however, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Well, well, looks like they’re finally awake," the Trailblazer’s voice came from somewhere behind you, and you turned to see them and Dan Heng standing just a few paces away, watching the interaction with amused expressions.

“Don’t worry, they’re fine,” the Trailblazer added with a smirk. “Though, I figured you might be a bit more comfortable if you woke up like this.”

Dan Heng, looking slightly irritated by the situation, crossed his arms. “You do have a strange way of reassuring people, Trailblazer.”

The woman whose lap you rested on—Castorice, as you would come to learn—looked down at you in confusion, her gentle gaze still holding a hint of curiosity. "You... you’re alive?" Her voice was soft, like a whisper of wind, but there was an undercurrent of concern that laced each word.

You let out a small, sheepish laugh. “Well, I’m cursed, so... alive and well, or cursed and suffering. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Castorice's eyes softened with understanding, and she nodded slowly. “You must bear the curse of Abundance,” she murmured, almost as if speaking to herself. “It is... a heavy burden.”

"Yeah," you said with a tired sigh, trying to sit up but wincing as the pain from your crash reminded you of the ordeal you had just gone through. "But that’s not the worst of it. I was looking for you... or, rather, I was looking for answers." Your gaze shifted toward the Trailblazer and Dan Heng. "I’m trying to find out what happened to the two of you after you lost contact... I thought I’d lost you."

“Well,” the Trailblazer spoke up, “looks like you found us. And with a bit of help from Castorice here.”

Dan Heng gave you a look. “You’ve really managed to get yourself in a mess. But don’t worry, we’re safe now.”

Castorice shifted slightly, her hands brushing a strand of lavender hair from her face. Her gaze was still focused on you. “If you’re looking for a place of care, I may be able to help. I work as a mortician here in Okhema.”

You blinked, processing her words slowly. Mortician? Was that why she was so serene? The curse of Abundance made it difficult to relate to the living world, and yet here she was, calm and ethereal in a way that reminded you of the death you’d been running from. But you could sense her power. It was unlike anything you’d encountered before.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a place where someone like me could... lie low?” you asked, feeling the weight of your curse heavy in your chest.

Castorice nodded. “I do.”

Before you could say anything else, you suddenly felt it—the subtle shift in the air. There was something different, almost like a force had aligned itself with your very being. The curse inside you seemed to adjust, the magic that kept you from death acknowledging something. You hadn’t done it intentionally, but your body seemed to adapt. The next time you accidentally brushed too close to Castorice, there was no jolt of death.

It was subtle. But in that moment, you realized something.

You weren’t going to die around her.

It felt like a strange kind of relief, and though you didn’t fully understand it, the sense of connection lingered. Castorice turned to face you, her soft expression unreadable.

"Would you like to stay with me? I believe you’ll be safer here," she said, her voice carrying an unexpected warmth.

And with that, something shifted between the two of you—something as delicate and intricate as the butterfly patterns on her gloves. The beginning of a bond. A strange, beautiful one.

186 notes · View notes

jinxsequin · 17 days ago

Note

hiii!!! was wondering if you could write like a modern!au w powder/jinx, maybe them in uni?

ALIGHT ✧.*ೃ

| modern au!powder x fem!reader

| wc: 6.5k

| content/warnings: uni/college au, men dni, brief mention of violence (?) unintentional, fluff, kissing, mentions of anxiety & alcohol, maybe ooc powder, slightly weirdly paced writing, caitvi mentioned (couldn't help myself sorry), reader referred to as a girl, no mention of y/n, r & powder are both losers <3

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

Begrudgingly trekking down to the floors of the flat to escape the deafening sounds of the fire alarm, you joined the others on the field who had actually bothered getting out in the dead of the night for what was definitely the 5th practice alarm of the month. You’d almost not given in, the warmth your blankets had provided you too precious to lose. But the blaring of the alarm was unforgiving, and despite your efforts to block it out, the damage had been done - you were awake.

You stumbled clumsily onto the field, slippers being your swift choice of footwear was beginning to prove ineffective. The mix of people murmuring in the dark, complaining, some yawning hit your ears as you struggled to navigate the crowd of bodies. The field being pitch black wasn’t helping, but right as that thought had passed through your head, the blazing rays of a torchlight rendered you blind, the sight actually leaving your eyes for a solid minute. “Hey!,” you croaked out, squinting through the pain to see where it had come from. The culprit jumped in surprise, torch flying out of their hands and hitting the same affected eye with a whack. “OUCH,” was all you were able to yell, a hand instinctively clutched over the affected eye. As if the aching from the first incident hadn’t been enough, the throbbing pain pulsating in your eye now made you sure you were going to wake up with a nasty bruise.

