#and a child tasked with keeping secrets at that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slaymitchabernathy · 2 days ago

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Snow Globe

| "You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round. And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown. And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars." |

Soarynn Snow weaves her way through the busy Capitol crowds while doing her best to remain effortless and elegant.

But that's a hard thing to be when it's freezing and you're dragging a four-year-old behind you.

"Mommy, where're we going?"

Soarynn looks up at the gray sky, it might snow today according to their weatherman Lucky Flickerman, that would be nice, a little snow, the fireplace warming their home while they all sip hot chocolate on the sofa. "We're going to the store darling," she tells her daughter, "we have to get something for your father."

"Why can't he get it himself?"

Soarynn often wonders the same thing but she always catches herself, Coriolanus works extremely hard to provide for their family, so on the rare chance like today when he needs her to pick something up for him last minute, she remains endlessly gracious and understanding. Even though sometimes she wishes he could just get someone else to do it.

"Because he's at work right now," she explains, pulling them along the sidewalk, "and he needs this as soon as possible."

Soarynn had been prepared to spend her Friday at home, in her pajamas while making cookies with her daughter Ceraphina. Instead, her husband called around thirty minutes ago, telling her that he needed a gift to be picked up from a nearby department store as soon as possible.

"It's an emergency darling," he had said over the phone, "I forgot all about getting my boss a gift for the baby shower he's having. I already called the store, all you need to do is pick it up and bring it to me."

So Soarynn quickly got dressed and made herself presentable, and then did the same with Ceraphina. They couldn't afford to be as fashionable as she would've liked, but they were on a bit of a deadline according to his urgent tone.

The task was simple enough, go to the department store, get the gift, go to his office, and deliver the gift. In the end, she was a hero.

"So we're on a secret mission?"

Soarynn looks down at her daughter who looks so excited to be running a last-minute errand with her mother.

Soarynn is someone who values routine and she's done her best to instill that into Ceraphina as well. Since Ceraphina could talk, she's gone over their schedule for the week, letting the child know what she should expect for the next seven days. She felt it was good for her young mind to know what was coming, to remain calm in knowing that nothing would change.

Now that she's older, they'll go over their schedule every Sunday night at dinner with Coriolanus, so today's errand must be quite thrilling for her.

"It's not much of a secret," Soarynn admits, "more of a special mission." Ceraphina giggles and Soarynn pulls them towards a very tall building where several department stores reside inside of it. "Are we gonna go to Daddy's office?" Soarynn pulls the heavy doors open and sighs when she feels how warm it is inside. She personally hates the cold, Coriolanus has never been bothered by it but she certainly has.

She misses summer.

"Yes we are," she confirms, walking up to a directory of all the stores, "now let's see, we're here, and we need to be...ah, there it is, third floor." To her dismay, there is no elevator which means she has to walk up a lot of stairs in heels.

She'll be sure to give Coriolanus an earful about this when she sees him.

Ceraphina thinks of it as a fun game though, jumping or skipping up the steps while giggling. At least one of them is having fun. By the time they make it to the third floor, Soarynn is out of breath. "Let's go, Mommy!" Ceraphina calls, running towards the store. Soarynn follows behind her at a much slower pace, "I'm coming, darling."

Soarynn eyes grow bigger when she sees how beautifully this store has been decorated for the holidays, Christmas trees, green garlands, red ribbons, and sparkling lights. She should be taking notes for their penthouse next year.

"We need to find the baby section," Soarynn tells her, scanning the racks of clothing. She remembers Coriolanus talking about how he needed to get his boss something for his baby who was going to be born in early January. Looks like he forgot about that.

"Are we having another baby?"

Soarynn swallows at her daughter's question because she would love to have another baby, or two, or three. Ceraphina is just so perfect so any other children would have to be as well.

"No," she says slowly, "not right now but someone else is and we need to get them a gift."

"Okay!"

Soarynn will miss these moments, next fall Ceraphina will be off to school and Soarynn will be left with a lot of time on her hands. Maybe another baby isn't such a bad idea.

They wander around the store for a while until they stumble upon the section where tiny little clothes hang on the racks. Soarynn can feel the baby fever kicking in, maybe they can start trying tonight. Coriolanus certainly enjoyed the benefits of her being pregnant and more needy, and Soarynn just loved sporting a baby bump.

"These are so little," Ceraphina says, reaching up to touch a small pair of shoes on a shelf. Soarynn smiles, smoothing down her hair, "You used to fit into those, you were so tiny." Oh, she was so precious, so little and sweet. Maybe this is just the push she needed to start trying for another baby.

"My dolls can wear those shoes," Ceraphina points out, "can we get the baby a doll?" Soarynn shakes her head, giving her daughter a soft smile, "No darling, your father already purchased the gift, we just have to pick it up. Now let's go over to the counter and ask for it." They walk over to the counter where a saleswoman is typing away on the register, "Excuse me, my husband called earlier and placed an order. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he sent me to pick it up for him," Soarynn explains.

The woman nods and types in a few more things, "Yes, I can see the order right here. Do you have some form of identification?"

Soarynn nods, "Of course."

She opens her purse and pulls out her wallet, brandishing her citizen's license to the saleswoman who glances over it before nodding, "It'll be just a moment, I'll be right back ladies."

Ceraphina wraps her fingers around the counter's edge while Soaryn puts her wallet back in her purse, "She called me a lady Mommy."

Soarynn chuckles, Ceraphina is very well-mannered for a girl her age but Soarynn knows how eager she is to be older so she can wear makeup and fancy shoes like her mother. "You certainly are a little lady," Soarynn agrees, "maybe after we stop by the office we can get some lunch."

Soarynn had breakfast but that was hours ago and Ceraphina always loves it when they eat out at a restaurant. She'll have to make a reservation for Christmas Eve, Coriolanus already bought them tickets to the ballet since Ceraphina has been begging to go. She's fascinated by the ballerinas and their pretty costumes.

Soarynn and Coriolanus have discussed enrolling her in lessons so this will be a good test to see how serious she is about it.

The saleswoman comes back with a shiny black bag and a smile, "Here you are Mrs. Snow, enjoy the rest of your day."

Soarynn returns her smile and nods, "Thank you so much, enjoy your day as well."

Ceraphina offers to carry the bag but that lasts about ten seconds before she hands it back to Soarynn, "Mommy, what's over there?" She asks, pointing at a very large decorative display near the women's section. Soarynn tilts her head, unable to see what it really is, "I don't know darling, let's go see what it is."

They walk a little closer and Soarynn can see a fancy-looking camera and a large green sofa, and what looks like a man sitting on it.

"Santa!"

Ceraphina runs over to the display, roped off with velvet ropes and Soarynn quickly realizes that the store has hired a Santa for the children to take pictures with. Ceraphina jumps up and down, looking at Santa then back at Soarynn, "Mommy can I say hello? Please, please, please may I say hello?"

Soarynn sighs, these things are sweet but also the bane of every parent's existence when they're in a rush to get somewhere. But she can see how badly Ceraphina wants to meet Santa and there's no one else in line. She checks her watch, they're doing good on time and Coriolanus will understand.

"Alright," she finally gives in, "but it'll have to be quick."

Ceraphina squeals and runs over to Soarynn, throwing her arms around her legs, "Thank you, Mommy! You're the best Mommy ever!"

She's heard that one before.

"Mhm, now go say hello," Soarynn tells her, giving Ceraphina a gentle push.

The photographer unhooks the velvet rope and Ceraphina smiles up at him, "Thank you!"

She skips right over to Santa who looks bored out of his mind but he picks up the act once he sees a child approaching him "Well, hello there little girl. What's your name?"

Ceraphina stops in front of him, hands behind her back, head held high, "Ceraphina Snow. C-E-R-A-P-H-I-N-A S-N-O-W."

Santa looks very impressed. "My goodness, looks like you know a lot. Do you know what you'd like for Christmas?"

While Ceraphina leans in to whisper her big wish, the photographer hands Soarynn a piece of paper with photo packages listed on it. She frowns, "Oh, we don't need a photo, thank you though."

"In order to speak to Santa, you have to take a photo," the photographer says, putting a hand on his hip. Soarynn scoffs, what a scam!

"Fine," she says, handing the paper back to him, "we'll take your cheapest option."

She looks back over at Ceraphina who's still going and they need to get a move on, "Ceraphina darling, smile for a picture!"

Ceraphina gasps and hops onto the sofa next to Santa, putting on her best smile.

"Say 'Merry Christmas'!" The photographer says, clicking the camera. A blinding flash goes off and Ceraphina slides off the sofa, "Remember," she says to Santa, "a pink one, not a blue one."

Santa nods, "I'll tell my elves that."

Ceraphina runs back over to Soarynn, giddy with excitement, "What did you ask for?"

Ceraphina puts a finger up to her mouth, "I can't tell you 'cause it's only for Santa to know." Soarynn raises her eyebrows, whatever she asked for sounded very specific. She might have to come back and ask Santa what her request was.

"Here are your photos," the photographer says, holding them out to Soarynn with a limp wrist and attitude. She snatches them out of his hand and bestows her fakest smile onto him, "Have a good day," she says, walking off with Ceraphina.

"We got pictures?"

"We got scammed, is what we got," Soarynn tells her, flipping through the photos, "but they are very cute pictures. We can put them on the fridge." She hands them over to Ceraphina who looks at each individual photo of her and Santa with fascination.

"Are we going to Daddy's office now?"

Soarynn prepares herself for the stairs and the cold, "We sure are."

꧁ ꧂

After dealing with that snippy photographer, the welcome Soarynn and Ceraphina are given the second they step into the office building is greatly appreciated.

Due to his high status within the company, Coriolanus is highly respected and a little bit feared, which means when his family comes to visit, they're treated like royalty.

"Mrs. Snow, Ms. Snow," the receptionist greets them, "welcome back, let me get the elevator for you, and your coats."

Soarynn shrugs off her long black coat and Ceraphina does the same, thanking the receptionist, "Can I press the button?" Ceraphina asks, bouncing on her toes with excitement. She loves pressing elevator buttons, and it's cute until she picks the wrong floor.

"Do you remember what floor he's on?" Soarynn asks, poking Ceraphina who giggles, "Yes! Daddy is on the tippy-top floor because Snow lands on top," Ceraphina tells her matter-of-factly.

The kid knows her stuff.

"That would be correct," Soarynn says when the doors open up. They step inside and Soarynn makes sure that Ceraphina presses the correct button, all the way up to the twenty-fifth floor. "Can I give one of my Santa pictures to Daddy?"

Soarynn looks down at all the pictures in Ceraphina's hands, there certainly is a lot, she just wonders if Coriolanus wants a photo of his daughter posing with a random man wearing a red suit and a fake beard.

"We'll have to ask him," is all she says.

The elevator dings and they're finally here. Well, finally on the right floor at least.

The doors open up to another, smaller lobby with another front desk and a very pretty-looking Christmas tree tucked away in the corner. Ceraphina runs ahead to the desk and stands on her tip-toes, peeking over the wooden surface, "Hi Ms. Eudora!"

Eudora Trinket is the head secretary of the twenty-fifth floor. She's fierce, well-organized, and has a soft spot for sweet children like Ceraphina who come to visit their fathers from time to time.

"Well hello dear, what brings you in today?" The older woman asks, giving Ceraphina her undivided attention. "We're bringing my Daddy a gift for his boss 'cause he forgot about it," she tells Eudora, causing Soarynn to regret giving her that much information.

Eudora looks more amused than anything, she knows Coriolanus quite well and Soarynn has witnessed her scolding the younger man a few times. It's good that he has someone to keep him on the edge.

"I see," Eudora says, looking up at Soarynn, "well he just got done with his meeting and should be in his office." Soarynn nods, offering her hand to Ceraphina, "Come on darling, we mustn't keep him waiting."

After saying goodbye to Eudora, Soarynn and Ceraphina make their way down the grand hallways of the twenty-fifth floor. These offices are the largest in the building according to Coriolanus who's quite pleased with his own office. There are several portraits hanging on the walls, all of the members of the company. Most of them are older men who either founded the company or have been here for decades.

But the newest painting has Coriolanus in it and Ceraphina loves to point at it every time they pass by. "There's Daddy," she points, looking up at her father's stern face in the portrait.

Soarynn hums and they turn the corner, nearing his office doors. Coriolanus has a corner office that gives him a great view of the city skyline. Ceraphina lets go of Soarynn's hand and runs over to his office doors, knocking on them with both fists.

"Daddy we're here!" She calls, not as quiet as Soarynn would like but most of the men on this floor don't mind, not when they have children of their own. A moment later, the doors open and Coriolanus is grinning down at his daughter, "I thought I heard someone running," he says, causing Ceraphina to look down at her feet.

Coriolanus has reprimanded her time and time again about never running indoors. A hard habit to break apparently. "I was excited to see you," she tries sweetly, pushing past him to go into his office. Coriolanus shakes his head and turns his attention to Soarynn who proudly shows off the black gift bag, "Delivered right to your doorstep," she tells him, smiling when he grabs her waist and pulls her closer.

"How should I tip you?" He asks, brushing his lips over her ear. Soarynn blushes, he's always been so charming, never ashamed to touch her or flirt with her even at work. "I have a few ideas," she mumbles, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Coriolanus chuckles, "Really? How darling?"

Soarynn can't contain her excitment any longer, she thought she could wait until he got home but she might as well plant this idea in his head now.

"I want another baby."

He sure as hell wasn't expecting that. His eyes widen and he almost falls backward before Soarynn grabs his arm with her free hand, "A...another baby?" He repeats, scratching the back of his neck. Soarynn hums, rocking back and forth on her heels, with Christmas coming up, it would be the perfect gift.

"Girl or boy," she says with a shrug, "I'm not picky."

She walks into his office, leaving Coriolanus to process her wish while Ceraphina runs around, touching everything she possibly can if it's in reach. "Don't touch that darling," Soarynn tells her when Ceraphina goes to touch an award Coriolanus was given by the company. It's a frosted glass ball with writing engraved on the glass, it almost looks like a snow globe which is probably why she wants to touch it.

Ceraphina pouts but doesn't complain, "Can we show Daddy my pictures with Santa?"

Soarynn sets her purse down on the nearby sofa, Coriolanus keeps his office tidy and that includes the sofa and chairs he has in the corner by the bookshelves. "Of course we can."

It seems that Coriolanus has recovered from her baby ambush and he closes the doors behind him, offering her a sheepish smile, "And you want me to start working on your gift soon?" He inquires, clearly excited about having sex with a greater goal involved rather than just an orgasm.

Soarynn smiles sweetly at him, batting her eyelashes, "As soon as possible please," she purrs.

"What gift Mommy?"

They both freeze at their daughter's innocent question, one an adult cannot truthfully answer at times, "Mommy asked for another cat," Soarynn smoothly answers, figuring it's a good lie since Coriolanus would never agree to get another cat. He can barely stand the one they have now.

Coriolanus nods, "Yes, she asked for another cat, wishful thinking if I've ever seen it but thank you both for being so swift to deliver this gift to me. I'm sure my boss will love it."

"I'm sure his wife will love it," Soarynn corrects, digging through her purse and pulling out the photos they got with Santa, "look who Ceraphina met."

His interest is piqued since Ceraphina doesn't meet a lot of people and Coriolanus reaches for the photo, "Who do we have here hmm? I see my beautiful Ceraphina and...and Santa? You met Santa without me?"

Ceraphina giggles from his teasing and runs over to him, throwing her arms around his leg, "Daddy he was at the store! I got to tell him what I wanted for Christmas and then we took a picture! And I used my best smile for the picture, didn't I Mommy?"

Soarynn places a loving hand on Ceraphina's hair, "Yes you did," she confirms. Soarynn knew that they'd be taking a lot of family photos once Ceraphina was born, and just photos in general and she knew how much Coriolanus would want any child of theirs to have a nice, sweet smile. He wouldn't stand for their child to make a fuss or whine about having to smile for long periods of time.

So once she was old enough, Soarynn had Ceraphina practice smiling in the mirror, getting the child used to the idea of using a good old Capitol smile. And it paid off tremendously, Ceraphina was absolutely precious whenever she smiled, always complimented for her good manners and attitude when it came to having her photo taken.

Coriolanus grunts and flips through all the photos, "Quite a few pictures," he notes and Soarynn rolls her eyes, remembering how she was swindled into paying for those. "Well we had to get a photo package," she says, "because nothing is free anymore."

Coriolanus smirks and ruffles the hair Soarynn just smoothed down on Ceraphina's head, "Well you look beautiful darling, just like a little princess." Ceraphina beams at his compliments, she's always been a daddy's girl and Coriolanus has been wrapped around her little finger since the day she was born. Soarynn thinks it's sweet how good he is with her, always so patient and gentle.

He'd burn the world down if someone ever tried to hurt her.

"When can we get lunch Mommy?" Ceraphina asks, always ready for a snack or a meal. Soarynn looks down at her watch, it's nearly noon. "I suppose we should start heading out," she muses, "everywhere is bound to be busy."

Coriolanus takes her hand and gives it a squeeze, "I get off in ten minutes for my lunch break, let me ask Eudora to book us a reservation."

Ceraphina gasps, delighted at the idea of having an impromptu lunch with both of her parents. With Coriolanus always at work, she spends the majority of her days with Soarynn so to have lunch with Coriolanus and Soarynn is a treat as special as any.

"Can we go to the place with the good pasta Mommy? Please, please, please?" She begs, letting go of her father's leg to cling to her mother's. Soarynn softly chuckles since she figured Ceraphina would ask about that restaurant, "We certainly can."

Coriolanus goes to call Eudora and Soarynn keeps Ceraphina entertained by holding her on her hip while they look at all the photos Coriolanus keeps on his bookshelf.

A lot of them are from events at work. Soarynn spots a few familiar faces in the photos, faces she went to school with and now they're working alongside Coriolanus with families of their own. It's amazing how quickly time passes. "Oh, there's Mr. Creed," Ceraphina points at Festus standing next to Coriolanus, neither of them smiling because men never smile for photos.

Soarynn nods, pressing a kiss to Ceraphina's cheek, "Very good darling, and there's your father getting promoted."

They look at the photograph of Coriolanus shaking hands with the owner of the company, Quintus Heavensbee. Soarynn remembers being there for the official ceremony where several men were appointed higher-paying jobs and Coriolanus had been one of them. She had been so proud, so happy for him and all of his hard work. He's worked so hard for them and that could never go unnoticed by her.

"There you are, Mommy!"

Soarynn looks at the next photo which happens to be a photograph from their wedding day. Ceraphina loves going through the photo album from their wedding, fascinated by Soarynn's wedding dress and all that took place before she was born.

