#a bit longer than i anticipated whoops | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 7 months ago

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how about ransom and “i mean, i got what i wanted, didn’t i?” 👀🫶🏼

can't resist a dare

pairing: best friend!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship, taking nude photos/sending nude photos, filming/recording/taking photos during sex, little bit of exhibitionism, come marking, come facial, light bdsm, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, friends to lovers, revenge on a mean/rude ex

word count: 4,300ish

a/n: whoops, this ended up being longer than i anticipated 😬 but i loved the premise i came up with too much to scrap it and try to write something shorter so here we go!! i just loved the idea of best friend!ransom being a petty perv and reader being just as much of a petty perv 🤭 anyway i hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡♡

You never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale.

The devastatingly handsome grandson of Harlan Thrombey had been your best friend since you were children running around his grandfather’s spooky old house while your families spent time together. Even though you were both grown adults, Ransom still knew how to push all your buttons, and he knew that if he dared you to do something, you’d do it.

Which was how you’d ended up in the cramped bathroom on the first floor of the Thrombey mansion during Harlan’s May Day party, your body bent over at the waist and your arm contorted behind your back to take a photo of the tiny little thong you’d worn beneath your sundress.

Ransom had dared you to take a photo of your ass and send it to your ex. You, of course, had risen to the challenge and accepted the dare.

You hadn’t had nearly enough champagne to make you so reckless, but there was something about your oldest friend that brought out your competitive spirit. Ransom was the only one who could get you to do such things, but you enjoyed being pushed outside of your comfort zone. Plus, you knew your best friend wouldn’t make you do anything that would actually hurt you.

In fact, if you were honest with yourself, there was a part of you that was perversely pleased to be taking such an obscene photo of yourself while some of the richest families in Massachusetts milled around just outside the door. The thought of getting caught taking naughty pictures turned you on more than you wanted to admit, so you hurried up and took the photos.

When you were done, you picked one you liked and sent it to your ex with a smirk on your face, thinking he should be so lucky as to see your ass one last time.

Leaving the bathroom, you strutted through the party looking for Ransom, feeling smug about completing the dare. You caught his eye when you entered the library, and even across the room, you could see the amusement dancing in his crystal blue eyes. You made your way through the crowd with a pep in your step, but halfway through, your phone vibrated with a response from your ex.

You opened the text and wished you hadn’t.

Didn’t know you were such a desperate slut, but if you really need dick so bad, I guess I’ll let you ride mine, baby. I know you loved bouncing on it like a whore.

Your expression twisted into a scowl, and you looked up at your best friend, who was suddenly in front of you. Hurt wrapped around your heart, a part of you feeling—perhaps unfairly—that Ransom should’ve known your ex would text something vile back to you.

“I did your dare, are you happy now?” you hissed at your best friend, taking out all your hurt and anger on Ransom. You knew you were much more angry at yourself, and your ex, for his hurtful response, but your best friend was the safest target at the moment.

Annoyingly, Ransom looked unaffected by your fury, the satisfied smirk on his face never wavering even as you continued to glare at him. When he responded, his voice was a lazy drawl that reminded you he couldn’t have known the effect of his dare.

“I mean, I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a frustrated huff and opened your phone to the text message you’d gotten from your ex, turning the screen to your best friend so he could read it. “Is this what you wanted?” you sneered, knowing full well your best friend wouldn’t react kindly to what your ex had said.

You were so determined to show Ransom what he’d done, you didn’t even consider the fact that you were also showing him the photo you’d sent. At least, not until his blue eyes went a little hazy and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin.

“The dare didn’t include you showing me the photo,” Ransom drawled, his gaze flicking to yours, the look in his eyes making something hot squirm deep in your core. “But I can’t say I mind—you’ve got a gorgeous ass.”

Heat rose in your face, and your expression twisted into one of impatient annoyance. “Look at the response, Ran,” you gritted out, trying not to let his compliment get to you. He was your best friend—he was probably just messing with you. But you were soon distracted from what Ransom had said when he finally looked at what your ex had replied.

A storm cloud settled over Ransom’s handsome features, his eyes narrowing into two slits and his mouth twisting into a furious scowl. You even thought you heard a low rumble, like a growl, emanate from your best friend’s chest beneath the din of the party around you.

“Who does this little shit think he is?” Ransom fumed, grabbing your phone and clicking on the contact info. “Does this motherfucker think he can talk to you like this?” Your best friend’s gaze flicked to yours and something inside you warmed when you saw the righteous anger simmering in his eyes. “And where the fuck does he get off calling you baby?”

Your mouth opened to answer him, but Ransom just shook his head in a way that quelled you. Instead, he grabbed your hand with his free one and began leading you through the party toward the back of the house. Your feet moved quickly to keep up with his longer strides, and he slowed a little so he didn’t hurt your arm as he tugged you into the backyard. Ransom walked briskly through the gate in the fence that separated the lawn from the forest.

You knew the forest around the Thrombey mansion just as well as the house itself, with its trees and the occasional statues representing Harlan’s various mystery novels. You and Ransom had played in the forest plenty when you were children, and partied amongst the statues when you were in your teens and early twenties. It was the only place the two of you could have any privacy, and you had to assume that Ransom wanted seclusion to discuss what your ex had said.

At your favorite of the statues in the forest, Ransom pulled to a stop and rounded on you, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. You could tell he had a plan.

“Do you wanna show your shithead ex what he’s missing?”

Ransom’s smile was sharp as a knife and you couldn’t help but be distracted by your best friend’s handsomeness, just for a moment. His slicked-back brown hair gleamed in the spring sunshine that trickled down through the leafy trees above, and his broad shoulders filled out his henley so deliciously, you almost forgot the question he asked.

But then his words broke through your distracted mind and the grin that spread across your face was practically devilish in your delight. “What do you have in mind?” you asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stared up at your best friend with nothing but trust.

Ransom’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a second before he met yours again. “Get on your knees,” he said, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard before. It made heat pool deep in your core and you squirmed a little but didn’t hesitate to follow the order.

The forest floor was blanketed in a soft carpet of dying leaves, even as new growth flourished around you, the sweet scent of spring filling your senses as you lowered yourself to your knees. Your eyes remained fixed on Ransom’s as your knees hit the soft ground, and though you knew the two of you were alone in the woods, it truly felt as though you were the only two people in the whole world.

You weren’t naive. You knew whatever your best friend had in mind to get back at your ex would be crossing one or two lines you’d never crossed with him before. But you trusted Ransom. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. And, truthfully, a part of you that you kept hidden and locked away so much of the time wanted to cross a line or two with your best friend.

So you sat on your knees on the ground at Ransom’s feet and stared up at him with all the trust you had in him no doubt written all over your face. You watched as his eyes softened and his mouth curved at the edges into a gentle smile, his expression filled with affection. It was so different to the hard or smarmy mask he wore in public—and even around his family—that you relaxed even further, knowing he’d take care of you even as you got revenge on your ex.

“Stick your tongue out,” Ransom murmured, his voice low and soft and nearly blending in with the breeze rustling the trees above you. His hand reached out and his fingers stroked your cheek, his smile deepening when you nuzzled into his palm before doing as he said. “Good girl, now look at me like you wanna suck my cock.”

A bolt of heat shot through you, nearly making you shiver as warmth bloomed, feral and unbidden, within your body. Ransom’s command was certainly crossing a line, but it felt like permission, too. For the first time in a very long time, you let the feelings you’d hidden away come rushing to the surface. The force of them surprised you, and you found yourself leaning into the arousal that swirled through your body.

With your tongue already sticking out, you let yourself sink into the desire you felt to suck Ransom’s cock and let it show in the way you were posed. You arched your back to stick out your ass and push up your chest, giving your best friend a good view of your tits in your dress. Letting your eyes go heavy-lidded with arousal, you stared eagerly up at your best friend.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide and his lips parting as he let out a heavy breath. He looked transfixed by you, and if you weren’t sticking your tongue out, you would’ve smirked at his reaction to you.

For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Ransom shook himself lightly and he held up your phone, swiping it open to the camera. You watched as he angled it the way he wanted, and waited patiently while he took a few pictures of you on your knees in front of him.

When his eyes returned to your face, you relaxed your pose a little, expecting him to give you your phone so you could pick out a photo to send to your ex. Instead, Ransom gave you a considering look.

“Do you really wanna piss off your ex?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that made butterflies stir in your belly even as more warmth trickled down between your thighs. A slow, evil grin spread across his handsome face that made your stomach flutter and your core clench. “Do you wanna show him what he’s missing?’

“Yes.” Your answer slipped from your lips before you really had a chance to think about it, but once it was out, you wouldn’t take it back. You trusted Ransom, you really wanted to get back at your ex, and, even more than that, you were desperately curious to see how far your best friend would take things. So you doubled down, giving him an evil smile of your own. “Yes, I do.”

Ransom’s grin turned a little smug as he looked at you with mischievous delight dancing in his eyes. The dappled light of the sunny spring day shifted across his face, and you sucked in a silent breath at just how handsome your best friend was. Your heart thumped in your chest, but you pushed the meaning behind that feeling aside and focused on the moment.

“Unzip my pants and pull my cock out,” Ransom murmured, his tone low and rough as gravel, sending a shiver down your spine.

Immediately, your eyes dropped to the front of your best friend’s slacks and you couldn’t help but notice the bulge there. A delighted smile curled the edges of your mouth. Ransom was just as turned on by you as you were by him. That knowledge gave you the courage you needed to do as he said.

Your fingers fumbled excitedly with Ransom’s clothes as you pushed up his henley and undid the button and fly of his pants. You pushed them and his boxer briefs down over his hips, revealing the long length of his cock. It bounced free from his briefs and you sucked in a sharp gasp. He was so thick and long, your body clenched with the need to be filled just at the sight of your best friend’s cock.

Eagerly, you leaned forward, pressing your face to the underside of Ransom’s cock and inhaling the clean, musky scent of him. He smelled so good, you could feel your body react to your best friend’s cock, your pussy soaking your thong and making a mess of your thighs. Tilting your head back, you turned your heavy-lidded eyes up to Ransom, staring up at him while you nuzzled into his hard length.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ransom rasped, giving you an encouraging nod while his thumb tapped the screen of your phone, taking photos of you. “Look so pretty with my cock on your face, baby.”

A pleased smile curved your lips and your eyes closed as you savored the wonderful feeling of Ransom’s praise. It made your body warm even further, and you conveyed how happy it made you by pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Ransom’s cock. He rumbled an appreciative sound and when you looked up at him again, his eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen, his entire attention focused entirely on you.

You liked having Ransom’s attention and you didn’t wait for him to give you more instructions. Trailing your lips up the length of his cock, you pressed wet, suckling kisses to the velvety soft skin wrapped around the hardness beneath. You didn’t know which of you enjoyed it more—Ransom, with his face twisted into a look of pleasure and his chest heaving, or you, with your pussy dripping between your thighs.

It seemed to take Ransom a moment to remember what he was supposed to be doing, that the point of you being on your knees was to record what you were doing to get back at your ex. He tapped the screen of your phone once, and when he spoke, there was something in his voice that made you think he was recording a video—a tenor of encouragement that made you want to perform.

“How d’you like my cock, baby?” he asked, a smirk clear on his face and in his tone. “Am I bigger than your ex?”

You wanted to grin and laugh—Ransom’s cock was much bigger than your ex’s. Instead, you curved your lips into your most vixenish smile and nuzzled into your best friend’s hardness like it was your most cherished stuffed animal.

“I looove your cock, Ran,” you purred in a sultry voice, not having to try hard to show your appreciation for him. You pressed a kiss to his hard length and licked the underside of the head, wringing a grunt from your best friend. “You have such a big cock, daddy, way bigger than my ex—I don’t know how I’m gonna fit you in my tight little throat.” You batted your lashes up at the camera while you swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up your best friend’s precum.

Ransom tapped your phone and moved it out of the way so he could look straight at you, raising one of his eyebrows in amusement. “‘Daddy’?” he asked, a delighted smirk curving his lips.

You stroked Ransom’s cock while you pulled back to answer. “My ex always wanted me to call him that, but it never felt right,” you said, making a face before you leaned forward again, wrapping your lips around the tip of your best friend’s cock and sucking on him lightly. Ransom grunted in pleasure.

“Keep going, baby, we’ll show that shithead what he’s never gonna have,” Ransom rasped, lifting your phone up again and tapping the screen while you took his cock deeper into your mouth. “Suck daddy’s cock, baby, be a good girl and show me how much you love my dick.”

You wanted to smile at Ransom’s filthy words, but instead you focused your attention entirely on his cock, bobbing your head on his hard length until the tip of him was pressing against the back of your throat. You’d never taken anyone as big as him, but you were determined to deep throat your best friend, so you relaxed your throat and pushed yourself. After a few tries, you took him all the way in, until his cock was bulging in your throat and your nose was pressed flat to his stomach.

“Oh fuck, jesus christ, baby,” Ransom shouted when you swallowed around him, your throat squeezing his hardness as you fought to keep him buried to the root in your mouth. Tears streamed down your face, and drool trickled down your chin, but you paid it no mind, focusing entirely on your best friend’s cock.

His big hand settled on the crown of your head, fingers flexing like he wanted to grab you and hold you down on his cock. Your pussy clenched at the thought, but Ransom seemed not to want to hurt you, so he simply bucked his hips a little, fucking your throat in short thrusts.

“Shit, ‘m gonna come,” he rasped, his voice rough and strained in a way you’d never heard before. It made you squeeze your thighs together as more wetness flooded your already messy slit. “Baby, ‘m gonna come, holy fuck, your throat feels so fucking good, oh fuck.”

When his cock started to twitch, you pulled off and smiled sweetly up at your best friend. “Come on my face, Ran,” you panted, your voice breathy as you stared directly into Ransom’s darkened eyes.

It took you a moment to realize Ransom’s hand holding your phone had dropped to his side, and the entirety of his focus was on you—just you. A pleased smile curled your lips while you pumped your best friend’s cock in your fist, squeezing the tip while he tossed his head back and let out a loud, pleasured groan.

Ransom came, muttering, “Baby, baby, baby,” under his breath, ropes of his come landing all over your face, joining the tears, spit and drool already coating your cheeks and chin. You opened your mouth, catching some of his spend on your tongue and humming happily at the musky taste of him.

When Ransom tipped his head back up and opened his eyes to look at you, his mouth fell open in a helpless moan when he took in the state of you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes roving over your face hungrily, like he couldn’t get enough of seeing you with his come on your cheeks. “You look so pretty covered in my come, baby,” he murmured, warmth and affection in his tone as he stroked your jaw, one of the few places on your face that wasn’t messy.

You grinned up at your best friend, pleased at his praise, though that didn’t stop you from teasing him. “Why don’t you take a picture, daddy, it’ll last longer,” you sassed. But once the words were out, you realized how serious you were about the suggestion. When Ransom raised his eyebrows in question, you whispered, “Use your phone—if you want.”

Ransom didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants and angled it above your face. “Smile for me, baby,” he murmured softly, and you couldn’t help but follow the gentle command. He took a few photos of you, sitting on your knees in the forest, covered in his come.

Once he was done, he stowed both your phones in his pocket and pulled his henley off over his head, leaving him in a simple white t-shirt. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he started using the soft cotton garment to clean your face. He was gentle, wiping the come from your face and then clearing away your ruined makeup.

Somehow, it felt so much more intimate than sucking your best friend’s cock and all you could do was sit there, your heart pounding in your chest while you let Ransom take care of you. His gaze caught yours, and you saw his crystal blue eyes were swirling with just as much emotion as was filling your heart, and something seemed to pass between the two of you—an understanding that something had changed between you.

When he’d cleaned your face to the best of his ability, Ransom tucked his cock away then helped you to stand, supporting your weight while he brushed the dirt and leaves off your knees. You leaned heavily against his chest when he stood up, his arms looping easily around you and you shared another silent moment, both of you smiling and staring into each other’s eyes.

It was you who ended up breaking the moment, asking the question that was making you burn with curiosity. “Are we really going to send those pictures and videos to my ex?” you asked, watching your best friend’s face for his reaction. Truth be told, you still wanted to get back at your ex for what he’d said, but since Ransom’s cock was in them, he had a right to a say in it.

He seemed to be watching you just as carefully as you were watching him. “Do you want to?” he asked, his voice toneless. He was leaving it up to you.

An evil smile spread across your face, Ransom’s lips curving into a smirk in response. “Yeah,” you said brashly. “Let him see what he could’ve had.”

��Just as long as you tell him who’s dick you’re sucking,” Ransom murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your phone from his pocket to hand to you. “I want him to know you’re my girl now.”

At those possessive words, you looked up at your best friend in surprise, but Ransom only gave you a look like you should know better.

Ducking your head, you hid an exceptionally pleased smile as you turned in Ransom’s arms and leaned back against his broad chest so he could watch over your shoulder. Together, you picked out the best photos and videos to send to your ex.

Sorry! Sent that to the wrong person. These are just for you. Oh and Ransom says hi.

You couldn’t help but giggle when your ex immediately started blowing up your phone, taking great pleasure in blocking him. When you were done, you handed your phone back to Ransom to hold for you, since your dress didn’t have pockets, and you turned in his arms again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you looked up at your best friend with a smile.

“So I’m your girl now, huh?” you asked, unable to let him get away with just a look for confirmation.

Ransom’s strong arms wound around your waist, holding you tight to his chest. “As if I’d be such a fool as to let anyone else have you,” he said, snorting to himself. “I’m not as stupid as your ex.”

“Clearly,” you said dryly, laughing at the unamused look he shot you.

But then Ransom silenced your laughter with a kiss, his mouth slanting to yours perfectly. All at once, you let the emotions you’d bottled up for so long flow free, and you clung to Ransom as you both deepened the kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth like he was staking a claim, and you answered him back with just as much fervor.

It was less a first kiss and more a devouring of souls as the two of you made out in the woods of the Thrombey estate.

Finally, Ransom pulled away with a groan. “OK, here’s the plan,” he said with a huff, pressing his forehead to yours. His chest was heaving as he caught his breath, but he soldiered on. “We go back, tell everyone you have a headache and I’m gonna drive you home,” he said, pausing briefly to kiss you. “Then I take you back to my place and we don’t leave my bed for two days—maybe three.”

