#These are the notes of wildfire in the background :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literaryvein-reblogs · 8 months ago

Text

Writing Notes: On Colour

Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories

BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder

BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue

GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green

ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange

PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink

PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve

RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany

WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White

YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion

BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia

GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast

MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled

COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects

Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.

Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.

Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.

Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.

Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.

Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.

Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite. Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.

White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.

Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.

Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.

Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.

Sources & related articles: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ On Colours

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them! Writing Resources PDFs

#writing #writing tips #writeblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #creative writing #poetry #literature #writing prompt #words #lit #color #colour #spilled ink #writing reference #langblr #studyblr

275 notes · View notes

todofics · 6 months ago

Text

Off The Market | 1/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you?

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters

♡ Author notes: I recently watched Bridgerton and fell in LOVE with it. Who can blame me though? Nicola Coughlan, you have my heart. Anyway, this is my little love letter to that obsession!

♡ 1.6k words/est. 15k words (chapter ⅙)ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡ MHA Masterlist ♡ Story Masterlist ♡ Next

Crystal chandeliers hung like constellations in the night sky, their scattering prisms causing the ballroom to glitter softly in its wake. As the rhythmic thuds of dance and orchestra filled the air, chatter flitted in the background.

“Did you hear?” the Viscountess Ashido asked in a hushed tone, cheeks flushed a brilliant pink as she swirled her glass of wine. Despite it only being the first ball of the season, gossip spread like wildfire. The attention of the small group turned towards her as she continued to speak, “I hear Lord Todoroki is finally seeking to make a match.”

As you sipped on your lemonade, your ears perked at the sound of your best friend’s name. Shoto? Married? The thought made you snort internally. He never mentioned the prospect of marriage in their years of friendship - let alone in the last few months. If they truly knew the man, they’d understand that Shoto had always disdained society and its many traditions - offering himself out on the marriage market was simply… out of character. Then again, these rumors had been circulating every season since the man turned 22 (the year of your debut). It was a piece of gossip that was always best to ignore lest the man announce it himself.

Still, even though most knew that rumors spread amongst the ton were often baseless (especially at an event this early into the season), those words always held particular weight. Even at a young age, Lord Todoroki always possessed an alluring sort of charm. From his dual-toned hair to his mysterious demeanor, Shoto’s presence commanded attention far before he stepped into society. Now, at 26, he had long lost all of his boyish features, his physique sharp and gaze undeniably melting. Somehow, with time, the already attractive boy only grew impossibly more magnetic. This, paired with his future inheritance of the Duke title, seemed to establish Shoto as the most eligible bachelor of each season - even if he was never officially on the market.

“The Lord’s been ‘searching’ for a wife for four seasons now,” Lady Uraraka mentioned, not so swayed by the conversation. Her intentions had already long been set on the green-haired baron anyway.

“I’ve heard nothing on the matter either,” you added, causing a few of your fellow debutantes to groan. If anyone were to know if Shoto was searching for a wife, surely it’d be you.

The two of you had always been a rather interesting pair in the tons’ eyes. Having been friends since your younger years, they had assumed the year of your debut would lead to a proper courting from the male. However, each passing season made it evident that such a thing was far from reality. You and Shoto simply possessed a strong bond of friendship - something that both confused and delighted the debutantes as you settled on the outskirts of their group.

“No! This time, I hear it from the Duchess herself. The Duke intends to make arrangements unless Lord Todoroki makes his match this season,” Mina defended, adding more fuel to the fire. Duchess Todoroki herself had been speaking about it?

After many social seasons spent in the countryside due to a proclaimed illness, the Duchess had only recently reappeared in court last year. This, of course, reignited old gossip surrounding her disappearance. After all, her first year gone coincided with the mysterious appearance of Lord Shoto’s now-defining mark. Thus, it was well-known by now that the Duchess kept to herself, her demeanor proving itself too delicate to get involved in spreading falsehoods.

A frown etched across your face as you listened to the cheery pink-skinned debutante. Duchess Todoroki would never speak about such a thing unless it were true. While you knew Shoto was probably against the idea himself, a feeling of hurt still sank in your stomach as you wondered why the boy hadn’t told you. You considered him your best friend - and honestly, you thought he considered you his. Secrets like this ought to be shared.

Like wolves smelling fresh meat, mothers encouraged their daughters to accentuate their best features, readjusting their clothes and hair to make a good impression. Some of the more eager debutantes forewent this step, keen to catch the eye of the young Lord. They would stop at nothing to gain the upper hand, longing to become the center of his prospects.

Suddenly, the room felt much too small, the heat sweltering as you excused yourself from the desperate group. You’d speak to Shoto later about his soon-to-be marriage. Gliding across the room briskly, you quickly found the balcony door, stepping out and admiring the fleeting beauty of the garden below. The fresh air felt nice against your skin, the cooling sensation calming down the warmth in your cheeks. For now, all you needed to do was gather your senses - relax. Fanning yourself with fervor, your thoughts settled under the pale gleam of moonlight; eyes glazed over with careful consideration.

The sentiments that swirled within you made for great confusion. Irritation and… envy? Sure, the feelings of irritation were a given, but not once had you ever felt actual jealousy towards the man. Although you had always known Shoto to be an attractive man who would eventually marry, the thought of that happening so soon bothered you. You had grown used to the man’s constant presence in your life for years. With marriage on the horizon, that familiarity would simply have to die off - no bride-to-be would allow the future Duke to have such a close friendship with another woman.

Honestly, the situation was quite unfair. At your debut, speculations surrounding your relationship with the man had just about killed off any potential interest. Now, four seasons into your venture into the marriage market, your prospects had only grown slimmer. It rattled you that Shoto was seemingly leaving you behind. You clicked your tongue, attempting to snap out of the annoyed daze you were in. Unfortunately, this was just the reality of society. You’d simply have to succumb to your fate of loneliness. Maybe being a spinster won’t be so bad.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted as the balcony door swung open, your gaze shooting back to see who it could be. “Found you,” Shoto flashed you a soft smile, his posture slightly hunched as he approached. It was clear that the advances of the debutantes had worn him out. He let the door shut behind him, opting to stand directly next to you despite the plethora of room the spacious balcony offered.

“Lord Todoroki,” you replied, turning your attention to the glittering night sky. It was strange - that name felt so foreign coming from your lips.

He frowned, “you know better than to call me that.” Shoto had always insisted on you calling him by his first name, and for the last few years, you had relented (something you regretted now as his expression conveyed one of hurt). Still, you powered on, steeling your resolve. It would be best to distance yourself from the man now.

With a soft laugh, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I should get used to it - your future bride might not take so kindly to another woman calling your name.” His eyes widened briefly, hands clenched as he cleared his throat. Despite being outside, the air grew stiff, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife.

“That,” he paused, attempting to gather his thoughts, “is what I came out here to discuss.” Shoto’s social skills were mediocre at best, his awkward demeanor shining through the seriousness of his tone. You raised a brow, curious of what the man could possibly say.

“To discuss? You came out here to discuss your marriage prospects?” you asked with an incredulous tone, waiting for the man to get straight to the point. He shifted awkwardly, not used to receiving any sentiments of bitterness from your end. “You should have warned me.”

Shoto shot you an apologetic look, “I… I was not aware myself until a fortnight ago,” he murmured. The situation pained him as well - despite his rapid approach to the average age of marriage, he still didn’t feel quite ready. “A fortnight? You should have written. That isn’t information you keep from your friends.”

“I know,” Shoto acknowledged, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself for the spades of anger you were sure to cast. Instead, however, you surprised him. He should’ve known by now that he could never predict your actions.

“It’s fine.”

You had always been quite the firecracker - your passion and zeal for life unmistakable. It was something Shoto had always admired about you; your enthusiasm balanced out his serious demeanor, allowing for a sort of yin-and-yang relationship. This relaxed response was unlike the you he had grown to know.

“I am sorry,” Shoto said, mustering up every ounce of sincerity in his body. You sighed, unable to stay mad at the man for long, the years of friendship preparing you for his aloofness regarding social situations. “Really, I promise you it’s fine, let us move on from this topic,” you reassured. The thought of Shoto’s marriage prospects made you uncomfortable enough - it wasn’t something you particularly cared to converse about.

Before he could let the topic change, Shoto turned to face you, his hands gently grasping your smaller ones as your jaw dropped in surprise. “Just… one more thing,” he started, voice wavering with nerves.

“Allow me to court you.”

#todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shouto x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #no beta we die like men #no beta read

169 notes · View notes

translatemunson · 9 months ago

Text

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes • ttfd

chapter one of the tortured firefighters department

masterlist | next chapter

cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, description of clothes, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)

You knocked on the white door again, not sure why you feel nervous about all of this. It’s just a small get-together at one of your coworker’s houses. For sure it’s better than spending another night in the library, writing your thesis, but it kinda makes you nervous.

So this is what life looks like when away from the screens that raised you?

From the East Coast all the way to LA to get your PhD, the city of angels was no more than a stranger on the window. Before moving, you had worked on the 9-1-1 call center for your region because the shift’s schedule could actually fit your undergrad and master’s schedule — also the money was enough to survive, and you could check your notes on slow shifts. But once after a massive power outage, your superior thought your desk was too small for your brain.

