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purinfelix · 6 months ago

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just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

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lexirosewrites · 22 days ago

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the Harringtons are the kind of parents to entirely ignore their omega son, Steve, but still opt him out of comprehensive sex ed in school

they even have the nerve to act surprised and outraged when he gets pregnant his senior year, as if he was supposed to know that letting teammates use his pussy would result in a baby?

poor little rich Steve Harrington with all the popularity money can buy and all the common sense he’s been “protected” from because of it

why are his parents mad that he’s gained weight? why are all the alphas at school being mean to him now and calling him names instead of making him feel good like they used to?

he doesn’t understand why his parents are allowed to kick him onto the street just because he’s 18 now, he still relies on them for everything

by the time Wayne Munson finds him on the side of the road in the rain, pregnant and pathetic, Steve has given up all hope of life going back to normal

he doesn’t even know enough to be wary

Wayne himself is a bit horrified that Steve doesn’t seem afraid of a strange alpha bringing him back to his house, but he’s a good man and he has a nephew Steve’s age so he involves himself in the Harrington mess nonetheless

he tells Steve that he can stay at their place and they’ll take care of him as long as he needs

Steve isn’t sure whether to believe it, but he doesn’t have any other options at the moment

Eddie however is annoyed at what Wayne’s dragged home with him

as if life wasn’t hard enough, now they’re going to house the town slut with them too? there’s barely enough room for the two of them to begin with and now they have Steve

Wayne doesn’t allow that sort of talk though

he tells Eddie to really look at Steve. look at the confused young omega with a growing belly and no life skills that didn’t even know enough to find shelter from the rain

sending him out would be a death sentence

Steve probably wouldn’t last a day out there alone

Eddie can’t help but feel like shit when Steve flinches away from him

he’s never touched Steve before. it wasn’t his idea of a good time to fuck with an omega who didn’t say ‘no’ to anyone who asked

but the longer Steve stays with them, the more he realizes that Steve wasn’t saying ‘yes’ either

so they show Steve how to be an omega by being the alphas in his life that he needs. they take care of him, keep him safe, give him a place to make a nest, teach him that he deserves respect and love from his pack

they’re not omegas, but they find Joyce Byers to show him the mothering stuff as his pup keeps growing inside him and brings unanswered questions

she explains all of the things they can’t and even covers the details he missed as a pup himself about mating and courting and how babies are made

after a couple of lessons with her, Steve comes back to the trailer and asks Eddie to be his mate

he may be a little behind, but he understands this

Eddie has been the one protecting him. the alpha gave up his bed for Steve and has been sleeping on the pull-out for months

Eddie got a real job to help out with the bills and afford the extra food for Steve and his pregnancy appetite

Eddie is the one who calls him pretty, respects his space, holds him when he’s sad

he’s a good alpha

Eddie is dumbfounded by the proposal

of course in the back of his mind he’d been wondering when it was appropriate to court Steve and ask to be the pup’s father, but the last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of an omega that the world had already chewed up and spit out

“You’re my alpha and you love me, so we should be mates,” Steve insists

and who is Eddie to argue with that logic?

Wayne isn’t surprised by the budding romance between the boys, but he does give Eddie a hell of a talk about treating Steve right

Eddie and Steve welcome their pup a week later

#steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg #parental neglect #tw parental neglect #cw parental neglect

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eriscary · 11 months ago

Text

This is a fully updated version of Tear's info sheet. It's advised to be read only after reading the 'Passing Ghost' comic, as it contains heavy spoilers.

__________________

Biography:

Tear!Sans is a puppet body possessed by a Napstablook whose greatest wish was to become Sans and see the multiverse. He created his body from mix and matching puppets made by Error!Sans. This angered Error so much that in his outrage he happens to glitch Tear into a corrupted Underfell AU variant with a missing Sans file.

Tear’s forced, glitched entry allows the Underfell AU to act in self-preservation and use glitches to save itself from corruption. It adopts Tear!Sans as its original Sans, renaming itself to Undertear. If Tear!Sans dies and there is a RESET, he comes back like other monsters. However, it also causes Tear’s original AU to be corrupted instead due to Tear’s absence. The memories the residents have of Underfell!Sans get replaced by Tear!Sans, although not perfectly.

Appearance:

Because Tear’s body is a puppet, his bones are plush and have visible stitches. He wears white gloves to hide stitches, but his forehead has the most obvious line of them. He also wears Napstablook shaped headphones and a white coat with a purple hood. Its backside has a pattern of two tear drops forming an upside-down heart. Underneath it is a beige scarf, white shirt and black shorts.

Story:

Tear’s AU got a lot of Sans variant visitors that he observed from afar. Through observation he learns of the multiverse and wishes to experience it. Even wishing to be like Sans, to feel as loved, important and blend in with the multiverse travelers.

An opportunity presents itself to Tear when Error appears in their AU. They go through the portal Error created, to see the ‘AU’ on the other side. Instead, they find themselves in the antivoid with Error’s puppets. They proceed to mix and match the puppets in order to create a new body for themselves.

Upon his return, Error is infuriated at his work being destroyed. In their rage they attack Tear, only to end up crashing and glitching Tear to a corrupted Underfell AU variant instead. Said AU slowly patches itself up, using the same glitches Tear came there with. Changing bits of its resident’s codes, as well as its own. On their arrival to Underfell, Tear encounters a glitchy Papyrus that seems to have confused them for his brother who went missing. Not able to get a word in, they get dragged back ‘home’ with him.

In the meantime, Error manages to find where Tear went, planning to eliminate them out of anger, as well as before more timelines and AUs have a chance to exist. Unfortunately, the AU adopts Tear as its original Sans and changes its name to Undertear. With this action and thanks to creators, more AUs with Tear variants come to be. Error stops himself.

He settles on observing the AU's code for a while, before destroying the newly formed Undertear. However, after calming down from his initial infuriated reaction, he felt hesitation. Tear is made of his materials, HIS puppets. He is worried destroying Tear will destroy his stuff that he wants back. It ends up making him feel frustrated instead. After getting rid of Tear's original AU, as it's now corrupted due to their absence, Error goes on a streak of destroying different AU's with Tear’s variants. Error hates Tear for what they did. He steals the chocolates from Undertear too, out of spite (it's created from Underfell after all). This is why Tear never has chocolate at home. Tear assumes it's Papyrus eating them, so they stock up for Papyrus. Error tells himself he will eventually get rid of the anomaly that ruined his puppets, but it never happens.

The memories the AU residents have of Underfell Sans get replaced by Tear, although not perfectly. Monsters exhibit the recollection of some smaller traits (like the clothing aesthetic). Papyrus recollects the most, yet lives in stubborn belief that Tear is their brother. They got occasionally questioned by others if they are truly related since Tear is a plush. He was quick to shut everyone up. Papyrus believes his life memories cannot be wrong. It doesn’t matter what their brother is made of, he was there with them for as long as he remembers.

Tear ends up living his life as a play-pretend, replacement for Underfell Sans. Unaware his original AU is gone and unable to leave Undertear.

Personality:

Tear used to naively believe that everyone is good hearted and tried to be polite even in situations he shouldn’t.

He soon learns of the multiverse and wishes to experience it. Even wishing to become Sans himself, so he would feel important, loved and blend in more with the multiverse travelers.

But with the environment of the new AU he got stuck in, as well as the chain of events that got him there, he learns not everyone is sunshine and rainbows. Tear is quick to learn the infamous “kill or be killed” motto of his new home and becomes more jumpy, careful of any signs of hostility. This made him more nervous of new faces than he already is.

Tear spends much of his time training to behave like Sans, failing at making good puns and stressing over not being lazy enough for Sans standards. He works too hard to be one, believing it would give him everything he wanted and make him survive the new world. After all, Sans surely blends into crowds with ease. They saw it with their own eyes. Tear also goes as far as using a great deal of effort into shaping his tears to be gaster blasters and bones. It hinders his speed, although even with this he is as fast as classic Sans, but fails at matching him in damage output. Most of the time he feels like he isn’t good enough, both as his old self and Sans. The new life makes him believe it’s his responsibility to do everything Sans took care of and he decides to stay till real Sans returns. Tear tends to blame himself for everything and does not acknowledge himself as a full Sans. It comes from the fact their bones are plush and have sewing stitches, his lack of confidence making him believe he ‘didn’t study enough’ to become one, failing to match some of the memories Papyrus seems to have of a Sans that Tear never met or saw, as well as the fact he is a play pretend replacement for someone. It has caused him to not fuse with his body yet.

Even though Tear felt abandoned by family and friends in their original AU, now they truly had no one. They were alone. Everyone here seemed so cold, cruel and even harder to approach.

Underfell/Undertear Papyrus becomes Tear’s only shelter from the outside world and Tear starts to grow attached over the course of time. Papyrus ends up being the only monster that truly cares for them, wants them safe and Tear is very hungry for any form of comfort. Even hugs make him REALLY happy. As a ghost, he felt very touch starved. Papyrus even adapts himself to look out for Tear better, seeing as he was unable to get ‘his brother back in shape’. Tear finally feels like he has someone that won’t leave him. He is finally important enough like Sans.

More than anything, Tear fears being abandoned again and this fear resurfaces in a way bigger wave. Tear believes if the real Sans returned, he would be abandoned and become someone forgotten and tossed aside. Likely dusting at the hands of another monster, if not Papyrus himself. More than anything, Tear fears Papyrus learning he is just a pretender, a replacement. This constant fear pulses through him, not letting him accept himself. Tear starts hoping Underfell!Sans doesn’t return and it makes them feel more guilt.

Tear would never leave his body, even if he sank at the bottom of the ocean. He also does not slip up by not shaping his attacks either. In Tear’s eyes, he cannot afford Papyrus or anyone that could tell Papyrus knowing he is a ghost. If Papy is gone… Tear has nothing and no one. He starts pretending to be ‘a perfect Sans’ at this point just to not lose him.