The photo is a rather stiff one in Soarynn's opinion, it was in the paper if she recalls correctly and they had been instructed not to smile. Coriolanus has a hand wrapped around her waist while Soarynn stands next to him holding her white bouquet of roses. They make quite the handsome pair in her opinion.

"Where are the photos of me?" Ceraphina demands, trying to look over at Coriolanus who's shuffling through some paperwork. He points at a framed photograph sitting on his desk, "Right here darling, so I can always remember why I'm working so hard."

Soarynn rolls her eyes at his choice of words since he's used the same line on her once or twice. Ceraphina wiggles out of Soarynn's hold and runs over to see the photograph. Soarynn walks over as well, curious to see which photo it is.

Coriolanus isn't the most sentimental man, that's more in her field when it comes to their relationship but she knows how much he values family. She rounds his desk and rests a hand on the back of his chair while looking at the adorable photo of Ceraphina. She had to be at least three in this photo, with her blonde curls and blue eyes.

Soarynn sighs while remembering those sweet years. She has a pink bow in her hair and a big smile on her face. "I miss my curls," Ceraphina says, touching her now wavy hair. It almost looks straight some days which she has Soarynn to thank for. Coriolanus is the one sporting the curls in the Snow family. Ceraphina had them for quite some time but they've disappeared over the years.

"But now you look just like your Mommy," Coriolanus says proudly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Ceraphina shrieks when he blows a raspberry against her skin and pushes him away, "Daddy! Ew!"

Coriolanus and Soarynn laugh and she looks over at another photo she never noticed before. It's a photo of her. She looks much younger, probably twenty years old, well before they were engaged. She's holding Petunia in the photo, laughing and from the looks of it, they're on the penthouse rooftop. She looks so happy, so carefree. She doesn't remember Coriolanus ever taking this picture but to know that he framed it means more to her than he'll ever know.

To know that he keeps a picture of her in his office downtown, along with a photo of Ceraphina reminds her that she married the right man. A man who loves her and loves their daughter.

"Eudora was able to get us a table," he tells her, craning his neck to look up at her from his chair. Soarynn smiles and gives the back of his neck a scratch, his favorite place, "Good, we should get going then."

꧁ ꧂

On the way back from the restaurant it starts to snow.

Soarynn watches Ceraphina skip down the sidewalk while holding her father's hand, pointing at different window displays. Soarynn wishes she could photograph this moment and keep it in her pocket forever.

They finally reach his office building and this is where goodbyes must be said.

"Can't we stay with you?" Ceraphina asks hopefully, doing her best to convince him but Coriolanus shakes his head, smiling at her attempts to sway him. "I'm afraid not my darling, I have lots of meetings to attend and you'd be terribly bored."

So would Soarynn and they still have to bake cookies.

"Okay," she says sadly, letting go of his hand, "thank you for lunch, Daddy." Coriolanus smiles, pleased she's using her manners, something else Soarynn has taught her over the years. Coriolanus loves to be thanked, words of affirmation are the key to his heart.

"You're very welcome my angel," he tells her, bending down to give her a proper goodbye kiss on the cheek. Ceraphina gives him one as well, along with a hug before Coriolanus stands back up to his full height. He grins as he pulls Soarynn by her coat sleeve, leaning down to kiss her goodbye. He goes in for a passionate kiss, one that catches her off guard considering they're on a public street in front of his office building but that's never stopped him before.

Soarynn rests a hand on his cheek and sighs into the kiss, they'll definitely start on that baby-making tonight. Now that she's planted the idea in his head, he has to see it through. That's just the type of person Coriolanus Snow is. When they finally pull away, Soarynn is out of breath, "Goodbye," she breathes, giving his cheek a soft pinch.

Coriolanus gives her one last kiss before letting her go, "Goodbye darling, thank you for bringing the gift." She'd forgotten all about the gift, so much has happened today. "I'll see you two tonight," he calls before the doors to the building close behind him. Soarynn and Ceraphina both wave and watch him until he's out of sight.

"That was so romantic," Ceraphina says with a dreamy sigh.

Soarynn takes her small hand and they begin walking in the direction of home, "Your father is rather romantic," she agrees, watching more snow fall onto the ground. "It's like we're in a snow globe," Ceraphina observes, sticking out her tongue in hopes of catching a snowflake.

Soarynn hums and begins to think about having another little snowflake of their own, a sibling for Ceraphina, another baby for her, and Coriolanus.

There was a time when she dreamed of becoming a mother, of getting married to a handsome man who loved her so deeply. She often wondered how she'd know when she met the one. Then she met Coriolanus and it was like the entire universe was saying the same thing over and over to her.

'You are in love.'

Indeed she is.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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nagdabbit · 10 months ago

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hello, i am in need of personal advice, preferably from a transfemme person and/or parent, who isn't siobhan because she is Too Close to the situation and i don't want to do anything brash like she does

#cis friend amy fakename and her wife betty fakename got divorced after betty came out and began to transition #they have remained EXTREMELY good friends and everything and coparent really well #amy came over tonight to talk to me about betty's behavior at present #theyve been seperated for just about three years now and betty began transitioning almost five years ago #and everything has been good between them #except amy found out from their seven y/o daughter cassie that bettys (married poly) gf stays over during her week with cassie #the kind of thing that wouldve been fine except that its out of the blue and amy had to hear it from a seven yo child #same with cassie going to a sleepover with a friend and finding out —again from cassie—that betty also stayed the night #and slept with one of cassie's friends moms #and apparently numerous other things that amy didnt want to get into so i get the feeling i would be even more pissed #but every time amy tries to discuss any kind of groundrules about strangers around cassie #especially ones that 1) any doesnt know anything about amd 2) are likely not permanent #betty says that she is being transphobic for asking that she doesn't just sleep with people while cassie is there and aware #i do not know how to like #help them #siobhan is firmly on amy's side and i am too #but i dont know what i can actually do thats helpful or actionable that wont hurt either of them #cuz i do believe that betty needs to have some boundaries when there is a CHILD involved #and a child tasked with keeping secrets at that #i just dont know how to support or how to talk to betty or if i even SHOULD cuz this is a new one for all of us #we created a lil family at the shop but somehow amy and betty are the only ones with kids #none of us know how to handle this cuz they dont know when to even ask us to do #if there is anything

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comatosebunny09 · 19 days ago

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vēnor | sylus

— summary: sylus must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. figures. you’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services. unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut as your target has his way with you. — cw: female reader, marking, biting, unprotected intercourse, creampie, rough sex, size kink, praise kink, cevix f-king, explicit language, jealousy, knife fight, alcohol use, mentions of blood and viscera, self-indulgent, not proofread, mdni — wc: ~4k — notes: you can prolly tell i was inspired by his new secret times, *fans self* thank you for reading, lovely! — now playing: wasted eyes - amaarae u, lost - jeremy pope

Your mission is simple.

Saunter in. Seduce your target. Extract as much information as you can concerning the whereabouts of a particular artifact. Smile pretty. Flutter your lashes. Lure him away with the promise of pleasure. Snuff him out like a candle’s flame when the moment allows.

The setup is flawless. Routine. Until it isn’t.

The figure clad in black, oozing smugness and sex appeal beside you, complicates things.

Typically, you complete your missions alone. You’ve played the role of seductress so long that it’s second nature. You’re more than capable of fending for yourself if shit hits the fan. You’re a menace with a blade and just as formidable without one.

Besides, you live for the thrill of a good fight. A few bruises and broken bones have never deterred you. According to your intel, your target came stacked with security, so you anticipate possibly getting your hands dirty.

But he insisted on accompanying you this time around—Sylus. Reasoned he didn’t want his diamond falling into the wrong hands, whatever the hell that meant. You figure it was an excuse to micromanage you. He’d been doing it a lot lately, ever-looming like a shadow, trained to your every move.

So, here you are—standing beside your employer as the elevator lazily descends, fretting over your hair and the occasional slip of your blouse off your shoulder.

You’re enveloped in an unbearably tense silence. Shift your weight between your feet, trying to keep your gaze on the gilded elevator doors ahead. Even that is a task within itself, scarlet eyes occasionally capturing yours in your reflection, coupled with an omniscient smirk that causes your chest and cheeks to swell with heat.

He stands in good form beside you, hand stuffed in his pocket, hair coiffed, dressed to the nines. He’s infuriatingly calm in contrast to the maelstrom brewing inside you.

You feel much like a child about to perform at a piano recital in front of their parents for the first time. Insane, given you’ve never been this anxious around him before. But things are…

Well, things are different now.

Lately, your relationship with your boss has shifted on its axis, making way for tender words and disarming touches where there were once indifferent looks and tedious banter.

You’re not entirely sure when, but at some point under his tutelage, you’ve developed a fondness for him. A part of you wonders if he feels the same pull, his recent treatment towards you slowly dismantling that carefully constructed wall between you.

The elevator pings and dips, disrupting your thoughts once it reaches its destination.

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Square your shoulders, mentally preparing yourself for your mission. The doors slide open, a crisp breeze fanning over your inflamed skin, ruffling your floor-length skirt. You move to dismount the lift, but slender fingers encircling your wrist halt your exit.

They’re like a brand on your skin, searing straight to your heart. You’re stock-still as Sylus nears you, swaddling you in the warmth and enthralling scent of scorched cedarwood and cracked vanilla beans he carries. He rounds you, the tips of his shoes staining your vision. You’re wordless as worn fingertips graze your temple, sweeping errant curls behind your ear.

He chuckles something low, his other set of fingers easing beneath your chin to tilt your head back. Your breath corks in your lungs when your gazes interlock.

It’s like he’s peering into your soul, the way he studies you with a reverent shine to his eyes despite the ever-present smirk twitching his lips. You swallow thickly past the barbs in your throat. Enraptured by his gaze, you hardly notice him pushing something into your ear. Not until a sharp pitch of feedback causes you to wince until it levels out.

“Stunning,” he lauds, brushing the flat of his nails over your earpiece, outlining the curve of your cartilage. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You vibrate internally from the praise. He smooths back your hair, ghosting over your neck and shoulder. Slides a thumb over the space just shy of your bottom lip, and he tracks its movement, irises darkening into a mysterious shade of garnet.

You’re wearing his favorite color of lipstick–a dangerous shade of rouge reminiscent of wine shared over passionate nights. Your stomach pinches with something foreign. For a moment, your surroundings fall away, and only the pair of you exist in this world of pheromones and shrouded intentions.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of conquering the gap between you. Entertain grabbing his shirt and tugging him into a kiss. Based on the flutter of his lashes as he studies your mouth, you don’t think he would be opposed to it.

But fate has other plans for you tonight, another invasive ding from the elevator disrupting your reprieve.

So caught up in your own little world, you hadn’t noticed that the doors closed in your idleness until someone outside called for the lift.

“Oh shit! My bad,” says a sheepish voice from the hallway. With Sylus’ fingers still curved around your chin, the pair of you look at the intruder outside, Sylus’ expression reading annoyance, and yours, dreaminess.

—

It helps that you’ve already had a drink—a glass of bourbon in your hotel room to take the edge off, loosening your inhibitions.

The music is good, too. Something sultry and ambient as you wend through the envious gazes and intrigued whispering of the bar’s other patrons in pursuit of your target.

You feel his eyes on you, too. A familiar wash of scarlet trained on the space between your shoulder blades and the sway of your hips. The notion of him watching you so intensely sets your insides alight.

You banish the memories of his breath on your skin—of his ghostly touches along your flesh—to the furthest reaches of your mind. It’s showtime. You’ll have plenty of time to confront these complicated feelings for your boss later.

For now, you home in on your target. He’s dressed in something tailored and expensive, the material of his suit crisp as you slide a hand over his shoulder with a sultry smile rounding your lips.

The gentleman looks up from the whiskey glass in his hands. Dons a smile of his own, straightening when you pour yourself onto the stool beside him. He signals to the bartender, then turns to face you, skimming over your visage with his brows lifted in intrigue.

“Well now. What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all by yourself?” he queries, tone murky like the liquor in his glass.

You tilt your head, your hair falling over your features just right. Cross your legs, offering him your hand to kiss. Your voice is husky. Disarming as you counter, “Handsome fella like you looked like you could use some company.”

He drags his lips over the notches and grooves of your knuckles, whiskey-colored eyes fastened to you. Smiling, you pluck his glass from betwixt his fingers. Throw back what remains in it, the acrid sting warming your innards whilst you set it down on the sticky counter with a definitive clack.

The man whistles, clearly impressed. “Pretty and a drinker. I like you already.”

You laugh something rehearsed. Toy with the red-gemmed pendant between your collarbones. He’s charming. Good-looking. Maybe you’ll have a little fun before you take his life. You haven’t had your desires sated in a while, too busy tamping down your own needs for the love of your boss.

On cue, scarlet twinkles in your periphery. Sylus. He’s seated not too far off, nursing a glass of something viscous. Quietly biding his time, poised to step in if he deems it necessary. A part of you is spurred on by his attention. You play up the theatrics of your flirtations if only to get a rise out of him.

It’s relatively easy to fall into femme fatale mode thereafter. You chat up your target, inquiring about his profession and complimenting his taste in liquor, guided by Sylus via earpiece.

You don’t miss the vexed clip in your boss’ voice whenever you get a little too handsy, laugh a little too bewitchingly, and bite back a smile at how envious he sounds in your ear. The gentleman is putty in your hands, a grinning, chuckling fool when you squeeze his thigh and stroke his ego.

You pull out all the stops, feeding him alcohol until he’s red-faced with a loosened tongue, unwittingly spewing out the information you seek. He touches you as the night blurs, worn fingers smoothing over your thighs, cresting down the slope of your arm, brushing your cheek, dragging over your shoulder.

You let him have his fill. It’s not like you aren’t enjoying yourself, too, the alcohol warming in your veins, heightening your need for physical stimulation.

Finally, you sweep in for the kill. Angle yourself closer to your prey, your breasts pressing temptingly against his arm whilst your hands roost on his quad.

“Wanna take this party elsewhere?” you whisper, brushing the outer shell of his ear with your lips. He chuckles like the enamored fool you molded him into, dragging his mouth across your cheek in a kiss as you pull back.

“Got a room upstairs,” he husks in what little space dwells between your faces. “We could have some real fun there.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He takes your hand in his, drawing you from the stool. Twirls you ‘round to get a good look at you, the dangerous contours of your body accentuated by your outfit.

Your target clicks his tongue, inwardly patting himself on the back for bagging such a beauty. He guides you through the crowd towards the elevator. And as he whisks you away, you survey your surroundings in search of a familiar shock of white.

Disappointment spumes through you when you don’t find him through the bar's furling smoke and sultry lighting. He must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. Figures. You’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services for the time being.

Where before, you felt guilty for seeking a little fun, the feeling sloughs off, replaced by disdain and spite spooling in your gut.

Your target draws you to him by your waist as the elevator doors slide shut, the pair of you flanked by two of his bodyguards. You succumb to his ministrations, his lips on a shameless excursion over your throat, drawing the sultriest little laugh from betwixt your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut.

—

The hallway of the sixth floor is barren. Eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights above dancing over four figures moving over the carpeted floors.

You toddle behind your prey, guided by interlaced fingers, swathed in the imposing aura of his bodyguards on either side of you. You feel for the blades cinched to your thigh, tucked beneath the veil of your skirt. Easing one from your garter belt, you conceal the knife in your palm, and the guards seem none-the-wiser.

Suddenly, muffled sounds erupt on either side of you. You glance back, alarmed to see the bodyguards wiped from existence. The only clue revealing their fate is a familiar, wispy coil of dark red left in their place. You narrow your eyes, jaw set in a rigid line.

Sylus.

Your target seems undeterred, continuing to prattle on ahead as he herds you to his room. Sylus must’ve assumed you couldn’t handle your own, which makes you buzz with irritation.

Fine. He thinks you’re incapable? You’ll prove him wrong.

With the blade held firm between your forefingers, you prepare to thrust it into your target’s neck. So much for having a bit of fun.

However, before you can complete the thought, something ensnares your wrist, snatching you from the hallway into the arms of an inky darkness. Your spine collides with something rigid and cold, the air siphoned from your lungs.

Your fight or flight senses kick into overdrive, and with the moonlight highlighting your assailant's silhouette, you swing your blade where you assume their head is. They release a brief sound of exertion, ducking beneath your attack. You cleave through the air again, coupling the swing with a series of kicks to put some space between you and land a hit.

Your aggressor, seemingly familiar with your move set, catches your ankle, shoving it down to derail your attacks, and a dark chuckle vibrates the air.

“That all you got?” they provoke, the timbre of their voice reminiscent of thunder rolling over the horizon.

You stumble back a few paces, righting yourself before charging with another slew of punches, swipes, and kicks. It’s a futile endeavor, scuffling in low visibility like this against an opponent who seems to be using the darkness to their advantage.

But you’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

“Too slow,” tsks your foe, egging you on.

Suddenly, your attacker traps your hand clutching the blade, and you dumbly blink as they use your momentum to swing you ‘round, manacling both your wrists together at the small of your back. Your cheek squished against a glacial surface, your assailant shoves their weight against you, trapping you between a wall and the hardened slope of their body.

Faint wisps of vanilla invade your scenes, yet the hot rush of adrenaline seeping through you blots out all logic and reason. You struggle against their hold, your labored breaths intermingling with their husky laughter.

You grit your teeth when a hand eases down the curve of your hip, sliding over your thigh with practiced ease. You grit your teeth against the feel of it as it dips beneath your skirt’s slit to tug your remaining knives free of your garter belt.

You listen with pinched breaths as the crisp steel plunges into a far-off surface. How the hell did they know where you kept your knives?

In a ditch effort to free yourself, you thrust your hips back, momentarily throwing your attacker off-kilter. Their grip on your wrists slackens, and you spin around, planting your foot against their chest to create some distance. Twirling your knife, you thrust it towards the outline of a neck. It’s to no avail, those searing fingers once again taking possession of your wrist before you can land a blow.

You release a frustrated cry, your hand twisting painfully until the blade plummets to the ground, sinking into the floor with a resounding thwack! Employing your other hand, you try to pry your wrist free, aiming an onslaught of kicks at your aggressor’s ribs. They effortlessly block them with the hard edge of their forearm, and your moot efforts seem to amuse them further.

The severity of your situation settling in, soft light suddenly floods the narrow space, pouring down from overhead to reveal the contours of a familiar face.

“Sylus?” you gasp, bleary-eyed and chest heaving.