Not that you were a bad dispatcher — your responses and action times were above average, actually —, but he’d seen how you managed the data influx, pinning all the accidents, teams on call and reported issues on the white board and shouting directions for quicker routes and delay problems. After that, you’d spend more time helping fixing turnaround times and implementing some sort of algorithm and protocols for when the next disaster hits. At some point, they transferred you to Florida during the hurricane season because of your reputation — that spread like a wildfire, believe you or not.

You lasted enough to finish your master’s degree and hop on a plane to LA, for your PhD in dynamical systems theory. You had a job offer, leaving your 9-1-1 days behind for some small desk and endless boring demands. It didn’t last much, though, because, after eight months, it made you miss the adrenaline rush and large income of data from the 9-1-1.

That’s how you ended up at the Los Angeles 9-1-1 call center in Metro, always happy to jump on some calls and help other dispatchers with logistics and patterns. Nobody warned you about tsunamis or earthquakes, but you knew you could manage them just like a pro — if they ever happened again, which was a matter of time.

“Hey! I was starting to think you would bail on me!” Maddie opened the door, the genuine happiness glow irradiating and making her smile almost unbearable. “Please, come in.”

“Got caught up in traffic. Who knew the logistics mastermind would be stuck in a casual traffic jam?” You gave her the flowers you bought and held the brownie pan with both hands. “Hope I’m not too late.”

“Oh no, you arrived just in time! Here, let me take care of this,” she took the pan from your hands and motioned to the living room. “Make yourself at home. And thanks for the flowers!”

“Our last guest, finally!” Howard, aka Chim, Maddie’s boyfriend, left his place on the counter to greet you. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice!”

“Hope I didn’t disappoint you.” You hugged him, your extroverted persona finally happy to be in a room with real people, and not just some endless phone calls and work talk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s ok, those guys are too busy with their games to notice we are a little behind schedule. But Jee is getting hangry” He pointed to the couch, where three adults, one child and one baby were too busy with the TV screen to notice your arrival.

“I guess the kid’s table is full tonight.”

“Hey, we’ve heard that!” One of them screamed from the couch, not bothering to look in your direction. He raised his arm, the tattoos across his skin showing against his white skin, in protest.

“Nice crowd.” You followed Maddie into the kitchen, Chim’s voice in the background saying it was the last race.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Water, juice or some alcohol?” She offered while reaching for the glasses. “Oh, Chim made some Margaritas.”

“I’d love one of those, thank you.” You fixed your green dress, somehow feeling overdressed. Not exactly your fault, when Maddie invited you for dinner, you visualized all the scenarios in your mind. Afraid of looking lazy, you went for a flowy green dress and a batch of brownies, to show some appreciation.

Between Margarita sips and after work gossip — because, nowadays, your work schedules mostly were off sync —, you helped Maddie setting the table and dishes. And, as expected, one race became four, with Chim playing the commentator. Maddie took the chance to show you the houses they were applying for, making good use of Jee’s quiet bedroom to talk.

“Are the others not good enough or just too expensive?” She had been talking about house scouting for weeks, and even helped you find a new place while doing so.

“You’d be impressed to see the final price of those houses once you track all the problems.” She played with her hair. “How’ve you been doing?”

“My thesis is starting to follow me like an unwanted ghost, and work has been— no, not gonna jinx it. Moving has been a pain in the ass, but thanks for telling me about that loft. The rent is actually acceptable and the view is amazing!”

“Glad it worked for you! And don’t thank me, actually it was—”

“Hey, Mads, we’re just waiting for you two.” The tall blue eyed guy stood in the hallway and gave the door a weak tap. Oh, tattoo guy, you noticed. “Chim is destroying the dumplings Albert made and Jee is not happy with being left out of the girls reunion. You better hurry up.”

“We are right behind you, Buck.” She said, bringing you with her to the dining table.

After some quick introductions — Albert, Chim’s half-brother; Eddie and his son Christopher, and Buck, Maddie’s little brother —, you indulged in some dumplings and pork ramen. Albert was experimenting with Korean cuisine, talking about opening a restaurant and finally having enough money to move out to his own place.

“Well, I think you should do it. I’d be happy to order this every day,” you said, pointing your chopsticks to the almost empty bowl.

“Thanks– sorry, what is your name again?”

“Everyone just call me Brains.” The nickname stuck since your first major catastrophe at the call center job — and maybe a little because of your bachelor.

“Wait, I think I’ve met you before.” Eddie announced and looked at Chris. “You went to his school a few weeks ago to talk about pursuing math in college, right?”

“I did a small presentation, yeah. My professor asked me for a favor since his kids are students there, but he had a full schedule. I had a nice time with the kiddos.”

“She is super smart!” Chris shared, in his own words, a little about your presentation. Talking to the younger ones about advanced math proved to be a challenge, but once you showed them all the cool things math made possible, you had their attention.

“Why are you working on the 9-1-1 instead of, I don’t know, teaching in college?” Buck inquired, beer in hand.

“Would you believe me if I said I have an adrenaline addiction and I can’t stay away from trouble?” You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“Oh, he would, because he was addicted to—”

Maddie slapped Chimney on the arm. “Hey, there’s two kids in the room.”

And all eyes were on Chris, who was too busy with his noodles to notice, and Jee, playing with her bites of veggies. You laughed, leaving your empty cup on the table, and reaching for the last dumpling.

“I guess we are all addicted to something,” you stared at Buck's blue eyes and took a bite. “Maybe once I get my PhD, I’ll go full professor and find some adrenaline on handing out really hard exams. But the chances are very low.”

“You should try being part of LAFD, you might like it,” Albert suggested.

“I can barely carry my boxes upstairs, being that physical isn’t for me.” The admission made you shyly smile, because you were definitely hinting that firefighters were strong. “Math, on the other hand…”

“Please, don’t give her any more ideas! Since Brains started working with us, the dispatching process changed for the better.” Maddie brought her hands together and begged in a joking tone.

A few Margaritas and some dessert later, you were helping Maddie with the dishes while Albert played with Christopher, and Buck was holding Jee so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum. Chim asked Eddie to help with a few construction questions, feeling like he was missing some important topics while house scouting.

“I think I’m done for the night,” you told her as you closed the cabinet door. “Thanks for the invite, Maddie. You were right, I needed a break.”

“I know when I see someone on the verge of burnout.” You looked at her, the tequila making the simple action of laughing much more easier. “Let me know when you’re settled at your new place so I can get you a housewarming gift.”

“Oh please, don’t bother, Maddie. I’m sure you’re too busy with Jee and moving matters.”

“Sure you don’t want some ramen for tomorrow? Albert may be a good cook, but he has no idea of the measurements.”

“You’re sick of the smell, right?”

“A little.” She smirked.

“I guess I won’t have to worry about lunch tomorrow.”

“Make two, Mads!” Buck approached the kitchen counter. “Leaving already, Brains?”

“Yeah, gonna finish moving to my new place tomorrow.” Maddie left the blue tupperware in front of you. “Thanks, I’ll bring it to you next wednesday.”

“Can I get more brownies?”

“Anything for my favorite dispatcher.” You looked around, opting for a quick goodbye. “It was nice to meet y’all. Again, thanks for the invite, Maddie.”

“Nice to meet you too, Brains,” Buck said, getting closer. “Hope to speak to you soon, dispatcher Brains.”

“I hope we don’t, firefighter Buckley.” You teased him. “Have a good night, guys.”

You left Maddie’s place, drove to your new place, opened the door for an empty apartment, stored the ramen in the fridge, climbed up the stairs and fell face first into your bed, shoes and all.

If you didn’t know Maddie, you’d say she had second intentions with that dinner.

author's note: hi guys! chapters will be short because it helps me keep the momentum with the writing (and keep the impostor's syndrome away from my efforts). also yeah i'm using TTFD as an acronym bc i choose a whole ass long title for the fic. huge shout out to my love my bestie my soulmate @munsonsreputation for always supporting me (love you kaaaay). also hi casey welcome to the 9-1-1 fandom, thank you for the endless edits on tiktok haha. i guess i see y'all next week...

#evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buck buckely #buck fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #effie writes

182 notes · View notes

evanchantingpeters · 9 months ago

Text

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception.

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture.

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion.

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp.

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him.

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt.

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself.

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively.

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.”

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally).

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man’s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you.

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.”

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence.

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down.

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched.

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours.

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door.

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.”

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning his name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

267 notes · View notes

inocentuure · 3 months ago

Text

oral. | SHAUNA SHIPMAN

it was a dull afternoon in 1995 at wiskayok. the classroom was half-lit by the flicker of an educational video on the birth of a baby. the teacher, and your coach—ben droned on in the background, despite the obvious the low hum of whispers from the students. most of the class had long tuned out the video, too uninterested in the educational material to care.

in the back row, your hand slid across the desk, a note folded neatly and passed across to shauna. It was an innocent-looking piece of paper. shauna’s heart skipped a beat as she unfolded it quickly, eyes scanning the lines.

You’ve got skills. No one could’ve made me feel that way like you did last weekend. Your oral game? Unmatched. Seriously.

her cheeks flushed a deep red as she glanced over at you, whose gaze was now fixated up ahead, pretending to be absorbed in the video. shauna quickly stuffed the note into her bag, but the damage was done.

a few rows ahead, a group of girls had caught the exchange, their whispers swirling like wildfire. "did you see that?" one whispered. "what’s up with shauna and jackie’s sister?”