Laughing and nodding you pushed up on your tiptoes and kissed Ransom again. “Three, definitely three,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing you again.

Before he pulled away entirely, though, Ransom caught your eye and you knew from the mischief sparkling in the depths of his gaze that he had another dare for you. You grinned eagerly.

“I dare you to take off your thong and go back to the party with your needy little cunt dripping down your thighs for me,” Ransom rumbled, his voice deliciously low and deep and making you want to jump him right there in the woods.

When Ransom raised an eyebrow in a challenging look, your pussy clenched at the filthy dare, your whole body warming as arousal flooded through you again. You didn’t know what expression your face was making, but it made Ransom grin and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“If you’re a good girl, daddy will give you a reward when we get to my place,” he murmured.

But Ransom hadn’t needed to offer you an incentive.

After all, you never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskeywork #itistimeforusalltodecidewhoweare

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mikichko · 4 months ago

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i couldnt get the roommate!gaz + heater broken situation out of my head. whoops :)

mdni. cw: dubcon, reader is gn but has a vagina and breasts, cat and mouse but the mouse is way too willing to get in bed with the cat

resigning yourself to sleeping in kyle’s room because the heater is still not working and he’s so fucking warm.

totally not because you drip like a fucking faucet when your thick thighs are pressed right against his own muscular ones. you absolutely don’t love the way he groans when you shimmy yourself back into him to make sure you’re maintaining proper skin to skin contact, ass pressing right onto him. him being hard and splitting your cheeks apart with his girth when you’re in bed has nothing to do with this. you dont secretly love when he apologizes and says he’ll just tuck himself down to bother you less, only for his fat cock to end up between your legs.

you don’t constantly think about how gaz hisses and groans when he feels the wetness between your thighs. how he pants while fighting the urge for his hips to twitch and grind into you. the way his body strains taut against you to keep himself in place. or the tight grip he keeps on your hips, fingers playing with the fat there while you whimper at the force.

you certainly never remember how gaz’s restraint always snaps, testing the waters with small thrusts. the choked moan he lets out at the wet sensation of your slick being spread over him as he moves. how he’s so thick that his thick head parts your lips so easily for the rest of him to follow. your eyes screwing shut, panting, when he slides right against your clit. his hands on you keeping you in place so you’re forced to feel him every time. your nipples reacting and hardening, making it easier for him to move a hand and roll one of them between his fingers. you’re so sensitive that you press further into him, whining while you try to run from the sensation.

gaz clicking his tongue at you and chastising you for not staying still. unable to respond to him except with breathy whispers of his name and whines when he bumps your clit again or pulls at your nipples. the empty cold feeling between your legs when he pulls back just a bit further than normal.

the simultaneous gasp and groan you let out when he thrusts his hips forward and his cock catches at your gushing entrance. the absolutely filthy, wet sound it makes when he fills it. the way the sticky wet mess feels around the part of his sensitive head no longer trapped behind his foreskin. he loves to just poke at it, to embalrrass you, how wet you get just being in bed with him. hiding your face at the obscene sounds while you clench around nothing in anticipation.

only to get fed up with his taunting and pressing your hips down, trapping him and pushing him into you. gripping at the sheets because of the intrusion, panting at the sensation of him splitting you open and filling you completely. gaz’s grip bruising your hips at the sensation of how you suck him in, pussy begging him to fill it up.

“not nice love,” he grunts as he grinds his hips into you, “greedy little thing aren’t you?”

you shake your head because of course you’re not greedy! it’s all about the heater. the cold. thats all!

“j-just, oh, just trying to keep all of you warm! i swear”

“oh you’re just being thoughtful, that right sweetheart?” grins into your neck at the breathy yeah you respond with.

“oh you’re so sweet lovie. always so thoughtful about me. should give you a reward for that”

#.kiko-talks #.mine #.cod #.gaz #.dubcon #🧍🏽‍♀️#yeah idk what happened here #i uh #wow #i really did black out #and kelsi riled me up so technically this is her doing #going to try a general tag and see if folks play nice #gaz smut

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onlyhereforthestories · 9 months ago

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Comeback Queen - Part 1 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Here you go! I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it. Part 2 will be out tomorrow night! Also if you want to share your theories on where reader is going please send them my way. I’m interested to see what you guys think! 🫶

Months. That’s how long it had been since you had been in this position. Month and months and months. Months longer than it should have been too. Alexia had unfortunately had complications with her knee after coming back to playing the first time and this meant that she was side lined for a further few months.

During her time out on the side lines, you had picked up a knock yourself and was now part of the recovery squad. You hated the first month of your recovery purely because if you couldn’t be playing you want to be watching your love do what she does best, but that wasn’t possible either.

So, when Alexia went away with the Spanish squad and phoned you to say even though she wouldn’t be playing she is fit enough to sit on the bench, you knew it wouldn’t be long until that did happen.

You were proven right a couple weeks later. It was

You were sat in the stands with Mapi and a few of the other girls who had some sort of knock or injury, just behind the bench. Alexia had excitedly told you last night that Jona was planning on putting her on in the second half of todays match. This had excited you too as it meant you got to do your second favourite thing to do with football, watching her play. Of course, this was slightly behind playing yourself but that isn’t possible right now.

The first half flew by and with Salma’s hattrick Barca was already cruising towards the win, something that meant slightly less pressure on your loves shoulders when she did come on which you knew would help even if she didn’t really think about it. Alexia had gone through a pretty extensive warm up during the half time break so you had a feeling it wouldn’t be too long until you saw her enter the field. You didn’t leave your seat like the others wanting to make sure you caught every ball touch the woman had. She had just run back down the tunnel to catch the last bit of the half time team talk and probably give her own little captains speech with Irene.

The next time you caught her moving was in the 60th minute. She was up on the side lines in her kit, bib over the top to warm up quickly but you knew it wouldn’t be long until she was out on the pitch and the rest of the stadium could tell too. Not even a minute later and she was lined up with .. and .. ready for her much awaited and eagerly anticipated return.

She got given the captains armband and received a loud round of applause as she ran on, you made sure to whoop and cheer as loud as you could. Determined to show your support for your lover.

Alexia had been on the pitch for barely 10 minutes when the ball was crossed into Lucy at the back post, you held your breath as the ball bounced off her and into the middle of the box where your favourite number 11 was waiting. She didn’t catch the shot as cleanly as you knew she would have wished to, but it didn’t matter as it nestled into the bottom right corner.

You were up in a flash jumping with the other injured players as much as physically possible for you all. Of course she was in the right place at the right time, she had been studying tapes her whole life pretty much. She just knew the game and now even more than ever possibly, she knew her team.

The rest of the game went on and even though the opposition scored it didn’t dull the buzz around the stadium, the return of Frido last game and now Ale today just had set the right feeling within the club. Now all that was left was you and Mapi.

Speaking of, Mapi was dragging you by the hand down to the pitch where you greeted Ingrid when she approached, you chatted with them as well as Keira and Aitana for a while, but your eyes never drifted far from Alexia as she made her way round the fans. You were always in awe of how she interacted with them no matter the occasion, she always had time to sign things and take photos.

She had made her way around all the fans she could today and was about to head down the tunnel when she spotted you. Her eyes met yours and you could see the joy in them as soon as they did, the smile widening on her lips to match. She changed direction and headed towards where you were stood with the other women.

As she got closer you excused yourself from the conversation around dinner and made a beeline for her. You instantly wrapped your arms around her and held on with all you had, her arms wrapping around your waist and holding you firmly but not tight. “I’m so proud of you, mi vida. A goal too right away, only you could do that.” She gave you a little extra squeeze before pulling back.

“Had someone to score for didn’t I.” You grinned in her direction and went to reply when Pina jumped into the conversation from behind you both.

“You always score for y/n can’t you dedicate it to someone else for once.” You exchanged a look with your wife at this, you could see the smirk rising on her face, but you gave her a warning look. As much as you loved Claudia you knew she had a big mouth and what you had to share should only come from the two of you, being as it affected those you play with or did play with.

“What can I say, when you love someone this much it’s easy to dedicate a goal to them.” This caused a smile to rise to your face.

Pina walked away with a slightly disturbed look on her face, one that you knew was due to her distaste for the lovey stuff she had just heard from her captain. “You are capi mush when y/n is around.” Was a comment thrown over her shoulder as she walked away, a comment that had your girlfriend giving you a quick peck to the lips before she was off running after her. Causing the young Spaniard to squeal and bolt off in her counterpart Patri’s direction, you wife hot on her heels.

You giggled at their antics and met back up with Mapi to go out to the car, you had picked the couple up today and would be dropping them home on your way back to yours and Alexia’s place.

Mapi and Ingrid had just departed the car with the promise to be ready for when you are due to pick them up later to car share to dinner. Alexia was staring out the passenger side window obviously deep in thought because her eyebrows had the cute crinkle in them, they always had when the gears in her head were working overtime.

“What’s going on in the beautiful mind of your babe?” When she didn’t reply you got a little concerned, Alexia was not normally that far in her head that she couldn’t even hear you. To gain her attention you gently rested your hand on her thigh which caused her to jump slightly. “Lo siento I didn’t mean to make you jump, are you okay?”

Alexia grabbed the hand on her thigh and laced your fingers together and gave your hand a squeeze, “Si no sorry I’m okay just thinking.” This caused you to chuckle slightly which meant you got a confused look from the woman riding shotgun.

“I know you are thinking gupa, that’s why I put my hand on you to get your attention. I asked you what was going on in that beautiful head of yours and you were too far gone.” You squeezed the hand in yours a couple time to give her some comfort.

“I think we should tell them.” She was looking directly at you now and you knew this had been playing on her mind longer than just this car journey. You gave her hand another squeeze before you replied.

“I think we should soon too, but not today. Today is about you amor, I don’t want anything to take away from us celebrating that, you. But yes, I do think soon we need to too.” Alexia was nodding away in the passenger seat as you spoke and gave you a smile as she gripped your hand in 3 successive squeezes, a gesture you knew meant she loved you.

The rest of the journey home was spent talking about how you were going to share your news, you were still not sure how some of the girls would take your departure from the squad.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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indybob · 9 months ago

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I’m bored, and in need of some fic-writing inspiration, so here’s a little excerpt from chapter 8 of Maybe We Were Always Meant To Be, which is talking me way longer to complete than anticipated, but I promise is still coming!! Anyway, enjoy the boys out on a date at a honky tonk bar and Bradley stealing Jake’s Stetson and gearing up to “ride the cowboy”🤭

Jake starts swaying his hips, gesturing for Bradley to come a little closer. Bradley is happy to oblige, easily sidling up into Jake’s space and dancing around him for just a bit before leaning ever so slightly closer. He fakes Jake out, acting like he’s going to cup his face with his hand, when he slides it up to the hat, bumping the brim and taking it in his hand. Bradley lifts it through the air dramatically and places it over his own curls.

Jake’s face is beet red with a stunned look overtaking his features. He looks adorable like this—a blushing, flustered mess with his wavy blonde hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty strands.

Bradley winks and clicks his tongue at him, before sauntering toward the exit. A few people in the crowd seem to have taken notice of the display, as some whoops, cheers, and wolf-whistles ring out. Bradley chuckles to himself as he continues toward the exit, awaiting Jake’s brain to reboot and catch up with him.

He’s almost to the front door of the bar when Jake finally catches up with him. His mind must have taken a bit longer to reconnect than Bradley had anticipated.

“Hey, Roo,” Jake croaks, clearly flustered.

Bradley stops, turning to look at his boyfriend, who looks just as flustered as he did a few moments ago. “Yes, darlin’?” Bradley tips his hat toward Jake. He’s teasing him now, but he’s enjoying the effect it’s having on Jake.

Jake swallows, cartoonishly, “Have you ever heard of the cowboy hat rule?”

With a shit-eating grin on his face, Bradley pulls Jake close and leans toward him, slipping into his bedroom voice, “Why do you think I took the hat?”

Jake’s face turns beet red again at the insinuation, the color only appearing more brilliant as Bradley whispers into Jake’s ear, “Take me home, cowboy.”

Im really excited to share this story with the fandom when it’s finished (which will hopefully be soon)!!

#I swear this story is still coming #I’ve got like 3.5 chapters left to write #my fanfic writing #my writing #hangster fanfiction #hangster #sereshaw #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin

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thelastspeecher · 29 days ago

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Weird Little Critter - Chapter 5: Transitions, Part 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 AO3

Aaaaaaaaand here's part two! After a bit of a longer wait than initially anticipated whoops. Life got crazy. But the third part (again, not just by myself, but also @elishevart) should be up by the end of the year!

——————————————————————————————

Banjo and Stan walked into the house while Ford waited outside for them to get ready for their short trip to the Crawlspace.

"I'll get the cloaks Ford mentioned," Banjo said. Ford had told them he had some in a chest in his room, and they would be essential to hide their human features. Stan nodded and grabbed a quick snack from the kitchen. Banjo returned a few minutes later with two brown cloaks draped over his arm and a couple small bags in his hand.

"I thought he said to get the green ones," Stan said, setting aside his now empty plate. Banjo's face twitched slightly.

"Well, I figure this color will work better," he said. "Green lures fairies to ya, and we don't want much attention. Red repels 'em."

"Those are brown," Stan pointed out. Banjo twitched again.

"Yes, 'cause we don't want to keep fairies away either," he said firmly. "Stanford could very well have purchased that potion from one, after all."

This seems like a touchy subject for him. Time to move on. Stan shrugged.

"You know what you're talking about, so I'll do what you say." Banjo relaxed visibly. "Do you really think the cloaks will be enough?"

"I grabbed some fake pointed ears, fairy dust, and my makeup bag," Banjo said. He set the items on the kitchen table.

"You have makeup? I never see you wear any."

"It ain't logical to wear in a field science, but I keep it around fer special occasions." Banjo glowered at his makeup bag. "But I'm not that good at applyin’ it, since I so rarely use it."

"You're in luck. I started doing mine and Ford's Halloween monster makeup as soon as I could steal Mom's eyeliner," Stan said. He gestured to a chair. "Have a seat and let me work my magic on you."

Ten minutes later, two “elves” exited the house. Ford, who was looking morosely up at the full moon, gave them a silent nod.

“Those disguises are suitable,” he said softly. “Follow me to the Crawlspace.”

—--

“Well, this is officially the weirdest place I’ve ever been to,” Stan said as the trio, with Ford in the lead, walked around the Crawlspace. “But not by much.” The place was filled with stands of all sorts selling either weird potions, parts of weirder animals, and even stranger plants. Stan couldn’t help but be in awe.

It’s like the stories from when I was a kid, about genies and caves full of jewels and gold.

And if the stands were impressive, the sellers were on a whole other level. Monsters and other creatures from legends Stan had only ever heard of and some he never knew. He was pretty certain he spotted a giant toad in the back. At first he thought that was where Ford had gotten the potions, but his amphibious brother kept marching forward, although at a slow and unusual pace. His unchanging low mood was beginning to concern Stan.

Stan hadn’t had a chance to observe this side of his twin as much as Banjo had, but he had seen him as a salamander for a whole week. And despite how frustrated Ford had been back then, he hadn’t looked nearly this… distraught.

Ford’s gills hung low on each side of his drooping head. His tail trailed lifelessly behind him. He barely glanced at them to make sure they were still following him, as if he wouldn’t be surprised they weren’t. His whole form screamed “sad little puppy”, but even if Stan wanted to cheer him up, he wasn’t sure what to say.

Next to him, Banjo wasn’t doing much better. He was tense, constantly glancing left and right, as if he was expecting something to get the jump on them. Stan’s comment finally seemed to register to the twiggy man and he looked at Stan in confusion.

“Huh?” Banjo still looked uneasy, but the shadow of a smile crossed his face. “You mean an underground market filled with all sorts of magical creatures is somethin’ ya came by already?”

“Well not exactly like this,” Stan hedged. He leaned in closer to Banjo. The sweet smell of Banjo’s perfume filled Stan’s nostrils, almost distracting him from what he was saying. “But you should see some back alley marketplaces. The real shady ones look pretty close to this.” Stan looked down and ahead. Ford was a few paces in front of them, still leading them towards their ultimate destination. “So… you doing okay?”

Banjo took a deep breath. “I think so… still shaken up.”

"By everything?”

It took a moment before the southerner answered. During the pause, Stan saw him looking at Ford’s back before speaking. “Yeah, everything.”

Stan sighed. No matter what he said the tension between the trio, especially Ford and Banjo, was still as high as it was an hour ago. Stan just shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing around as they continued walking. He raised an eyebrow when he saw a weird gray stripe running along Ford’s back.

Huh, that wasn’t there before. Banjo was looking directly at Ford and didn’t seem phased, so he shrugged it off. If he isn’t worried, must not be something new.

A few minutes later, they stopped before a vendor with vials and potions of all sorts. Ford stopped, sniffed the air, and turned toward them.

“Here,” Stanford whispered. The sound came out more like a chirp than a proper word. He then stepped to the side to sit on his hind legs, his tail circling him. A few more gray streaks popped into existence across his skin as he idly looked at the ground.

Banjo walked up to the counter and cleared his throat.

"Hello," Banjo said politely. The vendor, a man so short he needed to stand on top of a crate to look over his trestle table, looked at him with suspicion. Stan busied himself pretending to look at the produce being sold at the stall next door, staffed by tiny fluttering fairies. He looked down at a box of green and red berries, keeping an ear on Banjo's conversation, glancing at Ford every now and then to make sure he was still there.

"What can I help you with?" the vendor asked, apparently deciding to treat Banjo like a regular customer.

"My friend purchased a sex change potion from you the other day. I wanted some more information on it," Banjo said smoothly. Stan's eyebrows went up. Banjo's southern accent was completely gone.

I didn't know he could drop it whenever he wanted. That's a good trick.

"Oh, yeah, I remember him," the vendor said. He peered over his collection of vials and bottles to look at Ford. "Is he your pet?"

"...Something like that," Banjo said after a moment's hesitation.

"What sort of information do you want?"

"Is there an antidote?" Banjo asked. The vendor laughed.