He uses your surprise to his advantage, surging forward to capture your lips. The air punched from your lungs, you trade your alarm for a bitten-off moan, fingers instinctively seeking out the silken glide of his hair.

He pushes his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth, swallowing your groans whilst his hands make frantic expeditions over your sides, bunching up your blouse and skirt in pursuit of the supple glide of your skin.

Fingers curl around your thighs where they pinch and knead the flesh there, Sylus notching himself between your legs. And fuck, he’s hard, your scuffle awakening things in him he thought himself dead to.

He lifts you into his arms, and your legs intuitively wind about his waist. The hotel door rattles behind you when he slams you against it, his hands greedily sprawling over your body, burning through the layers of your skin.

“What the fuck,” you breathe when he releases your mouth, and you crane your neck to the side, granting him more access whilst he brands your throat with the languid drag of his lips.

He nips and sucks in a way that borders pain, his breaths sweltering and ragged, matching the roll of his hips. The rough stitching of his slacks acquaints itself with your center, and you sigh all hot and wanton, your spine scrubbing against the door whilst he grinds into you.

“Did you really think I’d let him have his way with you?” he pants through the lust-ladened haze, dragging his lips over your shoulder and collarbones, down to the ample swell of your breasts. He rakes his teeth over the skin there, sure to leave pretty blooms of purple and blue in their wake.

You huff a laugh, the back of your head colliding with the door. “Oh, Sylus. Don’t tell me you were jealous.”

Of course, you were banking on it, playing your role too well.

You yip when he bites you in warning, the predatory gleam of his eyes trained on your face. “How could I be jealous if you’re already mine?”

You scoff at that, a wave of ecstasy surging through you when his fingers ease between your thighs, grazing your labia, rucking your panties to one side to reveal your own desire. Your back bows when he prods your puckering sex with two fingers, and he chuckles against your neck, the sound of it making your pussy flutter with excitement.

“Seems I’m not the only one affected by our little spat.” With a few more strokes up the span of your cunt, he sinks his digits inside you, and you share a pleased exhale as you greedily suck him in down to the hilt.

“Look at you. So ready for me. And to think you were so eager to give this away to another man.”

“Do you always talk this much,” you breathe, draping your arms around his shoulders. Screw your eyes shut, humping against his fingers, chasing that sweet coiling sensation building in your tummy.

“Are you always this impatient,” counters Sylus, open-mouthed against your chin, his thumb sifting through the thick folds of your sex in search of your clit. He presses down, and you shudder, the sound of his name curling around your tongue, making his dick jump.

“Only with you. Unh, fuck. Just with—just with you.”

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps into the hollow of your neck. Scissors his fingers inside you, slowly unraveling those bundles of nerves inside, the vulgar squelch of your cunt intermingling with your labored breaths. “Beg me to fuck you, or I’ll stop.”

To punctuate his words, he slows the pleasurable drag of his fingers, and you whine, clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

The heat of embarrassment washes over you. You’re too far gone to care. Too enraptured to give a damn about your facade or pride. Need him inside you, otherwise, you might just die.

“Your words, sweetheart. Use them,” he coaxes on a rasp.

“Fuck me,” you relent, baring down on his digits curling inside you. “Fuck me, Sylus, please.”

“Good girl,” he praises, already freeing himself from the restrictive pull of his slacks and briefs.

You’ve no time to admire his size in the dimness. Too clouded by lust, your eyes fixated on his while he rubs the swollen head against the seam of your pussy. He prods your sticky opening, and your mouth waters with anticipation, the sheer size of his head alone enough to stretch you nice and open for him.

“Deep breaths, darling,” he coos against your hinged-open mouth. And your thighs crater between his fingers as he sinks you onto his cock, the strain of pushing into you stealing the air from his chest.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” You’re halfway sobbing, gritting your teeth, your fingers buried in the collar of his shirt, and your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, where you bite and suck, seeking a little respite from the painful stretch.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Breathe for me.” He isn’t intentionally being pompous. Knows he’s thicker than the average bear, and as much as he burns to be buried inside you, he doesn’t want to hurt you more than necessary.

Soon, the pain subsides, making way for little flutters of pleasure when he’s fully eased home, his swollen cockhead kissing your cervix. When he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his girth, he fucks into you with shallow thrusts at first, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

Despite the moment, he’s a patient lover. Taking his time moving inside you, invoking pretty sounds from your lips. A thick ring of cream forms around the base of his cock as he ruts into you, your intermingled fluids scorching down the inner cut of your thigh.

As time passes, your moans crescendo, spurring him on, and he fucks into you a little harder, your nails forming angry crescents in his traps through the fabric of his shirt. One of your heels falls off and clatters against the floor, he’s fucking you so good. So deep, battering against your cervix.

“You take me so well, sweetheart,” he dotes into the junction of your neck and shoulder, bouncing you on his cock a little faster. “So deep. It’s like you were made to be my precious little cock sleeve.”

You can do nothing but gasp at the delicious friction, blanketed in the throes of passion, in the feel of him nestled deep inside you, filling you to the brim.

You feel like you’re in a dream, being fucked by your boss like this. The object of your desires, the focal point of your fantasies and affections. Your clit scrubs against his pelvic bone with each thrust, and that sparkling rush of ecstasy begins to bloom in your tummy.

“Gonna cum?” he husks, your walls clenching around him.

You nod, your voice lodged in your throat, and you tangle your fingers in the delicate sweep of hair at his nape, pulling him in for a kiss, pouring every pent-up feeling into the warm chasm of his mouth.

Spurred by the delicious drag of his cock inside you, by his tongue licking into your mouth, and by your puckered nipples grazing against the hardened lines of his shirt, you cum. God, you cum.

And the world slides into white, your mouth opening with a moan seemingly dragged from the bowels of your chest, your toes curling against the divots of his buttocks. He fucks you through it, pulled over the edge with you, hot spurts of cum flooding the searing clench of your pussy.

He holds you like this against the door, swathed in the symphony of your quickened heartbeats and breaths. Gulps down air, his forehead nestled against your shoulder, a fine sheen of sweat covering your bodies whilst you pet through locks of powder white, drawing him down from the sky.

He hums against your lips, drawing you into a sticky kiss that lingers and etches a smile onto your face. He plucks you from the door, tenderly gathering you into his hands to walk you into the bathroom.

He sets you down on the crisp countertop, the marble cold beneath your inflamed skin. And you paw from him like a needy kitten whilst he divests himself of his clothing, chuckling when he steps between your thighs to rid you of your wrinkled attire.

“Sylus,” you query, blinking lazily up at him whilst he draws you into his arms, turning you toward the shower. He hums in reply, a boyish gleam to his eyes and a smile rounding his lips. “What about the target?”

Sylus snorts, depositing you beneath the warm spray of the shower, the water already working to ease the strain on your muscles.

“I already took care of it.” And with his hands perched on your hips, he angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied on the lips, never wanting to hear another man’s name touch your tongue again.

—

Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran meander through the quiet halls of the sixth floor, their masks spattered with blood and viscera as they whistle a wistful tune.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus smut #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus lads #sylus qin

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hunnieknight · 6 days ago

Text

Little Soul

A leyline abnormality has occured in the House of Hearth!

Gn!Reader, unspecified relationship status, SUBTLE power dynamic, OOC, bad grammar and no beta read, quick story, canon divergent?

Being House of Hearth's best leyline researcher means you work outside a lot. Always be on the field, directly studying the leylines themselves.

Being the best also means that the Head of the House always rely on you whenever there is an abnormality. You and the Lady are quite close, in professional matter. Everything is mostly about documents and mission.

With few personal teacup party.

The very first tea party was a nervous wreck. The Lady herself request for your presence, only you, just you. Oh boy, despite the bad thoughts clouded your mind, you just hope you got a raise or promotion.

Thankfully, it was just her asking for a plan. A quite specific plan of a very specific leyline abnormalities. It was Clervie, one of House of Hearth's children in the past.

That's where you learnt more of the Head of House of Hearth's past. She doesn't tell much other than Clervie need to be gone as she isn't suppose to exist and wandering about. Putting a soul to rest, again.

After hours of talking, she settled with a plan, thanking you by promising a raise on the next salary. Somehow, knowing how she was in the past is a promotion itself for you, imposing into her life story where not a lot of people are lucky enough to know.

Knowing how a leyline can manifest, how a memory of the past can exist as a visible soul, how an innocent soul can stuck in time, how...Arlecchino was just a child.

Leylines, basically Tevyat's biggest hive network memories, everything that has happened in the world is recorded and remembered.

Including the very memory that Arlecchino wants to forget.

You always see the Lady herself is all calm and collected, barely anything makes her break a sweat. She often does things her own way, it is quick and precise.

Now imagine your shock and dread when a pigeon bird flies to you with a small note "S.O.S". You know this bird, in fact, this one particular pigeon is only assigned for you. A messenger pigeon, reserved only for you, only for emergency, only from the Lady Arlecchino.

Door slams open, all due respect but anxiety fills your body, there is no time for greetings and formalities, if the Lady herself sending urgent message there must be some-

Huh?

It took you a moment to realize another abnormality like Clervie happens again but..in..the appearance of..the Lady?!

The task is simple, RETURN PERUERE. Okay, it's not that dreadful but the fact the fact the Lady trusting you to do this task, you feel like she is testing your skill. Testing if you are truly her best researcher.

You nodded, agreed to keep Lil Peruere a secret, her small hand engulf by yours when you guide the little soul into your private research office.

The true challenge is not sending her back, the TRUE challenge is to not grow attachment to the soul. Yes, she is a bit unique but the way her little hands always wanting to help stacking books, papers and catching small spiders making you grow fond of the little one.

So this is how Arlecchino was when she was a child, huh?

Makes you wonder what would Arlecchino's child be like.

This challenge also creating a bridge, more personal bridge rather than professional. Often times you only meet Arlecchino if there is a task, it was professional and formal, over a teacup party.

When Little Peruere stays with you, Arlecchino always shows up before your research office, o'clock, with..basket of sweets?

It was nice, the atmosphere is less formal and more domestic casual. Conversation is not always about the research progress, sometimes it's about Arlecchino's upbringing, what Little Peruere likes to do, and your own trivial stuff. The intimate talk only be witnessed by the papers and whiteboards in the research office.

Weeks passed and with Arlecchino's power, Little Peruere passed on, same with Clervie, the warm sunlight enveloping the lost soul as the little one disappear into small glistening petals. Just like Clervie, Arlecchino accompany Little Peruere, but you also sits next to her. Arlecchino have asked you to stay in the research office as the night is cold, yet here you are...

Sitting next to her, leading the conversation as both Peruere and Arlecchino prefers to listening in. The dawn sky is beautiful, dark twilight-blue night sky slowly painted with yellow-orange lights. Peruere watching with fascination, yours watching the little one with adoration, and you felt a pair of eyes watching you from the side.

Clicking, typing, rustling filled your research office. You need to make a report on the little soul, as formality of your works. Arlecchino was there to proofreading the report herself.

The Harbinger doesn't miss how you sighed a lot, recalling the little pitter-patter of Peruere's feet around your office, the small hands tidying up the papers around, and the small bug container-which always contain any bugs found in your office- in the corner is empty now that Peruere is not here.

Arlecchino thinks, you have gone this far to send the soul back. Perhaps she should give you something in return, it's only fair in transaction,right?

What is it? A day off? A vacation? A raise? A promotion? A kid of your own?

Well, it seems you have grown fond to the little Peruere, perhaps...another real Peruere would be a delight?

And what a delight it is~! The House of Hearth burst into happiness when the news of another member, from the Father herself , was announced when the children are eating dinner.

This raised the House's morale, everybody work and play safely, determined to go home in one piece looking forward when cries of an infant burst into the house. It would be hell to get used to but the House of Hearth is used to not cry for pain, no tears of loss and grief.

This is the only cry they would have, the only wail in the building, the only tears they would be happy to hear. The only tears in the House of Hearth....

Oh hey, The Tsaritsa send a baby care package~♡!

♡♡

Another one is in the oven

#imaginedraw #genshin impact arlecchino #genshin arlecchino x reader #genshin x reader #capitano genshin #genshin pierro #genshin harbingers #arlecchino x reader #genshin imagines #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin x gn reader #arlecchino x gn reader #geez im flopping

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ozzgin · 11 months ago

Text

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)."

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock.

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message.

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

"There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days.

You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows.

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?"

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window.

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?"

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied:

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake.

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused.

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else."

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing.

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat.

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport.

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks.

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society.

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation.

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly.

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail."

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary.

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment?

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously.

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology.

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa.

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport.

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead.

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment.

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans.

Just you."

#yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere robot #yandere android #robot x human #android x reader #robot x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere imagine #yandere fic

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azrielbrainrot · 3 months ago

Text

An Exercise in Patience

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Cockwarming

Description: Your plan to bother Azriel while he's working fails, or maybe it doesn't.

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, implied vaginal sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, kinda bratty reader, actually kind of fluffy

Word Count: ~1,3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You sigh for what feels like the millionth time, unashamedly acting like a petulant child who hadn't gotten her way, pouting against Azriel's shoulder as you felt his chest rise and fall against yours.

“I'm not sure what you expected was going to happen when you walked in this room wearing that, my love.”

“I expected my mate to bend me over his desk and fuck me.”

The disinterested yet somehow amused hum he offers makes you let out a huff of your own, straightening your posture so you aren't leaning on him anymore and can meet his eyes, trying to ignore the way his cock is filling you oh so deliciously, and only goes deeper with the change in position. If he wants to act unaffected, you'll do the same.

“Rhys needs these reports ready by tomorrow morning for his meeting with the High Lords,” he starts explaining, the sounds of his pen scratching against the paper the only sound in the room as he pauses, reading carefully through the pages, choosing the documents over you even now, “I told you all of this already.”

The way he was reading over your shoulder, not even meeting your eyes as he talked or acknowledging the fact that you were barely wearing any clothes at all, the sheer black lace not truly covering anything, was annoying you more than it probably should have.

It's not your fault you can't be patient when it comes to your mate. Not when he looks like a wet dream personified, especially when he focuses on something as he is now. It's also not your fault Rhys suddenly had a meeting the day after you bought such a beautiful set for Azriel to rip off of you and ruined all your plans.

It's not like you didn't understand how important his work was, but he had shut you down too easily, simply sitting you on his cock and going back to writing his report like it was the most normal thing, like the way his mate was dripping and clenching around him didn't matter. It was especially vexing since you could barely form a single thought, his scent and warmth making the bond want to jump through your skin, lay him down over the desk and ride him until you were shaking on top of him.

“I can almost hear your thoughts,” he says, a hint of amusement breaking through the serious tone he put on earlier.

“Has Rhysand been teaching you new tricks?”

Your tone makes him pause, hazel eyes shifting to yours for just a second before returning to the task at hand. He doesn't say anything, but he wraps one arm around your back, pulling you in closer, making you wrap your own arms around his neck, hugging him to you once again, humming when you relax a bit against him, annoyance fizzling out in his arms. Your body was a traitor, and he knew its every little secret.

One thing you wouldn't admit is how impressed you were that you had been able to fit him all the way inside you so quickly and with barely any preparation, it usually takes you a bit of stimulation to be able to get to this point, not that either of you mind the need for some foreplay.

Unfortunately, these thoughts led to memories of how well he fucked you just about every day and every night, this morning even, on the bed, in the bathtub, on this stupid desk, and up against the wall. Another defeated sigh escapes your lips, your cunt clenching around his hard cock involuntarily.

“You know if I was a little more insecure I'd find it insulting that you can keep working while I'm sitting on your cock,” you mumble, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“I was trained to not let anything distract me,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Your teeth find the skin of his neck before you could stop yourself, biting hard enough to leave the imprint of your teeth on the soft skin, his body tensing under yours - apparently he wasn't immune to every type of distraction.

Feeling bad for him, or just wanting to see what other reactions you could get out of the stoic spymaster, you lick over the mark, kissing and sucking on the skin until a deep red spot bloomed under your mouth. Sadly, it still doesn't keep him away from the papers, only giving you the satisfaction of feeling him tense up against you a couple times.

“Didn't know you could be so mean either.”

“Mean?” His voice sounded deeper, maybe your little plan was working better than you assumed. “I think I'm being quite generous, letting you warm my cock when it's the opposite of helpful while I have work to do.”

“Then why can't I move?” You grind into him softly, a harsh breath escaping him at the movement, it brings a triumphant smile to your lips even if his shadows rush to stop you from repeating the motion.

“Because you need to learn how to be patient.”

“So this is my punishment?”

“We can call it that if it makes you feel better.” It doesn't, not at all. “Now hush, the sooner I finish the reports on my desk, the sooner I can bend you over it.”

“Azriel,” you whine yet again.

“I'm almost done,” he shushes you softly again.

You watch his face for a moment longer, debating whether to try your luck or wait patiently like he asked you to, but a quick glance from him has your body making the decision for you, leaning back down against his strong body, waiting quietly, and mostly still.

With a hand falling over the back of his neck, you pet him softly, fingers combing through the curls on the nape of his neck, just how you know he likes, feeling him relax under you immediately. Azriel wouldn't let you move too much, but you could at least do this. You start dropping little kisses all over his neck, starting by his ear and moving down until you find the fabric of his shirt, unbuttoning it so you could tug at his collar and reach as much of his soft, unmarked skin as you could.

“What are you doing?”

His voice startles you, pulling back to meet his eyes, you had gotten so focused on covering every little bit of skin that you almost forgot he was even there. He did look a bit less in control than before as half lidded hazel eyes stared back at you, and you can't help the smile from spreading over your face at that, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Kissing my mate,” you answer, lips brushing against his skin as you did, his stubble tickling your lips, “or are you going to tell me I can't do that either.”

“That would be cruel,” he breathes out, eyes locking on your lips when you pull back just enough.

“It would,” you say, dropping a quick peck to his lips before kissing his other cheek, traveling down his jaw. “Don't mind me, you can keep working.”

“I already finished the reports.”

“What?”

“I'm done,” he says one more time, the smile growing as you look behind you to find the files neatly arranged and ready to be delivered to your High Lord.

“You're done,” you repeat dumbly.

Azriel lets out a chuckle and nods. “I'm all yours.”

“All mine?”

He hums in response, finally kissing you properly, his scarred hands traveling down your body, caressing the exposed skin at last, moving down to hold onto your thighs. Suddenly, every bit of calmness and patience leaves your body, the feeling of his hard cock sitting inside you the only thing you can think about once again.

You're both out of breath when he pulls away, the same hunger that has been eating away at your sanity present in his eyes as he lets go of all his self control.

“How do you want me, my love?”