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman #jackie taylor #wlw #𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

54 notes · View notes

darlingchronicles · 11 months ago

Text

JJ AND THE GOLDEN GIRL HEADCANONS II

pairing: jj x fem!goodgirl!reader

word count:

first part here & based on this and this post that i made. enjoy !!!

What is their favorite photo of with other?

✔︎ jj's favorite photo of him and his golden girl is when they were asleep on the hammock and sarah snapped a shot. she was laid on his chest and her head was buried into the side of his neck with her arms around him and jj head was resting against hers and his arms fully engulfed her waist. a small blanket was laid over them and the sun set in the background. as mentioned in my previous headcanons, he keeps it in his wallet at all times.

ఌ golden girl has so many photos that she loves of jj and her, but one takes the cake. it's one where she and jj had just gotten out of the ocean and dressed in their regular clothes, but their hair is still wet, and they were sitting next to a fire the pogues made on the far side of the beach. her head was on his shoulder, but tilted up so she was looking at him and he was looking down into her eyes. it was night, so the light from the fire made them seem like they were glowing. sarah also took the photo and golden girl framed it and put it on the wall near her bed.

What special thing do they carry with them at all times?

✔︎ well of course jj keeps the photo in his wallet, but he also has a couple of bracelets from her. however, one of his prized possessions is the gum hearts. as stated in the previous headcanon, golden girl is very crafty with her gifts and gave jj a heart made out of gum wrapper. she actually wrote in it. a little note that only said, "hey there criminal". it was so lame that he laughed when he opened it one day and saw it. it's a little of an inside joke because jj's name is jesse-james maybank, after the criminal. it was so stupid, but it makes him laugh.

ఌ for golden girl, she usually has a few things on her, but she adores her bracelet that jj made. he made it by hand (he never told her this, but she could tell by the messy threading and specific mini charms) and personalized it. he gave it to her about a year after they began dating (only a few days before he told her he loved her). he just handed it to her randomly when she was staying over at the chateau. he was so nervous but she loved. she always wears it and only takes it off if she's going into deep water because she doesn't want to risk losing it. one of the charms is a surf board, another is of half a sun and one of her favorites is of flounder from the little mermaid (as mentioned before in part 1, she's scared of sharks). she loves that thing and you can always see her wearing it no matter what.

How does the cut and figure eight react to them?

✔︎ first off, the cut is probably the most surprised at the news of them. it only appears maybe like five or six months into the relationship. they kept it hush hush for a while and eventually didn't care who saw them. multiple pogues saw them going for ice cream together. heyward saw them sailing on "the pogue" a few times, alone. others saw them at the kegger, sitting close to one another and jj's arm was around her. the cherry on top was when they came out of the ocean from surfing and he gave her a kiss (ON THE MOUTH???) and the news spread like wildfire. everyone had questions about how it began and shit like that. but it was the excited type of questions. separately, they ask the couple if they're together. jj's only response is "yeah, for a time now" in a lighthearted tone and golden girl's response is "yes, we are!" in a very cheerful tone. honestly the cut was so surprised, but they're honestly for it. with their responses, it seemed like the two were very much falling in love and by the way jj looked at her, the man was a goner and based on her smiles, she was half-way in love already. (everyone knew they were endgame at this point and any other secret suitors resigned) there were some skeptics and some who didn't believe they'd last long, but when they heard how long they've already been together, it crushed all of it. they didn't expect it, but they're kind of the cut's IT couple now. famous, i'm telling you.

ఌ the more judgmental pack is the kooks, aka figure eight. golden girl is known there because she works at the club restaurant as the hostess and she has a pretty good rep there too. heck she has a great rep everywhere. she is the golden girl after all. smiley and shiny. a bright future. the sun personified. (she'd argue but go on) so when they find out that she is dating jj maybank, the bus boy and absolute troublemaker of the cut, they're all fla-ber-gas-ted. like they all blink in confusion. and the only way the kooks found out was about a month after the cut found out and jj and golden girl went to a kegger together and ended kissing near the bonfire. kooks saw, told their friends, who told their friends, who told their parents and BAM! wildfire. some kids were actually really confused and some even tried to "warn" her about getting with a kid "like maybank". she had half a mind to flip them off but all she said was "i think i'm smart enough to make my own choices. thank you" and continued on with her day. she saw the judgment whenever they passed by each other at work and she knew it'd be a while before things went back to how they were at the restaurant. jj had the sharp end of the sword as he physically saw and heard the judgment from the kooks as if they knew her more than him. some of it kind of got to him, but he eventually over heard golden girl telling off some kook boys to leave her and jj the hell alone before she taught them how to shut their mouths. politely. but yeah that's what she said. eventually everything calm down, but figure eight isn't really their biggest fans.

How did their friends react to them?

✔︎ the pogues were really surprised that jj was capable of capturing her heart, but not surprised that they got together. she'd been part of the pogues for a while before they got together. even then, they saw the goo goo eyes and smiles and secret touches here and there and had bets placed. sarah won nearly every side bet, but pope won the last one about who kissed who first. they're for it honestly. they know that she makes jj really happy and he's more devoted to her than any other girl he's ever taken a look at and they know that golden girl would never hurt jj and that she's been in love with him for a while and they know they are made for each other. so very supportive.

ఌ golden girl is actually friends with a few kooks and they were very...ehhhh on the matter. they nearly choked when they heard and ask if the rumors were true. she said yes and they just shared a look. they warned her (like every damn kook on the island she was associated with one way or another) about how jj was and how they heard he was and just told her to rethink it or be careful. they continued on with that train for a while before she told them shut up or else she'd stop hanging out with them. (she's not friends with most of them anymore). however her pogue friends were very happy for her and admire them anytime they're around. again, bets were made and paid.

When did they know they were in it for the long run?

✔︎ the idea actually popped up in jj's head a few times, but he always pushed it aside or ignored it. i mean...being for someone for the long run? like marriage? and kids and a house. i mean, he's too young to even think about that right? i mean it's not possible to know right away? is it? he'd never thought about getting married beforehand. marriage was a wreck for anyone who got involved and it was like tying a noose around your finger, right? that's what he thought. and then she'd smile at him like he was her world and he made it spin on its axis. then she'd give him a little gift he never asked for and she wouldn't even ask for a thank you. then she'd give him a lecture about being reckless, but eyes just tell him that she's terrified something would happen to him. the one time he actually let the thought in was around their first year anniversary when they went surfing and ended up on the beach late at night with no one around. she was pressed up against his chest, sleeping with a few blankets over them and a smile fire burning to keep them warm. he glances down at her and there's something that glows within him that just tells him. for the first time, he thinks about marriage and being with her when he's old and gray and...it doesn't scare him for the first time. that thought alone leads to the first "i love you" only weeks later.

ఌ she's thought about it before. i mean, golden girl has watched rom-coms before, so she has thought about marriage. she'd hope to break the whole generation curse one day and be with someone she loves rather than for money or an accidental pregnancy. it's a wish in her. she does have the desire to marry one day, but she wants it to be for the right reasons. she's more into long-term relationships rather than hook ups or "situationships" because of the fear she'll be used like the women in her family before. so when jj came around and she actually let him in, she knows there's something special there. she thought about it here and there, but she always told herself that when she knows, she'll know. and that moment came around when she and jj were hanging out in her room about nine months in. her parents were out and jj snuck in and stayed for the night. they had played a game of uno, which she beat him at 3 times in a row, and received the reward of him telling her she was the best and amazing at everything (all in a playful manner, she demanded it) and when he won, he claps his hands in a taunting manner and went straight for her. she fell back and he caught her in his arms and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips and she swore she felt her heart skip two beats. when he pulled away, simply to press his lips to her cheek and request a game of cards to beat her at (still riding on the win) when she realize that she could do that forever. play games with cards and monopoly boards and win rewards of kisses and praise for the rest of her life. and the way jj smiled at her when she said she'd kick his ass at anything else, she knew it had to be him. (she knew he felt the same way before he knew).

What is their go-to and favorite date plans?

✔︎ jj is a simple guy. he doesn't need much. if he really wanted to have some alone time and take her out, he'd take her out for a drive to the beach, walk around, talking about everything and nothing before going to get an ice cream and ending the night watching the sunset. his favorite date plans is going surfing or staying on the pogue for the entire day and just be in each other's company.

ఌ golden girl understands that she and jj are busy people. busy bees. if they both had some time in-between their breaks or even after work for some time (or any time for that matter) her go-to suggestion is to sit outside or inside (probably the beach) and play a game of cards with two soda cans sitting next to them. it's quick and easy and they always have a good time. because of this, she and jj always have a stack of cards with them. her favorite date, however, is whenever the carnival or a festival comes near the mainland and they go together and just have fun. close second and most common one is introducing jj to all her favorite movies, musicals and series. (she got him hooked on money heist and gilmore girls, but he'll only watch it with her).

What is the favorite physical and non-physical trait of theirs they love?

✔︎ for jj, his favorite physical trait of hers is her eyes. she's so expressive in her eyes and if he needed to know anything, he'd just have to look into her eyes. she can say one thing, but the eyes tell another. he now believes in the whole "eyes are the windows to the soul" saying. (to be not so wholesome because it's jj duh, he really likes her chest. what can i say? he just likes the girls). his favorite non-physical trait is her ability to try and see the good in everything and everyone: aka her compassion. he knows it's hard for her to do that sometimes and he can see how she wants to be negative, but she tries her hardest to bring joy to others and to herself. she wants everyone to be happy because that's what she wants for herself (and sometimes she doesn't get it). jj doesn't really accept the fact that he's a cause of her happiness and joy, but he feels happy knowing he is.