Knowing he does not truly belong, makes Tear feel detached from everyone.

Sometimes he will stand outside invisible, watching everything move without him, no one noticing them and everything passing him by.

Tear in general phases/goes invisible a lot, as means of escaping certain encounters or situations.

Abilities:

- Tears: When Tear!Sans cries, his tears hurt anyone on contact. Tear’s vision also gets watery.

- Shaping tears: Tear!Sans often controls his tears to take a certain shape like his top hat, but usually gaster blasters and bones in hopes of mimicking Sans. Such objects cannot be held by anyone else, as they would take damage.

- Phasing: Tear!Sans can will his body to phase through things, just like when he was a ghost. His body gets more transparent or straight up invisible. Their magic/tears remain visible. Unlike his ghost self, phasing requires magic this time. When too emotionally overwhelmed, he will unintentionally phase. Phasing gives him invulnerability, but he cannot attack during it.

- Ghostly sight: If Tear!Sans had a strong connection with a monster that died, he can see them as a spirit. This only happens if the spirit decides to stay before passing on. In a genocide route, Papyrus is temporarily one of them. He is just a presence that can communicate with Tear, be seen only by Tear and do nothing more.

In battle:

Tear's strength is on par with Classic Sans. He doesn't hit as hard, yet keeps up by attacking faster. He, however, loses the extra speed by shaping his attacks. Because he always holds back by doing so, he is overall weaker. His boss fight is also shorter because of him spending a lot of magic uncontrollably, before and during the fight. A lot of Tear’s magic is spent on day to day occurrences where he cries and phases. Tear’s magic reserves are never full unless they just slept/ate.

-Tear shares the same stats as Napstablook (HP 88, ATK 10, DEF 10).

-Due to mimicking Sans by resting frequently, Tear overcaps his base stat HP by 10. (like player does by sleeping in the inn)

-Tear is worse at dodging than classic Sans.

-Tear does not act as a ‘judge’ for the player.

-Unlike a Classic Sans or Underfell/Undertear Papyrus, Tear has no recollection of RELOADs and RESETs

-Tear cannot use blue attacks, do damage via karma points like Sans (damage overtime), shortcut and travel AUs on their own.

-Tear’s magic dissipates inside a body of water. Paired with the fact he doesn’t know how to swim and can’t shortcut, it’s his biggest weakness.

Genocide route:

The first time Player attempts Genocide route, they are forced to RESET in the judgement hall. Tear did not fuse with his body and as such cannot be harmed by physical attacks. Not killing Tear, as they are this world’s ‘Sans’, drops the genocide route.

On a RESET the Player instead focuses on dealing with Tear’s insecurities. Although it takes excruciatingly long, Tear eventually ends up fusing with his body. They inform the Player of finally accepting themselves fully for the way they are. Thanking them via cell phone. This makes the Player finally continue dusting monsters on sight.

Having not witnessed the fight itself, Tear arrives at the sight of Papyrus dusting in front of the human. He runs away in fear, to hide. Tear can be found again, crying in the judgment hall while hiding behind a pillar and flooding the place in tears.

Player has to mind their step. Tear’s ability lets him see Papyrus’s spirit in front of him and he is the only reason they don’t have an emotional breakdown just from seeing the Player walk in. Papyrus is there solely to keep his emotions at bay, so Tear would waste less magic in the fight on crying and phasing in unintended moments. It only stalls the inevitable and his emotions still flare up. Tear is never the one that initiates the battle. Player does. First knife slash is free, Tear doesn’t dodge. He has never perceived knives as a weapon due to prior physical immunity. Having just fused, he held no fear of any item that could be considered a weapon. He screams out in pain.

Battle starts with Tear shaping his attacks into bones and gaster blasters. The more desperate and terrified he grows, the more he phases and cries on top of the already launched attacks, making it harder to dodge. Tear weeps out loud to Papyrus of how scared he is through the whole fight. His attack speed boosts, as he eventually stops shaping attacks. The battle is over when his magic is completely spent, leaving them defenseless.

Neutral route:

Neutral route is more brutal on Tear then genocide, if Papyrus is killed and they fuse with their body. Tear still runs away at the sight of Papyrus dusting and can be found crying in the judgment hall. This time Papyrus's spirit isn't there, as he has deemed his brother won't need to fight the Player. Because Tear isn't aggressive to the human and never starts fights. Papyrus saw his own death as just another 'kill or be killed' moment.

Without Papyrus there to calm Tear, Tear spends a lot of his magic having an emotional breakdown, crying and phasing, from just seeing the Player walk in. If battle with Tear is initiated, he only survives two turns before his magic is completely spent. In those two turns, Tear doesn't shape his attacks. There is more excess magic going wild.

Without killing Papyrus, the Player can fight Tear at full strength. Tear won’t be hiding or having an emotional breakdown. However, they never stop shaping their attacks. The fight ends up just as long as Classic’s.

Pacifist route:

Player focuses on defying the ‘kill or be killed’ mentality of underground monsters. Helping them see the world in a different light. Papyrus is easier to ‘convert’ because of Tear.

The Player doesn’t end up focusing on Tear, as they aren’t aggressive to them like others. Due to it, Tear doesn’t fuse with his body.

Relationships:

- Underfell!Papyrus / Undertear!Papyrus: Tear’s non-biological brother. Papyrus is convinced Tear and him are truly related. Plush body doesn’t deter him, as he ‘knows’ what his memories are. When he finds Tear, he sees his brother has lost his prior edge. Tear’s ‘new softness’ is a dangerous thing to have in this world. Papyrus tries to help but it does not seem to fix the problem. He then adapts for his brother, keeping an eye on them more to keep them safe.

Trivia:

-Tear’s name has a double meaning. ‘To shed a tear’ and ‘tear something apart’. Different characters will say their name differently, depending on the personal opinion of them.

- He is very soft to hug.

- He is very light and his steps leave no sound.

- His favorite food are Blueberries, or as he calls them, Boo Berries.

- He occasionally calls the Player by a pet name “treasure”.

- Tear slightly hides behind Papyrus when seeing new faces.

- He gets excited at seeing any Sans or Papyrus, no matter how they look.

- Used pronouns are He/They.

- When terrified, Tear can unintentionally water blast the person through his eye sockets.

- If UF!Papyrus was to realize Tear isn’t his real brother and was to confront them angrily, much to his horror, Tear’s soul would break on its own from lack of hope.

#last updated: October 9th 2024 #utmv #utmv oc #ut au #tear sans #undertear #undertale #undertale au #undertale multiverse #napstablook sans #eriscary art

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babyleostuff · 11 months ago

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calling them your boyfriend when you’re married | ot13

[ ☁️] when you call them your husband version

warnings: generally gn!reader, but mention of "wife" and "girlfriend" with minghao

𝜗𝜚 choi seungcheol

just… don’t do this. he would get offended as hell, probably would give you a whole ass silent treatment, being extra pissy and mean, like - HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, HE DIDN’T MARRY YOU FOR YOU TO GO AROUND AND CALL HIM YOUR BOYFRIEND!!! i mean, he kind of gets it that you said it as a joke to tease him, but it doesn’t make it any funnier for cheol, he’s like a lil puppy anytime you call him your husband, so don’t use the b-word around him, please. you’d really have to give him lots and lots of kisses and pouts for him to forgive you.

𝜗𝜚 yoon jeonghan

for some reason turns into a mum, and scolds you? “yah, i’m not your boyfriend anymore, why are you calling me that?” like, jeonghan would give you a whole ass lecture on why he does not want to be called “boyfriend”, and why you should only use the term “husband". he’d be extra petty too, if you asked him to help you with something he’d be like: “oh, so now you need your boyfriend’s help, hm?” and he would not let this go quickly, he’d make your life extra harder that day because he. is. not. your. boyfriend.

𝜗𝜚 joshua hong

takes this very personally because he's the epitome of husband material, and he didn’t marry you to be called “boyfriend” again??? he’d turn his sassy shua mode on, and become a whole ass drama queen because he does not want to be called the b-word - he’s literally right there, in his husband glory, ring on his ring finger with your wedding date engraved underneath, so why is he being called “boyfriend”, hm? so don’t expect shua to be all lovey dovey for the day, he’ll need some pampering to forgive you for the outrageous act of calling him your boyfriend.

𝜗𝜚 wen junhui

pookie is sad, don’t calm him “boyfriend”, please? jun wouldn’t be overly emotional over not being called “husband” a few times, it’s not like it would be the end of the world, but at the same time whenever you call him your boyfriend he feels a weak pang in his chest, almost as if his body physically reacts to the lack of “husband”. he would stare at you trying to convey his dear request of: “baby, i’m your husband, remember??? please call me husband???” the word husband coming form you is just very reassuring, and it makes him feel very loved.

𝜗𝜚 kwon soonyoung

so so offended, WHAT DO YOU MEAN BOYFRIEND??? OH YEAH, SO THE RING ON YOUR FINGER IS WHAT??? JUST AN ACCESSORY??? AND THE WEDDING WAS JUST FOR FUN??? does not take the whole “boyfriend” calling lightly, being a husband is very serious for soonyoung AND HE WILL NOT TOLERATE THE B-WORD. Why would you even think of calling him your boyfriend, like we went from “boyfriend” to “fiance” to “husband” for a reason, SO LET’S NOT FORGET HOSHI’S YOUR HUBBY NOW!!!

𝜗𝜚 jeon wonwoo

at first he’s really taken aback because what do you mean “boyfriend”, you always refer to him as your husband ever since you got married (because duh - you’re married). would just kind of stare at you in confusion with question marks above his head, trying to figure out if you were actually talking about him, and why the hell you just called him your boyfriend. didn’t realise until a bit later how hurt ? he felt when he figured you were seriously talking about him, which was so weird because he used to love when you called him your boyfriend in the past, so what changed? (marriage happened you simp, he just adores it when you call him your husband).