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar kinktober

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floatyflowers · 3 months ago

Note

Part two of Dark! Sauron X Celebrimor's Daughter! Reader.

I really want to know about the baby and surely Sauron will bind her with some spell or something so that she doesn't give him away or do anything, Sauron is undoubtedly one of the characters with the most yandere potential.

Part 1

You kept your pregnancy hidden from your father, and it was an easy task as Celebrimbor is focusing all his attention on the rings.

And you stayed most of your days in your chambers surrounded by a few trusted servants who would keep your pregnancy a secret.

Of course, Sauron is the one who manipulated them to ensure you have a safe delivery.

The problem with pregnancy is that it is spiritually painful for an elf woman as it can last from one year up to 108 years, however you are not a full elleth.

You are half-human half-elf, meaning you will take only nine months to give birth, yet it's still a hard experience.

Your mother left you and your father after giving birth, she suffered severe depression.

Apparently, that's one of the reasons why Celebrimbor doesn't trust humans.

You, on the other hand, don't hate your mother for leaving, however, you want your child to grow up with you by their side.

Sauron, took advantage of your state and implanted happy visions in your mind of you, him, and the baby which is a daughter.

Annatar would come to your bed at the end of the day, only to place his hand on your growing bump, feeling satisfaction that his plan is going well.

But deep down, you knew that it was him trying to manipulate you.

However, it brought you a great sense of comfort even if you despised your baby's father.

It's quite unfortunate that your water broke when the orcs decided to attack your land, Eregion.

"Where is my father, Annatar?" you demanded, refusing to give birth in such horrible circumstances.

"Focus on birthing our daughter, and don't worry yourself, my dear"

Sensing your panic, Sauron begins muttering a few words, using magic to calm you down.

However, instead, you block him out and begin weeping.

You would rather you and your child die then face the horrid war.

"I need to speak with my father, now!" you exclaim, holding your stomach in pain.

Sauron decided on invading your mind to order you, using his deep frightening voice.

His true nature has finally shown itself, and it's too scary for you to disobey or even rebel against.

All you could see in your mind is a figure made of fire, speaking to you.

"If our child does not survive, I will ensure that your father and everyone you know face suffering. Tell me, is that a fate you desire for them, my pet?"

The servants watch in confusion as you shake your head at Annatar before starting to push.

"When I return, I expect to see you holding our daughter"

And like that, Sauron takes his leave to see to Adar's army.

Part 3

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #possessive #yandere sauron #platonic yandere #the rings of power x reader #annatar #pregnant reader #sauron x reader

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

#dpxdc #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny phantom au #dpdc danny fenton #i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh #this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast #This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au #also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english #no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league #iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve #getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol #danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi #little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck #i love clone aus and clone aus love me #clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS #i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours

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diejager · 6 months ago

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What if in the step dad könig au where reader meets ghost and Soap she ends up getting pregnant with their child and she lies to könig and horangi saying it's theirs but when she gives birth to the baby or babies they look completely different?

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, pregnancy, lying, “cheating”, tell me if I missed any.

You hadn’t meant anything bad. Rather, you meant well, you meant to act as a responsible parent to your unborn children. They were so young and so vulnerable, minds still on the cusp of consciousness with their small kicks becoming more and more common. You used to hate being so swollen and restrained to a few tasks, but you’d grown used to it, something within that saddened mid of yours clicked and you fell in love with the small lives you were carrying in your womb.

You knew whose kids they belonged to, who the fathers of your twins were, but König and Horangi didn’t. You’d kept your little night dates a secret from anyone other than close friends, meeting Simon and Johnny at the bar you often went to and left early on to their motel room. You’d been nervous at first, unused to the whole one night stand until they offered to drive you home and give you their numbers. It made it feel like it was more than a single night after you clicked.

And it wasn’t, you met whenever you could, sneaking out to meet Simon while Johnny prepped their motel room, embellishing the dull and dreary room they came to call home until they found the right house to buy. You’d forgotten about your lack of birth control, König had forced you to stop taking any kind of protection to ensure that it took every time they came in you. It left you feeling sick and self-conscious of the changes in your body while you lied to them, strongly small, white lies to keep them satisfied and calm.

You were glad they couldn’t see any characteristic from the printed ultrasound photos, protecting them from any kind of pain and trauma they would have suffered if it were known. All you could see was the strength of their hearts, the strong beat and the slight movement that made your heart skip a beat and them beam in joy. You felt relief then, your nerves lessened simply by their obliviousness of your situation, but now that you were in labour, having to introduce them to the world, your fear and anxiety had never been higher than it was now.

You were in tears, face flushed and hands clammy, having to push past the pain and push the babies out. The relied was instant once both were out, much to the dismay of the anger and shock of both men that stared down at the bob of blond and brown hair. They stewed in silent anger, you could see the red gleams in their eyes at the discovery that they’d been lied to, their promised children another’s.

“We will celebrate once we’re home, nh?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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moronkombat · 1 year ago

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Can you write mk1 men with a pregnant reader who wants to have sex? What are their reactions, are they down for it or not.

spoiler alert, they're all okay with it tw: pregnancy, afab anatomy

Definitely not opposed to it. Reiko's reaction is...intrigued. Typically, sex is a battle in itself with bites and bruises a natural consequence. However, sex with his pregnant partner will look a bit more subdued in terms of physical marking. Expect more hair pulling than usual

Kenshi is initially surprised by this request but he is, ultimately, rather happy to oblige with such a task. Hands will roam your flesh so thoughtful and tender, he wants to feel every inch of you. And so, he will. He spends hours just feeling your body before even oh so carefully filling you with his cock. Does he mean to tease you like this? Of course

Syzoth would be the one to initiate sex during your pregnancy. He finds you terribly attractive when filled with his child. He simply cannot keep himself away from you. A secret he keeps rather close is that he finds you the most beautiful when you are rounded out by his offspring. If he could keep you pregnant forever, he would

Havik is not one to refuse sex with his partner. You being pregnant does not stop him, in fact, it encourages him. Absolutely obsessed with glorifying all the changes your body is going through. He's very descriptive when detailing the swell of breasts, the curve of your hips and, of course, the growth of your stomach. He becomes very possessive with your growing stomach during sex

Wouldn't deny you the pleasure that is sex. It is a natural and primal desire, after all. Rain is happy to have sex with his partner at any time and any place. He quite enjoys the look of you bouncing on his cock while heavy and milk filled breasts wave at him

Knowing that you're pregnant with his child is enough to turn a man like Shang Tsung on. He would not refuse taking you to the bedroom and absolutely making a mess out of your wet and begging pussy. Will fondle your breasts and chuckle as he watches oh so sweet milk drip drip drop

Quan Chi would want to massage your body before fully devouring you. He wants to feel your flesh bend and mold under his fingers. He takes quite the time on the plump of your ass. He is quite fond of your shapely and "motherly" hips

Tomas is actually quite the pervert when his partner is pregnant. Eyes linger upon your curves, you look so beautiful like this. Thoughts most impure overwhelm him and he is practically jumping for joy when you approach him for sex. He's very eager and doesn't want it to end. Once Tomas gets a taste of having sex when you're pregnant, he will not give it up

Raiden is always enthusiastic in regards to satisfying his partner's needs. Would gladly rock your world with the power of thunder until you can barely think. Your body oh so numb after he's done with you. Don't worry, though, Raiden is great with the tenderly aftercare

This man has just been waiting for the chance to absolutely ravage your pregnant body. He is exceptionally proud of himself for getting you pregnant and is invigorated by your changing body. Your growing stomach is a perfect reminder of just how potent he is and Kung Lao quite gets off on that

He's nervous, afraid he'll harm you or the baby. Though, Bi-Han would be a liar if he thought you didn't look attractive when pregnant. Seeing you carrying his child is intoxicating, his head is spinning. When having sex with you, his hand is clutching and resting on your stomach and you swear you can feel him shuttering and trembling with ecstasy just from that

Shao is always wanting to have sex with his partner. Pregnant or not, he will completely envelop you with carnal passion. Will tease you with playful words about how you'll give him many strong sons and that he'll keep pumping you full of his legacy

Johnny would find it fun. He would playfully refer to you as his "baby mama" during foreplay. Very touchy and feeling all of you up. When fucking you, he is quite drawn to your breasts and will whistle while commenting on their size

Not opposed to it at all. Liu Kang is happy to make his partner feel good and, let's be honest, he is feeling good too. He will be much more tender during sex, pampering you and giving you heavenly aftercare

Kuai Liang is very practical. He well aware of how libido increases during the course of pregnancy and is expecting you to eventually come to him all needy and wanting. A man such as Kuai Liang is always happy to indulge his partner in shared desires

Very hesitant. Baraka is aware that he has the tendency to lose control when having sex and he is worried he may harm you and the baby. With some tender reassurance, he will give in. Really tries to restrain himself, holding back and straining to let loose. Should you allow this, well, it will certainly be a long night

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silverb0wties · 2 months ago

Text

Lemonade - Part 3

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah. But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: You go back to school and you try and make yourself useful

Warnings: bullying, homophobia, misogyny

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

PART 3

“30 days has September, April, June and November…”

You had set yourself the task today to make yourself a calendar. Maths had never been your strongest subject in school, but you were excellent at remembering, so you knew the month song off by heart and were mumbling it to yourself as you began digging into your desk draw to retrieve some art supplies.

The decision to make the calendar had hit you last night when you were reading one of your new library books before bed and the return receipt slipped out of the back cover and onto your lap. Normally, it was the very first thing you retrieved when you got home from the library, making sure to mark the return dates down on your big white board calendar on the fridge. But you were still getting used an entirely new routine in your new house and you’d completely forgot to look for the slip.

Now that you had it though, you had to make sure you noted down the dates somewhere you could easily see them. So, with a few pieces of paper, a ruler and some markers, you drew up a calendar for the next few months. By checking the borrow date on the receipt and counting how many days it had been since your library visit, you managed to figure out what todays date was. From there, and with the help of that handy month song, you’d managed to fill in the rest of the dates.

When it was all completed you stepped back to examine your work. If you were honest with yourself, your lines could have been drawn straighter and your handwriting could have been much, much neater. But you didn’t have the energy to redo it, so it would have to do. For now.

You surveyed your room for someone to put it. In your old house your calendar was on the fridge, out in the open for everyone to see and help you keep track of. Here, it needed to be hidden from your Aunties, so that it was your responsibility, and your responsibility alone, to make sure you were staying on top of everything.

Everything.

A wave of guilt crashed over you as you remembered all the other things you would keep track of on your calendar. Now that you were a big girl, you had been helping around the house and you had chores. You would set the table and help take the cups and plates and spoons out of the dish washer (only Mummy and Daddy could touch the knives). You would also check for mail every morning and there was a pretty purple watering can you got use to water the flowers in the front garden a couple of times a week.

But you didn’t do any of that here at your Aunties house.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Part of you worried that your Aunties didn’t trust you enough to ask you to help out around the house. Perhaps they thought you weren’t smart enough or strong enough or big enough to lend a hand. Or maybe they were secretly mad that you hadn’t insisted on helping and were keeping a top-secret list of all the times you didn’t help out and they would present it to you on a big, long scroll on the day they kicked you out their house.

You shuddered at the thought of that. That was a day you thought about often. You didn’t know how many days or weeks or months it was until the baby was here, but surely your time here at your Aunties house was running out. You needed to do everything in your power to be good until then so that they didn’t kick you out any sooner.

That night before tea, you made sure to wash your hands extra good before heading into the kitchen where your Aunty Lessi was cooking.

“Aunty Lessi, could I set the table?”

“Oh sure! If you’d like. Just give me a moment and I’ll show you where everything is.”

You grinned in silent satisfaction, glad that it seemed like your Aunty wasn’t outright opposed to you proving your worth. After your Aunty Lessi finished with whatever she was stirring on the stove, she led you over to various cupboards and drawers and pointed out where the placemats, plates and cutlery lived. Whilst there were a few plastic cups in the same cupboard as the plates for you to use, the glasses your Aunties drank out of were on a higher shelf that were too high for you to reach.

“Don’t worry about those, I can grab them” she insisted.

“I could get a chair or something to stand on?”

“Don’t be silly, Bun Bun. I’ll get them. Thank you for getting everything else though.”

Silly. Silly. Silly.

Once you were all sat down for dinner, you watched your Aunty Lessi spin spaghetti around her fork before you took a deep breath in and began.

“Did I do okay at setting the table?”

“You did a great job, Bunny!” Your Aunty Leah was smiling big and bright at you. She had a bit of sauce on her chin, but you thought it would be rude to tell her.

“Do you think I could do it every night?” you asked.

“Uhh… I mean, if you want to, sure.”

Victory. One chore to add to the calendar.

“What about the post? Can I be in charge of checking that too? Does it come in the mornings?”

You observed as your Aunties caught eyes with each other across the table, seeming to have a silent conversation.

“Umm, yes I suppose you could do that if you like,” Aunty Lessi nodded.

“Great! And I can help empty the dishwasher. No knives of course, but I can do spoons and plates and bowls and cups and stuff. And maybe I can water some of your flowers, or all of them? Or I can learn how to do other stuff too. Like I could figure out how to do the laundry or clean the bathrooms or anything you want really…”

You hadn’t really realised, but you had pulled your knees up to your chest as your rant had gone on. Your head was now resting on top of them as you looked eagerly between your Aunties, waiting for their response. They were doing the silent conversation thing again.

“You don’t need to do all those things sweetheart. We appreciate you offering, but maybe we’ll wait until you’re a bit older to do things like the laundry and stuff, yeah?” your Aunty Lessi responded.

You felt your stomach drop. Your Aunty Lessi’s voice was kind, but you knew what her words meant. They didn’t think you were big enough to help.

“How about we start off with setting the table for tea and checking the mail? You’re still just settling in here, so we don’t wanna overload you with too much stuff to remember to do.”

It may have been bright and sunny outside, but today was a day you had been absolutely dreading. You had decided to hang your calendar on the back of your bedroom door so that nobody but you would see it, and you had made sure to mark this day with a bright red circle and big a sad face. Today was the day you were going back to school.

You weren’t sure how it was decided or who decided, but you’d had a couple of weeks away from school after the fire and now it was time to go back.

You had only been back at school for 3 weeks of the new school year before the fire happened, so your parents had only just bought you brand-new dresses and shoes to replace the previous ones you’d outgrown. Your pencil case had been filled with fresh crayons and sharp pencils, and you’d only just put a really cool new bunny sticker that your Uncle Gio had given you on your lunchbox. But now, you had to start all over again.

So today, as you sat in front office with your Aunties, you were wearing a brand-new school dress and shoes and socks and Aunty Lessi had done your hair in a pretty braid with some pretty ribbons. You also had a brand-new backpack and lunch box and pencil case, and you even had a brand-new iPad in a shiny purple case.

In theory, you were all set to go.

But just under the surface, just beneath the layer of hairspray and the stiff gingham fabric, you were absolutely dreading heading back to the big noisy classroom and scary, sticky playgrounds.

You didn’t have heaps of friends at school like most of the other kids seemed to have. You did have one good friend though. Nora. She also really liked to read and was super into comic books and superheros. You didn’t really understand why she liked them, but you were more than happy to listen to her when she wanted to tell you all about them. You would then tell her some cool bunny facts in return.

This year the school librarian, Mr Webster, had let you both work on a big jigsaw puzzle every lunchtime. He kept it safe and flat on a special piece of wood that he hid on top of his bookshelf in his office when you weren’t working on it. It was a really, really big puzzle with loads more pieces than any other puzzle either of you had ever done before. You were both determined to finish it before Christmas, but you weren’t sure if Nora had kept going while you were away. You hoped she had but you also secretly hoped there was still some pieces left for you to do.

Unlike previous years, Nora wasn’t in your class this year. You were in Mrs Green’s class, and she was in Miss Roberts’ class. You’d both written a letter to each teacher requesting to be swapped into each other’s class, but it hadn’t worked. You were stuck alone in the classes you were in, and honestly, you were miserable.

You see, it wasn’t that you didn’t have any other friends, that didn’t bother you much at all. It was the fact that a bunch of the other kids seemed to actively dislike you. In fact, the thing they seemed to like most in the whole world was picking on you. They called you names and pulled on your hair and threw things at you. You couldn’r really pinpoint exactly when it all started, but your first and most vivid memory was when Mitchell Timms had snatched your copy of The Worst Witch out of your hands one lunch time. He threw it in a muddy puddle and stomped on it until all the pages were torn and the words had jumbled together. When you ran over to try and save the book, a gift you’d received on your latest birthday, Mitchell just laughed at you and called you a “loser weirdo”.

For the first 3 weeks of school this year, you had been sat next to a boy named Ollie and it had been awful. He kept bumping your arm on purpose while you were trying to write and had laughed whenever you got frustrated that you had to erase and redo your mistakes. One time he had even pulled your chair out from underneath you when you went to sit down, leading you to land on your bottom on the floor with a thud. The whole class had pointed and laughed at you. You had run out of the classroom and hid under a bench to try and calm yourself down.

When the teacher came to find you, you were curled in a ball, rubbing your Pocket Arthur softly against your cheek. Pocket Arthur was your school buddy. When you’d moved up from Reception into Primary School, your parents had bought you a miniature version of Arthur that you could keep tucked away in your pocket. They said that now that you were going to big school, Arthur could no longer come along with you, but they wanted to make sure you still had a little buddy to always keep you company. So, he was your Pocket Arthur, or Pockie for short.

But he died in the fire too.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

So, on the night before you went back to school, you’d searched through your room, trying to find something to fill the big empty space left by Pockie when he died – the pocket of your school dress. You tried crumpling up a wad of tissues, but the texture of it was all wrong. Next you tried a balled-up pair of socks, but it felt scratchy when you tried rubbing it against your cheek. You looked over the stuffies your Aunties had bought you, but they were all far too big to fit in your pocket.

One of the stuffies caught your eye however as your dug through the little pile of toys. It was on the bottom of pile, and you hadn’t seen it since you moved here. It was a lovely and soft grey kangaroo, with pointy ears and a long tail. You rather liked kangaroos, because while they were a completely different species to bunnies and could only be found in the wild in Australia, they kind of reminded you of really big rabbits. As you pressed the soft fur to your cheek, something small fell in your lap. Picking it up, you realised it was a baby kangaroo. It must have fallen from the big kangaroo’s pouch. It was perfect. The perfect size, the perfect feel, the perfect squish. You rubbed it against your cheek. Bliss. Holding it gently in your little hands, you squinted your eyes and ran your thumbs across the soft fur trying to figure out the perfect name for your new pocket pal. Bailey. She seemed like a Bailey.