ఌ for the golden girl, her favorite physical trait of jj is his hair. especially his wet hair when he just exited the sea and he shake it a bit out get the water out. *chef kiss* she also likes to play with it and toy around with it when she's watching tv or when jj is a little stressed, she likes to pass her hand over his hair. it works actually. (to not be so wholesome, his arms and back just make her drool and make her eyes roll back into her head, but you didn't hear it from me) her favorite non-physical trait is his loyalty. i've touched upon this in my last headcanon i think??? but he is loyal to the end. like it's actually this man's fatal flaw. she could be wrong or right, but jj is by her side. honestly her hype man. she's really happy to know he'd go search the entire world just for her.

What specific physical touch do they secretly like?

✔︎ jj is a sucker for back scratches. it's just a thing he found out he liked. he and golden girl were laying in jj's bed at the chateau, mumbling as the clock began to tick closer and closer to two in the morning. he was laying on top of her, head nuzzles into her neck. jj sleeps on his stomach, so golden girl had to learn how to not get crushed by him as she realized it was non-negotiable for him. she was mumbling something about school and jj was just responding with hums as sleep began to overtake him and she began to drag her nails up and down his bare back softly. jj is actually so embarrassed by how obsessed he became with it. if she stops, he'll whine until she gives in. if she begins, she cannot stop until she falls asleep or jj falls asleep or they have to get up. jj could go hours with her just scratching his back. he doesn't care how hard or soft she does it, just likes it (he does have a little fantasy about it, but it's only a fantasy for now lol)

ఌ golden girl really likes it when jj just holds her, whether in her room, his room at the chateau, or the hammock, she likes to curl up in jj's arms and have him hold her. sometimes she needs it because of all the stress on her. she specifically likes it when he talks to her, regardless if she'll respond. it's in his softest voice (he would never admit it to anyone and if she ever mentioned it someone (she hasn't), he'd deny it because why would she try and out him like that????) and he'll just mumble sweet nothings in her ears and sometimes she'll fall asleep because of it. she likes it a lot. (and just to out her a little, she's actually kind of interested in jj's soft voice in other types of scenarios if you catch my drift) but yeah she loves jj holding her and paying attention to her and only her in those moments?

How needy are they?

✔︎ if this man ever says he's not needy, he's lyingggggg. jj is an attention seeker at heart and he wants her attention at nearly all times. he just loves the attention and will do the most stupid stuff to gain it. once he waved her over just to show her he could do a handstand. she eventually caught the pattern of this, but she still goes over to him whenever he calls her. she likes that she's wanted by him. she thought he'd get use to it, but nope. this man is still as obsessed with her attention as always. as for physically, this man got a taste of physical touch after being touch starved (romantically at least) and he's never gone back. a hand on her back, hand in hand, hugging her, arm around her shoulder, etc, etc. he's always touching her if he can.

ఌ she admits it. she likes his attention. A LOT. she wouldn't say she's needy, but she really likes it when he's paying attention to her and only her. golden girl captures his attention in different ways. she'll fiddle with his hands or his hair or just call him over so he can sit next to her. she's heading towards jj-level obsessed at some points. physically however? she's right there with jj. hand on his knee, rubbing his back with her hand as he talks, fiddling with whatever jewelry he has on, stroking his jaw with her thumb, hugging him, etc. neither of them really care what everyone else thinks, but they never go beyond this to make sure others are comfortable in some aspects. since they're not there yet, this is as far as it goes for now (john b and sarah on the other hand are...well...they're not very quiet....lol)

Favorite nicknames?

✔︎ little lady, princess, flounder, sunflower, goody-two shoes, wormy, grumpelstiltskin

ఌ blondie, j, sunshine, pretty boy, criminal, giraffe, surfer boy, sleeping beauty

thedarlinglore: i love jj and golden girl so much. like it's actually an obsession. and there is more come!!! a fic is coming soon, but hey, we have more headcanons. i am thinking about blackcat!reader, but we'll see. requests are also open i hope you enjoyed and see you in the next one. love you, my darlings <3

➣ my last "jj" work | "oh schroeder" ➣ more concepts | jj maybank

#darlingchronicles #jj maybank concept #jj maybank #obx #outerbanks #darlingconcepts #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj mayback imagine #obxboys #outer banks

225 notes · View notes

nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 6 months ago

Note

hello, I've sort of migrated here from Twitter. If you have the time I was wondering if the things I got from twitter/tiktok are correct.

In the books valyrian's are the only people in world who can bond with dragons?

In the books Targs are immune to heat/fire and sickness because their blood is magic?

Hightower's tower was made with dragon fire despite it predating Valyria?

There are other buildings around the world in asoiaf which also used dragon fire but also predate Valyria and their dragons?

Someone told me on tiktok that the OG asoiaf dragons went extinct and Valyrian magicians bred other magic creatures together until they got their version of dragons?

thank you for any help 🙏. I want to get around to reading the books but it's kinda daunting because there's so many of them and they're long and I'm a slow reader 😭

Hey, welcome to Tumblr! (Hope you survive the experience.) Sure, I can answer your questions (certainly better than tiktok and twitter lol sigh), but I do definitely recommend reading the books! Some people find it easier to go with audiobooks (I personally don't, since auditory processing isssues make me tune out in five seconds, same with podcasts, sigh), and that might be a big help for you? But anyway, answers below...

1. Yes... um... it's a question. It's stated that Valyrians are the only ones that can bond with dragons, and furthermore, only ones from the dragonriding families of Valyria. (This is part of the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism", which I'll describe later.) The "dragonseeds" who rode dragons during the Dance were supposedly bastards or descendants of bastards of Targaryens (I'll get to the details in a moment), and we have the example in the current books of Brown Ben Plumm, who Dany's dragons adore, and he is an extremely distant (by like 120 years) descendant of Elaena Targaryen and Aegon IV Targaryen.

However, the dragonseed and dragonrider Addam of Hull, per the histories a bastard of Laenor Velaryon (son of Rhaenys Targaryen), was almost certainly actually the bastard of Corlys Velaryon, and the Velaryons were not a dragonriding family. Though it's possible that one of the pre-Conquest Targaryen ladies married into House Velaryon, so it's not that exceptional. The greater problem is the dragonseed Nettles, of no known background, called out by the narrative as looking distinctly un-Valyrian (she's brown, and note the Velaryons are white in the books), who tamed her dragon by feeding it sheep until it started to like her. Many theorize that while Valyrian blood makes it easy to bond with dragons (due to likely blood magic/genetic bonding with dragons in ancient times, as they claim to be descended from dragons), it is still possible to create that bond the hard way, as the early Valyrians were once a mere tribe of shepherds who discovered dragons nesting in a local chain of volcanoes. The full answer is one of the greater mysteries of ASOIAF, and will hopefully be resolved in later books. (Along with whoever the riders of Dany's other two dragons will be.)

2. Per GRRM, Targaryens are not immune to fire, but they do have some heat resistance, and enjoy things like hot baths and hot weather. The only one actually immune to fire was Dany, and specifically only during the miracle of her dragons' birth. (During her taming of Drogon right before she rode him the first time, she received burns on her hands.) Many Targaryens have died or been injured by fire, including Viserys Targaryen (Dany's brother and his "golden crown"), Aerion Targaryen (he drank wildfire because he thought it would turn him into a dragon. It didn't), Rhaenys Targaryen the Queen Who Never Was, Daeron "the Daring" Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As for illness, the "Doctrine of Exceptionalism" was a religious precept that King Jaehaerys I worked out with the Faith of the Seven, to give the Targaryens an exception on the Faith's anti-incest stance. It stated that Targaryens were different, exceptional, special people, closer to gods than men, because of their unique silver-gold hair and purple eyes, because they alone rode dragons, and because they never got sick. "There was fire in the blood of the dragon, it was reasoned, a purifying fire that burned out all such plagues." However, only a few years after Jaehaerys made this agreement (and married his sister Alysanne), their 7-year-old daughter Daenerys died of the Shivers, a severe-flu-like epidemic. (This put great doubt in their heart, but did anyone do anything about it? lol no.) Their daughter Maegelle later died of greyscale, and their son Baelon died of appendicitis. Later Targaryens have died of other epidemics, of the pox, of tuberculosis, and other diseases.

However -- some Targaryens have shown surprising resistance to illness. Aegon III sat with many victims of the Winter Fever epidemic, and never showed any symptoms. Dany herself cannot recall ever getting sick. (She is not immune to being poisoned, though.) There may be something specifically connected to being a dragonrider (though Baelon was one), or more specifically being a potential Prince That Was Promised? Again, this is connected to the greater mysteries of ASOIAF, to be resolved later.

3 & 4. The base of the Hightower -- not the tower itself, but its first level -- is an ancient fortress made of fused black stone, which is similar to Valyrian construction made by melting stone with dragonfire (such as the castle of Dragonstone, the walls of Volantis, and the Valyrian roads). However, it predates the Valyrian empire by millennia, and is plain without decoration, unlike how the Valyrians would twist the melted stone into artistic forms. There are also other ancient structures in the world, the Five Forts on the eastern border of Yi Ti, that are also made of this fused black stone in this plain style. Some maesters also think the Hightower fortress's labyrinthine design is similar to the Mazes of Lorath, also ancient structures, made by a vanished giant not-quite-human species (called the Mazemakers) in pre-history. GRRM has said "there were dragons everywhere, once" (there are indeed records of dragons in Westeros before Valyria, and dragon bones found in far distant places in the world) and the truly ancient Asshai'i histories claim to have taught the Valyrians the secrets of dragons, so there's a theory that there was a dragonriding culture long before the Valyrians who left behind these fused black stone structures. (More on this in the next answer, and you can see an older theory post of mine on the subject here. Also note I am certain this culture was not the Great Empire of the Dawn, they're unrelated.) One more great mystery!