“Oh fuck, I’m SO sorry, oh my god,” the voice of the offender rambled out, hands coming up to your shoulders in panic. Though the pain hadn’t subsided yet, you moved your hands from your eyes, opening them curiously to catch a glimpse of the owner of the voice. Your breath caught in your throat. Bright blue eyes flicked over your face, rosy lips turned down into a concerned frown. Choppy tresses the same colour as her alluring eyes, save for a singular pink streak, framed her freckled face. She was so breathtaking, the predicament you had found yourself in was slowly being forgotten.

“Hello, are you good? Do you need medical help?? Oh god, what have I done?” the panicked rambling forced you back to reality.

“I’m-It’s fine. It was an accident,” you managed to huff out, her hands sliding away from your shoulder as she stepped back. Her gaze still ran over your face, thoroughly examining you with a guilt-ridden expression. Your right eye was still burning with pain, but you couldn’t even really be that mad at a face like that. Though, you did make a mental note not to ever bother acting accordingly with the fire drill again - leaving your bed had only caused an embarrassing interaction with a very attractive woman.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The girl wasn’t letting go easily, eyebrows drawn in concern as she observed you trying to play it off, admittedly failing. You wished the ground would just open up and swallow you, this whole spectacle reducing you to a mumbling mess.

“I’m fine,” you forced yourself to speak with a cheer to your voice, facing the girl with a smile you prayed to whatever powers were listening was normal. “Look, doesn’t even hurt anymore,” you pulled your hand away from your face, instantly mentally facepalming for your choice of unconvincing words. The girl raised an eyebrow in incredulity, but nodded reluctantly. “I’m so, so sorry, again.”

You chose not to speak, opting for a shake of your head and a tiny smile. As if the gods above had decided your suffering was finally enough, the guards of the building had given the green light, announcing it was safe for everyone to finally go back in. You sighed in relief, shuffling as quickly as you could to get back into your bed and pretend this was just a dream.

Alas, your wish wasn’t granted - when you got in the elevator packed with several other people, who should at the last second sliver through the metal doors but the same blue-haired charmer from before. Her eyes briefly flashed in recognition as she took her spot besides you. Not daring to look, you watched out of the corner of your eye as she looked you up and down, a small smirk on her lips at your bear-covered pyjamas. You closed your eyes abruptly, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. Your cheeks burned, and you swore you heard a faint giggle from her as she caught sight of it. Motherfucker.

As soon as the elevator dinged, you hurried out, your room suddenly not being close enough. You finally reached it, hastily pulling your keys out to unlock the door.

“Oh hey, would you look at that,” the voice spoke cheerfully. You whipped around to meet the mischievous eyes of the girl standing in front of the room right across from you. “Looks like we’re neighbours, pretty girl!”

Your eyes widened at the boldness of the nickname. “Goodnight,” you uttered simply, pretending to ignore her taunting chuckle in response as you turned around and slammed the door behind you. You crashed onto the bed, throwing off your slippers and burrowing your head in the pillow. That was definitely a dream.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

It was most definitely not a dream. The morning after, the remnants of the impact ached, but for the most part you were unscathed. You shook off any distracting thoughts of the girl from last night, setting about having a productive day catching up with university work you’d been procrastinating. It was nearing the end of the afternoon when the knock came on your door. You looked up from your laptop screen, scanning your phone for any texts. None, and when any of your friends came over they always dropped a text beforehand to let you know. Your hands found your temples, massaging to alleviate the aching. Maybe attempting to study with the pain wasn’t the best idea, you thought as you stared hard at the door, as if willing hard enough would make the person behind it go away. It wouldn't - they knocked twice again, slightly louder this time. You sighed in relent and crossed the room, opening the door to whoever was behind.

And who else was it but the girl who’d plagued your thoughts all night. “You,” you breathed out, staring in surprise. You hadn’t meant to sound so contemptuous, regretting it when the girl’s confident gaze faltered for a second. She quickly recovered, holding up a plate. “Hi. I made cupcakes,” she grinned, gaze steadily scanning your face.