𝜗𝜚 lee jihoon

would just roll his eyes, because he’s not the one to fall for your jokes. he knows that there is no way you’d call him anything but your husband if it wasn’t for a prank, so you wouldn’t get a big reaction out of jihoon. would just give you head pats and nod his head saying “whatever you want baby”. BUT, deep inside he’s crying. being your husband is one of woozi's biggest blessings, so hearing the word “boyfriend” when you are in fact married is a bit of a no no.

𝜗𝜚 lee seokmin

don’t call him boyfriend??? don’t break his heart??? why would you do this??? would immediately assume you’re unhappy in your marriage because why is he suddenly reduced to “boyfriend”? seokmin would stare at you with big (and sad) puppy eyes until you wouldn’t have explained why you used the forbidden b-word, because there is no way he would move on from that without hearing a proper explanation (and a proper apology). he just really really loves being your husband and being called “husband” - there’s just something magical about it, he loves hearing that word from you.

𝜗𝜚 kim mingyu

at first he wouldn’t pay much attention, because he’s not “boyfriend” anymore - he’s “husband” *cue in a proud mingoo smile*, so he thinks you’re talking about someone else? but then… WHO ARE YOU CALLING BOYFRIEND??? turns into a sulky and whiny mess, because “babyyyy, i’m your husband remember?” would follow you around and just whine, oh my god, it’d be so annoying you’d immediately regret calling him anything except “my dearest, loveliest, most precious husband” because how can a grown man sulk like that? over something you said as a joke. he would go on a whole ass rant about your engagement and the wedding to make a point i guess? as if he was trying to remind you that you’re in fact married.

𝜗𝜚 xu minghao

okay, then no more “wife” for you. would make sure to go around and tell everyone about his “girlfriend”, loud enough for you to hear. hao treasures his “husband” status very dearly, so when you suddenly start calling him your boyfriend he’s having none of that, thus will tease you right back, because he knows how you always go low-key crazy over him calling you his wife. your hubby is just so so petty he won’t forget this one quickly, and he’d want you to beg for him to stop, because as much as he wants to tease you back it truly breaks his hear hearing the b-word from you.

𝜗𝜚 boo seungkwan

would throw a tantrum because he’s dramatic like that. he takes his role as your husband very seriously, so you calling him “boyfriend”? not happening. the second seungkwan hears the b-word that he used to love so much (now he hates it because HE’S YOUR HUSBAND) he gives you the silent treatment in the pettiest way possible, which is funny because his clingy nature doesn not allow for him to ignore people, especially not you. and when he sees you struggling with unscrewing the cap from the water bottle he literally has to walk out of the room and lock himself in the bathroom so he wouldn’t walk up to you and help you.

𝜗𝜚 vernon chwe

it’s not that he doesn’t care, because he does, but at the same time he’s fairly fine with anything you call him as long as you put “mine (insert name)” before it. of course he loves it when you refer to him as your husband, but he wouldn’t throw a tantrum just because you called him “boyfriend” once or twice. as i said, as long as you call him “yours” it’s all good (it makes him shy as hell, and him blushing is guaranteed, but it’s such a nice, silent way of saying how much you love him).

𝜗𝜚 lee chan

sad, sad, sad. don’t break his heart like that - “what do you mean boyfriend?” he wouldn’t outwardly mention how sad he got over you calling him your boyfriend instead of husband, but ohmygod it’d be so visible, chan would look like a puppy who was just denied a treat, it’d be so so adorable if not for the heartbreaking pout. there’s just something about you calling him your husband, and hearing those words coming from your mouth that always make him so happy that suddenly hearing “boyfriend” would be so upsetting.

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furioussouls · 16 days ago

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LADS guys taking care of you when you’re drunk

[with chubby reader]

[chubby reader, don't like it, don't read it]

warning: alcohol, reader is drunk, fluff, dramatic (rafayel’s) ,comfort, suggestive (the guys don’t do anything because you’re drunk but you’re a fiend)

I tried to represent different types of drunks (sad drunk, horny drunk, funny drunk etc, so if you feel like some types don’t represent you, just go along with it)

⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Xavier:

Xavier tossed and turned in bed. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. You were not only not by his side, but you were also outside all by yourself. At night. Well, you were with your friends, but still. He should be beside you. He doesn’t even understand why he couldn’t come along with you. Its not like he would’ve stopped you from having fun. Matter of fact, he would’ve actually held all of your purses and bags while you were having fun. . Xavier sighed and obsessively checked his phone. Maybe you asked him to pick you up and you were waiting all by yourself while waiting for his response. Feeling abandoned and scared. He turned on his phone again and- nothing.

He laid his head back on the pillow when two heavy knocks echoed through his apartment. Xavier raised his eyebrows in confusion and made his way to the door after he turned the lights on. When he opened the door, he saw you. You were dressed beautifully and your pupils were dilated. Your outfit accentuated your ample body and every curve you had. Xavier smiled at you.

“Xavier!“, you slurred and kicked off your shoes. You quickly stepped toward him and wrapped your plush arms around him.

Xavier grinned at your excited tone and ran his hands down over your soft back. “Did you have fun?“ His voice was gentle and he pressed kisses against your hairline.

You nodded and rubbed your face into his baggy shirt. “I missed you and your smell.“ You inhaled deeply and let your hands run down his back. When your hands reached his plump butt, you squeezed and Xavier gasped and flinched back. His hands froze on your back. Your hands remained on his butt and you looked up. Xavier blushed a perfect red and his eyes were as wide as saucers. “Am I your squeeze toy?“, he asked in a high pitched tone. He looked outraged at your display of affection and you giggled and pinched his cheek.

“You’re so so cute. Such a cutie. You’re acting as if I haven’t touched your butt yet. Maybe we should try some exposure therapy so you don’t get flustered anymore.“

You took some wobbly steps towards the couch and threw yourself on it. Xavier stared at you and a low chuckle escaped him. He pressed his long and slender fingers against his mouth to stifle his laughter and sat down next to you. Xavier’s soft smile was embedded into his face and you cooed and happily squeezed his face. “So cute.“

He leaned into your soft palms and breathed in. Xavier then pressed a few kisses to your wrist and grinned. “Seems like you’ve had a good time. How much did you drink?“

You looked at him in confusion. “What makes you think I drank at all?“, you asked as you stumbled over your words.

Xavier hummed teasingly and held his chin in a questioning gesture. “I don’t know. I think I just know you too well.“

Your eyes widened and you nodded. You looked him up and down. “Wow. That’s really impressive.”

The side of Xavier’s full lips twitched and he pressed his lips against each other as he tried to hide his smile. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead and you sagged against him and mumbled. Xavier leaned forward to hear your words.

“I missed you today. It was fun, but nothing is as fun as it is when we’re together.” His heart squeezed in his chest and wrapped your full figure in a tight hug. His hands gently rubbed soothing circles over your scalp and you yawned.

”I missed you too. Let’s get you to bed, hm? You call tell me all about the fun you’ve had. Hopefully just with your girls.“

You giggled and yapped away about your evening while Xavier listened intently to every word that left your mouth. Sometimes he chimed in with sly remarks and one- liners that caused you to laugh uncontrollably. While you talked, he slowly undressed you and dressed you in comfortable clothes. He helped you brush your teeth and do your skincare and ignored your raunchy remarks and requests about him with a red face.

“I could just eat you up when you act shy“, you giggled sleepily and he grinned at you and kissed your forehead.

“Tomorrow you can.“

Zayne:

You were out with your friends as Zayne was catching up on some paperwork. His phone was right next to him incase you needed anything. Zayne‘s scarred and long finger pushed against his glasses when his phone suddenly lit up. His eyebrows furrowed and he picked your call up.

“Baby?“, your loud voice rang out.

The side of Zayne‘s mouth tugged up and he hummed into the phone. “Yes?“

“Baby.“ you rasped out again, this time your voice was whiny.

“Yes, my love? What happened“, he cooed with a soft smirk. Whenever you get drunk, you get extremely sappy. One time, you called him because you wanted to hear him confirm that he still loved you. Spoiler alert, he did and he always will.

“Can you come and get me?“, you asked while the music was bumping in the background.

Zayne’s smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Of course, I can. Are you okay? What happened?“

“Nothing happened. Just come. And bring your coat so you can give it to me romantically.“ You mumbled and Zayne huffed out through his nose and chuckled. “Alright, my coat. Anything else?“

You were quiet for a few seconds and Zayne waited obediently for you. It would probably take you a few seconds longer to think, given your inebriated state.

“How about you in a long Trenchcoat with nothing but some lingerie and some pretty stockings underneath?“, you asked in a fake deepened voice and he could practically see your eyebrows wagging in his mind. Zayne’s ears turned red and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“… anything else?“, Zayne asked again.

“Buzzkill.“ You grumbled out. “I would like for you to come and hug me.“

Zayne’s heart skipped a beat and he smiled. “I can definitely do that. I’m on my way.“

You waited outside of the club and saw Zayne‘s familiar silhouette approach 15 minutes later. Your frown split into the biggest grin and Zayne’s chest warmed in happiness. Both of you walked towards each other and he opened his arms for you. You giggled and cuddled into his chest as Zayne‘s familiar arms wrapped tightly around your full figure.

He cupped the back of your head and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes and hummed happily, when you suddenly felt him drape something over your shoulder. You looked down in confusion and grinned when you saw his oversized coat wrapped around your shoulders. You put your nose near the coat and sniffed obnoxiously.

“You listen so well to me. Its almost as if you love me or something.“

Zayne huffed through his nose and looked down to the ground. “I just assumed you’d come back with me easier if I gave you what you asked for, given your inebriated state.“

“Uh huh.“ You smirked at him and you let your gaze travel down his body. You pouted when you didn’t see any indication of him in some frilly lingerie. Following your gaze, Zayne raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“You’re worse than a high schooler.“ He admonished softly and gently grabbed your wrist. Ignoring your pouting, he gently led you to his car.