5. Yeeahh... this may be true. Or it might not be. Septon Barth (Jaehaerys's Hand of the King, and a great researcher into the origins of dragons, with theories that made maesters call him crazy and the Faith burn his books) apparently theorized in his Unnatural History that the Valyrian dragons may have been created via bloodmagic, possibly by breeding wyverns (flying reptiles that do not breathe fire), possibly with firewyrms (wingless/legless earth-boring creatures that do breathe fire). There's also (as I said above) Valyrian legends that claim they found dragons nesting in the Fourteen Flames, but ancient texts from Asshai claim that dragons first came from the Shadow (the mountains around Asshai), and an ancient nameless people brought them to Valyria and taught the Valyrians the magic needed to control them. And there's a myth from Qarth that there used to be another moon that cracked open like an egg and millions of dragons came out. We do not yet know the true answer.

GRRM recently said "Septon Barth got most of it right", but what is "most"? Was there an incredibly ancient vanished species of dragons that the original Valyrians re-created? Did these Valyrians somehow breed these new dragons with themselves to make them easier to control? What we do know is that occasionally Targaryens have had monstrous dragon-like stillbirths. We do know that very rarely a dragon egg has hatched a "broken thing" that dies quickly, or a monstrous wingless wyrm that attacks its cradlemate, with no known reason why. We know that in the ruins of Valyria since its Doom, there are apparently mutated creatures that can lay eggs containing "worms with faces" and "snakes with hands" in human flesh, a horrific experience witnessed by Septon Barth that sent him on his path. It's a great great mystery, and there will apparently be an answer one day.

BTW, many of these huge mysteries were introduced in The World of Ice & Fire, if you want to read just one book. However, TWOIAF is not a story like the actual books, it's a history/geography book, and if you want more than lore, if you want addictively enjoyable characters and amazing dialogue and a truly excellent story, again I highly recommend reading the main books. The lore and the mysteries are very interesting, sure, but they're not what's really kept me in this fandom for 13 years now, you know?

89 notes · View notes

redsummermoon · 6 months ago

Text

Wild Side

Charlie Dalton x reader CW: female reader, quiet reader, use of Y/N, classic pig prank, and Mr. Nolan [1.4k words] first published thing on tumblr.. I’m nervous

Y/N arrived at Welton as one of the few girls in the entire school, a result of its recent decision to go co-ed. She quickly learned that, as one of the first females, she was both an outsider and an anomaly. Sharp-witted and observant, Y/N realized that to gain the respect of the boys and teachers, she had to be more than just smart—she needed to be quiet, watchful, and strategic. She kept to herself, sitting in the back of classrooms and taking meticulous notes. Y/N spoke only when necessary, blending into the wood-paneled walls of Welton’s corridors like a fly on the wall.

But while she played the part of the diligent, invisible student, inside she felt like she was suffocating. The school’s rigid rules, the condescending looks from some of the boys, and the constant pressure to perform weighed heavily on her. And yet, through it all, she noticed one boy who carried himself differently. And that was Charlie Dalton.

Charlie was everything Y/N wasn’t: loud, rebellious, and carefree. She had heard whispers about him and his friends, their love for breaking rules, and their knack for mischief. Yet, she had never interacted with any of them. Charlie was always surrounded by his friends, laughing, joking, and getting into trouble. He was everything Y/N wasn’t allowed to be, and for that, she envied him.

Even so, Y/N chose to remain in the shadows, keeping her head down and making no friends. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t planning something.

It was lunchtime in the cafeteria, and the Dead Poets were seated at their usual table, enjoying their meal.

“This place has gotten a little boring, don’t you think, fellas?” Charlie said, pushing his lunch around on his tray.

“Dalton, I swear if you get us in trouble again, I’m going to kill you,” Neil replied, though his tone was light-hearted.

Charlie grinned mischievously, his eyes scanning the room as if he were already planning his next scheme. “Relax, Perry. I’m just saying this place could use a little excitement.”

At that moment, the cafeteria erupted into chaos. A loud squeal echoed through the room, and all heads turned to see a pig trotting through the center of the cafeteria. The pig had the number “1” painted on its back in bold black ink. The students burst into laughter, and even the most uptight teachers looked momentarily baffled.

“Is that…” Knox started, but was cut off by another squeal.

“Charlie, what did you do?” Meeks cried.

A second pig appeared, this one with the number “2” on its back, followed by a third pig, marked with the number “4.” The pigs darted between tables, students jumping out of their way, and soon the entire cafeteria was in pandemonium. The teachers, led by Headmaster Nolan, were frantically trying to catch the pigs while also searching for the missing pig number “3.”

“This is amazing,” Charlie muttered, his grin widening. “Where’s the third pig?”

“Where’s number three?” a student shouted, his voice tinged with glee. The question spread like wildfire. Everyone started speculating about the missing pig. Was it still on the loose? How had it escaped?

Charlie’s grin slowly faded in awe. “I don’t think there is a third pig.”

The teachers were losing their minds, and Headmaster Nolan himself was stomping through the hallways, barking orders and demanding answers.

But Y/N was laughing. Not just smiling, not just chuckling, but truly, laughing. It was the first time she had felt joy since arriving at Welton. She laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes, and she had to sit down to keep herself from falling over.

She was practically in stitches, and for the first time, Charlie noticed just how beautiful she was when she wasn’t trying to blend into the background.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Charlie said to the group, getting up from his seat before anyone could stop him. He crossed the room with his usual swagger, dodging a teacher who was trying to corner one of the pigs, and made his way over to Y/N’s table.

Y/N wiped away a tear from her eye as Charlie slid into the seat across from her. She looked up, still smiling, but with a hint of confusion as Charlie sat down.

“What’s so funny?” Charlie asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Y/N’s smile grew wider as she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice. “Can you keep a secret?” She whispered as Charlie leaned in impossibly closer, nodding. “This is my prank.”

Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise, but his grin didn’t falter. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “I thought it’d be fun to throw the teachers off. There’s no third pig. They’ll be looking for it all day.”

Charlie let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “That’s genius.”

“I’m glad someone appreciates it,” Y/N said, her tone teasing, though she was genuinely pleased by his reaction.

“Are you kidding? This is the best prank I’ve seen all year. You’ve got Nolan running around like a headless chicken.” Charlie leaned back in his chair, studying her with renewed interest. “So, how does someone like you, no offense, pull off something like this?”

Y/N shrugged, still grinning. “Well, for starters, I grew up on a farm. My brother graduated from Welton a few years ago and hated it just as much as I do. He helped me get the pigs here as a parting gift for this place.”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m in love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread across her cheeks. “Please, you don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Charlie said, his tone suddenly more serious, though the playful glint in his eyes remained. “You’re the first person here who’s managed to pull off a prank like this without getting caught. That’s something.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, surprised by how much she enjoyed talking to Charlie. He was different from the other boys at Welton. He was bold, confident, and a little reckless, but in a way that made her feel like maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.

“If you ever need a group to hang out with, we’ve got a club where we meet up, read poetry, talk about life, and basically just try to remember that there’s more to the world than this school.”

Y/N’s interest was piqued. “Sounds intriguing.”

“It is,” Charlie said, his eyes locking onto hers. “And we could use someone like you. Someone who knows how to shake things up.”

Y/N felt a warmth in her chest at his words. For the first time since she’d arrived at Welton, she felt like she might actually belong somewhere. “Maybe I’ll check it out,” she said, trying to sound casual, though her heart was racing.

Charlie grinned. “Good. I’d like to take you out some night as well.”

“And how would you manage to sneak both of us out Dalton?” Y/N asked.

“I have my ways, beautiful,” Charlie winks.

Before Y/N could respond, one of the teachers finally managed to catch the first pig, eliciting a cheer from the students. But the excitement was short-lived as the search for the elusive third pig continued.

“Well, it looks like your prank is going to keep them busy for a while,” Charlie said, standing up. “Nice work, L/N.”

Y/N smiled up at him. “Thanks, Dalton.”

As Charlie walked back to his table, Y/N watched him go, a smile still lingering on her lips. For the first time since arriving at Welton, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Back at the Dead Poets’ table, the boys were still talking about the pigs. Charlie slid back into his seat, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“What are you so happy about?” Knox asked, glancing at Charlie suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing,” Charlie said, his eyes flicking back to where Y/N was sitting. “Just met someone who might be even crazier than me.”

“You mean to tell us these pigs have nothing to do with you?” asked Neil.

“Nope,” Charlie replied, popping the “p” as he tilted his head in Y/N’s direction.

Neil raised an eyebrow. “L/N? The quiet girl?”

Charlie nodded, still grinning. “Turns out she’s got a wild side.”

#charlie dalton x reader #charliedaltonxreader #charlie dalton #neil perry #steven meeks #knox overstreet #dead poets society #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dps #dps fanfiction #dps fandom #dps x reader #dps charlie #dps meeks #dps neil #dps knox

94 notes · View notes

yukirayu · 3 months ago

Text

These I've also shared on Twitter, but I thought I'd share them here before someone tries any sort of libel.