You stood back, wordlessly inviting her in, not knowing what else to do. She looked around for a place to put them, deciding your desk would do. She turned back to you watching her actions curiously, then moved towards you quickly. You barely held in your yelp of surprise as her cool hands came up to your face, fingers running under the skin underneath your eye. Your eyes fixed on her concentrated gaze, struggling to get any protest out, the proximity striking you dumb. “What are you doing…” you finally stumbled out, voice just a tone above a light whisper. She stepped back abruptly, hands dropping to her sides as she smiled nervously. “Thank god, toots, no damage done. How are you feeling?”

Your hand briefly ghosted over where her hands had just been. You’d already thoroughly examined the injured area in the mirror the moment you’d woken up, thankfully no mark had been left somehow. You shot her a look as she flopped down onto your bed, looking up at you expectedly. Resigning, you joined her on your bed, facing her.

“I’m completely fine,” your gaze flicked over to the sweet treat she’d set down on your desk, “thanks for the cupcakes though, you didn’t have to do all that,” replying genuinely. She smiled amusedly, waving a hand as if it was nothing. “Consider it an apology.” You returned her smile, the thoughtful gesture was a complete contradiction of her feigned nonchalance.

“So what’s all this,” she was holding a page of your dog-eared meticulously taken notes, trying to make out the words scribbled across it.

You rolled your eyes at her antics, “well I was studying.”

“Oh! What do you study?”

“Psychology,” you answered, shuffling the notes out of her reach, all plans of studying disturbed. “You?”

“Mechanical engineering. Different worlds then, huh?” she mused amusedly, shifting her position so she sat with her shoulder to yours.

“You could say that,” you replied, still not adjusted to how comfortable she had made herself next to you. The wildly different degrees and schedules answered your question of how you’d never seen her around despite how close she lived. But here she was, dropping into your room like you were best friends, and with cupcakes - not that you were ungrateful, just completely stumped.

She watched you closely, puffing her cheeks and blowing the air out as she figured out her next proposal. “So….what are we doing this evening?”

“We???” you shot back, though your lips curled up despite yourself.

“Yes, we,” she rolled her eyes lightheartedly, getting off your bed and walking backwards towards the door, “be ready in 15 minutes. Gonna show you the best sight you’ve ever laid your pretty eyes on,” she sang out.

“I don’t even know your name!” you called out.

“It’s Powder!” her voice laughed back, voice fading as the door swung shut. You barely had time to process what had just occurred before you remembered the time limit she’d given you, pulling yourself to hurriedly get ready.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

Ever since the day Powder had, by definition, dropped into your life, you’d become immeasurably close. Despite your slightly rocky start, from the night she’d shown you the hidden rooftop where you could observe the city’s twinkling lights for miles, you’d grown a bond that was undoubtedly unbreakable.

Of course, it wasn’t immediate. Though you’d absolutely taken a liking to Powder, perhaps even from the moment she’d hit that torch over your eye - putting yourself out there wasn’t really a thing for you. You much preferred to stick to your own small circle of friends, the familiarity calming your nerves. But then Powder had come along, the very picture of candidness, spontaneity and openness - everything so unfamiliar it surprised you how much you craved more when you were apart. Though Powder was never away for too long.

Thinking back to the first evening you’d hung out, how she had her head thrown back, laughing at something insignificant you’d said. Calming down and nudging your shoulder with hers, so casually throwing out “I think we’re going to be good friends, you know,” watching you as you stared back at her, smiling softly. She’d been so playful the entire evening, wary of your resistance, but you truly felt the genuinity her words conveyed for the first time that night and it set your body alight, enveloping your body in that warm fuzzy feeling you constantly seeked in her absence. If only she knew how open your heart had been towards her from the beginning, regardless of your anxious demeanour.

You could barely remember a memory from the past six months that didn’t include her somehow, it was as if she’d become entwined with your very being. Library visits, movie nights, exploring a new place in town, concerts, occasional parties, everything was done with you by her side. Contrary to before, you found yourself saying yes to things that you’re sure would have astonished past you. Of course, she never pushed you to do things entirely out of your comfort zone, much preferring cuddling at your side staying in if the two of you weren’t up to something particularly adventurous. Powder was your greatest weakness, it was increasingly hard to do anything but agree with her. And your massive crush on her certainly didn’t ease that impulse. You’d, of course, been aware of that from the moment you laid eyes on her. Many times, you’d fallen victim to the false belief that it didn’t exist anymore, then she simply lean into your personal space with her charming grin and the truth would come crashing down on you once again. You’d reached a point of acceptance now, convincing yourself you were content with how things were. Admittedly, though you’d definitely consider each other your best friends respectively, somewhere the line between friendship and the unknown had become fuddled, and you were currently residing in the limbo that was characterised by fleeting, uncertain tension.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