“I just love you so much. And I missed you tonight.“ You said in a wobbly voice. Zayne stopped walking and turned to face you. His face softened and he smiled at you. “I love and missed you today as well. Next time, take me with you. I promise I won’t interfere with your drinks.“ He lied. You giggled but nodded anyway.

When you reached home, he undressed you down to your underwear and laid you down on bed. He gently massaged your plush thighs and calves as you drifted off to sleep. He’d draw you a bath in the morning and prepare you some light snacks.

Rafayel:

Rafayel ran through the door of the bar. His face was scrunched into a worried frown, his chest heaving quickly. He received a voice message from you in which you were sobbing uncontrollably. You sent him your location and then didn’t respond anymore. He scanned the room and quickly walked through the people watching him with a confused expression.

He reached the back of the room and saw you. Tears ran down your face and you downed your drink quickly. He strode over to you and quickly grasped your soft shoulders.

“Cutie! What happened? Tell me, are you hurt? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you drinking?“

You jumped up and looked at Rafayel’s concerned face with a shocked expression. Your eyes were wide and your jaw dropped. Tears welled up in your already wet eyes and you cried out. “Rafayel! You’re here.“

“Yes! I’m here. What happened? Why didn’t you call me? We could’ve gotten drunk together if you needed to cry.“ He exclaimed and wrapped his arms around your body. Your ample chest was pushed up against his own and he pressed kisses all over your face as he wiped your tears away.

You looked at him in confusion. “I didn’t need to cry. I wasn’t even sad when I drank.“

Rafayel stared at you incredulously and his finger pointed to your teary and blotchy face.

You nodded and sniffed. “I just missed you. That’s why I called you and why I cried.“ You mumbled out, your lips pulled into an involuntary soft pout.

Rafayel inhaled deeply and let his forehead fall onto the table. He smacked against the table with a loud bang and he looked up at you again with squinted eyes. You looked at him in confusion as he pulled out his phone and played the voicemail. You sounded hysterical and were sobbing loudly. You nodded.

“Yeah, I sent you that cause I missed you.“

Rafayel groaned loudly and tears welled up in your eyes again. “Why are you mad at me?“

Rafayel’s eyes snapped up at your wobbly tone and he quickly shushed you as he wrapped his arms around you. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad. You just worried me into my early grave. But I’m not mad. Next time, just ask me to come because you miss me. Don’t just send me your location with you crying like that. My heart literally exploded when I heard that. I think I even have grey hair now because of you.“ He whined out and pointed to the back of his head with his slender fingers. “If you feel sorry at all, you’ll spend the next few days kissing and being nice to me to make up for this.“

You sniffed and nodded again. His face softened and he wiped your tears away. Rafayel’s face scanned around the room to see some people glaring at you for your emotional distress. “What are you staring at?“ Rafayel asked, poison dripping from his tone and the guy in question turned away. Rafayel turned back to you and cooed softly as he wiped your tears away.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you and then I started thinking about you being lonely while you’re at home and I-“ you stopped talking and your voice cracked.

Rafayel chuckled softly “Aw, cutie. I don’t feel lonely at all. I’m so happy with you.“

You sniffed again. “You’re breaking my heart with your little sniffs. Let’s go home.“ Rafayel exclaimed softly, on the inside he was extremely giddy and felt sappy. You loved him so much and called him because you missed him. In his eyes, you’re both already married.

On the way home your cried some more for various reasons. Rafayel just let you cry your little heart out while you yapped about all the things that made you sad while you were drunk. When you reached Rafayel’s home, he immediately began serving you water and stripped you down to your underwear. His flawless hands started working over the rolls of your back and he massaged you into sleep. He chuckled at your dramatics while he continued massaging away on your body.

Sylus:

You asked Sylus to pick you up from the club at 2 am and he agreed immediately. He got out of his car and walked to the entrance. Obviously, he wanted to pick you up, but you were nowhere to be found. He walks into the club and ignores the loud music as he looked around for you.

“Hello, sexy.“

Sylus felt a pair of hands on his chest and his cold expression relaxed when he saw your familiar round face. He smirked and put his huge hand over your soft ones. Your hands trailed over his muscular and broad chest and you gently scratched down his torso.

“Hmm“, Sylus grumbled out in bliss. His voice was very deep and husky and goosebumps rose over your arms. Sylus rose and eyebrow and the side of his mouth tugged up.“Is my little kitten using their claws to mark their territory?“

You bit your lips and nodded happily. Sylus smoothed down your chubby arms and kissed you gently. You grabbed him tightly and tried to deepen the kiss but he gently nudged you back. You looked at him in confusion and he shook his head.

“Not when you’re drunk, sweetie.“ Sylus explained softly.

You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to complain, but he just wrapped his arm around your body and led you to out of the club after grabbing all of your belongings.

Once you were secured in the passenger seat, Sylus drove off and you stared at him. Sylus raised an eyebrow at you when he noticed your watchful eye over him and his lips split into a big smirk, which exposed his pearly white teeth.

“Your side profile is so sexy. I want to ride your face, especially your nose.“

Sylus chuckled softly and grabbed your hand. He kissed the back of it and kept his eyes on the road.

“Tomorrow.“

“But I’m horny now.“ You whined.

“I won‘t stop you from taking care of your needs. Go ahead. I’ll even pull over for you. That’s how considerate I am.“ Sylus smiled and leaned over to you when you both reached a red light. He kissed you softly and then leaned back into his seat.

You kept watching him and sighed dreamily. “You’re so beautiful.“

“So are you, sweetie. The most beautiful one of all.“

You smiled at him and closed your eyes. “Do you wanna sleep with me after I wake up?“

“Yes.“

You nodded and yawned. “Alright then.“ You closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep. Sylus chuckled and shook his head. You’re just too cute.

When you both arrived, he carried you into bed. He tenderly stripped you and did your hair care routine for you. Sylus put a glass of water and some painkillers next to you, and a bucket in case you need to throw up. His arms were loosely wrapped around your half naked body. He kissed your forehead and gently scratched your back.

Caleb:

Caleb and you had the grand idea of playing strip poker and getting drunk. So now, Caleb and you both laid on the couch with intertwined limbs and giggly faces.

Caleb yawned and softly stroked over your exposed arm. His pupils were dilated and he looked at you with big eyes and a satisfied smile. Caleb‘s dimple was exposed and he chuckled softly at your dumbfounded expression.

You had just lost another round of strip poker and had to take your bra off. You sighed and took it off, which caused Caleb to sigh happily. He was already almost entirely naked and you laid down on his chest after you stripped.

“Why are we even still playing? Why don’t we just strip without the game?“, you asked in confusion and Caleb shook his head.

“Pipsqueak, you can’t just break rules like that.“ Caleb slurred out and took your hand. He cuddled into it.

You sigh and let Caleb kiss up your hand, then your arm and up to your neck. You moaned happily when Caleb buried his head in the crook of your neck. When he placed a languid kiss on it, you stopped him, though.

“No. It is my responsibility to make sure you don’t have sex. Because you’re drunk.“

Caleb looks at you in confusion and shakes his head. “No, it’s my responsibility because I take care of you. And you’re the one that’s more drunk than me. So I won’t sleep with you.“

“I already said that I wouldn’t sleep with you, you’re just a sore loser.“

Caleb groaned and laid back on his back. “I love you so much, pipsqueak.“

“I love you too.“ You mumbled and turned to face him. You gently cupped his face and squeezed his warm face. Caleb’s face was flushed and he smiled into your palm. You yawned looked at him in confusion.

“Who won?“

“Won what?“ Caleb asked with furrowed brows

“Our game.“

Caleb opened an eye and hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t even remember. Fuck.“

You gently smacked against his naked chest “Don’t swear.“

Both of you fell asleep soon afterwards and in the morning, Caleb woke up before you. He groaned and sat up, his head throbbed. He slowly scanned the room and his face softened when he saw your plush body tucked securely next to him. Caleb gently stroked over your soft cheek and he kissed your forehead.

He stood up and slowly made his way to the kitchen. After drinking his own glass of water, he started chopping some vegetables for your hangover soup. After he finished chopping all of your ingredients, he filled another glass of water with some painkillers and put them next to you on the table. He cleaned your face with a cool cloth and wiped the cloth down your face.

When the soup was done, he pressed kisses onto your eyelids. When your eyelids started moving, he kissed your nose. Then he kissed every inch of your face until you grumbled.

He grinned brightly “Good morning, pipsqueak. See, I told you that you were drunker than me.“

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strangererotica · 10 months ago

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

PART ONE

After accidentally causing Reader’s very first orgasm, Anthony does what any gentleman would do: he teaches her how to make it happen again, anytime she likes… ♥️

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

Lord Anthony Bridgerton. Six days have passed since your carriage ride together, and instead of making peace with yourself over your embarrassing display in front of him, you now have even more questions than answers.

Firstly, what was that overwhelming rush of feelings you experienced in his carriage? And secondly, why had Lord Bridgerton reacted so calmly while watching you carry on as you did? And thirdly, had he never really intended to call on you, even though he said he would?

In truth, Anthony Bridgerton had been preoccupied with thoughts of you since delivering you home last week. He’d originally intended to call on you, but felt that approaching the subject of what he could obviously tell was your very first orgasm would be impossible while in the company of others. So, he’d conceived an admittedly unconventional plan to discuss the matter with you, in private…

Anthony knew you had questions, and as a gentleman, he didn’t want to leave you confused or even worse, feeling as if you’d somehow done something wrong. Anthony was well aware of the fact that for young ladies, sexual education was limited to none. With all the privileges of a male upbringing, Anthony had acquired plenty of sexual knowledge and experience without the attached shame and social stigma a woman would receive if expressing herself in such a manner…

The sun had gone down over Mayfair, a crisp Autumn evening settling in as its residents did the same. You’d retired to your room for the night, ready to sleep and hopefully dream of carriage rides with Anthony Bridgerton, and without embarrassment. Being so close to Anthony had felt exhilarating, at first, until that terrible-wonderful-beautiful-terrifying surge of energy had taken hold of you. If only you could repeat the events of that afternoon, the ones that involved Anthony’s recusing you, his chivalry, his act of kindness…his touching you…without the resulting fit that had seized hold of your body. A realization washed over you. Could what you experienced have somehow been caused by Lord Bridgerton? He had observed the extent of your outrageous display with complete ease. It was a bit irritating, in fact, that he seemed to understand exactly what was happening to you, while you remained completely overwhelmed and in the dark.