You know what's funny about this whole discourse about the Slow Damage patch ? The whole discourse reminds me of game mods, in a way.

Game mods are made by fans, for free no less, for you to download, and only if you wanted, to help improve your experience with a game.

Whether it's improving the aesthetic (character or background design) or tweaking some of the gameplay elements itself. Or adding new elements, or even changing things purely for shits and giggles.

That way, mods are akin to patches. More often than not, mods are made because the base game had flaws in their design (technical or otherwise) that the mod intended to fix or improve.

But these mods are optional. And naturally, most mods are going to use preexisting assets from either the game they're modding or from another game, assets that they'll either refine or combine with other assets to make something better.

While some mods earn a raised brow, if the mod isn't to one's liking, most generally just ignore it.

Except in this specific instance, some don't like the mod that is the patch and feel that it doesn't sit right with them for whatever reason, believing that its existence would be "spitting" on the original game or because it no longer sounds as snarky as they themselves would like to read it as.

But instead of ignoring the patch, which they were explicitly advised to do if they take offense to it, they decide to make their dislike everyone else's problem, and by poisoning the well, no less.

And one quick way to ensure that is to accuse the patch of bigotry towards the LGBT community.

I'm already aware that this same accusation is spreading like wildfire, both in Reddit and especially in Twitter, and in some Discord spaces, most likely.

But did anyone, and this includes the accusers, even play at least 40% of the patched version, and intensively at that, before making that claim?

Oh, I'm all too aware that bigotry is a real, serious and widespread issue.

But in most online circles nowadays, accusing something of bigotry right off the gate is also one surefire method of turning people off of it before they can even check it out for themselves.

I mean, what better way of publicly dragging something you don't like through the mud than to spread accusations/misassumptions that are quick for others to believe before anyone can even try and personally fact-check anything?

Especially in a place like the internet itself.

The note stating the avoidance of using a specific pronoun for some characters to not assume their identity could've been phrased better, yes, and the patch team did clarify their stance on the matter. Alas, anything can still easily be misinterpreted and used as flame bait.

But what's odd is that the people who first touted this claim (either here or in other platforms) have one thing in common: they never checked out the patch (let alone played through one certain route in full) to personally confirm if that really is the case.

Taking all this into consideration, I think that no matter how the patch was presented, it'd get backlash.

Even long before any of us knew this patch was even going to be a thing, even giving constructive criticism about the localization and any mistakes/goofs it made already drew ire, and it's those same people who took offense that are spreading the hate about this patch.

It all really boils down to the matter of the patch even existing, since - as some detractors point out - it's what they call to be a disrespectful spit to the face, even without factoring the false accusations of transphobia and plagiarism.

Let's say they used the JP game files instead and have the patch work with that version. They'd get decried for copyright infringement and they risk a C&D order.

Use the EN files? We already get the claims that they barely did anything to the text, among other things. Why?

Because they didn't adjust every single syntax and change every single word in every single sentence… when English isn't exactly the most versatile language and there's only ways you can translate something, especially in the simpler sentences like "Who are you?".

Using a thesaurus on everything would make it sound weird. Heck, the patch being more verbose and detailed and impersonal (which is what's to be expected when it's third person and in a visual novel, no less) already got it accused of being no more than a fancy MTL.

And it doesn't help that many already assume that the statement that MTL can be a helpful tool is also the same as "MTL being the superior translator of all time", and people will find anything and I mean anything to hate on something and discredit it.

And as for the preferring 1st person over 3rd person and vice versa? It's a matter of preference, yes, and that can't be helped.

But let's get one fact out in the open: Out of N+C's 5 main VNs, only one is told in first person POV in the JP/original version, and that's DMMD.

The other game that used 1st person narration is Slow Damage's spinoff game, Clean Dishes, but not the main/parent game itself.

And even years before they got licensed, the fan patches followed the intended narration viewpoint of the first 4 VNs. Third person for Togainu no Chi, Lamento, and Sweet Pool, and first person for DMMD.

Their respective localized versions (except Lamento), also followed the intended narration viewpoint, and nobody complained because that was all they knew.

But because Slow Damage's localization took the creative liberty of changing the narration from third to first person, with people exposed to it, it's not really surprising some have gotten accustomed enough to end up preferring it.

Even when another version that retells the game in original narration comes up, for the past two years, the localization has been what they knew, and that is what many usually then decide to stick to.

In the scenario where the localization - even if it would still be a mess - never changed the narration, would people still say "Oh but they should've changed it to 1st person since it would've enhanced the story"?

It's telling that it never happened with Togainu no Chi, Sweet Pool and DMMD, no?

And before anyone tells me that I just hate localizations overall, you don't hear me complaining about the official translation of any of the BLVNs that Mangagamer licensed, do you? I also have plenty of gripes with DMMD's fan translation over what it did to Mink.

#slow damage #fen rambles

44 notes · View notes

fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 7 months ago

Text

Good Omens Fic Rec: litany in which certain things are crossed out

A beaten-down Aziraphale opens a bakery in the small town of Tadfield, where he finds an all-night greasy spoon and one fallen Crowley, who is making amends through various and increasingly ridiculous means of community service. Features an inexperienced!Aziraphale, Crowley the town ne’er-do-well, and Crowley’s self-appointed protector, young Adam.

Length: 30,909 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Triggers: None/Read Author's Notes

Read it here, fic by Ayes

*Minor Spoilers* I get overwhelmed sometimes when I stop to think about the fact that even after reading hundreds of fics of these two characters, it is still magic to me. How they slot together, how they mend each other's jagged edges, how they are meant to be. It's just beautiful and no media has ever come close to what this pairing does for me, and this fic was the perfect reminder of that fact.

Aziraphale has just moved to Tadfield to open a bakery, hoping for an escape from a life that has been nothing but guilt, repression, and shame. In town, he meets the wildfire that is Crowley. Fallen from grace, Crowley spends his days doing community service as his penance. Both runaways looking for a fresh start, who discover a home in each other. This work really captures them beautifully, so true to their roots but with a powerful take of it's own. It's soft, domestic, the most beautiful fantasy of finding someone who you just fit with.

The love story between the pair is the star of the show, but the rest of the cast are outstanding as well. I love spending time in Tracy and Shadwell's pub, and Adam was the perfect way to round out their family. And I can't forget to mention good girl, Lucy, our lovely dog friend who always made me smile. I would read a million words of this story, I want to know everything about this town and it's residents. I want to watch lazy days in the bakery, and sit at their table at dinner time. And what I also really really want is to live in Crowley's greenhouse. It sounds perfect! So beautiful and cozy, I want to lay in bed while it rains with Golden Girls in the background. The landscape and buildings here were rich characters of their own.

Simply put, this fic is gorgeous. Going by the notes, it looks like this was actually written in 2017 (book omens), taken down, and then reuploaded this year. Thank someone it's back up because I needed to read this one. There's a short, non explicit scene, but you'll be fine in public if you wish. Though, I think this one is best suited to home or at least a nice quiet and contemplative space.

Read it here, fic by Ayes

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #litany in which certain things are crossed out #Ayes #medium #two flames #safe in public #romance #hurt comfort #food au #doctor au #parent #faves of the blog

91 notes · View notes

viviennevermillion · 1 year ago

Text

poisoned veins

✧ notes: first work for my "autumn remedies" event! i'm doing the commonly triggering topics first before moving on to my more soft prompts. stay safe while going out and look out for your friends as well. here's an article about how to recognize drink spiking if it happens to you or a friend and what to do in this situation.

✧ synopsis: sampo protects you and takes you to natasha's clinic after your drink has been spiked, waiting in worry for you to wake up. (hurt/comfort), 3.1k words

✧ now playing: bad things — breathe

✧ warnings: drugging, medical emergency, vomiting, seizure, needles

Entertainment was always sparse in a place like the Belobog Underworld. It was almost a little ironic that a Masked Fool like Sampo found enough amusement in a place where most people spent their free time in fight club and meeting up in backalley taverns. That's what pretty much every establishment in Boulder Town was like in the late evenings. You could hardly expect a fancy restaurant in a community that had been sealed off and short on resources for such a long time. But people still made the best of it. Most bars and taverns had enjoyable menus, so people didn't mind coming back on their weekends. It was not Epsilon XII and hardly comparable to the joyful atmosphere Sampo knew from the Masked Fools taverns, but it was the perfect place to get some inspiration for a new scam.

He didn't expect to find you there when he entered the tavern late at night. He had helped Wildfire out with procuring a couple of necessary items and had gotten back late; deciding he wasn't in the mood for half-burnt scrambled eggs that he tried to make while tired and with a hardly commendable attention span. So take-out food was the way to go tonight. He sat down on the stool next to you at the bar. "Hey, fam!", he addressed you with a cheerful smile on his face, "do you come here often?"

You chuckled at his remark and took a sip from your drink. "Why does this sound like a cheap pick-up line?", you raised an eyebrow at him as Sampo ordered the weirdest food on the menu. "It's not, I swear!", he held up his hands defensively and laughed, "I was just curious, is all." You shrugged. "Well, to answer your question, I don't really go to places like this all that often but I was in the area and I really needed a drink. I'm exhausted." Sampo didn't know what you had been doing beforehand, but he could guess that it probably had something to do with helping another poor soul in need or just not understanding what an appropriate time to stop work was. A common pattern around here, really.