Powder lay sprawled out across your head, tossing something - likely one of your poor calico critters - in her hands, throwing it into the air and catching it repeatedly as you worked away at your desk. Summer break closely approaching unfortunately meant an influx of exams, and though Powder had already finished all of hers, you still had one left, the timing particularly cruel as the start of the holidays were only 2 days away, simmering on the horizon.

“When will you be done? I’m getting boooored over here with no attention,” she drawed the words out, haphazardly opening your bedside drawers.

“The same answer you got when you asked last, you big baby,” you replied, flipping through your textbook.

“Wrong answer!” Mimicking an incorrect buzzer sound. “C’mon, trinket, you’ve been studying for this one for weeks now. How about you give that brain of yours the rest it deserves?” She remarked, glancing at the back of your head as you exhaled softly. “And I mean that shit, you’ve been muttering study notes in your sleep.”

“I have absolutely not,” you turned around in your chair abruptly, wide-eyed. Powder simply raised an eyebrow in response, teasing grin on her face, and you turned back round, resting your forehead on your hands.

“Okay, you’re right,” you spoke, your voice muffled. “One more page.” Powder huffed at that, but counted it as a win ultimately.

“Also, I’ve witnessed you, with my own two eyes, do chemistry problems for fun, I don’t wanna hear it,” you teased back, straightening up in your seat.

“Touché, toots.” She closed the drawer, glancing around the bedroom she’d grown accustomed to curiously, before sitting up and staring at the back of your head again.

“Why haven’t you packed up? Leaving it to the last minute doesn’t sound very much like you,” she asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

You paused in your seat at that, pen frozen in its place. You didn’t dare turn around for fear of being read instantly, a power Powder had annoyingly acquired very early on into your friendship.

“I’m not going home,” you simply replied, picking up your pen again and hovering it over the page, though your train of thoughts had long dissipated.

Powder’s question as to why stopped in her throat, the memory of you mentioning your complicated family situation flashing quickly through her head. She simply nodded though your back was still turned, tinged with guilt at bringing up bad memories for you unintentionally.

“Well, there’s one big final party tomorrow, the night after your exam,” she spoke up again after a few beats of silence, the question hanging in the air.

You turned around to face her, your turn to raise an eyebrow at her lightheartedly.

“Way to end this year with a bang?” she practically pleaded, “I live all the way across the country, this’ll probably be the last thing we do before we come back for next year.”

The thought hadn’t even had the chance to cross your head before this, and hearing it now from her made something in your chest twist a little. The next few months without being attached to Powder at the hip were going to be surreal to say the least, a wave of the imminent loneliness crashing over you as you sat before her now. You managed a small smile, meeting her anticipating gaze. “Sure, Pow.”

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

To say parties were not your forte was an understatement, but the buzz of the shot you’d taken 10 minutes ago was starting to hit you now as you downed another. Powder had been swept into conversation with a few friends that greeted you cheerfully and roped you into their chat, very familiar with you at this point, but the lack of alcohol in your system was beginning to make you doubtful about being here in the first place. So you’d slithered away, making your way into the kitchen, taking in the surroundings, people packed into every corner, the bass of the music matching the beat of your heart, the bloodstream running through your veins.

“Sulking in a corner so early in? Can’t have that, toots, can we?” came Powder’s voice, a lilt in her tone as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing her face close to yours so you’d hear her over all the noise.

“Are you forgetting I sat an exam this very morning, and still made it here?” you remarked playfully.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Powder’s expression quickly turned serious, concern flickering over her face though your words had been lighthearted. She hadn’t had a chance to ask about it, getting ready before arriving had only consisted of excited chatter. “How did that go?”

You shook your head in response, “let’s not,” you whined lightly.

“My brave soldier. I’m proud of you,” Powder’s grin reached her eyes. You made a face at her words though the giggle escaping your throat betrayed you as you picked up a third shot. Powder’s eyes widened slightly.

“And tipsy already, without me???” she said mock-exasperatedly.

You shrugged slightly. She was exaggerating, she’d taken a couple when you’d first arrived, but the effect hit you a lot sooner than it did her.