You gazed at the ceiling, frustrated tears burning your eyes. What would happen if Anthony told anyone of your frightful episode? You could only assume he had not spoken word of it to anyone, because surely Lady Whistledown would have mentioned it in her latest scandal sheet. Clearly, Anthony Bridgerton was an honorable man. You chided yourself for thinking anything less than a gentleman of him moments ago.

Suddenly, a shadow at your window caught your eye. Usually, birds didn’t perch on your windowsill this late in the day…and what else could have caused the shadow, besides a bird? You closed your eyes, preparing for sleep. A dull thudding sound came from the direction of your window, lurching your body forward in bed and forcing your eyes open wide.

Anthony Bridgerton was crouched outside your window. Surely, you must be dreaming. And what a scandalous dream to be having, you thought to yourself with a giggle. It was only when Anthony tapped his knuckles against the glass that you realized, much to your horror, that you were most definitely not dreaming.

He smiled and pointed to the latch on your side of the glass, making a turning motion with his hand. You left your bed for the window, quickly grabbing a robe to cover your nightgown, which did little to conceal the shape of your breasts.

You unlatched the window and lifted it only so far as to hear each other speak. “Lord Bridgerton!” you whispered harshly. “Are you mad??”

Anthony’s smile faded only slightly, his head tilted in thought. “Possibly,” he conceded. “But nevertheless, I had to speak with you.”

“And why now?” you asked. “At the most inappropriate time? In the most inappropriate way-??”

“-Because,” Anthony interrupted. “The nature of my intended conversation with you demands privacy.” He sighed, glancing down at the latch again. “Now, are you going to allow me inside?” Anthony asked. “Or would you prefer I catch my death of cold? Or perhaps-.” He peered over his shoulder at the ground below. “-Falling to my death would better suit your-.”

“-Oh for heaven’s sake!” you snapped, throwing open the window, to Anthony’s delight. “Hurry in before someone sees you…”

He swung his legs over the windowsill, nodding a polite “thank you,” while keeping his steps as quiet as possible. Your eyes swept over the yard, trying to make out the face of anyone who might have witnessed the Viscount Bridgerton of all men climbing through your bedroom window. Thankfully, the grounds looked bare; you sighed gratefully, content with remaining free of scandal. For now, at least.

You turned to find Anthony seated on your bed, a sight that nearly gave you a heart attack. He saw the horrified look on your face, and immediately stood up- “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not wish to offend you. I find it…” He paused. “…Difficult, to know where you and I stand…to judge the nature of our relationship, after-.” Anthony swallowed, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“-After my frightful display in the carriage?” you offered, and he nodded.

“Yes,” Anthony replied. “Which, to be completely transparent, is exactly the reason I called on you tonight-privately,” he emphasized. “Because the nature of such a conversation is surely too sensitive as to be eavesdropped by others, do you not agree?”

Your eyebrows lifted, confusion written all over your face along with a blush of shame spreading over your cheeks. “People fall ill regularly, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, trying to calm the embarrassment making your voice tremble. “I fail to see how my…spell, though humiliating, as you seem eager to remind me, should warrant such a clandestine meeting as this...”

Anthony took a step closer; you flinched backward. “I do not wish to harm you,” he insisted. “Nor do I mean to imply wrongdoing of any kind on your part. If anything, it is I who acted thoughtlessly in not calling on you sooner, for not explaining that your-.” He smiled softly. “-Spell, or, falling ill as you call it, was not humiliating at all…”

You realized, for the first time in six days, that the feeling had returned. It stirred between your thighs like a dangerous, delicious secret. And while you couldn’t understand how, you were somehow sure that Anthony knew of your secret, too.

He took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t move backward. “Are you familiar with…” Anthony chose his words carefully. “…With the ways a woman’s body experiences pleasure?”

Your eyes widened; Anthony realized he may need to proceed with even more caution than he’d anticipated.

“When you…feel good,” he tried, watching your eyes for any sign of understanding. “That warmth you experience…inside your body…”

Anthony took another small step closer; you swallowed, feeling as if all the air had suddenly left the room. “…When you…touch yourself…”

He saw the lack of understanding in your eyes, and asked “you do touch yourself…don’t you?”

You shook your head, bewildered by Anthony’s lack of actual explaining. “Of course I touch myself, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied matter-of-factly; he seemed surprised by your blunt response. “I touch myself every day.”

“I’m glad to hear-.”

“-Everyone touches themselves every day-.”

He tipped his head in thought. “Well, it’s doubtful everyone-.”

“-In fact, I fail to see how that explains anything about my behavior last week, Lord Bridgerton,” you finished. Anthony looked slightly confused, and asked “when you touch yourself…do you not feel the way you felt in the carriage?”

You shook your head, embarrassment washing over you again. “No,” you replied. “I’ve never felt anything comparable to that while touching myself.”

Anthony considered his next question, and his reasons for asking it, carefully. “How do you touch yourself?” he asked, worrying immediately that he’d gone a step too far. Everything about this conversation was becoming more inappropriate by the second, but at least you seemed to have some experience in pleasuring yourself. It was a good start, Anthony reasoned.

You didn’t seem offended by his question in the slightest. “I touch myself each time I pull on my gloves, for example,” you explained, still not at all sure how this was relevant. “I brush my hair, which means I must touch myself to do so…” You continued to describe absolutely innocent everyday examples of ways in which you touched yourself, none of them pertaining to masturbation, as Anthony soon became aware.

He held up a hand to stop you, a gentle yet frustrated smile on his face. “While all of the examples you’ve given do indeed describe touching oneself,” Anthony replied, his smile fading. “They do not describe the manner of touching that would arouse feelings like the ones you experienced during your…spell, in my carriage.”

You stared at him blankly, completely confused. “How else would one touch themselves, my lord?” you asked. Anthony’s chest dipped as he exhaled, deeply. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the sounds you made in his carriage the week prior…of how you looked seized with pleasure, your pretty features contorted in ecstasy…the way your scent had remained in his carriage, how he’d used it to get himself off on the way back from your home…

Anthony knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. But despite his better judgement, he found the words he should not say passing through his lips, and his fingers drawing closer to touch your cheek: “Perhaps I might teach you, then?”

Your skin warmed beneath Anthony’s touch, his fingertip tracing your cheek and resting on your lips. It was all too much, the racing of your heart, the intensity of his gaze holding yours like no man had before. The beautiful ache between your legs was now pulsing, throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

“May I teach you?” Anthony asked again, softly. His thumb stroked the curve of your chin; your legs felt weak, unable to hold you. “Yes…yes,” you replied, every inch of you trembling. “Please…”

Anthony’s lips curved in a slight grin, but his behavior retained the calm sensibility of an instructor preparing to teach. He guided you toward your bed, gently imploring you to “lie back.” You followed Anthony’s direction, taking his hand as it was offered. His lips parted when your robe slipped off your shoulders, revealing the curve of your breasts, your peaked nipples lifting the fabric. You moved to cover yourself, but Anthony stopped you. “Do not be embarrassed,” he murmured, his voice low, sincere. “Your body is beautiful, (Y/N). It should not be a source of shame…not here. Not now.”

Anthony brought your hand to his lips, pressing your index finger to them in a pretend ‘shh.’ “No secrets,” he whispered. You whimpered softly, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, attempting to soothe the tension between them. Anthony noticed your discomfort…every part of him noticed. His cock twitched at the sound of your arousal, at the way your scent lifted through the thin fabric of your gown and straight to his nose. He watched your body tense as you tried to fend off the inevitable; you were going to come. And Anthony was going to watch it happen, again.

He loosened the cravat at his neck, the heat in the room increasing by the minute. He led your hand over your breasts, watching you gasp as your nipples perked to meet your palm. “That’s a good girl,” Anthony praised, his voice slightly strained. “Do you see the way your body responds?” He exhaled slowly, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the restraint of his trousers. “Now,” Anthony continued. “Bring your hand lower, like so…”

He guided your touch downward, dusting along your belly. You watched with widening eyes as your fingers moved closer to the space that throbbed more intensely with every breath you took. Anthony swallowed, feeling his resolve weaken. He had to keep himself under control; you were fragile, completely unaware of just how vulnerable a position you truly were in. A less honorable man than he would likely take advantage of an innocent young woman in such a state, having given him her full trust, legs spread and waiting for his command. Anthony clenched his jaw and resolved to continue your lesson, his desires forced into check.

He paused your hand just above the tender space you’d never touched, that no one had touched before. A space that in some ways belonged to Anthony already, as only he seemed able to arouse these desires in you from the start. How fitting, then, that he should be the one to guide your hand in exploring yourself, to the place that swelled and wept only for him…

Anthony’s erection was becoming distracting. He wondered if you’d notice, and ask about it. Thankfully, you seemed too consumed by the sensations affecting your own body to notice anything around you, for which Anthony was grateful. If you did ask to see it…looking all wide-eyed and innocent at his cock…asking why it stood like that, why he looked so intense-did it hurt…? What is it for…? Can you show me, my lord…? Anthony knew he’d crumble like a pastry and end up doing god only knows what…

He pressed his wrist against it, a subtle attempt at soothing away some of the pain denying himself was causing. Instinctively, you’d pulled your hand (and Anthony’s covering it) further between your legs, till your touch was hovering just above your clit. Anthony’s eyes were hooded, his lips parted and dry as he watched you. “Touch yourself, (Y/N),” he murmured, his voice husky, wavering. “Allow your body to tell you what she needs…”

Anthony gently lowered both his hand and yours, his fingertips fanning over your clit. You drew in a sharp breath, your hips bucking, the muscles in your stomach tensing as you lurched forward. “Shh…shh,” Anthony comforted you. “It almost hurts, does it not? A feeling so intense, it frightens you…like bringing your fingers too close to a flame…”

He lightly circled his fingertips over your clit again, pulling a helpless whine from your throat. Anthony’s cock twitched against his wrist, begging for relief. Sweat beaded along his hairline, his brow tense with concentration as he forced himself to maintain control.