"What a coincidence, I just came here for a meal as well", he smiled at you but was a bit annoyed about having to yell over all the background noise. He felt like you were a little uncomfortable with the atmosphere at the bar. "You don't seem to like the place a lot", he remarked, earning a glare from the bartender who probably thought it was out of place for someone to declare loudly that a person didn't like his establishment. But you seemed almost relieved that someone pointed it out. "Yeah it just isn't as safe and comfortable as I'm used to", you nodded, taking another sip of the drink, "had to shoo away some idiots who were getting a little too comfortable being in my personal space before you arrived."

Sampo took his plate with the chocolate sauce burrito into his hands and got up from the stool as soon as it was brought to him. "Well, if you need their money as compensation, you know where to find me", he winked and nodded his head towards the front door, "wanna sit outside where it's a little more quiet?" Pondering on his words, you noticed you were more than ready to leave this place.

So you followed Sampo Koski to sit on a small bench under a lamp post across from the tavern.

There were a few guests outside and Sampo kept his distance from them as he walked through the dining area. Meanwhile you seemed to struggle a little. "Watch where you're going", an older woman hissed as Sampo turned back and saw you getting a little dizzy, bumping into the sitting customer and causing her to let go of her fork which promptly dropped down to the floor. The waiter made his way inside to get her a new one. "Sorry...", you mumbled and seemed a little bit out of it.

Sampo walked back to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder for support, guiding you over to the bench. "Don't need to hold onto you, really", you sighed and sat down, your words sounding a little bit slurred. He wondered how much you had to drink. "Friend, are you doing okay?", he asked with a smile on his face. "Mmmh...", you replied, feeling the wooden surface under your hand as you sat down, almost missing the bench a couple of times, "...just a little tired."

Sampo raised an eyebrow and there was a look of concern on his face but he brushed it off. He knew how a person could get with enough sleep deprivation. Besides, he was there to look after you when you got too drowsy. It was late and he made a mental note to walk you home when the time came. For now though, he thought he'd just sit under the moonlight with you for a while, letting you take in the fresh air and clear your senses. Maybe he'd get to talk with you a little bit and finally find the courage to ask you out. He had done so a couple times, always hiding his true feelings behind his goofy facade. You had thought he was joking and he didn't have it in him to correct you thus far. He couldn't blame you, really.

The downside of being a jester could very well be that people struggled to see that there was a person with feelings just like everyone else underneath the mask. Sampo gazed up to the stars with a helpless smile on his face. He remembered when he made you laugh and how his first thought had been that maybe this had been the reaction he had been looking for all along when he committed to his shenanigans. That seeing you giggle about his endeavors made it worth running from the Silvermane Guards every once in a while. Ever since the border between the underworld and the overworld was reopened, they had been patrolling in Boulder Town as well, which made Sampo's line of work even more difficult. He wondered if you could love someone who had an arrest warrant on his back. Perhaps he'd always be a coward when it came to letting you see what was in his heart, he mused.

"Well, maybe it's time to head back for us. It isn't long until the night patrol passes through here and I wouldn't want to run into the guards tonight. How about I walk you back home?", he sighed but his heart seemed to stop for a second when he looked at you again. You were slouching, your hand pressed to your head and Sampo noted that you looked a little sick. "Y/n?", he called out your name and tapped your shoulder multiple times. You were unresponsive. "Y/n?", he tried again and grasped your shaking hand as you leaned over to your side to empty your stomach into the trashcan next to you. You missed.

"Hey, maybe we should stop by Natasha's clinic before we get you home, alright?", he spoke softly but there was worry evident in his voice, "you don't look like you're doing too well..."

Sampo saw you reach for the drink next to you with unsteady hands, struggling to hold onto the glass as you lifted it to your mouth. A realization seemed to cross Sampo's mind. He took the beverage from your hands before you could take another sip. Something inside you seemed to protest, and you tried to reach for the glass again in confusion, knocking it out of his fingers by accident.

It fell to the floor with a loud shattering sound, startling you. Sampo saw tears forming in your eyes from the shock. You seemed scared and confused but unable to communicate. "Come on, let's get you to a doctor", Sampo whispered in a comforting voice, helping you up, "I'm sure someone will clean this up, don't worry about it. Can you walk?"

He got his answer when you collapsed and your legs gave in. Luckily, Sampo was fast enough to catch you before your head hit the pavement. You stared up with wide eyes but didn't seem to look at anything in particular. It was like you were staring right past him. Your muscles tensed and you tried to point at something that Sampo couldn't see. He called out your name a couple more times in panic, gently tapping your cheek multiple times as if hoping you would just snap out of it. His heart had sunken in his chest and a shiver ran down his spine, seemingly freezing his bones. You looked like consciousness had left you; clenching your jaw and moving it like you were chewing on something.

Sampo swallowed his fear and picked you up, ignoring the concerned stares of the nearby tavern guests. Natasha's clinic was only a few streets away from here. He could make it in 5 minutes if he ran. Running with you in his arms proved to be a challenge as your body continued writhing. The movements reminded Sampo of a new-born baby tossing and turning in the crib and grasping for nothing in particular. Definitely not something that should be happening to you.

You looked dead inside. The image sent a feeling of panic through Sampo's heart and he was hoping his own legs wouldn't give in due to the shock. He needed to be strong for you now. Memories flashed through his mind of the last time he had met you, grabbing a coffee with you in the overworld and joking around about his newest scam. Everything had seemed like fun and games during a time where the possibility of losing you had never crossed his mind. But now it did. And it terrified him. As the cold air of the night seemed to burn in his lungs as he kept running, a quiet voice inside him wondered what would happen if he never got to see your smile again. He could only guess at what had put you in this state but he didn't know what it actually meant for your health. Were you going to see the dawn? Were you going to stay like this? He probably shouldn't think about that for now, he mused.

He opened the door to Natasha's clinic with such force that it sounded like he had kicked it down as he called out for the underworld doctor. He recognized her by the sound of her heels on the floor as she made her way towards him. "Sampo Koski, how many times have I told you to keep your voice down in my hospital-", Natasha stopped in her tracks when she saw Sampo holding you like this, trying to keep you still as to not drop you, "oh god." She hurried over to the emergency section of the clinic and got a stretcher ready for you. "Put them down here", she instructed Sampo, who carefully lowered you onto the stretcher. Natasha noticed there were tears in his eyes and he was shaking. She had never seen him this concerned about anybody.

"Will they be okay?", Sampo bit his lip and tried to calm down, taking deep breaths while simultaneously doing his best to keep your arms and legs on the bed so you wouldn't hit them against something and injure yourself. "Probably", Natasha calmed him down and brought her medical equipment to your bedside, "I've had cases like this before and so far none of them died on me, so have a little faith, okay?" Sampo nodded. "Would you help me keep their arm still? I need to take a blood sample", she asked him. He firmly but gently pinned your arm down with both hands while Natasha took a sample of your blood and then put you on an IV. She brought the tube with your blood to the laboratory while Sampo held your hand in his to make sure you didn't move your arm too much with the catheter in it.

Seeing you writhing on the stretcher made his heart break. Neither trying to comfort you with his words nor swearing that whoever did this to you was going to pay for it seemed to bring you back to him. He felt helpless. The time Natasha took to get results from the blood test, administer medicine to you and ultimately cause your body to relax again felt like an eternity to him. It eventually just looked like you were sleeping, which allowed Sampo to calm down as well. "They need rest now", Natasha said eventually, "I need to attend to the other patients but you can stay here if you'd like to... though I do have the feeling you wouldn't leave even if I kicked you out." She gave him an encouraging smile, having noticed how much you meant to him. Sampo just smiled back weakly and let her continue with her duty as a physician.

When you woke up your head hurt. You felt confused and didn't know where you were. Images flashed through your mind of you talking to Sampo at the bar counter. That was the last thing you remembered. So it was confusing to you to open your eyes and find yourself in a hospital bed with a catheter in your arm and an annoying beeping sound coming from the machine next to you. Natasha had noticed you had woken up and came over to your bed.

"I see you're awake", she remarked with a soft voice and sat down on a chair beside you, "how do you feel?"

You cleared your throat and noticed how dry your mouth felt. Natasha already had a glass of water ready for you. "Can you hold it?", she asked and carefully handed it to you, keeping her hand on the bottom of the glass in case you dropped it. You managed to hold onto it and take a few sips from the water. "Thank you", you mumbled with a weak voice and sat up, feeling a bit of your strength return already, so you kept drinking.

Natasha allowed you to take your time to gather yourself. "So... how did I end up here?", you asked, your voice still sounding a little hoarse. Natasha sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?", she asked you. You took a moment to reply. "I was sitting at the bar counter, talking to Sampo", you explained and chuckled weakly, "he ordered this horrible chocolate sauce burrito... seriously who eats something like that?" A small smile found its way onto Natasha's face. "So, what happened?", you asked quietly.

"Well... it seems someone mixed something into your drink...", she started, seeing your eyes widen, "nothing more happened but you collapsed in front of the tavern and had a seizure. Sampo brought you into my clinic." "Oh...", you mouthed, your thoughts scrambled all over the place as you tried to process what Natasha just said. She nodded towards the other side of your bed and your eyes followed her gesture, finding Sampo passed out on a chair next to you with his crossed arms and head on your nightstand and a blanket draped over him. He was drooling a little and even though he was asleep, you could tell he seemed exhausted.