"I'm not selling poisonous berries like the pixies next door!" he said. Stan quickly dropped the berry he had picked up. "My products don't need antidotes. That potion in particular is short-lasting, with effects that vary depending upon dosage. So, no, there's no 'antidote'. It'll just wear off in time."

"Got it." Banjo smiled at the vendor. "Thank you. Slán." The vendor seemed taken aback for a moment before smiling.

"Slán. And feel free to send your pet on errands to my stand any time you want," the vendor said cheerfully. Banjo nodded. He stepped away from the stand, joining Stan by the berries. Stan frowned at him.

"What?" Banjo asked.

"What did you just say to him?"

"Oh, that was just goodbye in Irish," Banjo said with a shrug. "I clocked that he was a púca immediately. Did ya see his ears and tail?"

"What?" Stan looked back at the vendor. Sure enough, the man had black tufted ears that blended in with his hair and a long black tail like a lion's. "How'd you know what he was?"

"My Pa's family is from Ireland. Pa passed down the oral history to us, such as the tales of faeries, or the aos sí. The púca is one such bein’."

"You know Irish."

"A bit. Enough to impress people but not enough to communicate in it." Banjo looked down at the berries Stan had been pretending to be interested in. "The púca said these were poisonous."

"Only the unripe ones!" said one of the shimmery fairies manning the stall. "The ripe ones are heavenly! A single one fills you up better than a three course meal!"

"Really?" Stan asked. The fairy nodded. Stan looked at Banjo. "Wanna get some berries?"

"Which ones are ripe?" Banjo asked.

"The red ones," the fairy replied. Banjo stared at the berries, ripe and unripe mixed in the same container, with panic on his face. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"No, we should just head home. It's not wise to accept food from the Fair Folk anyways," he said. The fairy crossed her arms, scowling.

"How rude!"

"Come on," Banjo said. He walked away, heading back in the direction they had come from. Stan quickly caught up. Stanford, who had curled up on the ground, sprung to his paws and trotted up to them.

“Well, that was a bust,” Stan said. “Guess Ford was right. You’re stuck like that for at least two more days.” Stan glanced back to see if said twin was following them.

As Banjo talked with the vendor, Stan had watched his twin on the ground turn more and more gray. So much so that by the end, when they decided to just leave, Ford was completely gray, lacking almost all color. Now, the big salamander was slowly following them on all fours, his head, gills, and tail still low.

“Yeah well, better safe than sorry,” Banjo grumbled. “I mean, if yer goin’ to sell sex changin’ potions, surely you’d have a counter potion or an antidote or somethin’.”

“Yeah, but the effects are temporary and change depending on the dose you take.” Stan’s parroting of what the vendor had said earned a surprised look from Banjo. “What? I listened, I wasn't just trying to pickpocket anyone or anything that walked by.” Banjo raised an eyebrow.

“Did ya…?”

Stan shot him his best smile. “What do you think?” He opened his hand to reveal a few golden coins and gems. All looked genuine to Stan’s admittedly amateur eye. “I’m surprised Sixer didn’t try to stop me.” Stan nodded at Ford behind them. He frowned. His twin had stopped for a few seconds to lick some water from a puddle. “You think he’s okay?”

”I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Banjo’s voice was tart, prompting an apologetic chirp from Stanford.

“Does he usually walk on all fours?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Banjo snapped.

”Since I’ve known him most of my life, he doesn’t like when I ask him questions about himself,” Stan joked. He shot Banjo his most charming smile, but only earned an eye roll in return. “And…since I know him so well, here’s something you should know about him. He’ll keep his feelings inside until they boil over or- or overwhelm him. I don’t know if you noticed, but he can be a bit of a drama queen and wallow in his own sadness. I’m the last person who wants to do actual ‘communication’, but…you two have to talk about what happened.”

Banjo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. The walk was silent until the house came into view. Banjo stopped just outside of the front door. His arms fell to his sides, his hands clenched into fists.

“I’ll think about it.” With that, Banjo opened the door and disappeared inside.

Stan sighed. A soft chirp came from below him. He looked down to see his gray little twin next to him, tilting his head curiously.

“You’re not gonna get out of this, Sixer. It’s a two-way street. You’re gonna have to do something about it, too.”

The axolotl looked down sadly and sighed before rubbing his head against Stan’s legs. The movement caught the human twin off guard. He was preparing to bend and pat Ford’s head when a loud rumble erupted around them. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“When‘s the last time you ate, Sixer?” He asked.

Ford looked guilty down, his tail wrapping around his legs.

Stan just shook his head and opened the door. “Let’s see what we have left for you. I think I saw some hornworm in the fridge.”

At the word “hornworm”, Stanford shot to his feet and sprinted inside as fast as his four legs would carry him. From him came a series of chirps and noises that could be an attempt to speak, but sounded like gibberish to Stanley.

What is wrong with him?

—--

Ford yawned as he made his way to the kitchen. The night before had been even more draining than typical for a full moon. Pre-coffee, he had barely enough energy to throw on a robe and brush his teeth after waking up in his tank in his study, fully human. Stan, getting ready in his room, joined him when he walked past the open door.

“So, uh, last night was kinda wild, huh?” Stan said. Ford rubbed his eyes blearily.

“I don’t recall much of last night.”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty off.”

“Yes,” Ford mumbled.

“What's the last thing you remember?” Stan probed. Ford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why are you interrogating me this morning?”

“Just humor me,” Stan said. Ford raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment. He stopped in the hallway.

“I remember us getting to the Crawlspace and the vendor. Banjo talked to him and…” He side-eyed Stanley. “...You pickpocketed a few passersby that got too close.” Stan snorted.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stop me.”

Stanford just shrugged and idly ran his fingers through the blue streak in his hair. “I didn't see the point. I don’t remember much after that. I recall us walking in the woods and coming back. I know you and Banjo talked, but I didn’t listen. Or I chose not to listen.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. “You gave me some hornworms for dinner, then we rested on the couch for most of the evening. Did I miss anything?”

Stan patted him on the shoulder, ushering him toward the kitchen with a big smile on his face. “Nah, just wanted to make sure.” Ford frowned and removed his brother’s hand.

“You’re not telling me everything. What happened?” Ford winced. “What did I do?” He didn’t like the knot forming in his stomach at the prospect of him missing some pieces. Stan waved his concerns away.

“You got enough on your mind as it is. Don’t worry, you did nothing wrong. I swear.”

“I don’t have anything on my mind!” Ford protested. Stan snickered. Ford sighed and rephrased. “Nothing weighs on me that would mean you have to hide anything, Stanley.”

“Clearly. So that means that you can handle a day with Banjo, no problem.”

That horrible knot that had plagued Ford came back with a vengeance. Ford hugged his sides. He could feel bile rising in his throat. It took all of his willpower to not vomit the few fluids he had in him.

His twin saw how distressed he had suddenly become and pulled him in for a hug. It didn’t take long for Ford to bury himself in his brother’s embrace. The gesture grounded and comforted him. They both stood in the middle of the hallway until Stan broke off the hug.

“All right? Stan asked. Ford nodded. “Good. You do realize you’ve gotta pull yourself together and talk to him eventually, right?”

”I do,” Ford whispered. He dragged his hand down his face. “I just- I feel that I’ve ruined things between us. I don't know if I can face him…”

For more than one reason. Stan gave him a tap on the back of his head.

“You dumb nerd. Don’t think too much! Just start apologizing. Then you guys can go from there.”

“You’re certainly one to recommend an apology,” Ford muttered under his breath. Stan laughed.

“Yeah, I tell people to do stuff I won’t do all the time.” Ford rolled his eyes. The two resumed their walk to the kitchen. Soon, they picked up on the sound of faint singing.

“Country roads take me home, to the place I belong…”

“Is that Banjo?” Stan asked. Ford shrugged.

“Either him or a stranger that has broken into the house to sing along to the country station.” Stan snickered and elbowed him. As they got closer to the kitchen, the singing grew louder. But the uncomfortable feeling in Ford’s stomach returned. He stepped back.

“I’ll meet you two later. I just realized I forgot to go over some data,” Ford lied. He quickly turned around and walked away, not giving Stan a chance to try to stop him.

Stan just shook his head and entered the kitchen. Banjo, who in fact was singing along to the radio, stood at the stove cooking some eggs, a bug-filled container filled on the counter next to his pan. Stan grabbed it before any damage to the eggs could be done and shoved it in the cupboard.

”We won’t be needing those this morning. Ford needs to look over some data,” he said firmly. Banjo pursed his lips.

“Very well,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I didn’t buy it, either,” Stan said. Banjo managed a small smile. “By the way, were you singing just now?”

“Oh, uh, yes.”

“It was nice.” Stan leaned against the counter. “How come I’ve never heard you sing before?” To his surprise, Banjo blushed.

“My, uh, my big sister, Violynn, she’s- she’s got the prettiest voice in the world. She’s won awards!” Banjo looked down at the pan and stirred the contents. “But me? Or, I s’ppose, Angie? Not even close.”

“You don’t sing as Angie ‘cause your sister’s better than you?” Stan asked. Banjo rolled his eyes.

“Well, I guess when ya say it like that, it does make me sound-” Banjo started.

“No, I get it,” Stan interrupted. “You’re not the only one who grew up with an older sibling better than you at something.” Banjo smiled shyly at him. “I bet you sound good as Angie, though.” Banjo shook his head. “Seriously, if you sound this good as Banjo, there’s no way you sound bad as Angie!”

“You’d be wrong,” Banjo said firmly. “I told ya. I don’t sound good.”

“I don’t believe you,” Stan said, just as firm. Banjo rolled his eyes again. “At the very least, you sound better than me.”

“I’ve heard ya sing in the shower. That ain’t a high bar.” Banjo turned off the stove. “Let’s move on from this topic and eat, okay?”

They both sat in silence to eat their breakfast until Stan broke it.

”Okay, so you’ve known my twin while he’s been a magical whatever for a while. Has he ever acted weird before? As a salamander?”

“Well…” Banjo frowned thoughtfully. “He always acts a bit odd. I think it’s ‘cause it’s so strange to be a completely dif’rent species from what ya normally are.” Banjo looked down at his plate and picked at his food idly.

“Okay.” Stan chewed a bite of scrambled eggs and swallowed. “I know you weren’t worried about him turning gray last night, but-” Banjo's head shot up. He stared at Stan in horror.

"What?!"

"Last night, while we were in the Crawlspace, Ford went from pink to gray," Stan said. Banjo’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"He turned gray?" he croaked. Stan frowned.

"You didn't notice?"

"Clearly!" Banjo chewed on his lip. "Changin’ color, that don’t bode well. Unless he’s suddenly part chameleon or cuttlefish or somethin’. Which we can’t rule out."

“You were looking right at him, how did you not see it?” Stan pressed. Banjo’s gaze dropped to his plate. He pushed around a piece of egg idly.

“Nothin’, I- I must’ve been distracted or- or maybe the lighting in the Crawlspace…" he mumbled.

"Nuh-uh. If I noticed, there's no way you shouldn't have," Stan said firmly.

“I- I was upset,” Banjo said. “Yesterday was dif’cult, I was- I was as blue as- as my shirt.” Banjo sighed softly. “I still am. I wish Stanford weren’t avoidin’ me. I want to put this all to bed.” Stan raised an eyebrow. Banjo’s shirt, an inoffensive button-down, was purple.

So either he’s not actually sad, which he clearly is, or he doesn’t know what color his shirt is. But how could he not know? Stan thought back to the outfit Banjo had worn yesterday, a combination of orange and green. I don’t know him as well as I’d like, but that seemed weird for him. In addition, when Stan was doing their makeup yesterday, he stopped asking Banjo to grab items, as he kept selecting colors that didn’t go with their disguises. I thought he was just being annoying, but maybe it was something more? There was also that thing with the cloaks and the berries…

“Uh, Stan?” Banjo asked hesitantly, clearly wary at how long it had been since Stan spoke. Stan set down his fork.

“I’m gonna take a shot in the dark here. If I’m wrong, don’t laugh at me.”

“Okay?”

“Are- are you colorblind?” Stan asked. Banjo froze. Stan’s jaw dropped. “Shit, you are!”

“I- yes,” Banjo said weakly. His head drooped. “It runs in my fam’ly.”

“Whoa. I didn’t realize.”

“I thought I was doin’ a good job hidin’ it,” Banjo moaned.

“You were! I didn’t notice until after you turned into Banjo!”

“I weren’t colorblind until I became Banjo.”

“Huh?”

“Angie can see color just fine,” Banjo said. Stan furrowed his brow.

"How the hell is that possible?"

“The specific kind of colorblindness that runs in m’ fam’ily is deuteranopia, a form of red-green colorblindness,” Banjo explained. “It’s a sex-linked trait. The gene involved is on the X chromosome.

“Females have two X chromosomes. If they’ve got one faulty version of the gene and one reg’lar version of the gene, they don’t got colorblindness, ‘cause the right version overrides the wrong one.” Stan nodded. “But males have one X chromosome, so if they’ve got the faulty version of the gene on that one X chromosome, they’ve got colorblindness. So’s ya see this form of colorblindness more in men ‘n in women.”

“So, when you’re Angie, you’ve got a regular copy and a bad copy,” Stan said slowly. Banjo nodded.

�� “That’s called bein’ a carrier, and it’s the only conclusion fer my sudden development of colorblindness.” Banjo rubbed his forehead. “Just my luck that the X chromosome what turned into a Y was the one what didn’t have colorblindness on it. Ugh.”

"Okay, so you can't see red, and pink is a kind of red," Stan said, "but you can see gray, right?"

"Yes."

"Then how come you didn't see Ford changing from not-gray to gray?" Stan asked.

"Wh- because he already looked gray! Pink looks gray to me right now!" Banjo said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Even before we went to the Crawlspace, Stanford looked gray. I just figured he wasn't ‘cause some of my clothes what are pink looked gray yesterday."

"Huh.” Stan picked up his fork again and poked a bit at his breakfast, mulling over what Banjo had said. He locked eyes with the annoyingly attractive southerner. “Why didn’t you tell us? Were you embarrassed? You don’t need to be.” Banjo sighed.

“I was a bit embarrassed, sure. But it’s more that I didn’t really want to deal with it. It’s at the bottom of my list of concerns. I mean, I thought I was doin’ a good job hidin’ it!”

“The orange and green yesterday did seem a bit outta character,” Stan said. Banjo groaned.

“Dangit! I knew the flannel was orange, but I thought the shirt was red!”

“Oh, man,” Stan said, poorly stifling a laugh. “No, the flannel was green. The shirt was orange.” Banjo stared at him.

“It was?!”

“Yeah.”

Banjo slammed his head on the table. He groaned loudly.

“I ain’t teasin’ Lute ‘n Harper fer bein’ colorblind ever again!” he declared. Stan snickered. Banjo’s shoulders began to shake.

Shit, was I not “sensitive” enough? Banjo might be a guy right now, but he’s usually a chick. To Stan’s relief, he soon realized that Banjo was laughing, not crying. Banjo lifted his head, his eyes lit up with mirth. He grinned at Stan, his cheeks pink.

“Those ‘re my colorblind brothers,” Banjo explained. He leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Though I s’ppose right now I’m a colorblind brother, too.”

“Think you could go fishing while colorblind?” Stan asked. Banjo frowned.

“I don’t see why not. Why?”

“It’s pretty obvious to me that Ford’s gonna hide in his room all day. I don’t see the point in staying here just to sulk in separate rooms or whatever.”

“...Oh.” Banjo looked down at his emptied plate. He sighed. “Yeah, I think yer prob’ly right ‘bout Stanford’s plans fer today. But I was really hopin’ to talk to him…”

“You can talk to him when we get back.” Stan got up. He grabbed both his plate and Banjo’s. Banjo blinked.

“Back? Back from where?”

“Fishing, genius.” Stan flicked Banjo’s nose playfully. Banjo snickered at the action.

Man, I love having someone around who’s got the same sense of humor as me.

“Unless you wanna mope around all day,” Stan added. Banjo shook his head.

“No, I don’t want to waste the gorgeous weather.” He grimaced. “Even if I don’t like fishin’.”

“You just think you don’t like it ‘cause you’ve never fished with me,” Stan said firmly, eliciting a soft laugh from Banjo. Banjo stood up.

“Just to dot our I’s and cross our T’s, I’ll go make sure Stanford don’t want to come with us.”

“I think it’s a waste of time, but suit yourself,” Stan muttered as he brought the plates over to the sink. He had just finished washing them when Banjo returned, looking crestfallen. “Well?”

“It’s just the two of us fishin’,” Banjo mumbled. Stan nudged him.

“Chin up, man,” he said. “Trust me, we’ll have way more fun just the two of us.” Banjo pursed his lips, clearly not convinced. “And if we don’t, we’ll stop at the grocery store to pick up those weird popsicles you like.” That got a smile from Banjo. Banjo led the way out of the house. Stan grabbed his car keys from the bowl on their way, grinning.

Bribery. It always works!

#Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls AU #Axolotl Ford AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 2 years ago

Note

Yay your asks are open

Can I please get headcanons with Fuegoleon, William, and nozel with an s/o who sings beautifully and sings them a soft lullaby as he lays his head on their lap when he has a headache from overworking?

Yes they are!! ^^

Oh this was so cute that I just had to jump on it, and... I got a bit carried away ^^' Whoops. But I do hope that you like these ^^

Pairings: Fuegoleon x gn!reader, William x gn!reader, Nozel x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Fanfic type: Oneshots

Warnings: None

Total length: ~2.6k

Fuegoleon

Dusk was beginning to peek from behind the horizon and with it, just behind the treeline, you could see a veil of orange, red and gold, almost as if the warmth of your home was reflected in the world that opened before you from the window. Though, at times, you mused to yourself that it was only fitting to see such sunsets from the Crimson Lion Kings’ living quarters. It was a mere thought that tugged the corner of your lips up for a short while, in passing, whenever it occurred. But just as a summer breeze, in was soon swept away.

The door behind you opened, which made you turn around, only to see your husband return much earlier than anticipated. Not that you complained, oh no. In fact, it was much better this way, that he came home early every once in a while to get some rest.