“Focus,” he said, both to himself and you. “Lean into the feeling, frightening though it is…” Anthony used your hand to massage yourself. Your heels dug into the bed in response. “Let go of all the tension you carry,” Anthony whispered, his hand working over you. “Give in to the feeling….give in to...”

Anthony’s words failed as all his senses were consumed by the image, the scent, the sound, of you coming undone beneath his hand. You whimpered and wept, soft sobs of pleasure that spilled from your lips as your body convulsed. Your feet kicked wildly, making a mess of the bedding, sheets tossed this way and that as you flailed. In your beautiful struggle, your nightgown was thrown above your knees, putting your pretty, pouty lips on full display for Anthony. The scent of you was abundant, no longer inhibited by the cover of your gown. Anthony abandoned his pretense of modesty, aggressively rubbing the outline of his cock through his trousers while his other hand continued clutching yours.

He pulled away suddenly, a labored groan roaring up from his chest. You were just beginning to come down, your mind awash with the fuzzy, delirious bliss of orgasm. Anthony climaxed beside you, grunting through his release, filling the front of his trousers with semen. He turned to find you lying with your arms outstretched, your chest rising and falling and glistening with sweat. Your legs were still spread wide, your embarrassment long-abandoned, a big, satisfied smile lighting your eyes. Your smile faded just slightly when you noticed the look of exhaustion on Anthony’s face.

“My lord?” you said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding his assurance that he was well. “I assure you,” he replied, kneeling to sit at your bedside. “I am more than alright…”

He took your hand in his once again, feeling the slickness of your arousal on your fingertips.

“Did you…” you began, unsure how to ask. “…Did you do what I did, just now?”

Anthony’s brow lifted, his smile widening. “In fact, I did,” he said, to which you replied, in happy surprise, “I did not know that men could do it, also!”

Anthony threw his head back laughing, before quickly admonishing himself for making too much noise. He leaned closer and gave your forehead a chaste kiss, before making his way to your window.

“My lord?” you whispered. Anthony paused at the windowsill.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“If there’s anything else you might wish to teach me,” you said. “You’ll find my window open, from now on.” A mischievous grin turned the corners of your lips. “Remember that, will you?”

Anthony smiled, his mind already teeming with a thousand filthy things he wanted to show you. “I will remember,” he said, and exited through your window. ♥️

PART THREE

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myfeetrcolddd · 11 months ago

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Boundaries? Never heard of them.

Growing up with Theo had desensitized you to things, like how he was always holding your hand, or how he insisted on cuddling anytime you were to sit down on a couch together, or how he would kiss you on the cheek hello or goodbye, except the kiss was hardly on your cheek and right at the corner of your mouth.

Sure, you were aware how the relationship between the two of you was not the average one of two best friends, but you didn't really mind it. You had gotten used to it, it felt weird to even think about things between the both of you being any different.

It was only when Theo got a girlfriend did you realize things would have to change, much to your dismay, and to Theo's too apparently.

"What'd you mean I can't hold your hand anymore?" Theodore looked taken nearly offended as he said those words, his face twisting in confusion and distaste.

"Theo, you have a girlfriend now." You say, wrapping your arms around your middle uncomfortably. "We can't just hold hands all the time, or at all."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Next thing I know you're going to tell me we can't cuddle during movie nights or when I sleep over."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you!" You exclaim, tired from having to reiterate the same thing over and over. "And from now on we shouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed at sleep overs, if your girlfriend would even be comfortable with us having sleepovers"

"You're being ridiculous, Angel, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"I'm being serious, Theo, I'm setting boundaries now that you've got a girlfriend, and another thing on that list is calling me Angel." Theodore frowned harder(if that was even possible) looking taken aback by your words and down right offended.

"Boundaries? Not calling you a name I've called you since we were kids?" Theo took a step closer, which was really a problem since he had already been to close to begin with. Now he towered over you more than usual, bringing his hands up he rested them on your neck, his thumbs coming up over your jaw as he held your face close to his. His eyes were narrowed and scanning your face as though looking for something, "Has someone casted a charm on you? Maybe some potion. Either way, you're being weird and I don't like it."

"I'm being weird?! I'm not being weird!" You insisted, and you knew you should shove his hands off you, push him away or take a step back...but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You'd always liked his touch much more than a friend should. "Y-you're the weird one! Thinking we could continue as we are while you have a girlfriend."

"Why would we change anything?" He asked, as though he was truly confused. "I like the way things are between us."

"Well I can't imagine your girlfriend likes the way things are. I'm sure that if I had a boyfriend he wouldn't like how things are." You had mumbled the last part under your breath, an after thought to your previous sentence, still Theo heard it and his confusion and annoyance turned to something darker.

"Boyfriend?" He questioned, his voice low and more gravely that usual. "What's you having a boyfriend got to do with anything? You, you don't have one do you? No boy here is good enough for you, and I wouldn't change my ways for some sleaze like him."

Theos words had been harsh, a sharp edge to them as he spoke, he'd never spoken like that before, at least not to you. It was odd, he seemed mad at the thought of you having a boyfriend, outraged even, the emotions just simmering beneath the surface.

"No, Theo, I don't have a boyfriend," He looked to deflate a little at this, relaxing slightly, "It's not like I could have gotten one anyway, everyone thought we were dating from the way we acted, and it didn't help that you practically growled at any guy that would try to come up to me." You scoff, annoyed but Theo seemed the opposite, his lips quirking up in a small smirk.

"Was that so bad though? It's not like any of them were good enough for your attention anyways." His hands slid from your neck down to your waist as he seemed to pull you closer.

"Look, we're getting off track. We need to set some boundaries." You press your hands against his chest and push him off you gently, he seems to allow this and walks back a few steps before taking a seat on the edge of your bed and staring up at you. You blushed slightly from the way he was looking at you.

Theo groaned and rolled his eyes, "I still don't see why we need those."

"Because you have a girlfriend for crying out loud!" You say, exasperated form having to repeat yourself, "How would you feel if your girlfriend, the girl you like, had a friend that was overly touchy and clingy and borderline cheating on you with him?"

This seemed to stump him, "The girl I like?" He muttered to himself, then his eyes trailed back to you and his jaw clenched. "No...no I wouldn't like that at all."

"See! That's what I mean. That's likely what your girlfriend is feeling about how we are with each other." But Theo didn't seem like he was really listening at this point.

Inside his head, a switch had flipped for him and he realized something. His eyes widening, lips parting, and cheeks heating up slightly and he turned to look up at you through his eye lashes.

"Shit." He murmured, staring at you and his pupils seemed to dilate. It was like he was seeing you in a whole new light, you were as beautiful as you ever were, the same angel he thought you were all those years ago, but now he realized it was so much more than looked with you. And he was stupid to think this was how best friends were with each other.

Really, could he be any more daft? Standing up, he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting it's prey. He didn't stop until he was closer than before, his hands cradling your head on each side and pulling you close.

His face was right above yours, your noses nearly touching and your breaths mingling. "I'm an idiot." He muttered, his eyes getting lost in yours. "A stupid and blind idiot." His forehead dropped down to yours and he closed his eyes. "And I'm sorry."

Before you could register what was going on his lips were on yours, his hands holding your head tightly against his as he kissed you. You had tried your best not to give in, but you couldn't help yourself because it was the one boy you had liked all your life, finally kissing you, and like his life depended on it at that.

So, you kissed him back, arms twining around his neck and bringing him impossibly closer. One of your hands threaded through the hair on the back of his head and you gripped it tightly and he groaned before kissing you harder.

Then, as fast as it had begun, it ended. He pulled away, cheeks blotchy and red and pupils so big you could hardly see the blue green color of his eyes. "I'm going to fix this. Then I'll be right back." He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, "Don't leave." And then another kiss and then he was gone, your dorm door slamming shut behind him as you stood in stunned silence.

A hand lifted to your face and I gently touched your lips, you were sure you looked like a tomato, and your mind was reeling. That wasn't how things were supposed to go...at all.

#imagine #theodore nott #not edited #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #hogwarts #harry potter #hp fanfic #fanfic

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himasgod · 1 month ago

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Hello! ^^ I've read your fanfic about Malleus being jealous and I really loved it! If I could, could I make a request?

It's a reader x anyone from the TWST cast, but preferably Azul, in a stablished relationship, where the reader is telling Malleus about her latest date with Azul and Malleus is acting like a puritain nun because HAND-HOLDING....? BEFORE MARRIAGE...????????

In the ghost bride event he says he cannot do fake engagements bc he's a prince and yada yada, so I think he takes VERY srsly a relationship and would be flabbergasted by the smallest things lmao

Maybe a bit of overprotective Malleus again pls? 👉👈

Ty if u take this in consideration 💕

Where Malleus is too overprotective with you

Where you tell Malleus about the date you had that night with Azul, but he can't put aside his overprotective and somewhat rigid mind.

Dusk tinged the sky with warm hues when you ran into Malleus on one of his evening strolls around campus. It wasn't unusual for him to accompany you during these quiet hours, where you chat freely with him without interruption from the daytime hustle and bustle of NRC. This time, however, his expression was a mix of disbelief and sternness as he listened to you tell him about your last date with Azul.

"And you're saying… he held your hand?" Malleus asked, his voice resonating with gravity.