“You were pretty busy over there,” you opted for, and raised the glass to your lips. Powder’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a second before swiftly taking the glass out of your grip, holding it to her own lips and tipping her head back slightly as she drained the glass. That fuzzy feeling intensified as you watched in awe, eyes unblinking as the heat of her shoulder wrapped around you suddenly became too much to bear.

“Dance?” She abruptly asked, a hint of a light smirk on her lips.

“Dance?” you quizzed back, incredulously, though that glint in her blue eyes told you she was serious, determined to get her way.

“Oh come on, you won’t refuse me a dance will you, when we’ll be apart for so long,” she replied, a hand draped against her forehead dramatically.

“It’s not like we’re going off to war, Powder,” you shook her head at her antics, smiling widely.

Powder snorted at your response, before wrapping her hand around yours, squeezing tightly as she led you through the packed crowds of people dancing wildly.

Settling in your own space, she danced freely, the movements coming to her naturally as just about everything else did, in your eyes at least. You followed her movements, though the combination of alcohol and the heat from the close bodies was slowing you down significantly. The bleary feeling increased as the two of you continued, your head fuzzy from the shots and the loud bass music blaring through the speakers, Powder moving dangerously nearer. Somewhere in the haze, some emotional switch was turned on in your body, your heart twisting and writhing in your chest at the mere thought of being apart from her for just a second. How on earth would you survive months without her? Your movements slowed down to almost a halt as you were caught in a trance, watching as her blue tresses slipped free from her half pinned hairstyle, cheeks flushed, the signature charming grin spreading across her face as she wrapped her arms across your shoulders, pulling you into her.

The sudden contact broke you out of your haze, nervously chewing at your lower lip as your gaze ran over Powder’s suddenly very fixated stare. Her eyes dropped down to your lips at your involuntary action, staying there for a beat before they looked up to meet yours, though you were mirroring her action, glancing at her rosy lips before darting up to meet her questioning eyes. She held your gaze for what seemed like a painstakingly long amount of time, wordlessly searching for an answer before you nodded desperately. You met her halfway as she closed the distance, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that seemed to speak a thousand unsaid words. You reciprocated immediately, any previous expectation of this moment crumbling away beyond comparison as she tightened her grip on the back of your head, pushing you even deeper into her embrace. When you eventually parted, her eyes immediately met yours, attempting to read you but you wrapped your arms around her hastily, deciding the vulnerability was too much, hiding your face in her shoulder. She held you tighter, the touch a middle ground between intense and tender, all thoughts of the implications and consequences melting away. The way she was holding you made such things feel so insignificant, as if nothing mattered outside of where you were right now.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

The coloured scenes of Fantastic Mr. Fox reflected off the white walls of Powder’s bedroom as you fixed your gaze on the screen of the TV, currently pressed into her side as her arm lay casually across your shoulders, fingers occasionally lightly tapping your arm, betraying her current nerves. It was the day after the party, and though what had occurred hadn’t been brought up by either of you, the weight of it lingered like a brewing thunderstorm after a heatwave. When you'd got the text from Powder asking you to swing by, you'd paced your bedroom several times, worried that the topic would be what had transpired the night before. It wasn't, she had just asked because it was the last night she'd be here, set to leave early the next morning. The air was still charged, you’d both somehow silently agreed to not acknowledge it, you personally attributing a lot of it to the fact that today was the last day before summer break. The bags and half packed suitcase strewn across the floor of the room was a constant reminder of what was looming on the horizon, but you tried your best to ignore the surge of emotion and focus on right now, the feeling of Powder’s arm around you. You felt sick at the thought that no matter how much you both pretended nothing happened, or that it was a drunken, spontaneous action not holding any meaning, that blurry line of your connection had spiralled out of control, and that nothing would ever be quite the same.

The sound of Powder calling your name broke you out of your brain spiral, focusing your attention back on to the movie playing. You hummed in response, assuming it was another observational comment on the movie.

“Come with me.” You whipped your head away from the screen and turned to Powder, finding her already staring at you, eyes wide with her objective. “Come home with me,” she repeated when you stared in silence.

“Pow, what do you mean? I can’t do-”

“I’ve already talked about it to my family. I don't want you to be here alone for the rest of the holidays,” she quickly cut you off, rambling.