But, just as soon as he stepped through the door, your expression turned into a frown, as the gentle loving smile you had grown to know, wasn’t there. Instead, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, and his head hung low; as low as it might hang when speaking about the king among lions.

His hair draped over his shoulders, and his cape was hanging from his left arm as he held it against his body, as if having shed some weight off of his shoulders.

Which in itself, perhaps, shouldn’t have been surprising. If anything, it was a wonder how he could carry the weight of his responsibilities with such elegance and poise to begin with. But, then again, he was special. He was strong and brilliant.

However, now, something was the matter, which is why you needed to ask about it.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquired, voice soft and gentle like silk to his ear, as in it there was also a welcome to home.

“Yes,” he replied as a faint smile appeared on his lips while hanging the cape away. “It’s just that… I think the last week has taken a toll on me, as I have a headache.” He admitted. And in the admission there was a hint of a … not quite shame, but perhaps apprehension. Because he knew that he ought to take good care of himself. After all, he was always telling you to get plenty of sleep, and remember to rest, while working ungodly hours himself.

“Then you should rest,” you said, speaking out a fact with a kind, understanding smile. Because you did understand him. You understood his drive, his motivations and wish to be the best version of himself while wanting nothing but the best for his knights and the kingdom. But he shouldn’t do it at the expense of his health.

Which he knew.

“Come one,” you urged with a near whisper while taking his hand and leading him towards the bed, with which he complied.

Of course he complied. Because though he might have had to retire early for the day, because of a headache, and simply not being able to process information, having you there made it all the more sweet; being home. Though, he had to wonder, if it would have felt like being at home in the first place without you being there. Because home was no longer a place for him, it was a person; you.

And as you laid together in bed, him placing his head onto your lap as you sat against the headboard, he could already feel some of the tension and dreariness off his body seeping away from him.

You sank your fingers into his hair and let the silken locks run through your fingers, gentle like a summer stream on a warm evening just washing over his body.

“Would it be easier if I removed my hair tie?” He inquired while looking at you with those eyes that were not quite royal purple and not quite lavender, but something else instead. A combination of silk and velvet that pulled you in time and time again.

“Maybe, if you like this that is,” you smirked, earning a chuckle from him as he lifted himself just enough to take off the hair tie and settle back down, head securely in your lap.

And just like that he closed his eyes, sinking into the sensation of your fingers brushing against his scalp, through the vermillion locks that bore the slightest scent of lavender. His chest rose as he took a deep inhale, and lowered back down with a steady, low, exhale that held the slightest hint of a hum.

With it, you begun humming a tune that had grown to be fond to you. A comforting melody of a lullaby that he had grown to know well too, and yet not quite well enough for his taste. A melody that he had only heard you hum, since you thought it to be, perhaps, strange to be singing a lullaby to him.

“Which song is that?” He thought to ask, this time, as he laid there, concentrating on the feeling of your touch.

“It’s a lullaby,” you answered with the faintest of senses of amusement in your tone.

“Oh,” he uttered, meaning nothing more with it. “Will you sing?”

There was a hint of absurdity in the request, but only a hint, a speck of dust on an open ocean. Because, he loved to listen to you sing.

“You wish to hear?”

He chuckled, only a little, and almost too quietly for you to hear. Almost, but not quite. “I love to hear you sing.”

And with it you, in turn, chuckled under your breath, before breathing in, and beginning to sing: “Golden slumbers kiss your eyes…”

His smile grew wider, more content, softer and more relaxed, as if all the burdens of the world couldn’t reach him anymore.

“Smiles await you when you rise…”

His breathing grew more calm and deep, speaking of how he was supposed to dose off out of exhaustion, the weariness in his bones. But he had more than earned a good rest. So, you sang, and let him drift away as you held him, with a wide, proud, loving smile on your lips.

William

Light cascaded in through the window, painting the entire room in various hues of golden light with the setting sun, as if creating a veil between the world that existed outside and the room itself. A welcomed state of being that allowed one to settle in for the night, for the evening, and to shed the burdens of life behind the bedroom door. Though, sometimes, it was easier than at other times, which was only natural.

And from the way William walked in through the door that evening, told you enough.

It’d be one of the days, when shedding that burden would be harder.

His eyes were down, and his chin was hanging low, but still he tried to give you a faint smile as a greeting.

And yet there was something in his demeanour that spoke of something else, an added sense of trouble.

“How was your day?” You asked with an innocent question as he put his cloak and mask away for the day.

His steps were heavy, nearly dragging. And the exhale, nearly a sigh, was almost defeated.

“Long,” he replied after a brief pause. “And I seem to have gotten a headache too,” he continued, almost as if an afterthought.

“Well… you do have a lot on your mind,” you told, with faint, careful amusement, to which he replied with a quiet chuckle.

“That I do,” he agreed as he sat onto the bed and took off his boots.

“You should rest, for the evening,” your voice was gentle, warm and loving, but beneath the layers there was a hidden sense of insisting. Because that was what he should do. He should rest, and take his mind off of work, for at least a short amount of time.

“I’ll try,” he sounded absent minded. He sounded like he knew that he should, while being simultaneously reluctant to do so, because of the age old dilemma of needing to think about it in order to think of a solution, and that allowing him to do something about it. Only that he had more of a habit of staying in thinking of even a better solution, as he had difficulties, at times, in settling for one.

But that was an observation that you had made, as his spouse, and it would stay as your observation.

“I know something that will make you feel better,” there was a hint of a tease in your tone, as if laced with a delicious smirk that he could hear.

And so, he turned his head, to look over his shoulder with a curious hum.

“Mhm,” you grinned while climbing onto the bed from the other side. “Come here,” you tapped the covers next to you, close to the head of the bed. “I’ll sing for you.”

His eyes fell again, but this time his lips were tugged up into a smile, as if burden was leaving him layer by layer, and relief took its place. “Like my beloved songbird,” he spoke out loud, but it sounded more like something he was thinking. Because you were his precious, beloved songbird; his nickname for you.

“Like your beloved songbird,” you teased as you settled against the head of the bed, and sat with your legs straight in front of you. “Come rest your weary head, and I’ll sing,” you repeated with a smile and a smirk. Something that was a bit of both, but was quite neither.

There was another, inaudible chuckle from him, as he crawled over the sheets to you and placed his head onto your lap.

“Is this alright?” He asked while settling down, because he didn’t want the weight of his head to cause discomfort to you.

“Yes, it’s alright,” you replied while running your fingers through his hair and over his scar. You could still remember the day when he had first shown it to you, and it had been clear from his eyes, his demeanour and the words he had said, that he was terrified to his bones of you leaving him.

But how could you have? He had trusted his insecurities onto you, and he was still as handsome as ever, perhaps even more handsome, because of it.

And now, as those deep purple eyes of his, like amethysts, closed and settled into the sensation of your fingers running over his skin, your smile was as wide as ever. The golden light of the setting sun cascaded onto his complexion as he took a deep breath, and sank further in into the moment.

“Now it’s time to say good night…”

The corner of his mouth tugged further up as the first notes left your lips.

“Good night, sleep tight…”

As if whatever headache would have been there had subsided into thin air with the sound of your voice.

“Now the sun turns out his light…”

And who knows, perhaps, it had.

“Good night, sleep tight…”

But what you did know, was that the man, the person you loved with all your hear, was drifting into sleep right there, in your arms, to the sound of your voice.

Nozel

Most would perhaps have said that the halls of the Silver Eagle base, or their part of the castle, was cold and hollow, as if painted with silver, snow and ice. But, for those who knew better, only one was true. For those walls might have bore the colour of silver here and there, and though you could understand why the cold of winter frost had howled through the halls, once upon a time, to you, here and now, the specks of silver glimmered in the light of the setting sun, and made it seem as if the star sky was right there on earth itself.

And it was there, under that glimmer of silver and light that the door to your bedroom opened, and revealed the frowning face of your beloved.

His eyes were down, and his chin was lowered, which wasn’t an unusual sight per se. Because there was a lot on his plate, and he wore his heart on his sleeve while at home. He didn’t hide his emotions from you.

“Rough day?” You asked with a compassionate smile and a gentle tone that flowed through the air like feathers caught in a breeze.

“It was,” he sighed while putting his cloak away. “All of it gave me a headache.”

“Hmm,” you hummed with a hint of a tease. “Or it was rough because you had a headache?” You suggested, making him glance to you.

“Does it matter?” He quirked on eyebrow.

“It matters if you haven’t remembered to drink enough water and eaten well,” you told him while reaching him.

And he still looked at you, but didn’t say a word. Which told you enough.

Your look told him enough. Because you had had this conversation before, and he assured you that he’d eat and drink and take care of himself. But it was sometimes difficult being in the position that he was.

So, you did also understand him.

“Have you eaten now?” You asked while brushing his hair back with your fingers.

“Yes, I ate right before coming here,” he replied, and there was no lie in his eyes or his tone, so you nodded.

“Then come on, let’s get some rest for that gorgeous head of yours,” you smirked while tugging his hand closer to the bed.

“Just my head?” He asked with tired eyes and a tender smile, and you laughed.

It was a short, and yet loud laugh that left your lungs. Because he didn’t joke often. Only once in a blue moon.

Most would have argued that he didn’t have a ‘fun bone’ in his body, but you knew better. He had a sense of humour too. He just didn’t show it. Because he wasn’t supposed to be funny. He wasn’t supposed to make people laugh.

But it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have been able to make a joke, when he was comfortable in doing so.

“All of you,” you corrected with a slight laugh while climbing onto the bed and pulling him with you.

The sheets were soft, silken, perhaps far too comfortable, as if a silver cloud floating through the air as you crawled to the headboard and propped yourself against it.

“You can rest your head on my lap,” you told him while patting your thigh and smiling to him.

And again, he said nothing, but instead followed the suggestion and settled his head onto your lap.

His arms wrapped around your body, and his legs tangled together with yours as he closed his eyes, and breathed in your scent as it seemed he was ready to drift off into sleep.

“Somewhere over the rainbow…”

Your ran your fingers through his hair, which was thick and lush; silken much like the bedsheets under you.

“Way up high…”

The rising and falling of his chest grew more and more heavy, tranquil.

“There’s a land that I heard of…”

As if the melody, the sound of your voice was making his worries and troubles melt away and his pain subside like storm clouds.

“Once in a lullaby…”

The word you would have used to describe him in that moment, would have been ‘adorable’, something that one wouldn’t have thought of the dashing captain of the Silver Eagles. But… he was, in fact, adorable. Behind closed doors.

#fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #william x reader #william vangeance x reader #nozel silva x reader #nozel x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover x reader #black clover oneshots

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: an episode taking place after “Three Way Script”

Warnings: talks of still born children, suggestions of threesomes, consensual infidelity and polyamory

Notes: gosh I’ve been off here so long and yet I’m still clogged with love notes! How’d i get so lucky? This fandom truly is the sweetest, most gushing and loving imaginable and each of you are dear to me and I miss you all. Europe has seemed to swallow me as I’m over for another month I had not anticipated. That’s ok. It’s that’s great in fact but I’m whooped and tired and missing the chance to make believe with y’all. Here’s a little resurgence in that, thanks for your patience and please, please, please keep spamming me all you want in my inbox and dms as I adore it and it helps me feel included even as I’m a little preoccupied with work right now. Xoxo🌹

Cautions: this was written and not edited a bit, wahooo

Anne’s The Name

Ann-Margret was rather used to being ambushed outside her dressing room by the occasional stray autograph seeker, an entitled producer or five anticipating more, or co-stars looking for a drink after shooting to wind down the chemistry of the day.

As of yet, she’d never been met by a wife.

But there she was, Elaine. Never having met her before didn’t afford Ann even a split second of ignorance. She knew who she was. Mrs. Presley was unmistakable, even when playing at being inconspicuous. Leaning against the stage wall in a somehow more provocatively natural stance than even her husband could manage, those long legs freshly tanned against a pink shift skirt and the elegant length of her -she was slimmer than the papers showed her, what with this baby making hiatus- topped off by chocolate curls getting whipped around her like the studio’s wind tunnel was a paid employee. More deadly still was when the opened door attracted her attention and that pretty pearl adorned neck turned to face Ann, that stunner of a face entirely full of curiosity and maybe…mischief?

Ann was too startled to be certain.

Startled by her sudden appearance, startled by the prettiness of her, startled by the lack of venom anywhere to be found on that compelling face, the lips of which were quirking up in a undeniable smirk of teasing enjoyment. She was enjoying Ann’s dumbfounded, half cocked, partway out the door, frozen in place shock. Somehow this was neither the self sacrificing Saint not irate Madonna that Ann anticipated maybe one day being confronted by.

Instead she was being warmly appraised by heavily fringed eyes that glimmered gold in the late day’s sun. Like her merits for lover or playmate were being gauged. Ann wondered if the rumors were true, if Elvis had really taken a lump of clay and fashioned himself a wife in his own image, more identical and fitting than any rib shaped lady could aspire. That sense of danger and intrigue and knowing that had filled her on meeting Elvis came flooding over Ann again, unable to do more than curiously inspect Elaine as she turns towards her.

“Thumper?” Elaine’s voice is as soft and hopeful as it was coming across the telephone receiver weeks ago, “You are Ann, I believe?” she presses when Ann’s manner can’t play catch up with her overwhelming emotions and she remains frozen, halfway out her open door.

“Ela- Mrs. Presley!” she corrects, wincing at the fumble, utterly unsure now that she’s not being met with open hostility.

“I didn’t mean to startle you!” Elaine straightens up from the wall and click clacks over in her heels to stand opposite Ann, just an arms reach removed from each other and Ann thinks of what a pretty scene they’d make if this were scripted, one red and one brown, a flavor for each taste, matching in height and complimentary in build, facing off in a tunnel. “It’s just I managed to give Esposita the slip and E’s gonna be busy with the studio dubbing and I’m no use at all. I thought I’d wrestle up a friend while I was free.” Elaine’s beaming smile dims the longer Ann stalls for time and etiquette, “Or-or if you’re not free, I understand, I at least wanted to say hello. I’m going to be in the city for a little while and didn’t want to be bumping along into you some day without having sought you out.”

Ann wondered if Elvis asked her to come, if Ann and her inventive ways to have sex without having sex wasn’t quite cutting it and he had caved and called the wife. Or if Elaine had heard Ann’s voice over the telephone and gathered from the whole sleepwalking debacle that it was high time to reel him and his affairs in. Or maybe the colonel had seen the papers, Heda Hopper’s column in particular stating that Elvis was taking a shine to his red headed mirror, and sent the wife down for damage control. The only thing is, Ann was sure that the Colonel was thick as thieves with Hedda, much to Elaine’s distress no doubt, and he loved every bit of publicity that Elvis’ wayward eyes could drum up.

Family men didn’t sell, after all. Ann had certainly played her part in his playboy reconstruction with convincing aplomb.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog of Ann’s concerns and suddenly she’s able to find her voice as she starts to tip over,

“No, I-I’m a little dizzy.” Ann admits, just as Elaine’s arms and a wall barely manage to keep her from face planting on the cement.

-I’m a little dizzy and I love your husband and you’re here to distract him and I’m awful aren't I?! but I couldn’t help it, if you love him as much as you say you’ll understand I couldn’t help it, I can’t help loving him-

“Woah, woah, have you eaten?” Elaine asks solicitously as she keeps Ann standing upright against the wall by an iron grip around her waist and under her arm. Anne winces at what she knows is the tacky feel of her sticky underarm pit cradled by Elaine Presley’s perfectly manicured hand. Why did she have to wear a yellow shift dress today of all days? She can feel Elaine’s fingers rubbing at the tassel on the waist, soothing her the same way Elvis does. By touch, gentle in a way that belies the ease with which she holds her upright. The woman is terribly strong for looking so delicate and there’s suddenly a great deal of logic to Elvis’ starry eyed submissiveness regarding his doll faced wife -Elaine is imposing when she gets her hands on you.

Embarrassment floods Ann next, blushing hot and dewy at being caught so weak in front of a woman the world would say she’s wronged. Heat replaces the cold and clammy dizziness of before and she struggles upright against the wall, getting her feet to work for her, stamping the heels a little to get a strong footing. Elaine doesn't budge in her grip on her, still looking concerned and gentle -god, she’s as comfortable with closeness as he is.

“Matter of fact I have neglected eating.” Ann chuckles weakly, puffing at the hair that’s fallen over her forehead and into her eyes, Elaine swipes it away when the directed huff proves ineffective against hairspray laden locks. “It’s been so hot and -and we had a dance scene, kept having to repeat it and -and so many takes. I got a little nauseous from the heat. I forgot to have lunch.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, poor thing.” Elaine tsks, “Makes folks sick and then they don’t want what they actually need. Happens to the kids on the beach all the time, it’s like bargaining with Castro trying to get Jesse out of the ocean to hydrate.” Ann finds herself chuckling at the mental image of this familial anecdote before she realizes she is chuckling at stories about Elvis’ kids. Should she say her condolences for Joe now? Should she even admit she knows as much as she does? “We should get some meat in you. Water, too.” Elaine decides her course for her, “Do you wanna go back in there to rest for a minute?” she points at the dressing room Ann just exited, “Or we can make a dash for my car and find ourselves a bite?”

What either of these options unspokenly state is that Ann will be spending her evening with Elaine, one way or another. If she’s gonna get throttled for being an adulteress she'd rather it be in a drive-in-diner and not some stuffy back-lot dressing room.

“I think I can manage the dash.” she answers agreeably because that’s what Elaine seems to illicit in her -agreeableness.

And as she finds herself tugged by the hand across the mostly empty parking lot, Ann wonders where that ornery streak she’s made her fame on has gone to. Maybe it’s the dehydration that has tuckered her out. Maybe it’s how Elaine acts like she’s her mother in a way that not even her own mother could make so charming.

Elaine is going to get her burgers and water and make her head less fuzzy. It’s been such a while since anyone met her needs so eagerly that Ann finds herself giggling as they race across the wavering hot asphalt, their heels echoing like clopping tattletales and Ann thinks it’s such a lark right as she tips over the convertible caddy’s door into the plush leather passenger seat.

The convertible is pink, because Elvis bought it for his wife and didn’t bother to ask her what her favored color would be, it was just understood that Mrs. Presley would like a pink Cadillac.