And it was Bailey who you clung to, you hand shoved deep in your pocket, when the Headteacher Mrs Brinley called you all into her office.

You watched as both your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah shook hands with Mrs Brinley and then you all sat down on big uncomfortable chairs across the table from her. You’d never been in her office before, so you took a moment to look around, noticing a bunch of certificates in big frames on the wall, a huge bookcase full of books and some photos of who you assumed were her family.

“Well, while we were very, very sad to hear about what has happened, we are glad that Y/K is back at school with us. Hopefully being back in class will help her with getting back to her regular routine and schedule and assist her in feeling more settled.”

Her voice wasn’t unkind, but everything she said always sounded like she’d been rehearsing for it like it was a speech she had to give in front of the whole school.

“We have both of your phone numbers, as well as the number for your workplace, and we will call you should there be any issues. But I’m sure Y/K will do just fine.”

Your Aunty Leah gently squeezed your hand that wasn’t firmly stuffed in your pocket, clinging onto Bailey for dear life.

“Mrs Green is going to meet you just back out in the front office and she will walk you up to class. So, unless anyone has any questions, I’ll let you all get to it.”

You all shuffled back out the front office, where your teacher was waiting for you. Aunty Lessi knelt down and gave you a big cuddle.

“Okay Bunny. You have fun on your first day back, alright? And if anything goes wrong, or you don’t feel good or you feel sad… you just let your teacher know to call us okay.”

Aunty Leah leaned over and gave you a kiss on the forehead and stroked your cheek. “You’ve got everything you need in your backpack, so you’re all set to go. You’ve got this.”

“Okay.”

“We love you.”

The walk to your classroom was mostly filled with your teacher telling you about all the things you’d missed while you’d been away from school. A little bubble of dread was beginning to build in your stomach as you realised all the work you now had to catch up on. But by lunchtime that bubble had been replaced by a boulder.

Holding your lunch box and book tight to your chest, you looked around the hall for a spare seat. Normally, you and Nora would sit together to eat your lunch and then go to the library, but to make a bad day even worse Nora was away from school today. You had spent a solid 5 minutes looking for her, but according to a student in her class she’d had to stay home because she a nasty tummy bug.

The hall was quickly filling up as students grabbed their hot meals or lunch boxes and sat down at their chosen tables. It quickly became apparent that the only spot left was one on the end of a table filled with some of the children who didn’t like you. You’d spent so long looking for Nora, you’d been left with no other option.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

With a deep breath, you headed over to the table. You sat quietly in the seat, hoping you would go unnoticed.

You didn’t.

“Why you sitting with us, Y/K? Isn’t there anyone else you can sit with?” Jessica asked as you unzipped your lunch box. You just shook your head in response. A chorus of grumbles followed from the rest of the kids sitting at the table.

“Eww yuck, why does she have to sit with us?”

“Where’s her weirdo friend?”

“Maybe she can sit on the floor instead.”

You just tried to tune them out, grabbing a sandwich out of your lunch box to munch on. Your first bite was interrupted when the boy sitting beside you, Max, nudged you.

“Hey, were those your new Mums who brought you into school today?”

You hastily swallowed your sandwich, wanting to explain. “They’re my-” It was no use. The group quickly began announcing their thoughts on the matter before you had a chance to correct them.

“Two Mums? How can someone have TWO Mums? That’s not right.”

“Yeah, my Dad says that it’s disgusting when two boys or two girls are married or kiss and stuff!”

“Oh yeah, like, have you ever saw two lads kiss? It’s weird!”

“I saw two ladies kissing when my Pop took me to the football last week. He said they were going straight to hell!”

“As if she wasn’t weird enough, now she’s got two Mums too!”

Something inside you snapped, and you found yourself with your fists clenched and your cheeks red, Bailey long forgotten in your pocket.

“Yeah, well, they’re not my Mums, they’re my Aunties. And they’re really nice and really clever and super cool. And they play football for England, and and for the red and white club with the cannon! And my Aunty Leah is the captain and everything! So that’s cooler than any of your families, ever!”

There was a short silence before they all started laughing.

“Girl’s football! That doesn’t count!”

“That’s not real football!”

“Arsenal! Pfffft.”

“I can’t wait to tell my Dad about this.”

“One of them looked pregnant when I saw them outside the office. There’s no way they let her play like that!”

“That’s why they shouldn’t let girls play!”

“Wait, how is she having a baby if there’s no Daddy to put the baby in her?”

Whilst the rest of the comments had begun to muddle together and fade into the background as you tuned them all out, this last one pierced through. Your head shot back in the direction of Jessica, the girl who had asked the question. She was looking straight at you with her eyes squinted, twirling a strand of her hair around her pointer finger.

You hadn’t ever stopped to think about this. To be honest you’d never really been interested in where babies came from. You knew that whilst it varied from breed to breed, bunnies were pregnant for an average of 31 days and had litters of babies. You also knew that humans usually only had one baby at a time and they were pregnant for around 9 months. But you didn’t know how either bunnies or humans became pregnant. Honestly, you were stumped.

“Guess you didn’t learn that in any of your stupid books, huh? Loser.”

#woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfic #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x alessia russo x reader #woso fic #woso x reader #alessia russo #leah williamson #lemonade

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 4 months ago

Text

expecting

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow across the grand bedchamber. Y/N stirred beneath the covers, her mind slowly rousing from the depths of sleep. She stretched her hand to the other side of the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of her husband, but instead, her fingers brushed against cold, empty sheets. Benedict had already risen, most likely absorbed in his work within the confines of his study.

She lingered in bed, her thoughts muddled by the lingering remnants of slumber, until a sharp pang of anxiety tightened in her chest. For several days now, a persistent worry had taken root within her, growing with each passing hour. She hesitated before throwing back the covers, her heart heavy with apprehension. Y/N’s gaze fell upon the bed linens, scrutinizing them with bated breath.

The sheets were immaculate, untouched by the crimson hue she had half-expected, half-dreaded to see. Her heart sank, frustration welling within her as she realized the implications. Another morning, another check, and still no sign of her monthly course. The absence of blood was both a blessing and a curse, for she knew what it likely meant.

They were still newlyweds, just months into their marriage, and while they had spoken of starting a family, Y/N had envisioned more time to enjoy their youthful union before the responsibilities of parenthood descended upon them. The thought of carrying Benedict’s child filled her with equal parts joy and trepidation. Was it too soon? Would he be ready for such a change, for the duties and demands that would come with fatherhood?

She rose from the bed, her movements languid as she wrapped her robe around herself. The silk fabric felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth she yearned to feel. Y/N padded down the long hallway, her feet silent on the plush carpet as she made her way to Benedict’s study. She could hear the familiar sound of his pencil scratching against parchment, the melody of his creative process.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her husband. Benedict was bent over his work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched, utterly absorbed in his task. Despite the seriousness of his expression, there was an undeniable gentleness about him that made her heart swell with love.

For a moment, Y/N considered turning away, letting him remain in his world of art and imagination, but she knew she couldn’t delay the conversation any longer. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she needed to confide in him, to share her fears and hopes.

“Benedict,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up immediately, his features softening the moment his eyes met hers. A warm smile spread across his face, and he set his pencil aside, rising from his chair to greet her.

“Good morrow, my love,” he said, his voice filled with affection as he crossed the room to her. “I did not intend to wake you so early.”

“You did not wake me,” Y/N replied, attempting a smile as she stepped closer to him. “I simply found myself alone in our bed and wondered where you might be.”

Benedict wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. “My mind was alight with ideas,” he explained, his tone light and teasing. “I had to capture them before they faded away like the morning mist.”

Y/N rested her head against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart. The steady rhythm soothed her, but the anxiety in her own chest remained. She knew she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. “Benedict, I must speak with you about something of great importance.”

He pulled back slightly, concern flickering in his blue eyes. “What is it, dearest? You seem troubled.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands gripping the lapels of his dressing gown as she gathered the courage to speak. “I have missed my monthly course,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “It has been late for several days now, and I believe I may be with child.”

The words hung in the air, a delicate truth that had the power to alter their lives forever. Y/N braced herself for Benedict’s reaction, her heart pounding in her chest. She feared he might be taken aback, that the prospect of fatherhood might overwhelm him, especially so soon after their marriage.

But to her surprise, Benedict’s expression changed not to one of shock or apprehension, but to one of pure, unadulterated joy. His eyes widened, and a broad smile broke across his face as he processed her words.

“You think…?” he stammered, his voice laced with wonder. “You believe you carry our child?”

Y/N nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the happiness unfold across his face. “I did not know how to tell you… I feared it might be too soon, that you would be unprepared…”

Benedict’s hands cupped her face, his touch tender as he gazed down at her with all the love in his heart. “Too soon?” he echoed, his voice filled with emotion. “My love, there could be no greater news in the world. You have just given me the most precious gift I could ever receive.”

Before she could respond, Benedict swept her up into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful circle. Y/N’s laughter mingled with his, the sound of their happiness filling the room. When he finally set her down, he held her close, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, “We are to be parents, Y/N. I can scarcely believe it.”

Y/N’s tears spilled over, but they were tears of relief, of joy, of overwhelming love. She pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring all of her emotions into the tender embrace. When they finally parted, she looked up at him, her heart full to bursting. “I love you, Benedict,” she whispered. “And I am so grateful that we will embark on this journey together.”

Benedict’s arms tightened around her, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. “I love you more than words can express. You will be the most wonderful mother, and I will strive every day to be the father our child deserves.”

As they stood there in the warmth of the study, wrapped in each other’s embrace, Y/N knew that whatever fears she had harbored had been unfounded. Benedict’s love for her was unwavering.

A few weeks had passed since Y/N had first shared the news with Benedict, and their excitement had only grown with each day. Though they had reveled in the secret together, they both knew it was time to share the joy with their families. The Bridgerton clan was nothing if not close-knit, and such news was sure to be met with elation.

The day was sunny, with a pleasant breeze that made the leaves rustle in the grand trees lining the estate. The entire Bridgerton family was gathered in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall, the laughter and chatter filling the air as the siblings exchanged stories and playful jests. It was a rare occasion when they were all together, and Benedict couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth as he looked around the room.

Y/N sat beside him, her hand resting in his, their fingers intertwined. She was calm on the surface, but he could sense the slight tremor in her hand, the only sign of her nerves. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, meeting her eyes with a smile that spoke of all the love and support he had for her.

Finally, when there was a lull in the conversation, Benedict cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. “If I may have your attention, everyone,” he began, his voice carrying a note of seriousness that was unusual in their light-hearted gatherings.

The room quieted, all eyes turning to Benedict and Y/N. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in their expressions, each sibling wondering what news might be so important.

“We have something we would like to share with you all,” Benedict continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He glanced at Y/N, his gaze filled with encouragement. She nodded, and together, they turned back to the family.

“We are with child,” Y/N announced, her voice soft but clear.

For a moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Then, as if on cue, the room erupted in a chorus of exclamations, cheers, and laughter. Daphne, ever the nurturing one, was the first to rush forward, her face alight with joy as she embraced Y/N.

“Oh, Y/N! That is the most wonderful news!” Daphne exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “You are going to make such a wonderful mother.”

The rest of the siblings quickly followed suit, surrounding the couple with congratulations and hugs. Even Anthony, who often took on the role of the stern eldest brother, couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face.

“Well done, brother,” he said, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. “You’ve managed to outdo yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” Benedict replied with a grin, knowing that beneath his brother’s teasing exterior, there was deep affection.

Violet, their mother, had tears in her eyes as she enveloped Y/N in a warm embrace. “My dear, I am so happy for you both,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You are bringing such joy to this family.”

Y/N felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support. She had known that the Bridgertons would be thrilled, but the reality of it was even more touching than she had imagined. Benedict stood beside her, his arm around her waist, his pride and happiness evident in every gesture.

The rest of the day was filled with celebration. The family insisted on toasting the couple’s happiness, and there was much talk of the future, of names and nurseries, of the roles each sibling would play in the life of the new addition. Colin, ever the joker, made a grand show of predicting whether it would be a boy or a girl, while Eloise teased that she would teach the child all the ways of mischief.

As the evening drew to a close and the family began to disperse, Benedict and Y/N found themselves alone in the garden, the quiet night a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of earlier. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, and the soft rustle of the leaves provided a gentle melody to their solitude.

Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression tender as he took her hands in his. “Are you pleased, my love?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“More than I could ever put into words,” she replied, her heart full to bursting with the love she felt for him and for the family they were building together.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “We are going to be wonderful parents, Y/N,” he murmured against her skin. “And our child will be surrounded by so much love. I cannot wait to begin this new chapter with you.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, not of sadness but of overwhelming joy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as she whispered, “Nor can I, Benedict. Nor can I.”

And so, beneath the canopy of stars, they stood together, holding each other close as they looked forward to the future, their hearts filled with the promise of the life they would share a life of love, of family, and of unbreakable bonds.

#bridgerton fanfiction #benidict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x wife reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton benedict #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine

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sea-lanterns · 1 year ago

Text

SAW

synopsis: (slasher! AU) as a devoted follower, you would do anything to please your master.

featuring: arlecchino (columbina mentioned at the end)

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, mentions of death, death traps, brief mentions of child traffi.cking, sadism, master x follower dynamic, praise, pet names (she calls you doll, babydoll, etc.) mockery, lap se.x, thigh riding, strap on, biting, hickies, rough se.x, spa.nking, manhandling, mentions of th.ree.some, implied th.ree.some at the end.

art credits: junji ito's "house of marionettes"

Fastening on the metal bear trap onto an unconscious victim’s head, you hummed an eerie tune to yourself knowing your beloved master was watching you from above. It didn’t matter that you were currently sitting in a padlocked room with a man about to die right in front of you, you just wanted to please your master by any means necessary. Even if it meant killing all these people by sending them into death traps.

You tightened a certain screw on the trap before smiling to yourself and leaning back. The man in front of you was no innocent man, he was a criminal, a monster, and he deserved this fate whether he liked it or not, causing you to smile in sadistic pleasure for the upcoming end of his life.

“Tight as a button.” You hum to yourself, looking up at the security camera located in the far right corner of the room. You knew your beloved master was watching, and you couldn’t help but give it a little wave to show that you had completed the task she assigned you. “I did it…” You exclaim softly, smiling at the flashing red light on the camera. “I’m gonna head up now, okay?”

You stood up and paid no mind to the unconscious man you just doomed to suffer a fate worse than death. Humming all too nonchalantly before leaving the room and locking it shut, ensnaring the man to leave him dead before making your way down the hall with a skip in your step. Various screams of terror and pain rang out from the other death traps as you made your way over to a secret door. The sounds of torture like a song to your ears while you pushed the passcode buttons to unlock a passage to a room.

“What an awful melody…” you murmured to yourself, glancing back at the trap rooms to listen to one more scream of terror. “It’s beautiful.”

The door to the secret passageway popped open and you moved inside with ease, your body slipping through as you maneuvered through the narrow hallways of the abandoned building. “Abandoned” as it appeared to the public, people unaware of the multiple deaths coinciding within its walls for the police have failed to track down the mastermind behind these deaths.

The mastermind to which you served and dedicated your entire life to.

Navigating your way towards another hidden door, you pushed it open to see a tall woman sitting idly in front of a bunch of security cameras, her lean figure illuminated by the many monitors and making her seem like a god of some sort. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine when you see her, and you immediately take a bow and keep your head down low.

“Master, the player in room 14 is ready to begin his game.” You say with grace, glancing up at the taller woman in hopes of pleasing her. The woman doesn’t move for a moment, but her chair creaks slightly as she slowly turns around to face you. There she was. Your savior, your master, your goddess. The one behind the torture games, the mastermind behind all the killings…

Arlecchino, the Jigsaw killer.

“Come, sit.” She says calmly, staring at you with those X-shaped pupils of hers that had you pressing your thighs together. “On my lap, come on sweet girl…”

She points down at her legs and you immediately walk over to plant yourself on her lap. Arlecchino wrapped her clawed hands around your waist before leaning forward to take a deep inhale of the scent in your hair. “Did my doll tighten the trap like I asked…?” She whispers into your ear, exhaling with a small groan as she squeezed your hips tighter with her hands.

“I did. I followed everything you taught me to, master,” you say obediently, looking up at her with the brightest of smiles. “Did I do good? Are you proud of me?” If you had a tail it would for sure be wagging…

Arlecchino chuckled huskily before leaning down to kiss your neck. “You did wonderful, pet…” she says in a dark tone, running one of her nails over the bare expanse of your neck. “The drug should be wearing off soon. Would you like to watch his game with me?” She asks in a polite tone, almost mocking with the way she smiled at you so tenderly.

“Am I allowed to?” You ask softly, staring up at her with wide, doe-like eyes. Arlecchino groaned at the sight and had to keep herself from just shoving you onto her desk and fucking you raw right there, but she had enough restraint and took a deep breath.

“Do you have to be cute, my doll?” Arlecchino husks, staring up at you with those crimson eyes of hers. “You make it impossible not to devour you…”

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment and you couldn’t help but glance away shyly. “Sorry, master…” you say softly, causing Arlecchino to scoff before smiling. “Don’t apologize, I was merely teasing…”

She pinches your cheek with her fingers before tilting your chin over to look at the monitor in front of you. “Let’s watch his prolonged suffering together, my pet. It looks like he’s starting to awaken…”

Adjusting comfortably on Arlecchino’s lap, she kept a firm hold on your waist before watching the man in the room start to awaken. He looked dazed, clearly confused why he woke up in a green-tiled room with a metal contraption stuck to his neck. He had no idea that he was about to die if he didn’t meet the requirements for Arlecchino’s game, and the thought slightly amused you as you watched him groggily stumble around the room in delusion.

The metal contraption attached to the man’s neck was Arlecchino’s infamous “bear trap.” A simple, yet deadly death trap designed to enclose multiple spikes into a person’s head if they did not complete the challenge on time. It was one of Arlecchino’s favorite traps, as it was a trap designed to kill instantly, yet instill tremendous amounts of fear into the person, as the idea of being Iron Maiden-ed in the face was too scary not to think about…

“Ah…perhaps it’s time we give him a call,” Arlecchino hums, giving your cheek a sensual kiss. “Don’t forget your mask, my pet. The adorable marionette one that makes you look simply stunning…”

You nod obediently and grab the porcelain mask on the table, Arlecchino grabbing her own rubber mask that mimicked a slack-jaw puppet. It was so kind of your master to make you a mask of your own, one that was the perfect complementary pair to match hers so that it looked like you were a couple.