“You don’t need to pity me, and I don’t want to be a burden,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Powder shook her head, eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re not a burden,” she replied firmly, “and it’s not pitying. I want you to come home with me.”

The words caught in your throat at her response, the surge of sentiment washing over you at her sheer generosity. “Thank you, Powder. I appreciate this, so much,” you settled, smiling softly though anxiously hoping at the same time she understood how genuine your thankfulness to her was.

Powder breathed out as if in relief, before shooting you a small smile. “I’m so glad.” She paused, laughing at something in her head. “I am gonna have to warn you about my sister though…”

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

The drive back to Powder’s hometown had been pleasant, though long. The music from the stereo played quietly throughout, sometimes you’d pass conversation back and forth but for the most part you watched your surroundings or slept, absolutely exhausted from having stayed up the entire night before, hurriedly packing your things and making rearrangements.

“It’s like you’re moving in,” Powder had remarked teasingly when she saw the amount of stuff you’d packed.

“It’s called being prepared, we don’t all live as spontaneously as you,” you’d retorted back lightheartedly, while she began loading the bags into the car, insisting she could do it all by herself.

The nerves that had been building along the journey melted away the moment you’d stepped into the home. Vander, Powder’s adoptive dad, had hugged her immediately upon sight as she yelped playfully, her coat not even fully removed. “You’ve gotten taller since I’ve seen you kid,” he jested when he stepped back.

“It’s always the same joke with you every time, old man,” she’d quipped back, biting back the laugh as her gaze shifted to you at the side watching the interaction fondly. A nervous expression flashed across her face briefly before she took the chance to introduce you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” you finally spoke up, smiling. Vander paused for a second before copying the same action from before, hugging you too.

“Nice to meet you too, kid.” He tapped your shoulder, smiling. “Heard a lot about ya.”

You finally felt at peace, all worrying thoughts of somehow making a bad impression vanishing the longer you conversed with Vander and Silco, who had joined the three of you for dinner in honour of Powder’s return for the summer break. The best part was being able to watch Powder so at home with them, alternating between serious conversation and jesting. She was so loved and content, the warmth spreading and seeping into your bones, that fuzzy feeling making you feel fulfilled again.

Once the post-dinner spectacles were over and the exhaustion began to take over, Powder had showed you up to the bedroom you would become familiar with over the break. You were currently going over the funniest moments of the evening, stifling your giggles in fear of waking anyone up as you entered the room.

“Well, it is a pretty ridiculous story after all,” you laughed as Powder flopped onto the bed, tossing a monkey plushie off the side as she patted the space beside her, beckoning you. You were referring to Silco’s reaction when you were recalling the story of how you’d met and befriended each other, Vander shaking with laughter despite seemingly having heard the story already.

“I think it’s actually more ridiculous how quickly you let it go, actually,” she retaliated.

“I wasn’t going to,” you replied, playfully punching her shoulder, “I just got…distracted.”

“Distracted, huh?” she hummed as she leaned in closer to you, smirking, “so you’ll just let anyone hit you over the head with a torch as long as they have a pretty face?”

“Only one,” you shot back, hoping she couldn’t hear how wildly your heart was beating underneath your confidence.

Powder smiled at your unexpected response, watching as you broke the eye contact, choosing to sweep your eyes across the decorations lining her room. “I thought I’d screwed it up, you know, I’d seen you around a few times before that.” You looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed together as you were about to question what she’d meant, but she shifted on the bed, moving to lay under the duvet cover.

“I’m sorry about this room,” she spoke up, suddenly feeling insecure about her younger self’s taste.

“Don’t, I love it,” you breathed out, smiling fondly as you gazed at all the sheer amount of decorations and trinkets that lined almost every surface of her room, paper stars dangling from the ceiling, imagining teen Powder adorning the room with them.

She smiled tiredly, lifting the duvet cover so you could join her. “Thank you so much for this again, Powder, you didn’t have to do this,” you said, eyes slowly losing the fight to stay open as you settled under the covers next to her, meeting her gaze.

“How many times, toots, I wanted to. Besides, I don’t think I would have survived break without you anyway,” she joked, though her grin was genuine. “I thought today might be a lot for you, so I tried to break it up a little,” she huffed out a laugh, though you picked up on her nerves as you listened attentively. “Vi and her girlfriend Cait invited us out tomorrow, though only if you’re okay with that,” she looked to you, gaze shifting from where she’d been fidgeting with her fingers.