Ann is positive that’s how it went, she doesn’t even need to ask Elaine for the story as Elaine cranks the engine up while flipping the visor forward to tip out a pair of cat-eye shades in what strikes Ann as a strangely masculine getsure of proficiency. It makes Ann want to fan herself at the subtext of this woman having hung around Elvis Presley long enough to have picked up his impossibly cool mannerisms by osmosis.

That right there is intimacy. That right there is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. That’s a wife.

Ann doesn't know what to do with the rush of appreciation she feels towards what ought to be a nemesis as this cool gal who shields her knowing brown eyes behind tortoise rimmed glasses and flicks on the radios right as a crowd of studio workers begins to swamp the strange duo in their flashy ride.

The song choice by the DJ is downright unfortunate. Surrounded as they are by photographing fans and coworkers, there is nothing for them to do after Elaine’s manicured finger flicks the switch and the mournful rockabilly of Runaround Sue blasts as a ironically perfect soundtrack for the missus taking the side chick out for burgers.

Elaine’s gutsy laugh of recognition at the intro wailing “woaaaah woaaaah woaaaah” tells Ann she appreciates the irony just as much but the woman just waves at the crowd and revs the motor in a fake threat of running over a few studio heartthrobs who are draped over her caddy front trying to get a closer shot.

“If I change it now they’ll read into it more.” Elaine remarks to Ann out the side of her unwavering smile and Ann thinks that’s a talent she wants to learn, damned useful looking like you’re grinning while making conversation.

-‘ask any man that she ever knew, he’ll say keep away from a runaround sue, oh yeah, woaaaaaah”-

Elaine’s french tipped fingers thump out a corresponding rhythm on the pink lacquered steering wheel while surveying the mess of attraction they’ve brought down on themselves in the sweltering parking lot before playfully reaching for the wipers and flicking on the spray with bemused cruelty.

It’s strangely attractive, this distanced bemusement of hers and it fills Ann with notions of thanking Elaine for being a little nasty, something she never felt before for another soul. Suddenly those idiots who degrade themselves and get off in it make a little more sense as she watches the young bucks scramble off of Elaine’s shiny hood with soaked shirts and tented trousers.

“Sorry fellas, y’all were lookin’ overheated.” Elaine quips before the rest of the verbal sparring gets lost in the revv of the engine and they’re peeling out of the studio lot in a move that even Elvis would have found satisfyingly risky.

As it is, Ann lays her burning head back on the white leather seat and enjoys the feeling of the wind whipping her hair off her forehead as Elaine speeds them down Las Vegas roads that don’t tolerate a 75 mile an hour pace most times.

-“well I shoulda known it from the very start, that girl would leave me with a broken heart-“

The strip is truly lovely in the daylight and there’s a charm to it when viewed in the blur of a fast car and the veil of chocolate curls whipping around red painted lips.

“Was- that- did- did Robert Redford just wave you through his red light?” Ann splutters in disbelief at a lightning fast interaction at a four way stop that has Elaine’s head swiveling dangerously and a shark-like grin taking over her face.

“I think he did.” she replies with a guilty giggle and Ann wonders when the last time this woman got to be naughty without it being smothered right out of her the next second by a unfathomably possessive husband.

“A real good looking fella in the bright of day.” she ventures.

“He’s very blonde.” Elaine rejoins and Ann can’t help but laugh at that, at her partiality for dark haired men.

“Yes of course, you like yours so black they’re nearly blue.”

Elaine manages to swivel into their parking space in the drive-in diner with easy grace, the same sorta slide and swivel Ann imagines she’d use to scoot her body into a restaurant booth. “You’re forgetting who applies his hair dye.” she says with faux gravity that has Ann faltering for a moment until she sees her smirking, “And Jack’s not darkening up despite everyone’s predictions. I’m only saying that Redford is -“ Elaine doesn’t finish, she just shrugs and pulls the gear to park.

Noticing a star’s ride at first glance, an eager young waitress in her short skirt and rollerblades flys over and Elaine handles her and the order of five cheeseburgers and as many shakes with the same cooing authority she handled Ann with against the wall.

It sends Ann back to fidgeting, even more so when the girl takes off to plug in the order and Elaine turns the full weight of those perfectly lined eyes back at her and flicks up her sun glasses into her hair to study her closer. It lasts long enough that a blush burns Ann’s face and Elaine herself wonders if Elvis enjoys this girl’s charming unawareness of her own appeal.

Seemingly satisfied with her inspection for now, Elaine turns back in her seat and tilts the rear view mirror downwards to inspect the damage the wind did to her curls and upon catching sight of her face mutters,

“That man…” in a resigned drawl while dabbing away at a smudge of red lipstick out of her lip lines that could’ve only come about by a rather impassioned smooch. Ann figures Redford is not the man in question this time.

It makes Ann feel funny, the thought of having woken up in Elvis’ bed this morning and between then and seeing him again he’s already necked his wife. Necked her thoroughly by the looks of that finger fluffed hair. Anne recalls reading an article in the Whisper about Elaine’s perpetual state of tousled hair and bitten lips, a constant innuendo to what happens to the woman the minute the curtain drops on her picture perfect, wholesome and southern, utterly above reproach little family life. Elaine gets mauled by Elvis Presley, that’s what happens. Elvis who can play the gentleman all he wants during the mating dance but in the act itself promises nothing less than a full, thorough, beastly claiming of his woman.

“Wanna go in?” His wife is asking and it shouldn’t jar Ann as much as it does but she’s so lost in her head that it spooks her all the same and she ends up nodding mindlessly, trying to think about optics and failing to see how this could be anything but tragic for herself. “Alright but use the door handle this time, it’s got one.” Elaine snarks with a pretty little snarl of those red lips and Ann bashfully opens the caddy door properly this time instead of spilling over the side like a tomboy.

She’s still learning how to be what Hollywood wants her to be. Shedding her wholesome girl next door image for a sex kitten verve that hasn’t been entirely unnatural. But it takes a bit of balance as even sex kittens need some glamor, some poise and grace, even as they’re promisingly feral. It’s like tousled curls that hint at obscene amounts of public fuckery without being remotely indecent in itself. She watches Elaine swing open the diner door and wait with charming annoyance at Ann’s preoccupied dawdling. Being billed the “female Elvis” brought about the challenge of having to figure out what Elvis’ appeal even consisted of.

Getting to know the man…intimately…hadn’t made that any clearer. There was a mystique about him that she feared her own shy and frank nature could never manage to do more than a cheap imitation of. Now she was beginning to fear half of his appeal was the promise of his capability that was shown in Elaine Presley’s every move and smirk.

Asking his exquisitely poised and deliciously no-nonsense wife about it didn’t seem a smart move. Recovering from tripping over the curb like an awkward preteen, Ann ducks her head appreciatively for Elaine still holding the damn door open and slips inside the checkered diner.

It was teeth chattering cold in the leather booths after the heat of the ride and both Ann and Elaine found themselves shrinking from settling back into their seats, leaned forward instead with elbows on the table in a cozy pose but no topic of conversation to break the ice as they hovered in such close proximity.

“I thought this would be easier.” Elaine finally let out with a little huff and Ann couldn’t be sure if she was annoyed at her or the situation. “I thought we'd have a lot to talk about.” she explained with a hint of sadness that bewilders Ann. In response to her nonplussed face Elaine went on, “Why, you know…about…lord, our interests! Which as I hear of it consist of many of mine, motorcycles and dancing, my husband of course, and thumb sucking -to name a few.”

Ann inhaled her shake at the mention of that particular sex act, utterly unmoored at the notion he’d told his wife the actual detail. The fact the wife would tell it back.

Elaine was smiling at her coughing fit.

“He’s got such pretty fingers.” she commiserates without pausing in the assault as Ann wheezes

in a vanilla tinged breath, “It’s ingenious really, he said it worked a little too well.”

It had, that’s true, though Ann had never expected Elvis to leave her flat and call his wife up and tell her about how his young costar had cajoled him into rubbing himself to completion as she sucked his thumb in a pantomime of both fallatio and abstinence. Ann had never felt so filthy as she had when she’d watched a married man spew over his knuckles as he hooked his other thumb into her cheek at the same time, leaving her with a knowing smile, happy to keep her revved up and hungry for him for days after until he finally caved and-

“Makes me wanna try it.” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog and Ann is faced yet again with the fact that this woman seems to wanna chat about her husband's technical infidelity like two girls at a sleepover. She’s still waiting for the seething possessiveness and or vicious cutting down to size.

“Thank you for the flowers, that was -that was much too kind.” Ann gets it out, burdened in a way she hadn’t been before the bizarre need to be liked by Elaine Presley had taken root.

“Thanks for being good to him.” Elaine replies without missing a beat but in so low and earnest a tone it seems to warm the entire diner and the leather feels cozy.

“I’m so sorry about Joe.” Ann blurts with hoarse earnestness because the grief of it is choking her as she watches this woman dazzle and smile her way through a cataclysmic tragedy, the size of which has Elvis Presley himself trying to sleep walk to his death to end the pain of it.

An emotion, something very cold initially and then frighteningly intense, almost a little ugly in its horrifying struggle flits across, then threatens to crumple, Elaine’s poised features and Ann suddenly wishes her tongue had been cut out, she oughta be locked up and never let out in polite society again. She watches helplessly as Elaine’s mouth firms into a hard line even as her eyes grow wide and wild and begin glittering madly with what Ann realizes, almost too late, are unshed tears -and then those perfectly manicured hands fly up to hide a deluge of grief that melts that serene facade.

“I-I’m so sorry, I just -I just had to say it.” Ann hears herself whimpering out condolences and excuses and her hands fumble over the linoleum table top in a helpless gesture as Elaine’s hands are too busy shielding her famous face from the entire diner’s occupants as her shoulders shake in a terrible rhythm that is peculiar to stifled sobbing. “I’m just so horribly sorry for you, for both of you, all of you. And everybody goes on like it didn’t happen but I- I can’t imagine how awful that is, the ignoring of it. I-I didn’t think before I said anything I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Elaine.”

Ann watches as the sobs seem to slow, and then they still, and eventually, this young woman leans forward again and rests her elbows on the table, face still hidden by her hands, one of which boasts that stupendously gaudy wedding band. Realizing there’s one thing she can mend, Ann reaches into her purse and digs out a hanky before pressing it against Elaine’s knuckles in a silent plea for her to use it.

It’s like witchcraft the way her face is entirely composed once those hands drop and the damp and smudged hanky is balled into her dainty fist. She’s looking straight past Ann at her surroundings, clocking her audience and even twisting a little in her seat to make certain no one’s overly enthralled by her lapse in perfection, it’s exhausting watching this haunted look of hunted excellence by, Ann can’t even imagine what it’s like living it. Suddenly Ann’s hands are being gripped and the woman’s fingers are burning hot and clammy and her eyes are boring into her own, seemingly satisfied that they are still anonymous enough for a little show of emotion and Elaine is murmuring in a husky whisper,

“Thank you, Thumper -you see, nobody talks about her. I-I -there’s no one I can talk to…about her.”

The fact that her own husband can’t even manage it but had to find a stranger to spill to instead strikes Ann with a fathomless guilt for taking that from Elaine, but it’s not as if she had elicited it! He came to Ann himself and what he spoke of she couldn't control. Still, actually getting to see the cracks in his wife’s soul from the loneliness of her grief is a different thing entirely and she is moved to make amends.

“You can always talk to me -if it helps.” she whispers and Elaine gives her a wincing smile.

“I don’t think anything will help.” Elaine replies with a moodiness that is both entirely understandable, if a little off putting in just how severe it is. And, forever the barometer of moods, as if sensing Ann’s unease with her glumness, Elaine perks up in a nauseatingly convincing display of cheer. “It’s just -I think that after Mrs. Kennedy lost her baby and all that sadness, the people just don’t have it in them to find much -interest, in the sad parts. They need happiness and, and courage from us.”

Elaine’s biting her lip in a vain attempt to make it stop wobbling and Ann wishes she could smack the American public for insisting these women, one the wife of the President and the other of the King, hold up a perfect little Camelot for them to read about every Sunday. It’s real lives, real lives grieving and straining and trying their best, real infants dying and golden couples struggling to regain intimacy beyond the midnight sobbing cuddle sessions that have taken the place of making love.

No money in the world is worth such a forced display of perfection in the face of such aloneness.

“You should worry about what you need right now.” Ann tells her what she told her husband the other night.

“Ah.” Elaine clicks her tongue doubtfully, “That’s all real well but I dunno what I need. But you -are you what Elvis needs? Hmm?”

Suddenly Ann wants to bolt again, throat tight and heart skipping a beat, “I-I don’t know.”

“How old are ya?” she asks like that is a natural progression in the conversation, as if Elaine is going to be the judge of wether it is beneficial for her husband to 69 his co-star in order to forget about his dead child.

“I’m twenty two.” It feels like a confession under that earnest eyed review.

“Lord.” Elaine bites off the head of a fry and Ann wishes she was a lil soaked potato crisp herself, that bemused meanness simmering to Elaine’s smooth surface again and turning Ann into a hot mess under her nylons. “And do you wanna get married, Miss Margret? You want kids and all that? Or is it the stage life for you?”

“No, I-I’d like kids, and I’d like to marry.” she insists, “Just not now -and not Elvis, of course not Elvis!”

“Well that’s good.” Elaine drawls sardonically, “Cause he’s taken and happy to be so.”

“Yes! Yes he loves you so much.” it’s a sort of masochism for Ann to admit that yet somehow she finds she doesn’t mind it.

“I know.” is all Elaine replies with, utterly unimpressed.

“So,” Ann finds this ordeal unbearable enough she might as well ask what’s been burdening her, “why did you wanna meet with me? Is- is he through with me?” The full scale of her own unease finally surfaces and she realizes she’s got cause to suspect Elaine of more than just being jealous. “Did he send you to do it? To break it off me with me?” she can’t help the way her voice raises in outrage, it may be misplaced but her love is not false and she doesn’t deserve this, he oughta man up and do his own dirty work.

Elaine doesn’t reply for a few beats that have Ann wringing her hands around her sweaty milk shake in suspense, curious as to why the woman doesn't take the easy route and admit it, crow over her -once again the straying husband has returned to her.

“This film has only got a couple of weeks left.” Elaine says instead in so measured a tone it slices Ann to the heart quicker than any boast, “But no, no he hasn’t sent me to do anything. I’m no one’s errand boy.”

“Of course not.” Ann mumbles in apology.

“But he has-“ Elaine’s mouth twists in distress over wording and every delay hurts Ann just a little more from suspense, “-Elvis has recommenced his interest in me.” that’s a positively hilarious way to say he banged his wife and not the side piece this afternoon and Ann hates her for her delicacy, and all the pain and complications it hides, “And the thing of it is, I’ve already noticed a waning of his preoccupation with you and -I’m just an observer. It’s what I do, I watch him and then I act on what he’s gonna do or what he’s gonna want. And, Ann, can I call ya Ann? Ann, I -I think he’s gonna try to move on from ya, when the movie wraps, like he’s moved on from the others.”

Ann bites at her straw and prays her jimmying leg beneath the table isn’t painfully obvious.

“I don’t want that.” Elaine states suddenly and Ann lets go of the poor, abused straw.

“What?”

“You’re not just some other gal, Thumper.” she rolls her eyes -fondly, unless Ann is greatly mistaken. “But I think he’d treat ya like one for me. I do think it’s what he intends to do. It’s -he said as much this afternoon…during.”

Ann’s cheeks flame hot from mortification and anger, but from something else too. An electric shock zapping through her at the unintended imagining of Elvis talking about her while buried inside of Elaine. To be thought of, spoken of, made a part of that dynamic…Ann is going to hell for the way it makes her clench and breath in like a panting racehorse.

“Well that’s all -settled for you, isn’t it.” she can’t help but try her hand at being a little mean herself. It comes out petulant and she winces at the pettiness of it.

“Yes.” Elaine doesn't bother with false remorse over her surety in her husband’s return, “Which means all that’s left is to help sort you.”

“Sort me?“ Ann isn’t above mud wrestling a fellow gal on the diner floor.

“Thumper, darling,” Elaine sighs gently while her eyes stray behind Ann’s head at some gathering fans behind them, “this industry crafts an image for its stars like suits for models. What they’ve got for ya right now sure is flattering, but make no mistake, they’ll be happy to discard you and your new suit whenever it no longer makes folks gossip. I’d like us to last a lot longer than all that.” her eyes focus back on Ann’s and a sad smile lights up her face, “I think we’ve got it in us to.”

“Who’s us?”

Elaine seems to take time to consider that before answering, “The trio of us.”

Ann remains wary, it’s altogether too easy to want her to mean what she can’t possibly have intended. “Us?”

“Yeah, us.” Elaine grins, “Or at least, I think that Thumper and Naughty and Tink could manage something. Even if the adults can’t.”

It’s wicked that smile of hers and awfully persuasive, like she’s figured something out. And maybe she has, that throat closing fear that Ann was a replacement suddenly allayed by the jimmying legged beauty who acts so brave while having the ill luck of having a soulmate in a married man.

Ann’s no replacement for Elaine.

She’s Elvis’ mirror and his double and a fondness blooms in Elaine’s heart for her at that realization, along with a healthy dose of exasperation that always seems to linger when in Elvis’ presence.

“So, will you let me sort you?” she presses the young woman and doesn’t miss the way she swallows hard in the same way Elvis does when Elaine starts bossing.

Interesting.

“Arrange a little something for us that’ll outlast those hooligans at MGM? You gotta think about what you want, Ann, they’ll get ya on the treadmill and never turn the damn thing down when you burn out unless ya make them. I’d have thought you’d have learnt that these past few weeks.”

Ann knows she’s referring to Elvis and his insomnia, his hollow eyed spouting of the newest script and his mechanical jiving while his soul atrophies from grief suppressed. Ann knows there’s a damned dead end at the end of loving him too thoroughly. Too exclusively. But God! -he made her feel important. That’s all a little silly now that she’s looking at his wife with those love kiss abrasions adorning her throat and a diamond weighing down her finger.