You were, but it was hidden under the facade of a master and follower cover.

“Let’s give him a wake up call, shall we?” Arlecchino grins, turning on the camera and setting up the voice distorter. When the man looks up at the TV in the room, he sees two masked people, you and Arlecchino staring back at him with the creepy and unsettling puppet masks that sent shivers down his spine. It was unsettling with the way you two presented yourselves, and he immediately began shouting at the screen for answers.

“Quiet down, will you?” Arlecchino’s voice ran through the mic, gripping your waist tighter before covering your ears. “You are disturbing my precious doll with your foul words…”

The man refuses to shut up, causing Arlecchino to glare at him through the holes of her mask. She pushes a certain button and the wires of the bear trap suddenly inch closer to the man’s face, causing him to scream.

“That’s better.” She smiles sadistically, removing her hands from your ears so you could hear. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me with your incompetence…”

She begins explaining the rules of the “game” giving the man a chance to escape before the inevitable closure of his death.

“You were put in this room for becoming involved in a child trafficking ring. To escape, you must find the key to the exit behind one of the tiles in this room. You have ten minutes to complete this task, failure to finish it before the intended time limit will result in the bear trap around your neck closing.”

The man’s eyes widened and you had to keep yourself from chuckling out loud.

“Your time begins now.”

Arlecchino then clicked off the camera and pulled off her mask, watching as the man began scrambling to search for all the tiles. There had to be at least a thousand tiles in that room, as every square inch of the walls and floor were covered in small, marble tiles. Ten minutes was being generous, but even within that extended time limit, you knew it was almost impossible to find the key as each tile was carefully adjusted to look normal and not out of place.

“So, what should we do while we wait for his ten minutes to be up?” Arlecchino hums, pushing her nose against your neck. She seemed to be implying she wants something intimate with you, but being the obedient follower that you are, you looked up innocently and tilted your head.

“What does master want to do?” You ask in a gentle tone, Arlecchino smirking with the most intimidating gaze.

“I want to do something sinful, my dear…” she says in a gravelly tone, practically growling into your ear before tugging at your pants. “Indulge in your master, will you?”

Another scream rips through the monitor and you couldn’t help but grow a little wet at the way Arlecchino was keen on fucking you in the middle of a game. She slowly moved her hand up your thigh and you could feel just how sharp and strong her fingers were as they squeezed the ball of flesh above your jeans. The way she could so easily kill you had you on a rush, and Arlecchino groaned at the way you started to warm up against her lap with how wet you were.

“Doll, you’re just begging for me to touch you, hmm?” She chuckles into your ear. “Need my cock in you that bad, huh? You’re lucky I decided to wear it today…”

Her hand moves down to unzip her trousers, revealing a thick strap on that you knew you could take easily with some prep. “You…You were wearing that the whole time?” You exclaim with surprise, a surge of heat pulsing through your core. “I was sitting on it the whole time…?”

She throws her head back to laugh at your stupidity. It was so endearing with how innocent you were when it came to these sorts of things. “I’m surprised you didn’t feel it,” she chuckles through her amusement. “It’s a girthy thing, almost too big if I do say so myself.”

“It’s not big…!” You quickly retort back, pouting at your master before holding onto her shoulders. “I can take it. I can take it all.”

“I don’t doubt it one bit, sweet girl,” Arlecchino grins amusedly. “However, you do need quite a bit of prep work to take such a stretch. Fortunately, you’re already semi-wet, but…” She gives you a wolfish grin before toying with the belt loop of your jeans. “I’ll need that cunt of yours dripping more if you’re gonna take me now…”

You let out a small groan before unzipping your jeans to begin kicking them off, the eagerness of getting her strap inside you too obvious not to notice, as Arlecchino found it difficult to keep a straight face. “Easy there, dollface…” Arlecchino purrs lightly, squeezing your cheeks together with her hand so your lips form a small pout. “I’m in no rush, and neither should you.”

You let out a small noise of complaint at this, before obeying her words and going at a much more leisurely pace. Once your pants and underwear were off, you sat back down on Arlecchino’s lap and whimpered at the feeling of her rough trousers against your aching hole.

“Mmm…quite a delicious sight already…” Arlecchino husks, wrapping her arms around your waist once more. “But not quite wet enough. I think it’s best if you grind against my thigh for a bit, hm?”

She stares up at you with that incredibly intimidating —yet sexy— look, rows of sharpened teeth glimmering at you under the lamplight air of the room. You had no idea how such a hot woman would be the face behind the infamous Jigsaw killer, but you weren’t complaining. She was yours and you were hers.

“Yes, master.” You respond in a soft tone, beginning to shift your hips so that you could start grinding against her pants, panting slightly from how stimulated you already were from her dirty talk.

Arlecchino chuckles and leans back, relaxing in her chair as she watches you grind and ride her thighs with resolve. The sight of you trying so desperately to appease her was such a turn on, and for a moment she forgot that she was currently overseeing a man’s death just rooms away from where you two were sitting. “That’s my good girl…” Arlecchino murmurs, unable to contain her groans as she fixes the shaft of her strap so it sits upright. “Just a little more and you can ride me silly.”

At her encouragement, you only grind harder, whimpering at the pleasurable feeling of her trousers providing friction to your already sensitive clit. There was a pulsing sensation that you could not deny, and as you kept grinding your hips on her leg, you felt yourself growing more wet.

“Goodness…you soaked a spot right on me,” your master smirks almost predatorily, “I think you’re ready to take me, sweet girl…”

As an extra precaution, Arlecchino grabs a bottle of lube from the corner of the table and squeezes a helping of it onto the impressive girth of her cock. The clear liquid drips down her shaft slowly, and Arlecchino gives the length a few shallow pumps before angling it so you could move.

“Come on, just like we practiced.” Arlecchino hums, thumbing the tip of the shaft before watching you hover over the head with a bit of hesitance. “I’ll go slow, don’t worry…”

You grip the edge of her shoulders before slowly sinking down onto the head of her cock, the wide tip slowly spearing you open before you whimper and start to feel resistance.

“Ugh…fuck…” Arlecchino grit her teeth and had to resist the primal urge to slam you down and start thrusting into you. She knew she promised you to be gentle and wanted to keep her promise no matter how tempting it may be to break.

“Easy there, easy…” she grunts and slowly eases her hips to help you adjust, watching as you slowly inch down bit by bit. “Master…” you whimper out softly, biting your lip before taking a deep breath. “I think I need more lube…”

“No, you’re fine. This is enough.” Arlecchino groans, shifting your hips with her hands before kissing your neck reassuringly. “Just need to find the right…angle…”

You let out a yelp when you suddenly sink down all the way, your hips meeting hers as all of her shaft had somehow fit into you with one swift motion.

God you severely underestimated the size. It didn’t look that long, and it wasn’t. But oh lord was it thick. The girth of it enough to stretch you wide open and have you squirming in her lap to adjust, letting out pathetic whimpers as you’ve never felt so stretched open before.

“M-Master…” you gasp, the breath knocked out of your lungs as you feel Arlecchino’s teeth graze your neck. “Too big…”

“What?” Arlecchino practically laughs sadistically in your face, X-shaped pupils almost glowing with amusement. “Didn’t you say you could take it all? That it wasn’t too big?”

You whimpered when you were reminded of your confident words.

“It’s not too big, babydoll. You said it yourself.” A sudden shift in her tone had you fearful for a moment as you suddenly felt a sharp thrust pulsate against your inner walls.

“Ah—!” You start to let out breathless pants and gasps when Arlecchino begins to thrust madly.

“You were so confident earlier, what happened to wanting to take it all immediately?” She mocks, grinning with pleasure as you writhe in her grip. If there was one thing you learned while working under Arlecchino, it was that the woman was a lot stronger than she looked under that lean muscle. Practically pinning you down until you couldn’t move, before making you bounce up and down her lap till the tip of her cock was all you could feel.

“Don’t tell me my doll is defying orders now.” Arlecchino growls, slamming you back down until your pussy practically wraps itself around her length, gripping it for all that it was worth, while you lolled your head back in absolute bliss. “N-Nngh…master…” you moaned out pathetically, the stretch burning you wonderfully while you cling to Arlecchino for sanity. “Slower…please…”

Arlecchino scoffs at that and gives your rear a tiny spank, laughing at the way you recoiled in surprise.

“Slower? You want me to go slower?” She was mocking you again, the sadism evident in her voice. “Babydoll, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

She spanks your read once more and bites your neck rather aggressively, a dark hickey beginning to form at the base while she continues ramming her girth into your cunt. The way you were holding onto her so tightly —and pathetically— gave Arlecchino a power strike of ecstasy, the woman animalistic with her ruts as she digs her claws even further against your ass.

“You’re dripping so much, my sweet girl,” she groans into your throat, “Such a mess, I’ll need you to clean everything up for me later, right?”

She sneers at the way you whine at her words before shaking your head in obedience.

“Yes, master!”

“Good fucking girl.”

She suddenly lifts you up and places you on her desk, the bright blue monitors illuminating your body like a heavenly light while Arlecchino thrusts more brutally into your flesh. Rough hands prying your legs further apart as she pushes you down to deliver a passionate kiss. With one final push, you feel your body twitch before a squeal leaves your lips and cum drips down your thighs, your climax reaching a beautiful finale, as the monitor above you plays the sound of the man screaming to death in his room. The trap had closed around his head and ensnared his head in a casket of spikes, leaving him to bleed out in the tiled room of door 14.

“Hah…hah…looks like he didn’t make it.” Arlecchino pants, grinning all too wildly before kissing your neck affectionately. “Good girl. I knew I could count on you…”

As she nuzzles your neck with her face, you hear the door behind her suddenly creak open before gentle humming fills the room. Arlecchino turns back to see who had entered, before smiling at the sight of the other person.

“My, my, I see you’ve had your fun with her already.” Came a familiar, feminine voice. You looked up to see a shorter woman wearing a pig mask shutting the door, lithe hands reaching up to pull off the atrocious mask, and revealing a petite, yet beautiful woman you recognized as Columbina. One of Arlecchino’s most dutiful proxies.

“Goodness, she’s certainly soaked your pants, Arlecchino.” Columbina tuts with faux astonishment. “I can’t believe you two started without me.”

“You were taking too long,” Arlecchino chuckles back, caressing your cheek with a clawed nail. “You should’ve been faster.”

“Ah, I was too busy setting up the victims for the next few games,” the pigheaded woman sighs, strutting over to pinch your cheek playfully. “Looks like this little one will have to make it up to me now…”

You instinctively melted under Columbina’s touch, nuzzling your face into the soft, sweet palm of her hand. She cooes affectionately at the sight, before giving your head a little puppy-like pat. “Good girl…”

“She is, isn’t she?” Arlecchino grins, picking you up once more to sit on her lap while she rests on her chair. “I think this sweet thing can spare us one more round. For Columbina’s sake, right?” She lifts your chin with a finger, staring at you as if almost daring you to say no.

“Of course, master…” you say obediently, arousal starting to drip down your thighs once more at the possibility of a threesome.

“Atta girl…” Columbina giggles, pressing up behind you and kissing the back of your ear. “Just the perfect doll for us to share…”

You only bucked back your hips at that, ready to give whatever these two women wanted from you.

#arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #slasher au #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin women smut #genshin women x reader #genshin imagines

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blackynsupremacy · 3 months ago

Text

THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 1

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words,neighbors to friends, slow burn, martha lowkey being the hookup, snarky teens, some swearing, fluff, friendly banter, a bit of angst. lyric’s thoughts. clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @sabrinasopposite @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @zombiehe4rt

next: CHAPTER 2

it was around 8:30 PM on a friday night as clark kent gazed at the stars through his telescope in his “fortress of solitude”. it was just his loft in the barn, but he never forgot how lana lang coined that term for this sacred space of his. lana was known as the typical girl-next-door and the cheerleader dating the captain of smallville high’s football team, whitney fordman, and clark’s first love. well—it’s crazy how things can change so rapidly. lana quit cheerleading to own the talon, whitney was killed while following in his late father’s footsteps to serve this country, and she wasn’t the girl-next-door anymore. she had to move in with one of clark’s best friends, chloe sullivan and her father, gabe because her aunt nell’s new husband wanted to move the family out of smallville, but lana refused to leave it all behind. one thing that didn’t change was clark’s love and admiration towards the girl.

the loft wasn’t just his space where he’d go to think or look into space. he also shared it with her. whether it’d be using the telescope to admire her from afar, having late night talks, or watching the sunrise together. you’d think with this much time spent with someone, clark would finally have the gusto to officially ask lana out. he has tried, but between the obstacles of figuring out his heritage, keeping his abilities a secret, not wanting to hurt others feelings, and his cowardice of opening up to his loved ones, his chances with her all went to hell.

lana’s tasks at the talon were getting busier by the day and she still had her load of class work to tend to, so her visits to the loft for sunrises or meaningful conversations weren’t as frequent. it’s been getting quite lonely here. a deep sigh escapes from clark’s chest as he takes a step back from the telescope, both hands tucked within his pockets. his blue eyes peer at the dark sky that was softly lit with luminous stars that goes beyond this planet he’s come to know and love. his longing for the answers concerning his heritage grow stronger and impatient as his thoughts trail back to the aircraft that’s hiding in the cellar. he wished that this burden wouldn’t have to be so much. he understood that his parents, jonathan and martha, didn’t want to lose their miracle child if he found out where he came from or if the world knew of his powers, they would experiment, exploit, or worse, treat him like an outcast. it’s already hard enough on clark that his best friend, pete ross, knew. they’ve worked it out once he’s sworn his secrecy to the kents and their friendship seemed to be stable, but deep down he knew that pete would never really get used to that. clark just wanted someone—no, anyone to understand his intentions. whether they’re a human or not. why did i have to come down to this planet? what happened on my planet that was so bad that i literally crashed into the quiet lives of this town? why—

clark’s train of thoughts came to a halt and his heightened sense of hearing caught the sound of revving engines and purring wheels coming into the direction of the neighborhood, but not directly to his home. both of the vehicles make a stop and park at their destination. one of the vehicles is a u-haul moving truck the other, resembling what might be a white honda civic. this stop wasn’t an ordinary stop either. it seemed that the destination was—the old potter house. was it possible that nell had changed her mind? did lana know about this? could things go back to the way they were? clark had to pause for a second because he didn’t recognize the car at first, so he looks back into the telescope to investigate further.

it was pitch dark outside to see who exactly were operating the vehicles, so clark knew what he had to do to find out. his eyes focused on the closely on the u-haul, he could clearly see the boxes and luggage near the rear end before his x-ray vision travels towards the front. in the driver’s seat, he could see the outline of a human skeletal figure, stretching their arm muscles and reaching for the seatbelt. his pupils shifted to the car parked behind the truck. there were three figures this time. one sitting in the drivers side, the other in the passenger with their head leaning against the window, and third that seemed to be curling up on the passengers lap which clark assumed to be a pet. the driver taps the passenger’s shoulder to signal them to wake up before they open the doors.

with the low quantity of streetlights near kent farm, it was still difficult to see clearly, but clark was positive he saw three different silhouettes with three different voices as he watched them exit the vehicles. the tallest silhouette was definitely an older male with a deep voice muttering as he made his way to the front door before fishing the key out of his pocket to gain access to the house.

“come on now, girls! this house won’t be moved in by itself. let’s at least get what we need for the night and start fresh in the morning, alright?” he commands before stepping into the house. the next silhouette was slightly shorter than the first and the soft, alto voice was of an older female followed by the final silhouette who had a similar voice to hers, but it definitely sounds like a person of around clark’s age. she appears to be holding a bundle tucked securely in her arms. her own sigh resonates in the night air, her posture deflating with exhaustion.

“man, if i have to move another muscle, i swear i’ma fall apart.” the youngest of the three groggily protested as she dragged her feet forward.

“your father’s right! the faster we get things done, the faster we can go to bed, get some rest and greet our new neighbors in the morning. i’d suggest you put that cat down somewhere and pick up those feet, young lady. we don’t have time for all that whining, now.” the older female firmly responds as she beckons the younger to follow her into the house.