“Powder,” you lay your hand lightly above her fingers, stilling the movement, “I love your family. Of course I’m okay with that.”

She moved her hand so her fingers were interlaced with yours, squeezing them together. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Your pulse was still racing when you laid down later to finally sleep, back faced to Powder’s back in your usual sleeping position. You squeezed your eyes shut as if to will yourself to calm down and actually sleep ahead of tomorrow, Powder on the other side of the bed blissfully unaware of the effect she had on you.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

“And I think you’re going to really get along with Cait,” Powder was filling you in on details as you walked into the restaurant. You’d of course heard plenty of stories from Powder before, so none of this was new, but it was endearing how she rambled on in attempts to alleviate any anxious feelings. You simply nodded with a smile in response, watching as her eyes darted around the room, finally landing on the table where they had already taken a seat, waving briefly before turning to you. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you affirmed, welcoming the feeling of her hand wrapping around yours as you strolled towards the table. You watched as Powder greeted the two and vice versa, before their gazes shifted to you inquisitively. You introduced yourself, shaking your hand over the table as you and Powder took your seats across them. You passed conversation as you waited, already deciding you really liked them as the waiter made their way to the table.

“Well, it is certainly nice finally meeting the girlfriend, we’ve been convinced Powder was like, gatekeeping you from everybody or something,” Vi snorted as she raised her glass slightly.

Cait’s head whipped to the side to shoot Vi a sharp look as Powder melted into a mess beside you, though you hadn't noticed a single thing, your hearing having left you after the word ‘girlfriend’. You tried your best to compose yourself, you’d been midway through a sip of your drink when Vi had unexpectedly piped up, the choking sound that had left your mouth particularly undignified - and you were now miserably aware of the waiter to the side cluelessly asking you if you were ready to order. Powder glanced at you, then pointed at two random things on the menu in despair, words similarly failing her.

Vi watched the scene in confusion, eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment as Cait took over the ordering before turning back to you with an entertained grin. The look on Vi's face was so similar to Powder’s, it took everything in you to hold back from bursting into laughter at the comparison.

“In other words, we’re both very glad to meet you. Any friend of Powder’s is a friend of yours,” she spoke genuinely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’ve heard so much about you both,” you smiled back.

“All good things, I hope!” Vi finally chimed in. You simply shrugged playfully in response, though you swore you heard Powder mutter something about ‘not after this’ under her breath.

You waited for a pause in the conversation before leaning closer to Powder, letting her know you were just going to the bathroom quickly. She nodded, getting up so you could make your way out. She gripped your wrist just as you were about to leave, making you turn back to look at her questioningly.

“Please, don’t leave me with them for too long,” she whispered desperately. You snickered lightly in response, promising you wouldn’t before leaving.

“For their sake,” she added under her breath as she sat back in her seat, shooting a scowl at Vi across the table.

“What the fuck was that about before??” Vi blurted out, gaze alternating between Cait and Powder confusedly.

“She hasn’t asked that question yet,” Caitlyn responded, amused as she watched Powder groan frustratedly into her hands.

“WHAT? Are you kidding? How??” Vi shot out exasperatedly.

“They haven’t talked about it yet,” Caitlyn replied, a giggle escaping her lips as the sheer ridiculousness of the conversation.

“Yes, we don’t all move as fast as you guys,” Powder snarked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Okay, that’s nonsense - you said you were going to ask for her number before you ended up hitting her eye,” Caitlyn teased in retaliation.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“You told us you both already kissed too!”

“Hold on, hold on, there’s way too much too much to unpack here,” Vi clutched at her head, “and why do you know way more than me about this?” She turned to Caitlyn quizzically.

“Right, stalker,” Powder narrowed her eyes playfully.

“I prefer observant,” she shrugged, before pointing a finger at Powder, “besides, you told me all this over call plenty of times.”

“You just had to open your mouth, sis,” Powder huffed out, though there was no bite in her voice as she shot Vi her 100th glare.

“Put it this way, Pow, I just made things a whole lot easier for you,” Vi smirked as Powder looked around the restaurant, eyes landing on you as you emerged and began to walk back to the table.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

“Are you kidding?? That’s so many plans, I’m barely going to have you to myself at this point,” Powder grumbled playfully, laying her head on your shoulder as you both sat propped up against her pillows. Caitlyn and Vi had made an array of plans to hang out over the summer, you’d hit it off very successfully with them and the thought of winning the approval of Powder’s loved ones warmed your chest as you chuckled at her protest.