Ann wants Elvis. Ann also wants whatever it is Elaine’s got and if she ever wants to really get that, she's gonna have to let Elaine’s husband go and find herself one of her own. “Alright.” she whispers, smudging the linoleum table top with her wrist, “I mean -I would like to remain friends. Very much.”

“We can do better than just that. But it’s a start.” Elaine clicks her tongue in a strangely cocksure way that has Ann melting as she watches as if in slow motion as Elaine’s hand comes up to her face, a manicured finger swiping at the corner of Ann’s lip before bringing the vanilla frosted finger to her own mouth and sucking nonchalantly.

Already sorting her out and Ann complies with rapt attention and a shudder. “I had the good sense to leave Jack behind for this little visit.” she admits cheerily, as if making breezy conversation and Ann realizes the crowd behind her shoulder have moved in closer, “Which means we could have a dinner party, us three, and there’d be no chaperone to set a curfew.”

Mrs. Presley wiggles her eyebrows in a way that suggests they won’t be watching movies late into the night and Ann’s heart threatens to gallop away from her at the thought of it.

Someone from the crowd asks for an autograph.

Preoccupied, Ann accidentally writes “thumper” on the bottom of a fresh Polaroid depicting her and Elaine peeling out of the studio lot.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I hope y’all enjoyed, after such a long pause I’d be astounded if any of y’all were still invested in this but I swear that while I may not be as prolific in the next few months, my gargantuan plot for this universe and others are still alive in my brain. Love y’all 😘 if you wanna be added to the taglist please comment below

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@whatstruthgottadowithit

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

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wonder-farm-hc · 30 days ago

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hellooo!! i was wondering if you could do some emily headcanons? i’m so invested in her character and i need more things to compile :3 anyway thanks in advance 😙

Of course! I love her character so much, she's definitely one of my favorites!

Anyway, this ended up being a bit longer than anticipated, whoops...tbh I could very well do a part 2 in the future.

Cw for: mentions of transphobia

Some content is hidden behind "read more", but there's nothing explicit mentioned.

Enjoy!

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

She gets along well with most residents of Pelican Town, although some of them think she may be too eccentric for their taste

She’s very good friends with Shane, and when his drinking got bad, she got very worried. Along with the farmer, she wanted to be there for him in recovery

She asks about Jas, and Jas asks about her! Emily shows her the shiny gems she has, and in return, Jas shows her dolls and things she collects around the farm

Once, Jas gifted her a blue chicken’s feather. Emily made it into an earring and wears it “For good luck”

She’s older than Hailey, by almost 3 years. They get along well, but sometimes Emily can get a bit bossy (it’s something she’s kinda self-conscious about)

Once, after a particularly bad fight, she and Hailey didn’t speak for days. But a night when Emily was working late at the Saloon, she came back home to find a duck’s feather on the coffee table, for her. The morning after, she apologized to Hailey and they made up

She and Hailey do the things that siblings do, where they insult each other jokingly, but they always have each other’s backs (and only they can insult the other!)

She’s very touchy with the people she cares about the most (if they don’t have a problem with that!): taking other’s hands in hers, giving cheek kisses, hugging…all of it!

Her other love language is definitely gift giving, and she sews clothes for others

I headcanon Abigail, Sebastian and Sam are all younger than her, and so they look up to her, especially Abigail, since she finds her style so awesome

Emily eventually ends up befriending them, and she gives fashion tips to Abigail

She has a tradition of cutting her hair shorter the first day of spring, as it marks a new beginning. Nothing drastic, usually just a few inches

When she has longer hair, she loves to take a few strands and braid jewels in them!

She and Sandy go way back, they met in elementary school and have been inseparable ever since!

They have a matching tattoo: a starfruit, Emily got her tattoo on her left ankle, and Sandy on her right ankle

She always knew that she was pansexual, in a way. She may not have had the terms to describe it, but she always knew the gender of the person she loves doesn’t matter at all

I headcanon she’s also a trans woman, using she/they pronouns. Hailey was always supportive of her sister, and when she moved out due to their parents not being so supportive, she followed her

It’s not that they didn’t accept her, it’s that they were never fully supportive. Slipping up, using the wrong name and pronouns from time to time, not really listening to her…so she decided to start anew and move to the Valley, and be the weird, beautiful girl she always wanted to be (it wasn’t easy, and a big fight ensued)

To this day, she’s very low contact with her parents

She’s friends with pretty much every regular at the Saloon, but she’s on the fence about Pam. She can see her struggle with addiction and poverty, but she hates the way she treats Penny

Speaking of, her and Penny get on well! Sometimes she goes over to the museum and lets Penny explain stuff about the minerals, as she really likes it!

In return for the “free lessons”, Emily insists on fixing Penny’s clothes when they get ruined, as she knows she can't afford new ones. Penny tells her not to worry, but Emily always insists, saying that anyway it’s good sewing practice (it is, but she mainly does it out of care for the other woman)

Gus considers her his apprentice in cooking, and she’s definitely learning a lot! She’s the second best cook in town (Hailey would never admit this, but she likes her strange recipes)

She listens to a lot of music, and she listens to whatever genre! She has some favorite genres, but sometimes she puts on a playlist she usually wouldn’t listen to in order to get inspired to do something different, and so she ends up discovering so many artists! Anyone in town, from George to Sam, can talk to her about music, as she truly knows a bit of everything

#emily sdv #sdv emily #emily #stardew emily #stardew valley #stardew valley emily #emily headcanons #sdv emily headcanons #lgbtqia+#transgender #transfem

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jesuistrestriste · 8 months ago

Text

the soft dom!art donaldson fic is turning out to be a bit longer than anticipated :,D

i just can’t help myself, i love details.

like yes, the reader is about to makeout with him, but do u know how he smells?? how he’s sitting?? what he’s doing with his hands??

i will post it tonight, but it will probably be a lil bit from now lol. im taking a quick break and the reader hasn’t even been penetrated yet whoops

#writing fics is a hefty process 4 me #i can’t post something unless i feel decent abt it and for that to feel real i need to set the SCENE #art donaldson #mike faist #art donaldson x reader #dom!art donaldson #challengers movie #art donaldson smut

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 1 year ago

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Ok I really loved your fic: Oialëa. It has to be the best x human stories I’ve seen. I was wondering if it was possible for a part 2? Like maybe it’s the next day after she returned and how things go down with Caranthir’s family?

Oialëa - Caranthir x human!reader Part II

Word count: 5k

Summary: The day after her return, Y/N and Carnistir find themselves dealing with the aftermath.

Tags: Angst, fluff.

Author's note: Whoops, this turned out much longer than anticipated. I've had this in my drafts for quite some time, but writers block really made it difficult to finish it😮‍💨 I'm contemplating on adding a final part about their encounter with Fëanor, would y'all be interested in that? You can find part one here.

Y/N had always been afraid of the dark.

Darkness, which was so relentless, unpredictable and downright terrifiying. Darkness, which had left her helpless and had threatened her life countless times. Darkness, which almost succeded in taking away every last ounce of strength and perseverance left in her body, had it not been for the silver band on her right index finger. The band that served as a constant reminder to hold on. To return to him.

And it was this very band that had made her remember how there could be comfort in darkness, that it was not just this frightening sphere of nothingness, swallowing people whole and luring them into a dimension filled with their deepest, most haunting fears and secrets, stripping them of their ability to think rationally and having them become nothing but a hollow, paralyzed shell of who they once were. There was comfort in darkness. That was what Y/N had realized upon her anxious eyes falling on her ring. There had to be.

Darkness, which manifested itself in his raven hair, his freckles, the bags underneath his bright eyes after a long day’s work. Darkness, in the intensity of his gaze, in the softness of his tunic.

Darkness, in his body shielding her from the sunlight that was beginning to stream through the windows in their bedchamber on this quiet morning.

She awoke, hidden away in his chest, wrapped in his welcoming arms and scent. In the warmth of his darkness, which was casted all around her like a protective spell.

He was awake. She felt it in the way his breaths were timed, the way his hold on her loosened just the slightest bit upon her return to the waking world. Blinking, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was safe. With him.

Was she?

The breath that she drew made him stir and she felt his eyes on her in an instant. They remained quiet, perceiving the break of day, perceiving each other. His fingers finding their way into her messy hair brought her into consciousness at once, and she found herself focusing in on the way he twirled a strand inbetween them, and the slight tension on her scalp emerging from this delicate movement.

She was here. With him.

He had been with her, watching her sleep all night. Watching over her like a hawk, never once leaving her side. While she knew that the Eldar did not necessarily sleep like the Edain did, his commitment to be with her for hours on end, with nothing to do except holding her suddenly hit a nerve. She could not find a plausible explanation, seeing as he would lay with her every night and that this was no extraordinary situation, but she felt tears pooling in her eyes. And when she lifted her head to meet his gaze, the pure love emitting from his grey orbs made it wash over her like the enormous waves crashing against the western shore.

She was safe.

Love was swiftly replaced by concern upon the arrival of her tears, and Carnistir’s eyes scanned her still puffy face, frantically searching for any indicator of pain or discomfort.

"Melmenya, what is it?" He asked, softly.

They sat up, white silk blankets pooling around them like the ocean reflecting Telperion’s light on a warm summer night. His hand rose to touch her cheek, gently tracing the lines on her skin which her pillow had lovingly left as a souvenir of a good night’s rest.

Y/N was quiet. Quiet as the tears streaming down her face, quiet as Carnistir, patiently waiting for her to gather herself as not to pry and overwhelm her even more. The moment his hand had come into contact with her cheek, she had nuzzled into him and proceeded to wrap her hands around his wrist.

He was here.

A single sob left her dry mouth, followed by three words that pulled at the raven haired prince’s heartstrings.

"You’re really here."

His lips descended upon her forehead with urgence. "Where else would I be?"

They remained like this for quite some time, him caressing her face and whispering sweet nothings to her until Y/N had somewhat composed herself to move and sit by the bedside instead, burying her toes into the carpet to her feet, sipping on the glass of water her One had brought her in the meantime to soothe her throat.

Carnistir was watching her intently, sitting shoulder to shoulder with her, drinking in every movement she made. It seemed surreal to him, this vision that he had grown so accustomed to being nothing but a figment of his desperate imagination trying to hold on to the memory of her, now existing in his presence again as if nothing had happened. As if she had never left. As if he had never danced so close to the edge a mere night ago.

When she got up to dress herself was when he noticed some changes in her behavior. Where she would usually take her time choosing her clothing for the day, rambling on about her plans for the day and looking at herself in the mirror until every detail about her attire fit to her liking, something about her seemed different. She moved swiftly, like her time would run out if she didn’t. Her steps, now silent and almost careful, shoulders tense. That was when he felt his heart sink. He was well aware of the effects this unspeakable quest had to have had on her cheerful nature, but to witness them now in the tiniest, most inconspicuous actions she took struck him like a blow. Her body was still in survival mode, he could tell. Ready to attack, ready to fight or flee the scene at even the slightest noise. While he had experienced this state of being numerous times before, seeing his betrothed, a person once so carefree, so unknowing, and even naive display its signs scared him.

Just what had she seen?

His eyes wandered across her bare back which she had now exposed to him upon changing out of her nightgown and he took note of a number of scars that hadn’t been there when he had last seen her skin. Her precious, downright divine skin which was now tainted with testimonies of the horrors she had endured because of him. Because he had failed to protect her. The weight on his heart grew heavier the longer he stared at her butchered skin, the outline of her ribs now sickeningly prominent as a result of malnourishment. Skin he had sworn to guard with his life, and failed. While it did not change her captivating beauty, he simply could not even begin to imagine how painful those wounds must have been, for he feared he would perish from the torment that was building up inside of him with every passing second. And though he made a mental note to nurse her back to health and make sure she never missed a meal again, his thoughts began to drift out of hand, descending into a sinister spiral. He had failed her.

"Cara," she called out gently, her angelic voice breaking him out of his mental imprisonment, "Are we going to see the others?"

He cleared his throat as to rid himself of any audible indicators of weakness before replying: "It is inevitable, I’m afraid."

She let out a breath she had seemed to be holding forever as to ease the tension which was building up inside of her at the thought of a confrontation with his brothers and father. While she knew most of them would not dare overstep any boudaries, it was Curufin she was most weary of. Him and Fëanor, of course. The one who had started it all.

She had no reason to be worried. She had fulfilled the quest, she had brought home a Silmaril. If anything, they should be thankful. Right?

"We don’t have to," her lover chimed in, sensing her distress. "I would gladly avoid them for as long as I could, if I’m being truthful." The remark earned him a smile. She had tried to bite it back but could not control the corners of her mouth quirking upwards, which she admittedly was not used to anymore. It almost felt silly, seeing as she was in company of her betrothed, the one person who had seen her every state of being, who she was most comfortable around. And yet, smiling in front of him now seemed unnatural. Carnistir had proved to her again and again that there was no reason for her to feel any sort of shame in his presence. That he would be there for her through any hardships she had to face. This just so happened to be one of them, she guessed, feeling a painful twinge in her exhausted heart.

She looked to her right, where he sat, his shoulder grazing hers, his eyes fixated on her, sparkling with adoration for her smile. An adoration so pure it threatened to bring tears to her eyes once more, had it not been for her mouth beginning to form into a content expression again.

And this time, she let it happen. She let it blossom on her face, warming her cheeks and tinting them just like his rosy ones.

"Me too," she said quietly, leaning into him, finding herself getting lost in the delicate smile lines forming on his beautiful face. Chuckling, he took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"How about we take it slow. Would you care to join me for a promenade in the gardens, perhaps? Some fresh air will surely lift our spirits."

The air seemed to be humming upon her return when they entered the gardens. The flowers stood taller than she remembered, begging her to grace them with her gentle touch, like she always used to before her disappearance. The winds blew in her favor, lovingly tousling her hair as to greet her, and Laurelin cast his most golden rays on her h/c head. It was a heartwarming reunion, and any bystander would have surely thought her to be of elven descent, for they had never before seen Yavanna’s creations show such affections for a child of Men.

So there they walked, arm in arm, momentarily hidden away from the pressure of the eventual confrontation with his kin. Time seemed to stand still the further they strayed from his estate. How Carnistir wished they could exist like this forever, not having to face the reality of the situation. How he wished he could keep and preserve her happiness from the events that were about to take place. How he wished they could seal themselves in a magical sphere where no worries would ever dare plague her mind. As they walked — her arm securely laid in his, always reminding her that he was right beside her, never to be separated from her again — the path lead them towards the training grounds, from where her ears picked up on the sounds of a sparring match. Next to her, Carnistir froze. She could feel his shoulders tensing up, telling her it was time to face the inevitable.

They looked straight ahead at none other than Celegorm and Curufin, engrossed in each other’s swordsmanship. Next to them stood Maedhros, Y/N could have recognized his incredibly tall silhouette and wavy copper hair from a thousand miles away.

Carnistir shot her a concerned look, silently asking her if she wanted to continue her walk — that they could still turn back without his brothers noticing — but something in her heart told Y/N that it was time to step out of the shadows. So they did, and the second his brothers’ eyes fell on his One, Caranthir the Dark felt the flames of the abyss licking at his ankles, igniting a fire inside of him that started to spread throughout his tense body so rapidly, he didn’t notice his grip on her arm tightening to an almost painful degree if it hadn’t been for her hand placing itself on his biceps to keep him calm.

How dare they look at her.

He locked in a stare with his eldest brother, whose blue eyes displayed worry and uncertainty more than anything. It was not Maedhros he was weary of, if anything, he almost felt relieved the firstborn prince was here with them. Eru only knew what would happen if Carnistir witnessed one of his vicious brothers make a wrong move and Maedhros weren’t there to stop him.

"Well, if it isn’t the infamous human," Celegorm spoke, feline eyes taking in Y/N’s silhouette as if she were his prey, and Carnistir’s blood started boiling. His jaw clenched so hard it almost looked painful to Y/N who was keeping a very close eye on him, praying he wouldn’t lose his composure. His hand — so tense it started shaking — resting on his sword, ready to attack at any given moment.

And he really tried for her sake, but the second his silver haired brother took a step towards her, something inside of him snapped. Moving to stand in front of her, shielding her from whatever it was Celegorm planned to do, the atmosphere shifted, darkness falling on everyone’s face like a heavy veil. Carnistir was livid.

Y/N could see the way his shoulders shook underneath his tunic, the grip on his sword tightening so much his knuckles turned white.

"Don’t even think I will spare you. I am not afraid to commit another kinslaying, brother."

One phrase, infused with so much rage and poison, even Maedhros seemed frightened.

It was normal for them to get into fights like this, for Celegorm and Curufin alike to provoke Carnistir until he inevitably blew up — this time, however, nobody dared to go further. When usually, Celegorm would have that insufferable smirk on his face upon succeeding in angering his brother, his face remained stone cold. He knew this wasn’t an empty threat. He knew what Morifinwë was capable of and though he would rather die than admit it, it scared him. So he took a step back, raising his hands in submission for once. Carnistir’s stare was relentless, the tensions still running higher than ever.

Behind him, Y/N’s eyes met the ones of Curufin, the one she had hoped to avoid today. And the look he gave her was more than just distasteful. He almost seemed disgusted to see her. How it made her mad. How she could feel her breath becoming shakier and shakier. She had travelled to the ends of Beleriand, fulfilled a quest that had been deemed impossible, achieved more than he ever could — of course he’d feel inferior to her. As he should. She knew she was only working herself up, but she couldn’t stop her anger. Who was he to gaze upon her with such insolence. Who was he to ever think he was better than her. After all the pain she had to endure, all the fighting she had done, all the horrible monsters she had slain to prove herself once and for all — monsters he had never even seen before, she was sure. All the agony she had suffered for this vile, repugnant joke of an ellon to even dare-

I’ll show him.

Nobody registered what happened next. They were trained fighters, stronger and more skilled than most of the elven population and yet, none of them had expected her to leap forward from behind Carnistir, steal the sword out of his grip and point it at Curufinwë’s neck silently — in the blink of an eye. Her stare suddenly turned blank, it was as if she had completely abandoned all of her principles. Carnistir was shocked, to say the least. Never before had he seen her display such behavior. She had never been one to fight, to actively start one to be exact. If anything, she would always try to solve problems without resorting to violence. Since when was she this skilled in swordsmanship? She had always refused his insistence on teaching her, only learning some self defense techniques did she agree to, as a compromise.