"He stayed here the whole night", Natasha told you, "...refused to leave your side even when the guards wanted to take him into custody because they suspected he did it." "He didn't", you retorted immediately and Natasha stopped you. "I know. They found that out after investigating the tavern and hearing from other witnesses that you had that drink before Sampo even entered the tavern." You sighed with relief. The last thing you wanted was for the man who brought you here and made sure you got the medical treatment you needed to be arrested.

"Honestly, I've never seen Sampo so scared before", Natasha remarked, "he looked like he had seen a ghost." Your hand reached for your sleeping companion and your fingertips gently carded through his dark blue strands of hair, stirring him awake in the process. Sampo yawned and opened his eyes with a tired expression but as soon as they met yours, he felt wide awake once more. "You're alive!", he exclaimed with a relieved smile on his face and reached for your hand, holding it in his own, "Sampo Koski was so worried about you!" You squeezed his hand. "Thank you for looking out for me."

"There's absolutely nothing to thank", he told you, sounding more sincere than you had ever heard him, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more..." Those last words were more of a whisper but you picked up on them anyway. "You did everything you could", you insisted as Natasha did some further testing to make sure everything about your condition was stable.

"You're going to need to stay here for further testing for now", she explained to you, "you will likely be fine but it's best for you to remain in the hospital and be monitored for today." You nodded. "Don't hesitate to call out to me if you need anything", Natasha continued, "as for everything else, I'm sure Sampo doesn't mind keeping you company while you're here." You looked over to him and he nodded to confirm what Natasha had said. "If you don't mind, of course", he added awkwardly. "I don't", you reassured him and held onto his hand.

Sampo remained by your bedside until you were discharged in the evening, aside from the time he went out to get lunch for the two of you, surprising you with a meal you had mentioned liking. He was ready to answer any question you had about the time when you were unconscious and the things amnesia has made you forget. He made sure to let you know that whenever you needed to talk or just didn't want to be alone after this, he'd be only one call or text away. Whether he had a 'business meeting' or not, according to his words. He doubted he fully knew how to deal with the situation but he swore he would do his best to make sure you'd be okay. You didn't know where the future would take you and how this situation would affect you in the times to come, but you found comfort in the fact that, come what may, you wouldn't have to deal with it alone. Perhaps that was all the confirmation you needed to understand how much you meant to Sampo. Maybe words weren't even needed anymore...

if you liked this fic, keep an eye out for the other works i have scheduled this month. reblogs and comments are appreciated! 👍🏻

any support for my event would be greatly appreciated! 💕

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sampo x reader #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x you #sampo x you #sampo #hsr sampo #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail sampo

223 notes · View notes

stolenorchids · 8 days ago

Text

SCARS WE CANNOT HIDE

young!Sirius Black x reader WARNINGS: fem!reader, implied Gryffindor!reader, hurt/comfort, abuse (parental), torture, use of the Cruciatus curse, physical and emotional trauma, mention of scars + injuries, implied PTSD, anxiety, mentions of violence

A/N: andddd we're backk!! I finally got the final date for my hospital visit, where I'll find out which diagnosis(es) I have, and I honestly just could not be happier atm, haha!!

Winter had always been a cruel season in her household. The cold seemed to seep into the walls, into her bones, but it wasn’t the frost of the outdoors that chilled her. It was the house - that dark, suffocating house - and the people within it. Her mother’s eyes burned like twin embers, sharp and accusing. Her father’s voice, deep and booming, was a constant reminder of the rules she had to follow, the perfection she had to maintain.

It had started on the third night of the holidays. Dinner had been a tense affair, with her mother picking apart her every word, her every movement. She had tried to stay quiet, to fade into the background, but it was never enough.

“You think you can embarrass us at school and then come home and act like nothing happened?” her mother had hissed, her voice sharp as a dagger.

“I didn’t…” she had begun, but the words died in her throat as her mother’s wand was drawn.

“Don’t lie to me,” her mother had snapped. “Crucio!”

The pain had been immediate, searing, and all-consuming. It tore through her like wildfire, every nerve in her body alight with agony. She had screamed, the sound raw and desperate, but it had only seemed to fuel her mother’s fury. By the time the curse had lifted, she was trembling, her body curled on the floor like a discarded rag doll.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before sullying this family’s name,” her mother had said coldly, leaving her there in the dim light of the dining room.

She hadn’t moved for what felt like hours, her body aching, her heart hollow. The silence in the house pressed down on her, heavy and oppressive. She traced the cracked tiles of the floor with her eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the lingering pain. But the worst part wasn’t the curse itself; it was the knowledge that this was her life, that there was no escape from the people who were supposed to love her.

When the holidays had finally ended, she had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express with a mix of relief and dread. Relief that she was leaving that house behind, at least for a while. Dread because she couldn’t bear the thought of Sirius seeing her like this - broken, scarred, and fragile. The thought of his wide, concerned eyes, his gentle hands trying to comfort her… it was too much. She didn’t deserve it. Not after everything.

xxx

The Gryffindor common room was bustling with post-holiday chatter, the warm hum of laughter and crackling fire filling every corner. Yet Sirius Black sat apart from it all, his leg bouncing anxiously as his eyes flicked toward the portrait hole. Every time someone entered, his heart leapt, only to sink again when it wasn’t her.

It wasn’t like her to avoid him - not like this. For almost two years, they had been inseparable, the kind of couple that had everyone teasing them for their shameless smiles and secret glances. But ever since she had returned from the winter break, she hadn’t so much as looked in his direction. No playful ruffling of his hair, no sneaky notes passed under the table, no stolen moments in the Astronomy Tower. Nothing.

She had been quiet during their first class together, her chair suspiciously distant from his. When he’d tried to talk to her in the hallway, she had muttered something about needing to get to the library and bolted. Sirius wasn’t the type to panic over every little thing, but he knew her - this wasn’t just a bad mood or a pile of overdue assignments. Something was wrong.

“Mate, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,” James said, flopping down into the armchair beside him.

Sirius glared. “She’s been avoiding me all day. Hell, all week. Something’s not right.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried asking her what’s going on?”

“Of course I’ve tried,” Sirius snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me. I…” His voice wavered, and he dropped it to a whisper. “I think it’s her parents.”

James’ expression darkened. Sirius rarely talked about his own family, but everyone knew the Blacks were a special kind of cruel. And Sirius had seen the same haunted look in her eyes that he’d seen in his own reflection too many times to count.

“Give her time,” James said softly, though his tone lacked conviction.

Time, Sirius thought bitterly. He could wait forever if that’s what she needed. But he couldn’t stand the idea of her suffering alone.

It was late when Sirius finally found her. The castle was quiet, the hallways lit only by the faint glow of torches. He had checked the library, the Great Hall, and even the Owlery before spotting her familiar figure slipping out of the Gryffindor common room and heading toward the courtyard.

“Wait!” he called, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

She froze but didn’t turn around. Sirius’ heart clenched as he jogged to catch up, stepping in front of her to block her path. Her head was bowed, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and she flinched when he reached for her hand.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Please, talk to me,” Sirius said, his tone soft but urgent. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. Let me help you.”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “You can’t help me, Sirius. Not this time..."

His chest tightened. “Is it your parents?” he asked gently.

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. Sirius’ fists clenched at his sides, anger and helplessness swirling in his chest. He had endured his family’s cruelty, but this? This was different. This was worse.

“What did they do to you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

She finally looked up at him, and the raw pain in her eyes nearly broke him. “You don’t want to know,” she said hoarsely. “It’ll only make things worse.”

“Worse than you pretending I don’t exist?” Sirius said, his frustration slipping through. “Worse than watching you hurt and not being able to do a damn thing about it?”

Her resolve cracked, and she crumpled, burying her face in her hands. Sirius caught her before she could fall, his arms wrapping around her tightly. She tried to pull away, but he held on, his grip gentle but firm.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’m not letting go.”

xxx

It was James who finally told him the full story the next day. Sirius had been pacing the dormitory when James walked in, his face grim. Apparently, she had confided in Lily, who had confided in James, who now felt obligated to break the news.

“They used the Cruciatus Curse on her,” James said bluntly, his jaw tight. “Multiple times. She… she has scars, Sirius. Big ones.”

Sirius felt like the air had been knocked out of him. The Cruciatus Curse. On her. The very thought made his blood boil, his hands trembling with barely restrained fury. He had endured his family’s cruelty, but this? This was beyond comprehension.

“I’ll kill them,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I swear to Merlin, I’ll—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted. “She doesn’t need revenge right now. She needs you.”

Sirius closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. James was right. As much as he wanted to storm her parents’ house and hex them into oblivion, his priority had to be her.

That evening, Sirius found her sitting by the lake, her knees drawn to her chest. The air was frigid, the surface of the water rippling with the occasional gust of wind. He approached slowly, not wanting to startle her, and sat down beside her without a word. For a while, they just sat there, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable.

“James told you, didn’t he?” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Sirius admitted. “He told me.”

She tensed, but he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m here, okay? Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lip quivered, and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. For the first time in days, she let herself relax, the warmth of his presence a balm to her aching soul.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms wrapping around her protectively. He couldn’t undo the damage her parents had done, but he could promise her this: she would never have to face it alone again.

#harry potter #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #sirius #sirius o black #sirius black #sirius black x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #james #james f potter #james fleamont potter #james potter #sirius orion black

21 notes · View notes