“You’re going to be there for all of them, Pow,” you rolled your eyes as you shook your head.

“This was their plan all along, trust me,” Powder sighed though she was smiling too as her gaze fixated on your face. She was similarly delighted at how well you’d all got along, her heart warming at the thought. You continued your idle chatter, both waiting for the sleepiness to wash over you.

“And Vi totally cheated in that last round - there’s no way she got a strike all of a sudden,” Powder snickered, still salty over the two of you losing to Cait and Vi in your impromptu bowling game.

“Sure, Pow,” you giggled, “we’ll get ‘em next time,” you said, stifling a small yawn. Powder’s eyes flickered at the action, pulling your arm to lay down properly.

“That’s enough, toots, time to sleep!”

“I’m not tired, I wanted to talk more,” you whined sleepily, though you let her tug you down next to her.

“As much as I want to, we have all the time to do that. You need to sleep right now, I have more stuff planned for us tomorrow and I don’t want you to be grumpy for it,” she smiled amusedly as she faced you, lying down. You pouted mockingly in response, her simply tapping your cheek lightly before turning around. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, giving in as you turned around too. The events of the evening ran back through your head as you closed your eyes. Your mind drifted off to the fiasco before you left the table, her memory lighting up the bulb in your head as you’d almost completely forgotten it. You stifled a giggle, reminiscing as you heard Powder’s soft breathing from behind you.

“Girlfriend, huh?” you spoke quietly into the silence, unable to hold yourself back. You’d said it teasingly, not expecting a response - and it didn’t look like you were going to get one, taking the silence as an indication that the girl beside you had already fallen asleep. You froze as the sheets ruffled as Powder sat up in the bed, looking down at you wordlessly. You mimicked her movement, sitting up next to her as you turned to face her. You were expecting a smirk, her usual confident steady gaze, anything but the vulnerable, anxious look painting her face as she fought herself to keep eye contact with you.

“I was going to ask you soon, I swear, I just didn’t know if you felt the same, but then we kissed but we didn’t talk about it and-” she rambled breathlessly, words spewing out uncontrollably. Your hand placed on her cheek stopped her train of thoughts briefly, gaze dropping from your hand back to your eyes. Your face flushed furiously, the beat of your heart threatening to spin out of your chest altogether as you nodded slightly.

“I wanted to kiss you long before that, I just wasn’t sure…” she carried on, words stumbling out now.

“Powder,” you stopped her going on another anxious rant, her eyes fixated on you as you spoke, “I’ve felt the same since the first time we met,” you confessed softly.

“I’ve been plotting on you since I first laid eyes on you,” Powder managed out, grinning back at you. Her gaze flitted between your lips and your eyes as you leaned in closer to her apprehensively.

“Are you going to stop talking and kiss me already?” you laughed, teasing.

Powder didn’t waste a second before closing the remaining distance between you, her soft lips working against yours as if they’d been made for this very purpose, smiling into the kiss as you tugged her closer by the hand still cupping her face. She snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her as she deepened the kiss. The first time had been great, but God if this didn’t feel a thousand times better, unrestricted, the uncertainty and intolerable tension vanquished - and both of your feelings reciprocated. It set your very insides alight as you pulled back for air, briefly, before you were pulled back in, Powder pressing kiss after kiss to your lips as if to make up for lost time. It was much later in the night when you lay down to finally sleep, Powder’s heart steadily beating pressed to your back as her arms held you tight, close to her. She pressed a sleepy final kiss to the crown of your head before finally closing her eyes, content enough to stay like this forever with you in her hold. As you were both finally drifting off, she suddenly opened her eyes, as if remembering something urgent.

“I didn’t even ask the question!”

You snorted, turning around in her arms to press a kiss to her cheek. “Yes, I will be your girlfriend, you absolute dork.”

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

a/n: first req done !! hopefully met your expectations though this was definitely supposed to be a drabble i just got entirely carried away <3 also wrote this when i have two exams to be studying for (guess my degree!) calico critters are actually called sylvanian families in europe, but i figured barely anyone would know what i was talking abt 😭 anyways enjoy, pls let me know ur thoughts and feel free to send more requests ♡

(gifs by cafekitsune)

#powder x reader #powder x fem!reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x reader #au powder #powder x you #powder x female reader #jinx arcane #powder arcane #arcane x reader #jinxsequin

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