"Let’s settle this, once and for all."

Her voice was cold, almost completely emotionless and Carnistir’s stomach dropped. Just who was standing in front of him now, challenging his brother to a duel?

It seemed Maedhros did not see it necessary to step in and prevent the situation from escalating but instead backed away when they locked eyes. Of all of Carnistir’s brothers, Y/N had always thought him to be the most diplomatic and just. It seemed he knew how important this was, as opposed to Celegorm who tried to get inbetween them, only to be blocked by his raven haired brother, who had not once stopped staring at him since their encounter. Curufin let out a scoff, glowering at her with nothing but arrogance and mockery before pulling out his sword to accept her challenge.

"You will regret this, mortal."

They began a dangerous dance, spinning around on light feet, blades swinging too close to each other’s throats for Carnistir’s liking. He felt his eldest brother’s hand on his shoulder, holding him back. While he knew it was not permissible to intervene in a duel such as this one, his stance told Maedhros otherwise. He was ready to jump in at any given moment. And yet, in the seriousness of this situation, with death looming over her like Morgoth’s shadow, he found himself mesmerized by the figures she would display circling his brother, who seemed to be growing exhausted. Her elegance behind the silver blade captivated him in ways he could have never imagined. The unpredictable coldness in her gaze held his heart in an iron grip. There was a peculiar mélange of emotions swirling around in his grey eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening in front of him. She seemed so far away in this moment, unrecognizable but still so oddly familiar. His brows furrowed at the thought of her having no choice but to fight for her life out there in the dark and he realized that this little dance with his brother was nothing but a fragment of the waltz she had danced with the Black Foe of the World.

What happened to you?

Maedhros’ grip on his shoulder tightened, as if he had sensed the discomfort rising up next to him. They exchanged a quick glance, concerned blue orbs meeting lost grey ones.

Y/N’s moves were swift when she finally caught Curufinwë off guard, slicing the back of his knee in one quick motion even he hadn’t anticipated. The sudden yell he let out followed by his hand reaching to touch the wound was all she needed to know the match was hers to win. Contrary to Carnistir’s belief that she would leave his brother be, as this injury was enough for her to prove her superiority, she instead proceeded to twist his hand to rid him of his weapon, earning a surprised look from her opponent. Curufinwë hissed at her abilities, conflicted about whether or not he should believe them. It was absurd, how a mortal like her had managed to harm him. He would not have it. He would show her, make her regret to even breathe the same air as him. Just when he took a step forward, determined to use his bare hands in his rage, her forehead collided with his nose with a force he could have never predicted, sending him tumbling backwards. His hands uncoordinatedly flew in front of his face when he felt a warm, liquid sensation dripping down his mouth and chin.

The gasps his brothers let out at once were the last thing he heard before the actual force of her blow caught up to him, making his footing grow weaker. So weak, in fact, that he lost his balance and fell, a wave of dizziness washing over him out of nowhere.

It could not be. He was Curufinwë, son of Fëanor, son of Finwë.

He was… bleeding.

A sudden weight on his chest momentarily brought him back to reality, where Y/N was standing over him, her foot holding him down like he was an animal begging to be released after having been shot with an arrow. He saw a gleam of silver flash to his left and right before she lifted her arms in the air, about to deliver the final strike. It happened before he could even begin to yell at her to stop, that he would surrender.

Two blades, jammed into the ground, centimeters next to his head. Without batting an eyelash. He was alive, but humiliated in the worst possible way. A strategic move on her part.

Her eyes had a tint darker to them than Carnistir had ever seen. He released a tight breath when she rolled her shoulders back and turned towards him and his brothers, all of whom were too stunned to utter a single word. For a second, he had wholeheartedly believed she was going to kill his brother, who was laying there, paralyzed and dishonored, and it scared him because he had dared to question her intentions. His eyes fell onto his hands, which were balled into fists at his sides in frustration, and he tried to focus on his older brother’s presence instead. Anything to help him ignore the uneasy feeling that was beginning to gnaw at him. It frightened him, seeing her like this, but at the same time, he was impressed by her skills and efficiency.

With her posture now proud and confident, she locked in a stare with Celegorm, who for once in his life was too intimidated to come up with a comeback.

"If anybody else wants to tell me something, they’re very welcome to do so."

Although his ears picked up on her words, they didn’t quite register with Carnistir, for he was too taken by her eerily monotone voice. Never before had she acted or spoken this way — sinister and chilling. He found himself wondering whether this was the impression he usually left on others. To some degree, he now understood how it must be to stay on the receiving end of his anger, especially when he was used to his counterpart being but the gentlest soul in all of Arda. Truly, he felt most unsettled by her fëa, which seemed so dark as opposed to when they had entered the gardens to embark on their stroll. Her h/c hair was tousled and tangled, chest rising and falling irregularly as to catch her breath, stature still tense and ready to fight. It sent shivers down his spine — the spine of a kinslayer — when nothing should have this effect on him, not with the experience he had gained on the battlefield over the years. Why yes, he could certainly sense a sort of pride creeping into his chest, he would even go as far as to call it excitement, had it not been for the discomfort and concern for her wellbeing clouding his thinking. Because not only had she completed this quest, she had moreover proven to everyone that she was not to be messed with. To be underestimated, yet again. When her words were met with uneasy silence, Y/N stepped to her lover to return his sword.

He did not miss her shaking hand when he took it, and he knew it was time for them to leave, immediately. The complexion of her skin told him there would be a bruise on her wrist by tomorrow. She must have twisted it somehow.

Scanning their surroundings for one last time, gaze lingering on Curufin’s silhouette as to make sure he was in fact still breathing, he then gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder and thus lead her away from the training grounds. They left like they had come; arm in arm. This time, however, their steps were fast and restless like Y/N’s eyes which were nervously darting from left to right. The second they got back to the estate, Carnistir didn’t hesitate to pull her aside into a quiet corridor and hold her close. She was shaking against his large frame, burying her face into his chest, clawing onto him for support — he felt a painful twinge in his heart, hugging her tighter. Her silent tears seeped through the fabric of his tunic while countless sobs were wrecking her exhausted body.

"Melmenya," whispered Carnistir "You do not need to prove yourself, ever again." His hand came to tenderly stroke her hair, hoping to calm her down. When he felt her nodding against his chest, he knew she was listening. "…especially not to my brothers." She slowly raised her head to look at him and the expression on her face broke his heart into a million tiny pieces. He gently wiped her tears and let his thumb linger on her hot cheek, caressing her. "Really, they’re not worth it," he mused, and she nuzzled her face into his hand, closing her eyes. The corridor was silent, the only audible sounds being her soft sniffs and irregular breaths, which she was desperately trying to regulate. Carnistir took his time, comforting his beloved as best as he could. She became so very fragile and delicate in his embrace, something the others would probably not believe after having witnessed her practically obliterating their brother. In a way, he felt relieved to see her crumble like this because it showed him that she was in fact, still the same person. Guilt settled into his bones at that, how could he ever wish to see her cry and lose her composure like this? And feel relief? Because she had acted differently? He shook his head at the thought — that was not important right now. He needed to focus on her, comfort her.

"I’m certain Atarinkë will never show his face again." That comment actually earned him the smallest hint of a smile, dusting a slight blush onto his cheeks.

"There it is," he whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers and placing his other hand over the small of her back before kissing her softly, trying to calm himself and forget about the doubtful thoughts in his head. He was glad that underneath that thick skin and harshness displayed mere moments ago, she was still his gentle lover, allowing him to get close to her instead of building more walls to keep him away, especially after what had taken place out there. Anybody would be, right? But he knew that they had to work through her pain. He felt it in their connected fëa. They were intertwined at last, they had always been. She had gone through an unimaginable experience which had left her marked until the end of time, both physically and mentally. Her sudden blank stare and emotionless fighting had certainly frightened him in a way that he had never expected to be frightened of her. But then again, so had he acted after the kinslayings. And she had been there to catch him. To build him up, no matter how cold and angry he got. How could he possibly hold that against her?

"You did so well, Y/N," he began, suddenly overcome with emotion, "And I love you. Just, please do not forget that you are not alone in this, alright? I will stand beside you regardless of what happens. But I do not wish for you to harm yourself because of my brothers’ inability to shut their mouths." Tears were pooling in his eyes now, the human in his arms being the reason. How he had suffered without her. How his life had lost all meaning when she had vanished. And although she was back, he could not fathom losing her again because of his stupid brothers. Losing her because of his fear of change. She was still here, living and breathing. And she needed him. They needed each other.

"I cannot lose you," The blush on his cheeks grew and spread to his ears as a result of his vulnerability. He had never been one to lay his emotions on the table like this and Y/N felt so very moved by his attempt to comfort her this way.

"You won’t," she spoke up, her voice no longer monotone and cold, but instead sentimental and warm like the old days. "I know I should not have lashed out like that, but I just couldn’t let him get away with it, Cara. I’m sorry."

"He deserved it, that fool," he just retorted, kissing her again, feeling a few tears roll down his cheeks. She wiped them. "Just… be careful. I got scared, seeing you like this. I don’t ever want to see you in such pain again." He smoothed his hand over her messy hair as to fix it.

"I love you," she whispered, her lips brushing against his when she spoke, a slight frown on her forehead. "And to think that it is still so early in the day… I don’t even want to know how your father will react to the news of his favorite child being defeated and humiliated by a mortal woman. Again." Chuckling, Carnistir shook his head. "It does not matter. I bet you they will leave Thargelion together, before dinner even. But until then, let me draw you a bath, alright? And we need to take a look at your wrist as well, the bruise is starting to worry me."

Nodding, she grasped his hand, and squeezed it tightly. The day had only just begun and they had not even encountered a third of his family. Worry was beginning to bubble up inside her at the thought of having to meet each of his brothers and lastly, Fëanor, but the light reflecting in Carnistir’s grey eyes told her it was going to be alright. She could tell from the way he looked at her, admiring her with the most adoring smile on his still wet face, that it did not matter what would happen once they stood face to face with his father. Because they were side by side, his large hand protectively clutching her smaller one, squeezing it just as tightly. She was no longer alone. He was really here. And she was with him.

She was safe.

#caranthir x reader #caranthir imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #carnistir #morifinwë #request

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rosiesocosy · 3 months ago

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Whoops. Bit late, it took longer than I anticipated. Here’s my entry for day 4 of Cosytober 2024. 🐰 It’s a super cosy Freezer Bunny sitting on a super comfy armchair drinking the yummiest hot beverage, wearing the softest snuggly blanket ever, surrounded by spooky decorations.

I’m so tired, so I will check, share, like, comment etc tomorrow on all the lovely new entries! ❤️

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mothgodofchaos · 2 months ago

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Rot

This turned out a bit longer than the goal. Whoops.

Giant!Robbie x GN!Reader, ft. Eric x Drowned Man (Orion), Henrik, TW: fake blood, stitches, minor medical treatment (ointment and bandage) Words: 1168

You agreed to go to a haunted house with your friends, despite the fact that you hate being scared. But it’s raising money for the local school, and you were bribed with hot chocolate and raiding the local drug store of all its candy afterwards. It’s hard not to be jumpy when the soundtrack they have playing over the speakers keeps adding in random screams, thunder, and whispers into the already creepy ambiance.

“Uh, guys? I don’t like this…”

“Oh you’ll be fine! If all else fails, just close your eyes and run!”

“That sounds extremely unsafe in the dark haunted house filled with many dangerous looking objects.”

You look Orion in the eyes, not amused with his shenanigans already starting before the tour even starts.

“Yeah… Orion… I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“It’s for a good cause, Eric! Be scared for charity!”

“I’m already scared for free! I have anxiety!”

It’s hard not to laugh at the two of them arguing, although glancing down you notice Eric is wearing his athletic prosthetics, so he probably plans on running anyways. How Orion managed to convince the two of you, who are easily startled, into a haunted house still doesn’t fully make sense. But you’re here now and it’s too late to back down.

The three of you get to the front of the line, although it starts feeling like you’re third wheeling as your tickets are purchased and your hands are stamped.

“I’ll just hold your hand, Eric! I’ll be right here!”

“You gonna hold my hand too?”

“Nah, you’ll be fine.”

Eric looks like he’s going to disintegrate into a puddle of blush holding Orion’s hand, leaving you to pinch the bridge of your nose and mentally prepare yourself for all of the bullshittery that is going to happen within this attraction.

The two of them walk ahead of you, with Orion blocking him with his body from the horrors ahead. Scare actors seem to be focusing on them instead of you, much to your benefit and to Eric’s detriment. But one clown girl creeps up behind Eric and he picks up Orion and sprints, leaving you behind.

“Wait- guys!”

You try to keep up with them, but you’re lost by yourself once you reach a graveyard. Fog fills the room, and you see something tall moving behind the fake trees in the space. Trying to keep your breathing steady, wringing your hands as you walk through, trying to anticipate the jump scare. Unfortunately because you’re focused on your surroundings, you don’t look at where you’re stepping. The wood under the dirt creaks and cracks, and you end up falling through the floor. Someone grabs your wrist, keeping you from getting any further than your one leg through.

“Fuckin’ wood’s rotted… fuck…”

You’re lifted out by under your arms, and you realize that whoever caught you is rather strong considering he lifts you like you’re made of cardboard. He’s still muttering and swearing to himself as he dusts you off, putting a grave over it like a wet floor sign.

“You okay?”

After the shock wears off, you look up, far more than you thought you would. A zombie towers over you, purple hair caked to his forehead with fake blood.

“Um… yeah, I think so…”

“You look pale, although so do I. We can be pale buddies!”

He takes your hand, and you realize how Eric may have felt when Orion did the same. The two of you walk through the employee only areas, although he seems to intimidate even his coworkers. Maybe that’s why he was hired as a scare actor.

“You come here with anyone else? Not to be rude, but you seem far too skittish to be coming here on your own.”

“I came with two of my friends, although a clown scared one of them and he took off sprinting with the other tucked under his arm like a football.”

“Those two dorks are yours? They popped into the mausoleum to calm down the scared one, I was just chilling behind a tree watching.”

“I think if you had any other job, that’d be a really concerning sentence to hear.”

He laughs, holding his chest as he pops the two of you through another door. It seems to be some sort of break room, although still decorated spookily. He gestures for you to take a seat somewhere, getting you a glass of some sort of green drink.

“Uhm, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Eh, I wanted to take my break anyways. And I kinda have to wait with you while my dad checks out your injury.”

A very eccentric looking mad scientist bursts through the door, looking at you before putting his goggles on the top of his head.

“Robbie! Finally found you. Vas looking everyvhere for you! Alright, I have zhe first aid right here.”

You roll up your pant leg, and luckily the scratches are minimal. You’re given a bit of ointment and a bandage for a bigger scratch, but otherwise good to go. The doctor disappears as soon as he appears, although with a bit less slamming.

“Don’t worry, he’s the doc over at the school. Only kind of a mad scientist.”

“Kind of…?”

“Well, yeah.”

He pulls the collar of his shirt away from his neck, revealing stitches. It then occurs to you how little makeup he’s wearing.

“You’re an actual zombie??”

“Robbie the zombie, at your service. Not to be confused with Rob Zombie.”

“Woah. That’s kind of cool.”

“Well, we still have a bit of time before your friends will probably finish up, assuming your sprinter doesn’t take the next clown as an invitation to practice for the Paralympics. Lay your questions on me.”

The two of you talk for a bit, getting him to laugh a few times at your questions. He’s rather chill, considering how intimidating he seemed to others. But he’s almost sweet with you. When he checks his phone again, he takes your hand and leads you through more backstage areas to get you to the end, surprising Eric and Orion.

“Dude! Where were you?”

“You ditched me when Eric took off. I can’t keep up with him!”

“Sorry…”

“Well, I did promise a raid of the drug store, and I have a feeling I owe more now for accidentally ditching.”

“Eh, it’s fine. Met a chill guy after I fell through the floor. Guys, this is Robbie.”

You gesture to the massive zombie behind you, who only waves. Orion seems rather excited, having a very similar aesthetic.

“Cool! You wanna join us, man?”

Robbie looks at you for a moment, grinning when you nod.

“Sure, I’ll meet you there. But I call having this cutie ride with me.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, looking rather smug. Orion just raises an eyebrow, before shrugging.

“Alright, I’ll send the address. Don’t spend too long smooching.”

“Orion!”

Well, at least your third wheeling turned into a double date.

#robbie the zombie #jse robbie #robbie the zombie x reader #jse egos #septic egos #ghoulish giant #paranormal egos #chaoswrites

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ocareyna · 1 year ago

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My Imperial City Ocarina Bass C and Night By Noble Alto C, and the little miracle story of how I got them

[Originally posted on Reddit here]

For a while now, I’ve been interested in getting an ocarina, and because Christmas was approaching, I decided to buy myself one as a gift. The thing was, which kind would I get? I liked the sound of altos but worried that in person, the high pitch would hurt my ears. On the other hand, I adored how basses sound, but even a plastic one was way out of my budget. After posting some questions on this sub, I decided to just ask God what He thought of it all and went to sleep.

When I awoke, a notification was waiting for me: u/SeienShin offered to give me his old bass C ICO ocarina! I am just overwhelmed with gratitude for his generosity. After weeks of waiting for my precious new-slash-old ocarina to traverse the ocean, it finally arrived a couple days ago. Thank you again, u/SeienShin!!

But the story doesn’t stop there…

While I was waiting for my bass to arrive, I received an email from Ebay: the alto NbN that I had been eyeing before had significantly dropped in price. Nowhere else online was it available for that cheap, but I had already spent my budget on shipping the bass, so what could I do? After I bemoaned my first-world tale of woe to my parents, the last thing I expected was that their response would be, “We’re giving you cash for Christmas, and don’t you dare think of using it on school loans. Get the other ocarina!”

Without further ado, I present to you, 하루 (Haru) and よる (Yoru):

[Pictures and ocarina reviews under the cut]

Yoru’s name comes from the Japanese word 夜, which means “night” (as in NbN).