You looked at him, blinking in confusion.

"Yes. We were walking down Octavinelle, and Azul took my hand. It was cute, he was nervous at first, but then he relaxed and—"

"That's outrageous," he interrupted, frowning with an almost comical intensity. "Don't you know that such direct contact between a lady and her fiancé should only occur after a formal engagement?"

Your jaw nearly dropped in astonishment. "What-"

"Marriage is a sacred bond, a bond not to be taken lightly." Malleus crossed his arms, assuming a posture of princely dignity. "If Ashengrotto has already dared to touch your hand without a formal promise, then he must take responsibility and honor you properly."

You didn't know whether to laugh or be a little scared.

"Malleus, we're in a relationship, not in a royal court from the last century. It's just holding hands!"

Malleus didn't seem convinced.

"First holding hands… then what's next? Walks alone at night? Letters written with sweet nothings?" he exclaimed with genuine concern, while you nodded along, not understanding what was wrong with it all.

"Boldness."

You brought a hand to your face, trying to hold back your laughter. This was ridiculous.

"Malleus, we've gone on dates before. We've also held hands before."

He took a deep breath, as if he'd just heard blasphemy.

"I can't believe Ashengrotto dared to touch you like that without making a formal offer of marriage. Does he have no honor?" His gaze darkened, almost offended by your name.

"Malleus, stop!" You finally laughed. "Really, it's not that serious."

"Of course it is," he insisted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Come to think about it… what are his intentions toward you? I won't allow him to play with your heart."

There it was. Malleus's overprotective way. You knew he cared you, but sometimes you forgot that his sense of protection was too… archaic.

"Azul is a gentleman, Malleus," you assured him, trying to calm his indignation. "He's very attentive to me. You don't have to worry."

But Malleus didn't seem convinced at all.

"I'll watch him closely," he declared. “I won’t allow someone to lead you down the path of perdition with empty promises and immodest gestures.”

“Malleus… it’s just holding hands!”

He didn’t reply, but you could see the storm of thoughts running through his mind. Clearly, he was reconsidering his position regarding Azul.

“Tell me,” he continued after a tense silence, “what else has happened between you?” His emerald eyes glittered with suspicion.

“Uh… well, we ate together. Azul cooked for me, and—”

“He fed you too?!” he exclaimed, putting a hand to his chest, as if you had committed an unforgivable heresy.

“Sharing food is an act of deep intimacy. In Briar Valley, a meal prepared with care and shared in such a manner is a symbol of absolute devotion."

Now you were certain that Malleus was exaggerating everything in the most hilarious way possible.

“Malleus, it was just lunch. Azul just wanted to surprise me.”

“First the hands, then the food…” he muttered to himself, clearly uneasy. “This is worse than I imagined. I must speak to Azul as soon as possible.”

“Don’t even think about it!” You rushed to stop him, desperately grabbing his arm.

“As your friend and protector, it is my duty to ensure that he treats you with the respect you deserve.” His tone was completely solemn, which made it even funnier.

You covered your face with your hands, knowing that no matter how many times you explained the normality of your relationship, Malleus would still see every small act of affection as an affront to decorum. Azul had no idea what was coming his way.

That night, you learned that your boyfriend would be receiving menacing glares from a very overprotective dragon in the coming days.

#twst x reader #twisted x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul x reader #maybe #azul ashengrotto #malleus #malleus draconia and reader #malleus and yuu #malleus draconia #jealous malleus #overprotective malleus #i love him in fact

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sillystringpasta · 9 months ago

Text

so, i see all these aus where danny gets help from the justice league for the anti ecto acts, and they're great. but hear me out. ghost king danny. classic setup, acts need to be repealed or war.

so danny goes to the league, of course.

the league of assassins.

Ra's is already familiar with death, and ghosts, and the realms. ya man's had the lazarus pits for centuries, he knows a little bit of what's what. maybe there's already some trade relations going on. more importantly, he has a massive group of hyper competent people who can pull strings in the government very stealthily, and have no outside affiliation or loyalty to that government.

but why not the JL? most of them are based in the USA. they work with the government (danny assumes). surely they are aware of the Acts. surely they would conform to them, enforce them.

so ghost king danny meets with ra's, who gives rancid vibes, but is able to, and wants to, do a smear campaign against the JL. against the USA. to gain favor with the guy who is the king of his most sacred resource, and knowledge about how to use the Pits to gain some basic liminal powers.

danny doesn't like the solution, exactly. but he's king. and this is what will protect his people. this is what will get expedient results. this is what his advisors who will still permit peace will allow.

so danny takes the deal with Ra's.

the initial outrage begins online, perhaps through MikMok. a mega famous influencer is cosplaying as superman, doing a twerking sort of dance to the most current haha funni meme song. the text overlay reads: when the superheroes condone genocide because they aren't human, ANTI-ECTO ACTS (whatever law/section code they were passed in).

it goes viral. and then someone finds the Acts (prodded along by the League) and it goes from a hit sensation online to every. single. news outlet flooding with information (puppeted by the League).

is this real? the Acts are real. but why? if these people(?) don't exist, why the Acts? the outrage. the mass confusion. the conspiracies. the new subgeddits and trending xitter tags. 4kun greentext be me: a ghost, becomes the new thing.

at this point, the GIW are scrambling to keep their involvment on the downlow. there are acts, sure, but they're not enforced :DDDD

vlad is in a similar situation. he cloned a guy. he def experimented on other ghosts to get to that level of knowledge. naturally, this is about when lex luthor gets involved. because, wouldn't you know it, but project CADMUS? yeah. that was a collab with DalvCo. they both wanted non-human clones from green stuff. they got it, and now luthor's sitting on some unpretty information.

he promptly shoves vlad under the bus, which is rapidly becoming less of a bus and more a trainwreck.

the league is surprised this happened, but goes with it.

the US governemnt is still trying to deny, deny, deny.

it's at this point that the JL gets themselves together. they don't know if the papers by Drs fenton are biased, or if ecto entities really are mindless creatures bent on destruction.

constantine says they're biased. green lantern concurs.

they decide to summon an ecto entity and find out what is going on.

danny is pretty stressed. it's a stressful situation. he's on break for the first time since they got a solution to this problem. he's not gonna answer a summoning. he has people to do that for him.

so they don't get the ghost king.

but they do get-

dani. and jazz. at the same time.

maximum possible psychic damage.

in the room at the watchtower is the big 3, green lantern, martian manhunter, flash, constantine, zatanna, raven, and black canary (legends of tomorrow experience? cool headed? there for arrow who is busy?).

dani doesn't like superman. he treats clones badly. jazz doesn't like batman, see Arkham.

dani doesn't know who c, z, raven, or bc are. jazz kinda knows of them, but not well.

so the actual negotiations go down with WW and MM.

they have a lot of questions. dani (abomination form) introduces jazz (basic looking human) as a princess of the realms. jazz says that the Acts are real, the realms want war, go suck a creamsickle (that was dani), they want restitution for the lives lost from the GIW.

then they leave the JL wondering who the GIW are.

someone (LoA) manages to hack the watchtower and post the meeting online as soon as it happens. or maybe they livestreamed it on Switch.

my spamblr, the result of my space buying tumblr in 1999, gains its first sexy women (jazz). jazz/WW fiction springs up on AOL3 overnight.

the GIW goes public. they try to push the envelop of ghosts being non-sentient. they try to use jazz being ambassador for that meeting to help their case. the JL is fighting accuations, but they are being pidgeon holed into siding with the GIW by the media.

it's at this point that things go from trainwreck to airplane runway crash.

dalvco and luthor are in a lawsuit. the usgov is under pressure from everyone. people are calling for impeachment of the president. the GIW is getting raided and having their evil posted online. the drs fentons are absent (in the ghost zone, either being evil or having mimosas with pandora). ra's is trying to use new knowledge of the Pits to reanimate tim's spleen. the JL is under constant fire. everyone who has ever had a malicious opinion about super or meta control is getting new platforms. danny can't use his intimate knowledge of what's going on to write his essays for school.

the world is galvanized. there are calls to action. liminals of Amity Prak come forward. you could be liminal too! the Acts get repealed. the GIW gets cleaned out, all prisoners rescued. the realms get restituition. the meta protection acts get expanded.

people will learn about phantom, the superhero. the dead boy who saved them all when the JL didn't answer amity's calls. the JL comes under more fire. they lose funding, defund the police style. for maximum chaos, this can be when the miraculous ladybug crossover starts.

phantom gets a bajillion features on true crime podcasts. tucker keeps sending links to the episodes to them. sam will never admit it, but she listens to them.

but things will never, ever be the same. arguably it's a bad end. but...

black canary restructures arkham from what jazz said to batman in that meeting. many of the rogues get actual help. the joker is transfered to a supermax. he never escapes again. nightwing takes the discowing costume back up in celebration.

vlad loses the lawsuit, and uses his powers to get one over on luthor, who has a mind control suggestion implanted to (amongst other things) never be able to work on these projects again.

there is greater transparancy in superhero work. this makes some people start social programs for villians who have a point. it works for a few of them. the JL is cleared up to handle more extraterrestriel threats, not leaving the burden on one person alone in the cities. the child sidekicks have less work.

amanda waller is fired. ironically, she had nothing to do with any of this, but people assume that she did. either way, everyone agrees it's deserved.

the league of assassins makes a lot of money. they get hired a lot in turbulent times.

disney, which is utterly unchanged in this dimension, makes a documentary about everything. they get dani in for an interview. it's in very bad taste. there is at least one death pun and CGI'd animal.

danny graduates.

clockwork smiles.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing #my idea #dc #batman #league of assassins au #my writing

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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Hello! Can I request smt with Luocha, Dan Heng, Argenti and Boothill? (Separate, and dw if u don’t write for boothill ^^)

You’re dating them and randomly call them husband just to see their reaction. You just say it so casually too during a convo with maybe a friend or a family member

Argenti: ‘Argenti might as well be my husband at this point.’ You said to your friend after retelling a story regarding yourself and Argenti.