“yes, mama. just—let me put the princess in my room and i’ll be right down with ya’ll. god knows i’m beat.” all three figures trudge their way into the now lit house and close the door.

clark lets the conversation cut there before he takes some paces away from telescope.

it looks like we’re getting new neighbors. i’ll make sure to tell mom and dad in the morning.

he turned off the light switch before descending down the stairs to retire for the night.

lyric james huffs out in relief as her spine finally makes contact with her lavender comforter set delicately draped over the air soft mattress of her new bed, in her new room, of her new house, and in a new town. the bare walls were illuminated with the amber glow of the ivory bedside lamp she recently installed. her closet was about a quarter full and the drawers had the essentials like undergarments and socks, but there were two things she couldn’t live without for one night: grandad’s record player and noir. speaking of noir, lyric could hear the soft patter of paws treading on the hardwood floors and an audible mew of the feline. she got the strength to lift herself upright to look down and find noir staring back at the girl with those large round, yellow-green eyes and her fuzzy,black tail swaying across the floor as if she were waiting for her owner to carry her as she did before they stepped into the new house.

lyric chuckled at her cat, shaking her head. although it was a tired smile, her dimples made a prominent appearance within her toffee skin. “girl, i know i got you spoiled rotten—can’t even get up on the bed without needing an escort.” she reached her arms below to scoop noir up into her bed before laying vertically with her head against her plush pillows and a fair number of stuffed animals. lyric adjusted, so that one hand was underneath the white, paisley bandana wrapped to protect her hair and the other, tenderly stroking noir’s dark coat of fur as the cat nuzzled on her torso. her brown eyes shifted to see the red glowing digits of the time set on her alarm clock. 10:30. i really need to sleep, so i can move all of that junk tomorrow. thank god it’ll be a saturday. her chest raised slowly to deflate as she sat alone with her thoughts. i miss new york already. what’s so interesting about this itty, bitty hill billy town anyway? what does a place like smallville have to offer?

let’s rewind that real quick. lyric james was a born and (formerly) raised native from new york. she’s currently a sophomore with a love for old vinyl records, talking junk, eating sweets, going out with friends (well the ones she had back home), impulsive shopping, and documenting core memories with her digital camera.

her voice was soft as rain and calm as her mother’s, one might say a sound like a voice of reason, but one shouldn’t get that confused with her being a pushover. when it comes to meeting new people, she’s not shy per say, but before opening up she needs to observe certain people. observe of how they speak, their body language, and just how they are as a person in general. if the vibe’s good, that’s what’s up! she’ll crack jokes, speak in fluent sarcasm, and maybe a bit of flirting when she gets the balls. if not, she’ll be cordial and respectfully keep her distance. she’s had moments of naivety in the past when it came to friendships causing her to get burned, but hey— she lived and she learned. that was her just her outlook on life: to live until you die. she was only a teenager, so she’s expected to screw up every once in a while, but when it came to having that common sense her parents instilled in her during childhood, she knows where the line should never be crossed.

her parents, crystal and joseph james, were suitable guardians and they supported lyric as well as nurtured her to be a well mannered young woman, but one thing that got her tight was their demanding work schedules. joseph worked as a firefighter and crystal, an er nurse. don’t get her wrong, she loved that her parents saved lives for the love of it and kept their lives afloat financially, but it also made lyric anxious. as an only child, she’s been with her parents for so long and she couldn’t imagine if something happened to one or both of them. hence why she had a curfew, even back in her hometown to make sure she’s home and near the phone just in case. the main reason why her parents decided to move to smallville was that it was safe. it wasn’t like smallville didn’t have crime going on, but it wasn’t as bad as new york. crystal and joseph knew that their daughter was left alone most of the time and they’d allowed for her to go out with friends and come back at a certain time, but the risk was too high for them to stay ever since—omar. fortunately, they had some colleagues recommend that smallville had some opening positions for their professions and that’s how they got here to get away from their past.

lyric felt her eyelids drooping lower as a yawn escaped from her mouth and reached over to the lamp switch to cease the glow in her room. careful not to wake noir, she shifted her body as carefully as she could to conceal herself under the sheets. she turned on her side, her knees curling up slightly in a fetal position as her bare feet rubbed against each other. her arms wrapped loosely around noir. the sounds of the feline’s low snores were enough to send lyric into a peaceful, calm slumber.

the rising sun of saturday crept in at around 7:15 AM. clark was used to being up this early. that’s farm life, but this was part of his daily routine to wake up, get dressed, and head to the loft to watch nature simply take its course. as he leaned his elbows against the window sill, his eyes of blue soaked up the harmonious mixture of the sky’s color palette of lavender, pink, tangerine, and gold. the clouds resembled the fluffiness of the cotton candy that was served at the fall festival every year. it was silent, but the wind hummed as it lightly tickled clark’s face and fanned his raven tresses with a breeze so gentle at just the right the temperature that he couldn’t help, but to close his eyes and inhale the morning within his lungs. he was sure this weekend was going to be the same: do some chores, hang out with his friends at the talon, run into lex luthor, or maybe fight off people who’ve been poisoned by those cursed green rocks like he’s some sort of superboy. you know, the usual. clark then had that sinking feeling within his stomach and that tiny weight of heaviness in his chest with visions of her.

i really wish lana was here. maybe she’d find some time to at least catch the end of this.

his eyes then traveled back to the house next door. the two vehicles and the “SOLD” sign out in the front yard confirmed to clark that the kents having new neighbors wasn’t a fever dream like he’d hoped. he didn’t really get to see the family clearly, but he remembered a father, a mother, and perhaps a daughter with a pet of some kind. he pondered on the details of where they came from, what they looked like, what were their personalities, and most importantly, were they prepared for what kind of town they’ve moved to given its bizarre history? well—clark, felt he was to blame for the bizarre part, but his parents reassured there was nothing no one could do to prevent it.

after the sun took its rightful place in the heavens, clark decided it was time to get a head start on his chores for the day. that was until he felt something nuzzle itself against his ankle and his ears picking up on the soft mewling sound that filled the silence of the loft. well—that’s new… he thought knowing that it was the norm for animals to be on the farm, but not this one. clark peered down to find two wide eyes of yellow-green that reminded him of the glow of a firefly in the darkness of july. they were attached to a tiny, furry head with a pink button nose, whiskers, and pointed ears all surrounded by onyx fur. one of clark’s brows raised and a grin curved on his lips as the feline continued to wrap around his or her tail around his leg some more. with blended knees, he squatted down low enough to meet the cat’s level to slowly, but gently reach his hand towards the nose first, so the cat could detect clark’s scent properly before giving him the green light to go any further. a dark paw stretches to lightly touch his hand before leaning a fluffy cheek in forward to nuzzle clark’s knuckles, indicating that he can proceed with his touch. clark couldn’t help, but to smile before taking both hands to enthusiastically pet this friendly little, black cat’s face.

“now, i wonder how you got yourself in here, huh? your owner must be pretty worried—“ he paused to check to see if the cat had a collar of any kind in which he came up short. geez, he at least wanted to know the feline’s gender without catching them off guard by picking them up. as if the cat read his mind, they rolled over on the hardwood floor to reveal the underside of their body. after a quick observation, clark figured out this feline was a female before she rolled over again to her original position on her belly.

“don’t worry, girl. you can stay up here until your owner comes back. for now, i’ll take care of you.” he simpered as his palm soothingly descended down the cat’s spine. noir couldn’t help, but to respond to this boy’s touch by filling the room with a satisfied purr as if she were in paradise. clark sighed with content before he realized that he now has to let his folks know about the new visitor. he ceases his petting and his tenor voice softly urges, “i’ll be right back, girl. you stay right here, okay? if you’re good, i’ll come back with a little treat for you. how does that sound?” he coaxed. she responds by mewling and laying on her stomach, tail swaying back and forth across the floor as she watches clark walk away and descend down the stairs of the barn and out to his home to find his parents conversing at the breakfast table in their kitchen. his father was sitting at the table reading the newspaper while his mother was preparing breakfast.

“morning dad! morning mom!” he hurriedly greeted his parents, jogging to the cabinet to retrieve a plastic bowl and the refrigerator, for some fresh milk.

“mornin’, son!” jonathan responds, his eyes still skimming the headlines. martha repeats the phrase back to her son, her eyes glancing up to see to him getting the items needed for cereal, but no spoon nor cereal. martha squints in curiosity as her mother’s intuition urges her to ask clark what he’s up to.

“hey, clark, if you want breakfast, i’m putting something together. are sure you just want cereal, dear?” she questions.

“nah, mom. i’m good just…uh, getting started with my chores. hey, did you know that a new family moved into nell and lana’s old house? i saw the truck come in late last night while i was in the loft. you guys were sleeping by then, but i didn’t want to wake you.” clark spoke, pouring the right amount of milk in the bowl and putting the carton back in the fridge. he didn’t instantly want to stall on the fact of the feline, but he definitely wanted keep his parents in the loop of their new neighbors first.

martha’s face responds in awe, her head nodding with a smile on her lips as she resumes to cooking and jonathan lowers the paper to get a better insight on the topic of the discussion.

“ah, right! i noticed the truck still parked when i looked out the window this morning. at first i thought nell had changed her mind for lana’s sake, but i saw a different man walk to his car. either way, it’s exciting to see some fresh, new faces around smallville, right jonathan?” martha inquired to include her husband. jonathan nodded in agreement,

“oh, yeah. they’re likely a friendly, hardworking family with good old fashioned values that happen to live right next to another average family: a farmer, his wife, and their herculean son with the strength of 2,000 men!” jonathan wise cracked, earning some laughter from his family.

clark’s infectious smile crept on his lips before he takes the bowl off the counter, careful not to spill it.

“very funny, dad! in the case of meeting fresh faces, the new ones i’ve met so far are covered in fur and whiskers. i was out at the loft just now and this black cat just snuck in.”

“oh, a cat? so that explains the bowl with no cereal. well, do you think it’s just a stray?” martha questioned, wiping her hands clean with a plaid, hand towel.

“where’s the cat now?” jonathan chimed in.

“ah—not really, she’s actually very friendly. i’ve tried to look for a collar, but she didn’t have one. look, i’m not saying i’m keeping her, but i think someone would be coming for her soon. she should still be waiting in the loft. until then, i want her to be taken care of before they come.” clark utters, gesturing to the bowl in his hand.

“that’s sweet of you, clark! i’m sure they would appreciate that. oh! just milk won’t do, sweetie. let me see if we have a can of tuna in here somewhere.” martha inwardly beamed as she turned to rummage through the pantry to retrieve a can of tuna. as she fetched a can opener, spoon, and a bowl, her heart couldn’t help to swell at her son’s benevolence. his desire to care for all species on a foreign planet made her feel more content of what happened in the fall of ‘89. sure there was some destruction, trauma, and long lasting negative outcomes, but clark would never fit in those categories. out of the can she scooped the meat into a bowl and handed it to clark.

“thanks, mom! i’ve learned from the best, you know.” he leant down to tenderly kiss the auburn head of his mother and made his journey outside to fulfill his promise to the amicable fur ball that was still waiting on her treat. once inside, he places the two bowls in front of her and it wasn’t a second later before she indulged in the food and drink.

little does this sneaky kitty know that her owner is about to cross paths with smallville’s main attraction.

lyric’s grogginess was short lived after waking up to find noir missing. she quickly sat up to look underneath the comforter to see if the onyx feline was at the foot of the bed. lyric knew that noir liked to sneak away and hide in other places of their old house, so what makes her think noir wouldn’t give this house a test drive for that same purpose? lyric moved the comforter to free herself and swung her feet to the side of the bed. she rubbed the sleep from eyes to get a clearer vision in order to see the red digits on her clock. it was approximately 8:00 am. as soon as the bare soles of her feet touched the floor, her knees followed suit to search under the bed.

“noir?” she called as her brown eyes searched and her head moved from left to right and vice versa, but noir was nowhere in sight. feeling a tad irked with her pet’s usual shenanigans, a huff erupted from her chest and her brows furrowed. lyric stood up to her feet and made her way to the closet only to find just her clothes on the hangers, no noir. lyric checked all the usual places upstairs where she would hide. bathroom? no. linen closet? nah. the den? negative. not even her own parents room provided lyric with the answer she desired.

“now, where the hell could she be?” she muttered lowly to herself under her breath. lyric knew better for her parents not to hear any type of profanity slip from her mouth. her ass would be grass, but so would noir’s if she didn’t pop her fuzzy head out in the next few minutes.

she was such in a tizzy trying to find her cat that she didn’t notice her mother, crystal, calling out for her from downstairs. lyric brought herself back to earth before she made her way down the steps and into the kitchen where she found crystal to be unpacking an open cardboard box and placing dishes, bowls, and cups in their respective cabinets. each item making a clanging sound as they were maneuvered out of the box.

“good morning, mama! where’s dad?” lyric hastily greeted and questioned as she also noticed the absence of her father. her doe eyes perused areas such as the floor, near the refrigerator, and under the tables. damnit, no such luck.

“good morning, honey! your father’s out at the station to settle some final paperwork before monday and running some errands for the house, but he should be back in time soon. we still have so much unpacking to do and meet our new neighbors, so get a move on to get dressed!

“hold up, don’t the ones living here already usually come to meet the new ones?” lyric’s nails reached to scratch her scalp as she raised her arched brow, piqued by the statement.

“yes, usually, but the unusual doesn’t always do harm.” crystal responded to her daughter before she turned around to see her still clad in her nightly attire. lyric hastily nods, her thoughts still running laps around her head.

“you sound like you’re in a rush. what’s wrong, baby?” she placed the items she was unpacking on the counter before she approached lyric.

“ma, have you seen noir? i’ve checked her usual spots and i can’t find her nowhere. i know she likes to sneak out my room every once and a while, but she stays in the house hiding and i keep coming up short— you’ve been down here for a minute, so maybe you’ve seen her tryin’ to get somethin’ to eat?”

“mmm—no. i’m sorry, i haven’t. it don’t help that we barely got any food to start with, my guess is noir went to search somewhere else for that. one thing about her, if she can’t get food here, she’ll get it somewhere else and you know how greedy she is the way you got her spoiled.” crystal chuckled as she heard lyric sigh out a defeated “if that ain’t the truth.” even though noir can be a handful, she adored her due to antics like this because let’s be real, a girl’s gotta eat!

“i just hope you remembered to put that collar back on her neck when we got here.”

lyric froze. her lips tighten as her eyes shut, inhaling and huffing out a breath of deeper frustration with herself before she realized that she didn’t put noir’s collar on when they settled in last night. she was so worn out from going back and forth to move in her essentials to her room, that it slipped her mind completely. now, she knows noir likes to wander a bit, but damn it! she never expected that cat to venture out in a whole new area. crystal took lyric’s silence and that pout on her face as a signal of negligence to complete the task, but she understood that it was late and the whole james family were even dead tired to get the rest of what they needed. a sympathetic smile rose on her full lips and her palms find their way to reassuringly massage the tensed muscles of her daughter’s shoulders.

“don’t worry. you know noir always finds her way back home, she wouldn’t dream of getting into some trouble without you, especially not too far away, so she may be closer than you think. now, i bet you’ll do the right thing and put that collar on as soon as you get her back?” crystal inquired with a playful tone, so lyric’s pout transformed to a lopsided grin, the dimples she inherited from her mother protruding as she giggled. in return for her mother’s wisdom, lyric pulled her into a bear hug and rested her chin on shoulder. this reminded her of the moments in her childhood when crystal would console lyric, whether she was taking her accountable or not.

“yes, ma’am—and i’m sorry for not handling my business. it won’t happen again, i swear.” she murmured near crystal’s ear and pulled back to face her again.

“you live and you learn. i’ll tell you this, instead of looking around in the house, how about going outside? you might find what you’re looking for. you can worry about unpacking the rest of your things later.” after giving lyric her cue to get started, crystal’s kissed her daughter’s cheek and ceased the embrace before finally disposing of the box that was emptied of its contents.

departing with a smile and nod, lyric rushed upstairs to her bedroom and opened the closet door to locate a presentable outfit that was not too laid back nor over the top, but something that was comfortable and fashionable enough to locate the missing noir. no matter what the occasion may be, lyric wasn’t gonna be too flashy nor look like she just rolled out of bed! she settled for an aqua blue top that was slightly cropped at the bottom to expose a bit of her abdomen with a mural of a geisha patterned with black, white, gold, and salmon. she paired this one pop of color with black cargo pants, black bomber jacket, and a classic pair of black chuck taylor’s. she placed the ensemble on the bed and left her bedroom to perform her hygienic ritual in the bathroom before returning to don her outfit for the day. lyric removed her scarf and adjusted her dark, long, natural hair to her liking with the heat of her straightening iron, the stroke her detangling brush, and the spritz of the heat protection spray to ease the guilt of damage. there was no harm in the addition of her signature eyeliner, mascara, and lastly—the brown lip liner and gloss combo painted on her full lips that were the icing on the cake of her everyday look. as for accessories, her ears were adorned with the cherished pair of golden hoops she was gifted for her 13th birthday, and the simple, black crossbody satchel that was her go to for whatever she needed for any journey.

“alright, ma. i’m going out to get your fast tail granddaughter back home!” lyric’s voice echoed out after jogging downstairs to wait by the front door to her crystal respond, “okay, honey! be safe and i love you. don’t stay out too long, now.” lyric reciprocates the farewell before bolting out of the door and into the front yard. it was a sunny day with a moderate fall-like temperature, not too hot nor too cold. her legs moved like clockwork as the falling leaves made a crunching sound beneath her sneakers. lyric squints and furrows her brows as she starts to look around the perimeter of the house, her mind started to go into overdrive mode, thinking of what that sneaky ass cat is up to. god, i just pray she’s not lost in a cornfield or behind a barn getting knocked up by some stray. now, i know i raised her better—but then again, i ain’t get her fixed.

after frantically searching all around the front and backyards, lyric made one more final decision before she could take her search further out into town: the next door neighbors. the chances were low, but never zero. besides, she was going to have to cross paths with them anyway. she took another deep breath and placed her hands in her jacket pockets as the autumn breeze picked up with her feet leading her to the home. it was a brisk 2 minute walk. she stopped and her head leaned up to read the hung up wooden sign that read, KENT FARM— and she wasted no time to walk on the property. to say it was just big was an understatement. as lyric ventured down the dirt path of the driveway, her eyes perused the land that possessed animals such as horses, cows, and pigs. she attempted to not contort her face at the new, pungent smells that filled her nose.

i don’t wanna be rude to these people, but ugh! this is nothing short of a farm. i’d better get used to this though.

the abode itself resembled the classic farmhouse with the white picket fence aesthetic. it was a vibrant, lemon yellow two story house with white trimming on the windows and a welcoming porch with white, wooden steps that creaked as lyric’s feet gingerly ascended before approaching the door and checking to see if any cars were parked that indicated the presence of her new neighbors. once she spotted the parked red pickup truck, she took that as her cue to knock on the front door. in the brief time she waited for someone to come to the door, her head turned to the left to find a colossal, vibrant red barn. it seemed to have an open window and what looked like to be a telescope protruding. lyric’s mind began to wander again, but instead of panic, it was serenity.

that looks like a dope spot to stargaze and listen to some stevie. ain’t nothing like your own personal quiet place.

her thoughts were halted at the sound of the front door hinges creaking opening to reveal a couple around her parents age, they both greeted lyric with a “good morning” and benevolent grins which gave her a warm feeling. the wife was a few inches shorter than lyric with auburn hair, blue eyes, and rosy lips. as for the husband, he was towering over both of the females with sandy, blonde curls, sculpted jawline, and blue eyes as well. lyric regained her focus and introduced herself.

“hey—good mornin’! my name’s lyric james. my family and i just moved in last night in the house next door. it’s very nice to meet you mr. and mrs.—“ she paused to lead them to their names to politely address them like how she was raised. with a smile, she held out her hand to give each adult a handshake before the husband reciprocated the salutation on their behalf,

“well, lyric, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you and welcome to the neighborhood! mr. and mrs. kent will do, but when you feel comfortable, my name is jonathan and this is my wife, martha.”

“lyric—what a lovely name. we definitely look forward to meeting the rest of your family very soon and welcome to smallville. is there anything we can help you with, honey?” martha enthusiastically chimed, that sunshine smile reappearing that compelled lyric to return a dimpled simile of her own as a result of that welcoming compliment.

“ah, thank you both so much! first, i just wanna let ya’ll know you have a lovely home. second, if it isn’t such a bother— did ya’ll happen to see a black cat with these big, yellow eyes, no collar, and sneaky? i mean—she has a collar, but because i was so tired, i forgot to put it on her last night. her name is noir. she likes to wander off sometimes and i was wondering if ya’ll seen her around here? i understand if you haven’t, i was making sure before i start putting her face everywhere in town.” lyric’s face heated with embarrassment as she dumped her predicament on these lovely folks, she takes her hands that were previously tucked in her pockets and fidgeted with them. who knew that one kitty could cause this teenager this much stress and chaos? lyric knew, but in this circumstance? give a girl a break.

after lyric drops the cat’s exact description, realization set in martha’s mind and the gears started turning in her brain.

lyric. what a friendly and polite girl! she must be the cat’s owner. the same cat that snuck into the barn and the same cat that clark was currently caring for. not to mention that she’s a sight for sore eyes! this girl could use a trusting and kind first friend in a new place. who better than clark? maybe this was the fresh face that could bring him out of this lana funk.

an invisible light bulb popped out of martha’s head, her smile never ceasing at her clever thinking. it was now martha’s turn to respond to lyric.