Impressions:

The NbN is heavier than I expected. Since it’s plastic, I thought it would feel like a toy, but this is one solid ocarina.

I wish that there was a groove for the subholes...

The high notes don’t hurt my ears!! I have high sensory sensitivities but I’m pleasantly surprised that I can handle them. This ocarina is pretty loud, though. Thanks to a suggestion from u/idayam, wearing a face mask while playing significantly muffles the sound, but the pitch does sound a bit altered to me.

Haru is “day” in Korean. I was hoping to find a Chinese name since the ICO was crafted in China, but “Haru” matched “Yoru” so nicely in both meanings and sounds that I couldn’t resist.

Impressions:

The sound is GORGEOUS, and the vibrations from the resonance are so fun. I feel like I get swept away when I play this.

The subholes have grooves for my fingers! The finger holes in general are pretty big compared to the NbN, but I manage to cover them pretty well except for the left pinky hole. That one is so wide, I can fit my pinky in until the first knuckle! After a short while, that finger starts to hurt from trying to stay in position. Does anyone have any tips?

The size makes it hard to see the left hand holes, but I think I’m doing pretty well regarding that. Still, it’s weird to switch to the NbN and suddenly see everything again. Not a problem though!

Anyways, I’m having such a fun time learning the ocarina. I’ve played a bit of piano and dabbled in violin, but this is my first woodwind. It’s such an interesting experience to think about how breath pressure or tongue movements affect the sound.

Also, since I received both of these ocarinas secondhand, I cleaned them with antibacterial soap. I dunked the NbN in a bowl of soap + water, and I wiped the outside of the ICO with soap + water and stuck a piece of soapy paper through the mouthpiece. I wasn't sure how the clay would react if I immersed it in water too, but since it hasn't been played in years, the cleaning was really just an extra precaution.

Whoops, this post is longer than I had anticipated, so I’ll post my videos separately.

If you read this far, thanks! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

#ocarina #12 hole ocarina #alto c ocarina #bass c ocarina #night by noble ocarina #imperial city ocarina #new ocarina #musicians of tumblr #musicians on tumblr #ocareyna #reyna's ramblings #ocarina review

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moonpiemoonshine · 2 years ago

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Dirt and Grime pt.2

(A Barney Ross fanfic)

The next night the men had found themselves in a busy bar. Barney had noticed how honey had not shown up to the bar just yet. Him and his crew had started their drinking and celebratory partying. After about an hour Honey had arrived at the bar, dressed in short jean shorts and a tight fit tank top. She headed towards the bar and took two quick shots of tequila to get herself loose and more active. After her drinks she grabbed a man’s beer out of his hands and headed towards the crew. The men let out hollers and whistles at the woman, Barney is unimpressed with his crew but was heavily impressed with Honeys look.

“Hey boys” she said sitting alongside them in a sing song tone, “you just sit here or do you actually party?” She asked in anticipation.

“We have about another hour before people leave then we fully party” Lee said and this excited Honey.

“That gives me an hour to do what I do best” she smirked and downed her drink, she saw Gunnar’s full drink besides her and she quickly downed his. She left with a cocky giggle and went to the dance floor.

Barney kept his eyes glued on the girl, grimacing when he sees men get too close. He enjoyed watching her have fun and dancing. Barney did notice the heavy amount of drinking she had been doing but her actions haven’t been distorted in anyway so he didn’t worry. He was tempted to go in and dance with the woman but he knew it wasn’t a good idea, he death glared Caesar and Gunnar for dancing with her making them back off.

After the big crowd of people left it was just the crew, Tool had also shown up once the crowd had disappeared. The men were laughing loud and playing a drunken game of poker. Insults and jokes being thrown around and good alcohol being shared in the crew. Knife throwing competitions happen and drinking contests follow. After a while the boys had finally noticed the mechanical bull in the corner of the building. One by one the men had tired it out but they were so disoriented they only lasted little less than a minute. Barney tried to impress Honey on the bull, trying to last the best out of the group. After he had fallen Honey broke into laugher and knew it was her turn to get on the bull. She sauntered her way up to the bull, taking Tools hat while getting to it. The men whooped while she got on the bull and they all laughed and cheered seeing her last longer than them. But a last she fallen off and Barney was quick to help her up.

“Woah there cowgirl, can’t have you sleeping on the floor” he chuckled while getting her up.

“Yea, there are much better places to be sleeping right now” she replied in a flirty tone.

The party continued but only for a little while. One by one all the men started to go home. Honey leaned on the outside of the bar waiting in the cold. Every once in a while looking down at her phone. Barney grew worried for the girl, wanting so desperately to help her but not wanting to creep her out. After a bit a car had finally pulled up in front of the bar. Honey had took a few steps to the car but looked back at him and quickly jogged over to the man.

“It was great to work and party with you B” she lightly slurred with a wide grin. She planted a quick kiss on his lips before she jogged back to the car and quickly getting in.

Barney was stunned but happy. He hoped his small signals had worked on her, but again he knew she must have been a bit drunk so she most definitely won’t remember. Honey had Barney on her mind, and with thinking about him she was thinking about the hanger. She had given her driver directions to the hanger and she had stumbled into the hanger and walked around the barren building. She had went up to the giant plane and leaned against it. She had climbed up the wing and laid down on the nose of the plane. She looked up at the stars and tipped the cowboy hat down over her eyes. She let her heavy eyelids shut, letting herself fall asleep.

Late the next afternoon Barney headed to the hanger. He was delightfully shocked when he saw Honey, sprawled out on the nose fully asleep. He let out a light chuckle and he knocked on the side of the plane. This action waking up the sleeping girl and she quickly sat up and looked around to assist where she was at.

“Morning cowgirl, this the sleeping place you were talking about” Gunnar joked and Honey laughed to herself.

“Not exactly” she stated and slid down the side of the plane. She landed in Gunnar’s arms and she let out a soft squeal.

“What all do you remember? No way you deliberately wanted to sleep here” Barney asked letting the girl down but still holding her steady.

“I remember the throwing contest, shot contest, the bull, waiting outside, and…” she trailed on faking forgetfulness but held a sly smirk on her face and went in and gave the man a kiss. He was stunned but kissed back and once they pulled away form each other she continued, “that seems to be about it” she finished and Barney smiled.

“Glad you remember the best parts” Barney replied and the two smiled. “You need a ride home?” He asked causally and Honey had not even thought of that.

“If you don’t mind, I have a dog I need to make sure didn’t pee on the carpet” she answered and Barney smiled.

Barney led her to his motorcycle and Honey couldn’t help but snicker at the customization he had done to it. She was quick to hop on and get going. Barney was happy to see how eager she was to get on the bike. She had pointed and showed Barney the way to her house. Barney had not really assumed that she would’ve lived out in the countryside of the city. He found the landscape beautiful and calming.

When he had seen her small little wooden house, in a empty country field he felt soft. This was a serene place he’d love to live. The quietness and beauty matched the woman holding onto him. He pulled up next her small white truck and she was slightly quick to get off the bike.

“Thanks for the ride Barney” she said to the man, he was listening but was busy looking at the scenery.

“It’s no problem” he replied sounding distracted.

“Keep me updated about the next job” she said while walking to her door.

When she opened the door her red heeler had practically jumped out the door. She let out a small squeal in excitement and picked up her dog and walked into her home. Barney longed for the feeling. The feeling of coming home to a beautiful place and someone that loves you.

Barney wanted to see Honey every moment he found himself alone. He hated having to only see her during work. He knew that forming this connection wouldn’t be a good idea in his line of work. He didn’t know if she even wanted it. He was older and she had so much time and so much potential. Barney’s head was full of the young woman, wanting what’s best for her, but also he knows she could bring out the best of him.

After a couple weeks another job had been assigned. Barney had called in a few get together before hand but Honey had never showed up to any of them. He took this as a sign that she wasn’t interested in them or him besides from work. He doesn’t blame her, she lives in a dream and she would wanna stay in it as much as possible. He kept her in the loop through quick calls and the rare text. Once the day of leaving for the job came up he was on edge waiting for Honey. He wanted to see her, and he had to keep a cool and content composure while waiting for her at the hanger. All the men on the team all traveled by motorcycle, but Honey usually went around in a small white truck.

His nerves were put to rest when he saw the white truck in the distance. He had let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. Once she was out of the truck she was decked out in all black attire like the rest of the team usually wore. Barney was admiring her from the ground up but when he finally got her face he was confused. A bruise had adorned her left temple and the corner of her mouth. She kept a normal expression on her face when she walked up to Barney.

“Hey,” is all Barney could say. He didn’t wanna pry and he knew she didn’t need to tell him anything.

Honey gave him a small smile in acknowledgment while passing him and went to a work bench. She had taken two small hand guns that were on the bench and grabbed ammunition for them. She packed them into her bag and had quickly loaded into the plane. Barney wanted to think she was on edge but he remembered that when he had saw her last it was just him and Honey alone. He also knew she was usually quiet and wanted things done in her own pace. She was drunk the last time he had seen her in a social setting so he needed to not fret about her. Now all on the plane they were off to some European country to stop a group of terrorist making a human hostage situation. While on the plane Gunnar had finally noticed Honeys face and decided to use it a way to fill the silence in the metal bird.

“Hey nice shiner, you gave it to you” Gunnar asked in a crude tone.

“Bar hoping, I broke out two fights and I couldn’t help but join” she said focusing on sharpening her blades.

“You? Bar hop? On your own time?” Gunnar retorted in a disbelieving manner.

“Well yea, between this and my training I do at home I got all the free time in the world.” She stated unenthused, “unlike you sitting around doing nothing, and failing to touchin’ it aren’t really my ideal past times” she finished causing some men to snicker at Gunnar’s now flustered face.

Once the arrived it was dark so they had to quickly get on the scene and try to shut it down. They all crouched onto a ledge and looked down into a small canyon full of people. Most in uniform but the rest were all in civilian clothes. Barney passed around a pair of binoculars and once they reached Honey she grumbled at the sight.

“Ugh not these guys” she groaned under her breath while giving the binoculars back to Barney.

Barney had heard her comment and decided to ask her about it later. He gave the command for the crew to fall in and start taking them out. Honey was quick to go to a separate cliff edge and clung to the bottom of it and used a free hand to grab a gun strapped to herself and she waited for just the right moment. She allowed the crew to get a little close and she let out three shots down into the camp and the three shots had landed on three of the men in uniform and once they had noticed the men were hit, the rest of the crew had fallen into the camp and started taking down the men. Honey let go of the cliff and started to slide down the edge of it, while sliding she pulled up the back mask cloth she had hanging around her neck and pulled it over her nose.

She got into the camp and using her knife she had taken out the two men guarding the hostages. Using a small clean baby knife she cut a man free and gave him the knife telling him to free the rest. She left quickly to take out nearby uniformed men. Honey had been spotted and a man holding a machete had tackled her to the ground, he had grazed her sides with the sharp machete but Honey maneuvered her gun to his side and shot him. She had left him there on the ground knowing he would die from the gun wound, and was quickly onto another uniformed man to get rid of. During this fight her opponent was much bigger and she had suffered a much bigger wound from him. She had gotten him onto the rocks and he used a rock to make the gash from her previous cut bigger with a rock. During their altercation her mask had fallen down and the man was set into a whole different gear. He had brought out a specialty gun with pellets full a weird substance.

Honey finally used her gun and used the rocks besides her to ricochet the bullet into the man’s head. It was too late for Honey to put her mask back up cause another man had seen her. She had to take precautions to not get hit by their bullets, so she mostly used her two guns strapped to her. Her fast movements and precise marksmanship was knocking lots of men down one by one, but she was caught and held down by another bigger man and he was trying to stab a syringe type thing into her. Her resistance was good, and finally she had gotten her hand into a good position to snap the needle, and when she did she stabbed it into her eyes and she was quick to put a bullet in him when she got up. She took out more men, having to struggle a bit form the pain of her side but once she noticed the fighting was gone when she had taken down the last guy she felt like she could barley walk. She stumbled to the rest of the team and let them know she had let the hostages go and they were safe. The team decided that they’d set up camp next to the plane for the night and leave in the morning. When they reached the base of the cliff and knew they needed to hike up it Honey knew she wasn’t gonna be able to make it up.

“Caesar, my guts might fall out my side right now. I need you to help me up there” she asked and had pressed her palm to the gash showing Caesar the severity of her injury.

Barney heard her statement and looked back and watched Caesar as he held the girl on her back and hiked up with her. Barney knew Caesar could hold Honey with ease, but he constantly looked back making sure she was alright. When they reached the top of the cliff Honey wanted to walk but Caesar wouldn’t allow her and he carried her all the way back to the plane. The men set up a small makeshift fire and set out small tents and started to prep their meals for the night.

Barney sat close to Honey while she rummaged through her bag for her medical supplies. Honey propped up her knife and planned to use it as a makeshift mirror. She took off her black compression shirt and rubbed her numbing paste on the giant wound. Barney could see her slightly struggling to see where she was stitching up her wound since she couldn’t see all that well from her small knife. Barney turned to see Gunnar wiping off his giant machete and a idea hit Barney.

“Gunnar, lemme borrow that for a sec” Barney asked taking the machete not giving Gunnar a choice in the matter.

Barney moved Honey’s knife and replaced it with the machete. Honey thanked the man, now having better confidence in her movements. She finished stitching the wound quickly and put some more ointment in the injury. She slid the machete back to Gunnar and quickly put her shirt back on and re prepped the equipment.

“Anyone need me to overlook anything” she asked and most of the men nodded their heads.

Honey went through putting her ointment on the men and cleaning up the occasional busted face or cut on the arm. She was gentle, her pacing being a swift but calming one. She had finally reached Barney and all he had was a small cut on his brow so she just dampened her fingers with a simple but much stronger disinfectant for him. He kept his gaze on the woman, not caring since the men were laughing and busy eating to care what he was doing.

“You knew those guys” Barney asked once she finished.

“Yea. You know in comics how there’s always some super drug to make the perfect soldier” she said putting her things away, “these men think my mother had made that, and they think that she’s still alive to give it to them” she finished and finally relaxed and looked at the man. “They are the ones who gave me this busted up face. They think they’ll find her through me” she stated blandly and this pricked a sense of worry in Barney.

“Do they bother you a lot?” He asked hoping to ease this worry.

“No, just every once in a while. When they get desperate” she said and laid down.

Barney had no idea how to respond. So he just laid down next to her. He wanted to turn and hold her close but he knew he couldn’t. Honey was at ease and super relaxed. She didn’t know why Barney gave her this effect but she didn’t mind. She would love to be around him more just for this feeling but she knew she couldn’t. Barney was a busy man and she didn’t wanna interfere with his work. The next morning came quick and the group was quick to leave for home. They had all been wanting to go back so they could party and celebrate their quick victory. Unknowing to Honey, Barney was finally vocalizing his feelings but not to her, but to his co pilot Lee Christmas.

“What’s on your mind. It’s not here with me obviously. What’s more important than me?” Lee asked in a joking but also sincere ish tone.

“It’s a woman-“ Barney started with a sigh.

“You’re not lying to me are you? You having woman issues isn’t a real thing” Lee said being quick to cut him off.

“I wish I was lying. It’s..” Barney was conflicted, he really didn’t know if he should tell him but he trusted him. “..Honey, she’s been on my mind since the last job” he sighed.

“Woah, I would’ve never guess that spitfire got your brain into more mush than it already was” Lee commented but let Barney continue.

“We shared two kisses, one where she was drunk but another one the day after and just don’t know what to do” he said feeling a little weird talking about this. He didn’t like being open but he knew he needed to.

“Didn’t know you were a charmer” he joked and Barney looked at him with a unenthused look, “well I know it’ll be weird but you gotta talk to her about it. You don’t know how it’ll go if you two get together but still doing work here” he continued making a genuine effort to help.

“Yea, I just gotta find the right time to” Barney said in a worn out tone.

“Don’t do it too late or nothing will come out good” he started peaking Barney’s interests, “gotta find the sweet spot” he finished in a joke and Barney rolled his eyes.

When they landed they all were quick to leave. Honey was notably the last one to go alongside Barney. She wanted to make sure her side wasn’t gonna bother her while she driving so she stayed in the hanger trying to wrap her body. Barney had noticed her and wanted to help and didn’t need to worry about prying eyes. He came up behind the girl and took the wrap out of her hands and started to take over for her. Once the wrap had ended Honey had made sure to secure it to her body. She looked up at the man holding the eye contact with a loving gaze, not realizing their hands were grazing each other.

“Thank you again, Barney.” She said getting snapped out of their gaze and started to walk off putting her shirt back on. Barney had followed her back out to the woman’s truck and helped her into it. She had rolled down the window and Barney leaned into the truck through the now empty window. “We partying tomorrow?” She asked.

“Yep, we’re gonna be at Tools place around nine or so. Nothing to crazy” he said letting out a small crooked smile.

“Dang it, that plane was a comfy bed” she joked letting a small snicker leave her lips. “I’ll see ya tomorrow Barney” she ended rolling up the windows and leaving the hanger. Barney waved her bye while she drove off, he watched longingly as her truck slowly left his line of sight. Seeming to drive herself into the horizon.

The next night started off surprisingly hard. The men had been heavily drinking doing many drinking competitions. Honey was heavily involved in these competitions. She kept flirting with Barney but he didn’t start doing it back till he got more drinks into his system. Once the night got late the two didn’t really know what they were doing. The rest of the crew had left and it again was just Honey and Barney. Barney had called a ride for Honey to get home but while waiting in the cold, Honey was cold and held herself close to Barney. The hold then turned into the two drunkenly making out. Once the ride had shown up, Barney didn’t wanna leave her so he went into the car with her. They had been driven to her house and the two were quick to go into Honey’s bedroom. Usually Barney would try to look and really take in his surroundings and appreciate what would be in her house.

The next morning Honey was lightly starting to wake up but was violently woken up when Barney’s arm had slung over her side, and unknowingly hurting her injured side. She shot up and groaned from the pain and hit his arm off of her. At first Honey had thought it was some random guy she had in her bed but was shocked to see Barney. She couldn’t remember a thing from the night before, and she didn’t know what to do.

“Barney?”

#sylvester stallone #barney ross #barney ross fanfic #the expendables

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