“oh, no! that’s unfortunate. we have a son who’s he’s about your age. his name is clark and he would definitely be of service to help find what you’re looking for. he’s actually in that barn right over there.” her auburn bob sways as her head tilts in the direction of the barn, a nonverbal signal for lyric to take a look.

“are you sure about that, mrs. kent? i don’t wanna bother nobody with my problem.” lyric questioned, using one of her hands to brush a piece of hair out of her face.

“i’m positive, lyric! one thing about clark kent, when there’s a call for help, he’ll answer. i’m sure he’d be happy to assist you!” martha said with a reassuring grin.

lyric reciprocated with a grin and nodded her head in approval.

“by the way you’re hyping him up, he sounds pretty cool. alright, mrs. kent, you got a deal. i’ll take you up on that! again, i really appreciate your help! you said that barn over there, right?” lyric pointed to the left.

lyric took the kent’s nods as approval to give them a wave, walk down to the porch steps, and make her brief trip to the red barn with the telescope in the window. the entrance was already opened, giving her easy access. she looked around to see the piles of hay and various farming tools and machinery. her head turned to one side, then the other to see if she could spot the mysterious clark. her gaze then shifted to the beige, wooden staircase that led to the next level.

“here goes something.” she mutters under breath, her legs carrying her to the staircase to get the next lead in finding the missing noir.

“hello! is anybody up there?!” she called out as she ascended.

clark was still in the loft. he was lounging on the sofa with noir comfortably laying across his lap, softly purring and snoozing the day away after a snack and some playtime with a laser pen that clark found. he was now waiting for lyric’s arrival to retrieve her furry companion. his heightened sense of hearing and open window worked in his favor when he heard the recent conversation between the girl and his parents in the distance. that soft voice he heard last night confirmed the match for the voice of the new girl next door. last night, her tone conveyed raspiness and exhaustion, but while conversing with his parents, it was soothing and pleasant to the ear, sensitive or not. he was content in knowing that the feline, noir (now that he finally knew her name) had a caring owner and home. he also couldn’t help, but simper bashfully at hearing his mother’s compliment about his willingness to help others. his cheeks glowing red when lyric enthusiastically agreed and the two were only seconds from meeting. she already thinks i’m cool even though we haven’t met. that’s—interesting.

clark’s thoughts came to a halt when he hears footsteps and that same voice calling out for another human— well, being in his case. him and noir perked up and glanced in the direction of the footsteps that were approaching closer to his exact location. noir let out a mewl that louder than normal.

“noir? noir! is that—“ lyric gains speed at the sound of a “meow” that belonged to the onyx kitty she’s missed so dearly. once she made it to the top of the stairs and rounded the corner, her movements ceased to find a boy sitting on the couch. clark turned his head in her direction. a kind smile that revealed his pearly canines appeared as he gingerly scooped noir in his arms and approached lyric. silence filled the room as they inspected each other’s features for a moment before speaking.

as clark was standing, lyric could tell he was in the 6’0+ range of height. his hair was dark like hers, but he had ivory skin, benevolent aqua blue eyes, sculpted jawline, and rosy lips. he resembled the prince in that little mermaid movie that lyric always enjoyed as a child—after some years, she’s realized it wasn’t just the songs that drawn her in.

clark curiously gazed at the girl before him. she was at average height. he noticed her medium earthy skin tone complimented her deep brown eyes, long, natural dark hair, and shimmery, full lips. he knew that it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she was pleasant to the eyes. the teen’s conscious’ brought them down to earth before they awkwardly stammered their introductions in sync,

“hey! i’m—“

“hi! my name’s—“

“sorry—“

“my bad—“

they both respond with a brief chortle before clark chimes in,

“ladies first.”

“oh, right! um, my name’s lyric james aka, your new neighbor and owner of that fast tail cat you got.”

lyric gives the boy an amicable grin and playfully glares at noir. she holds out her arms towards clark’s and he instantly takes the cue to hand noir back in lyric’s awaiting arms. he beams as she embraces the feline, her knuckles nuzzling between the ears and pecking her head.

“god, don’t you ever do that to me again. i’m too young to have a heart attack, but i’ve missed you, girl!” she affectionately murmured.

“i’m clark kent by the way! it’s really nice to meet you, lyric.” he holds out his hand and patiently waits as she shifts noir into one arm, popping her on her torso like an infant and reaching her hand to grasp his in the friendly exchange.

“nice to meet you! your mom talked a good game about you helping those who need it. it looks like you really came through and i appreciate that, clark. this is noir and i’m sorry that she snuck over here disturbing your peace, but i forgot to put her tag on, so that’s on me.” lyric confessed, looking at her cat with the expression of a disappointed mother before gleaming in gratitude towards the farm boy.

“hey, it’s no problem, really. this sounds a bit embarrassing, but i’m relieved she snuck in. i was feeling kinda lonely up here and she cheered me up. plus, i got the chance to meet you and get out of doing my chores for a while.”

they briefly laugh before lyric chimes in,

“hey, there’s nothing embarrassing about that! trust, when i’m feeling down, i can count on this gremlin to bring some excitement to my day. even if she get on my everlasting nerves with her shenanigans, wandering off being the biggest issue—now, that you said it, she got me out of doing my chores too!” they laugh again as she playfully rolled her eyes before quickly spotting two empty bowls on the ground. she snickered to herself at her what her mother referred to this morning and it didn’t go unnoticed by clark.

“care to let me in on the joke?” clark wittingly quizzed.

“i think it’s funny how when i was looking for noir this morning and told my mom about it, she said it was because noir was just looking for a snack and that i got her spoiled. it looks like you gave my baby the royal treatment, huh?” lyric chuckled and gestured to the empty bowls.

clark reciprocated his own laughter before he replied,

“i just wanted to make sure she was taken care of before her owner came back. it’s the least i could do for her after she cheered me up! i’m just glad that she has a good home. even though it hasn’t been very long, i think i’ll miss noir when she goes.”

“well, clark, if you want to see noir again, you can! that’s if—you let me kick it with ya’ll. i won’t lie, it’d be nice to know someone when i start at smallville high on monday. you cool with that?” lyric proposes, raising an arched brow and a smirk playing on her lips. inwardly, she didn’t want to put the pressure on by dropping the “f” bomb on him just yet. not until they get to know each other better. lyric wasn’t opposed to it and she got the vibe from clark that he felt the same, especially with the way they hit it off.

the infectiousness of the action caused clark to smile and nod in agreement.

“i’m cool with that. ah! i’m such an idiot.” he jokingly pinches the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. “i’ve probably kept you waiting here all day when you’ve got stuff to do at your place. i’ll walk you home?” that was always the gentlemanly thing to do and clark wanted to make a good impression on his new neighbor who would hopefully want to join him and his small circle of friends starting monday. as they walked down the stairs and out of the barn towards her home, they continued to their small talk for the brief duration of the stroll. he asked the basics of where she was from before moving to smallville, what her life was like there, her family, school, and how she’s adjusting to the new house so far. clark felt a sense of nostalgia. he hasn’t walked down this path towards that house in months, it was refreshing.

they stopped and reached their final destination. clark took it upon himself to walk lyric up to the door while still keeping a safe distance behind her. her father had yet to get extra keys made, so she had to knock on the door. as they waited, lyric turned her body to face his with an appreciative expression and broke the ice,

“hey—all jokes aside, it was really nice of you for taking care of noir until i got her. thanks again! i get a good vibe from you, clark kent. there’s just somethin’ about you. one day, the whole world will see it and they’ll appreciate it like i do.”

clark couldn’t count on his fingers how many times this girl has made him laugh or smile within these several minutes.

“it’s no problem, lyric. it doesn’t hurt to give back to others, whether they’re covered in fur or not. i’m just happy that i can do some good in this world.”

clark reaches over to pet noir on her head one last time before the door swings open to reveal an older african-american woman that looked to be about the same age as his mother. it didn’t take clark’s x-ray vision to see where lyric got her looks from. her mother’s skin tone and eyes matched with lyric’s, her straightened shoulder length hair was dark and shiny. she smiled and greeted the teens with full red lips and the familiar dimples that clark once saw on her daughter’s face. lyric introduces her mother, crystal, to clark and vice versa. crystal was immensely impressed with the farm boy’s manners, politeness, and small town charm. in smallville, chivalry would never die.

after they both make their acquaintance, crystal leaves the two alone to finish unpacking. lyric urges clark to stay put for a second before heading upstairs to her bedroom to put noir’s collar on and places the cat on her bed. she digs into one of those household junk drawers where one could find the items needed at the right time. she retrieved a pack of her mother’s post-it notes and a pen before she power walked to still find clark waiting patiently on the porch, standing with his hands in his jean pockets.

“like i said, if you want to see noir, don’t be a stranger, alright?” she handed him the packet of notes and the pen, “you know what to do, clark.”

“you got it, lyric!” he took the pen and wrote down the digits of the kent’s landline before giving the items back to her.

“when we get our phone in order, i’ll hit you up, so you can save mine. until then, if i’m not doing anything moving-wise, would you like for noir and i to swing by the barn tomorrow? i mean, that’s if you’re good with—“

“i’d love to see you both.” he interrupted her with the same enthusiastic tone. both teens nod with a smile on their faces to confirm their meeting the next day. clark watched and waited until lyric was safely in the house before he traveled back to his own.

maybe this fresh new start wasn’t so bad for the both of them. life will always come with change whether we want to or not, it’s all about what one is to do with that change. how could they adjust? for clark and lyric, they adjusted by the absence of a sneaky, onyx feline. this could be the beginning of a refreshing new era of friendship between the farm boy and the new girl next door.

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lazycats-stuff · 8 months ago

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Hi author how are you doing I hope your doing fine?

I hope you don’t mind can I request a Batfam x Genius child male reader like child male reader is basically smart (and comes from a wealthy and influence family) and has higher IQ for someone so young (smarter than the rest of Batfam) Bruce met child male reader in the funeral when child male reader grandparents died leaving child male reader orphan because his parents also died. Somehow child male reader was strangely attach to Bruce even tho it's there first time meeting so he just walk up to Bruce and stare at him in wonder. Which also leads everyday male reader running away from home and going to Wayne manor because he wanted to stay close to Bruce and meeting the rest of family and which leads the male reader Butler (who's taking care of reader for time being until someone or close relative steps up and takes the role to raise reader) to apologize everytime when picks reader up from the Wayne manor. Reader already knows all the Batfam especially the Justice League secret identity with just one look at them. Male reader who is shy, quite (rarely ever makes a sound) and well mannered. Male reader has a habit of touching the technology of the bat cave or the Justice league base and knows how to fix them aswell

Btw I hope your doing all good author don’t forget to take care of yourself and have a wonderful day🥰🥰🥰😊😊

Oh the little rascal. Also, you take care of yourself too and have a great day or night, whatever time is in your country at the moment. No ideas for gifs anyone... It's pretty though. Also, your beloved author turned 19 on the 5th of May. I do have to say, I have a interesting birthdate.

Summary: (Y/N) is a very smart cookie.

Warnings: funerals, (Y/N) is smart, minor cursing here and there... Some angst, fluff

Bruce sighed quietly as he stood over the graves of Tim's parents. He put the flowers down on their graves. Tim was fighting a flu so he couldn't do it himself and Bruce has offered to do it for Tim. It was their death anniversary and Bruce knew that Tim was just dying in bed from the flu and was dying from feeling guilty of not coming.

Bruce turned his head as he heard church bells. Another funeral. Bruce looked at the church and the procession that has followed it. Two caskets...

Hold up.

He knows that face. The boy was (Y/N) (L/N). Bruce knew that his parents passed when he was truly young and that his grandparents took him when that happened.

It seems that his grandparents passed away too. Bruce met them a few times and they were lovely people and he was told that (Y/N) was a genius, but he didn't know just how much that intelligence reaches. Poor boy.

The procession was slowly passing and Bruce watched from Tim's parents graves. Bruce knew how it felt to lose your parents so young. It's almost like a big piece of you was taken and you will never be able to bring it back, no matter how hard you try.

Bruce looked back down at the graves, trying to keep the attention off of him. He didn't want to disrespect anyone, especially not the dead and besides, it's not about him. Somehow, there aren't any reporters.

Which is a very good thing, but it's a bit weird because like the vultures they are, they can sense when to come in the worst day possible and to use a tragedy for publicity. Thankfully, Bruce put his foot down when it came to his family.

Anything that invades privacy, Bruce would go after them and make sure they don't do that to him. His family didn't have anything to hide. Besides their night job, but that wasn't really illegal... It was something nice to do for the people of Gotham.

Bruce looked up when he felt that someone was watching him. It was (Y/N). He... He didn't want to be rude, but why wasn't he following the procession? Sure, he is young and saying that your parents will be 6ft underground is no easy task, but still...

Wouldn't it be good for him to get a bit of closure at least?

Bruce didn't say anything as (Y/N) simply walked up to him, in silence. Bruce noticed the suit and couldn't help but notice that he almost saw himself in the young boy.

Bruce also noted how (Y/N) watched him in wonder, tilting his head, clearly observing him.

" You are Bruce Wayne... " He said as a matter of fact, trailing off quietly at the end of the sentence.

" I am and you must be (Y/N). How come you aren't with your butler? " Bruce asked as he squatted down to (Y/N)'s level.

" I don't want to be. Too many people. " (Y/N) said and Bruce chuckled.

" I know, but it would mean a lot to him if you stayed with him. " Bruce said, remembering Alfred and his support when his parents died.

Bruce wouldn't have been the same without Alfred and his support.

" I guess so. " (Y/N) said as the the butler approached, a small smile on his face.

" Master (Y/N), what are you doing here? " The butler asked, but politely nodded at Bruce to acknowledge him. Bruce nodded back and (Y/N) huffed.

" It's way too many people. " (Y/N) said, crossing his arms with a pout on his face.

" That means your parents were liked, so come here. You won't be alone. " The butler said and (Y/N) huffed again, but took the butler's hand into his.

" My sincere condolences. " Bruce said and the butler nodded, a sad look on his face.

" Thank you... It was all by surprise. " Butler explained and Bruce nodded.

" Can I ask what they died from? " Bruce asked and the butler nodded.

" Heart attacks. Just in their sleep. " Butler explained and (Y/N) nodded. Death can come at any place, at any time. Death simply takes.

" At least it was in their sleep. " Bruce mumbled and checked on the grave the last time before turning to the duo. " I won't hold you two up anymore. I have to go and again, my condolences. " Bruce said, shaking hands with them both before leaving to his car. He walked to his car and drove off home.

" Master Bruce, master (Y/N) has arrived, yet again. " Alfred said as he walked through the kitchen, busy with making some food for everyone.

Bruce put his newspaper down and look down at the small child who went to the living room and Bruce's boys let out a cheer. Besides Damian who was still skeptic of (Y/N), but was getting there to start trusting slowly.

Then, (Y/N) slowly walked to Bruce, who sipped his coffee slowly, just to make sure to get awake. It was hell during patrol and everyone has gone insane. Just nuts. Probably more than Joker. Which is a feat of its own, but hey. Gotham is just Gotham and everything is possible.

Gotham is a city where everything's possible, but instead of dreams, you get nightmares. According to other people outside of Gotham.

" You are Batman. " (Y/N) said and Bruce spat out his coffee, coughing out the remains, trying not to choke from the said beverage. Heads whipped from the living room, shocked that (Y/N) was able to figure it out.

" I beg your pardon? " Bruce asked, still coughing as he wiped the coffee from his mouth and table. (Y/N) couldn't have done it, could he? How in God's name did he figure it out?

" You are Batman. " (Y/N) stated, so straight forward and blunt in it, making Bruce cough yet again, trying to figure out what to say. Also, to say that he was caught off guard is an understatement of the century. He is always on guard with everyone, besides his sons, and this took him... Well, using Gen Z slang would be 'took him out'.

If he guessed correctly.

" I'm not Batman. " Bruce said, trying to appear normal and not like he was just discovered and that his cover was blown wide open.

" You are. " And (Y/N) started saying how he knew and Bruce was sure he would have passed out if he was a normal human and not a vigilante.

The boys were silent as they watched it all in silence, hoping that Bruce would deter him from that answer. Something. At least something. But with how (Y/N) was talking and explaining... It was clear that they couldn't get out of it. Nothing. They couldn't lie their way out of this one.

Bruce sighed and (Y/N) smiled softly, clearly happy that he guessed.

" Yes. I'm Batman. When did you figure it out? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) smiled cheekily. Bruce smiled softly and thought to himself that (Y/N) was a little cheeky shit.

" When I first saw you. " (Y/N) and Damian, well, even he was impressed. That was... A bit... Holy shit.

" Afraid to interrupt, but master (Y/N)'s guardian is here. " Alfred said as he led the other butler in, who crossed his arms, but there was a fond look in his eyes.

" Master (Y/N), what did we talk about? " The butler asked and (Y/N) simply huffed.

" Come here please. " The butler added and (Y/N) nodded coming into the butler's arms. " Again, I don't know what's going on, but thank you for being patient with him. " Butler said and everyone simply replied with no problem and Jason replied with a cheeky 'kids, am I right.'

(Y/N) was slowly but surely getting way more comfortable. He saw the Batcave and fixed things that bothered everyone a lot and it was something that impressed them and made them pissed. Both at the same time, which is actually impressive.

And no one needed to explain to him how anything worked. That pissed and impressed Tim, who was proud to say that he knows their technology the best. It was just that. Impressive. But infuriating at the same time.

Either way, (Y/N) spent more time at the manor and Alfred and (Y/N)'s butler became good friends, often found venting to one another about the things that 'their billionaires' do that piss them off to no end.

Of course, (Y/N)'s butler didn't know of anyone's secret identities, just to make sure that he was the right person to tell, which is something that isn't easy to see. Sometimes, people hide their true selves and it's funny to decipher them.

Also, (Y/N) both impressed the Justice League by fixing a glitch they had in their system for months that no one was able to fix. Bruce was proud and everyone else impressed and low key jealous.

But either way, (Y/N) was now a staple of the Batfam and his guardian had no qualms about it.

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