‘Awww! I wish Royland was more like Argenti.’ Your friend groaned, glaring daggers at the back of their boyfriend’s head.

Argenti visibly perked up at this, his eyes and smile were practically glowing. Did he hear you right, you consider him as a potential Husband? The gods have answered his prayers and quelled any worries that he might’ve had beforehand. For Argenti fully intends to be your husband one day and until then will commit himself to proving to you why he would make an excellent husband.

The moment he met you, to the moment you begun dating, all Argenti could think of was what it would be like being your devoted husband, your soul partner for the rest of your lives. No one else will do for Argenti but you, and he’s so loyal and extremely devoted to being your partner that the thought of looking at anyone else was so blasphemous; so much so that he’d rather hand you his eyes on a gold platter then ever be tempted by any other.

Argenti has had many dreams about your domestic life as a happily married couple, a happily married couple who were very much still in their honeymoon phase, but when he’s your husband that honeymoon phase would never fade away and die. He would make every day feel just as unique and special as the last few.

He might as well have ‘y/n’s husband’ as his name instead of Argenti because of how much he would use it when introducing himself to anyone new.

Needless to say by the end of the month to the day you and Argenti were officially married and more happy than ever.

Luocha: ‘Luocha would make an amazing husband, don’t you agree?’ You asked your friend, eyeing your boyfriend across the room for his reaction.

‘I thought Luocha was already your husband.’ Your friend asked, genuinely confused.

the moment Luocha hears his name being spoken he doesn’t think much of it, but when it was in the same sentence of as the word husband, that well and truly caught his attention. However it doesn’t take him long to realise what you were doing, but once he realised what was going on it was already too late, as the reaction you pulled out of him was very much a genuine one.

Neither of you had talked about it but according to your friend, you must’ve came across as to others a married couple anyways. So much so that even if you were to ever make it a reality nothing much would change at all for anyone other then himself and you; Yet that didn’t change the fact that the seed was planted and has taken ahold inside of Luocha’s mind as he walked towards you and your friend, placing a hand to the small of your back as he politely greeted your friend, acting none the wiser.

Well your friend might not pick up the hidden cues that told you that he knew, but you did, you could pick up his cues as easily as breathing which makes attempts at teasing one another all the more fun and interesting; Luocha could read you like the back of his hand and you were only starting to get the hang of reading him.

So the look he gives you may not seem like much to other people but to you, it was him telling you that he knew what you were doing, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him in victory because he took the bait you had put in place for him. You didn’t need to hear him to know that the first thing he’d ask once you took your leave would be:

‘I don’t think it’s wise of you to tease your husband. Do you?’

Boothill: ‘you and Boothill? Now that I didn’t see coming.’ Your friend joked as if you hadn’t openly said the most outrageous, thirsty shit about your now boyfriend.

‘Watch it because sooner or later he’ll become my husband.’ You joked back as you and your fiend shared a laugh.

Boothill flashes his sharp teeth in a wicked smirk upon hearing you call him your husband.

Oh now you’ve done it. He’s not going to let you live down the fact that you had called him your husband. He refuses to because he wants to see how you’d react to it. So he’ll make his presence know by confidently striding up to you and resting his hand on your waist, squeezing it, before smashing his sharp teeth once more but this time in a Cheshire grin.

‘Husband?’ He’d ask. ‘Have I secretly been promoted from being your boyfriend without my knowledge? I’m honoured sweetheart, but warn a fella next time before you go and pull this sort of stunt off. Oh wait,’ he pauses before continuing. ‘There’s not going to be a next time because you ain’t gonna be getting rid of me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me forever sugar.’ He cackles as he shamelessly swats you on the ass -hard- for good measure.

Yeah your plan kind of back fired on you because now your the one with the extremely flustered face, and now an sore ass that’ll become a bruise on top of that.

Boothill loved the idea of you belonging to him and only him and vice versa. He’s a possessive prick who’ll gladly put a bullet of two between the eyes of any bastard stupid enough to look at you for longer than a second.

He’s not one to share his treasure and never will be. You’re his now unto forever. Also he’d probably jokingly call himself your husband whenever you meet new people along your journey, and or scaring suitors off by screaming that you/him were married. (You very much weren’t but it works in keeping creeps away, so that’s a bonus.)

He plays on it so much that it’s an inside joke between the two of you and the two of you alone.

Dan Heng: ‘my husband Dan Heng, is just outside getting fresh air, he’s not fond of overcrowded social gatherings.’ You explained to your parents who shared a look of understanding.

Dan Heng, who had finally came back into the house, overheard this conversation and immediately his face burst into flames as his palms became sweaty all of a sudden and his breath hitched in his throat.

Husband?

Him?

Is that why he’s been invited for your family vacations with your parents, grandparents and relatives with their spouses of their own? All because they thought he was your husband? Dan Heng thought he was going to faint then and there from how many times he’s mentioned himself as your husband.

You’ve been together for a while now, but the fact that you were calling him your husband had him feeling some type of way that went beyond comprehension. He likes the idea of being your husband and has had a couple of shameless dreams where you very much were married and had a small family of your own, living a peaceful and loving life together and growing old together, still very much in love. However he always seemed to be at a loss for words when wondering whether in an alternate reality his dreams were your lived reality.

Dan Heng has so many thoughts on being your husband, one of them being that he’d be grateful in being chosen to be your life partner, while the other had still yet to find the words to voice his desire in being your husband aloud without being overcome by his own emotions. So until then he’ll have to suffer you freely calling him your husband in the presence of your parents, not that he’s complaining but he’d rather not be asked why his face still went so red when being called your husband, especially after so long of being assumedly married by your parents.

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claramelooo · 28 days ago

Text

WOVEN FATES (20/20)

I know. I know! I'm late! I'm so sorry 😭

I had a serious problem with the wifi, I managed to get it working only now. But we're going to let you think that mommy left you suffering on purpose (it's more poetic that way, right?) 😅

So! That's it! Enjoy it!!! <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: After your experience. You understand what it is really made of.

Fate

You woke up feeling light. For the first time in so long… there was no exhaustion. Not even that strange lethargy that usually followed the intense acts of the night before.

Your body ached, of course — the marks, the bruises, the still-fresh cut on your palm.

But it was a different kind of pain.

A good pain. A living memory.

As if your flesh was whispering: “You survived. You belong.”

You stretched, naked — fingers interlaced, arms raised over your head, reaching out. The sheets still tangled around your legs. Sunrays slipped through the curtains like a blessing, and the whole room seemed to breathe with you.

As you moved your hands, you felt it.

The cut from Rio’s cold blade was still there. You touched it gently. It was thick. Dark red. It almost looked like it was smiling at you.

And you smiled back.

You walked to the kitchen with your heart pounding, bare feet making no sound on the cold, expensive wooden floor.

And then you saw it: the same scene as always.

Rio was leaning over the counter, trying to draw on a plate with molasses. At first glance, the lines looked clumsy, but there was a kind of care there that made you bite your lower lip to keep from grinning too wide. — it was funny seeing her like this. Your Mama, not Rio the award-winning artist, so severe that even pancake doodles were supposed to be perfect.

Agatha, as always, had her back to you, focused on the kettle and the scrambled eggs. Her movements were graceful, precise. Even when she wasn’t trying, she commanded the space.

Even in the bad weeks.

Even in the heaviest silences.

This scene never changed.

“You’re always here…” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

“And you always look at us like it’s a miracle,” Rio said, turning around with that cheeky smile, revealing her molasses masterpiece on the pancakes. “Like it? It’s you, Agatha, and me. I thought it’d be cute.”

Agatha gave a dry chuckle, not even turning. “That little face looks like a dead fish.”

“Hey!” Rio feigned outrage, wiping her hands on a cloth. “I’m the internationally awarded artist, remember?”

You laughed out loud, sitting at the table, still feeling your body sore from the night before.

“You two are so normal in the morning, you don’t even look like the wicked witches who did unspeakable things to me last night.”

“Ooh, you do love playing that card, don’t you, sweetheart?” Rio teased, walking toward you. “So bossy and fierce last night, and now acting all innocent?”

“I wasn’t being fierce!” you protested, your face heating up even more. “That was called confidence! I knew you wouldn’t deny me anything.”

“Oh, my love,” Agatha finally turned, a mischievous smile on her lips. “You looked like a demonic princess. I must’ve done an excellent job shaping you, little gem.”

You stifled a laugh behind your fingers, shaking your head.

That’s when your Mama noticed.

“Oh my god… sweetheart.” She rushed toward you, taking your hand gently. “Does it still hurt?”

“What?” you blinked, confused. It took a few seconds to realize she was referring to the cut. “Oh. Yeah, but… it’ll pass, right?”

The smile she gave you stole the breath from your lungs. Reverently tender, Rio brought your hand to her lips.

She examined the cut, her eyes moving across your skin with almost ceremonial care. Then she blew on it — a soft, flickering breath.

The sting came like a shiver. The cut tingled, glowed…

And disappeared.

Your eyes widened.

Rio turned your palm over and kissed the back of your hand before whispering: “Better?”

You still hadn’t managed to blink. “Impressive.”

She tossed her hair back with a victorious air. “Oh, what? That simple, mediocre spell? Please. It’s nothing to me.”

Agatha rolled her eyes dramatically, clearly used to her wife’s enchanted showmanship, and murmured something in Latin just to poke her: “Vanitas vanitatum, Rio.”

Vanity of vanities, Rio.

You chuckled softly, eyes moving from one to the other, with a warmth in your chest that felt too big to hold in.

This was real.

They were here.

Bickering, flirting, caring — being your chaos and your refuge all at once.

Rio arched a brow, pretending to be offended.

“Oh. I’m the vain one, Agatha?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“Darling, the shoe fit and I strutted it down the runway of life,” Rio replied proudly, winking at you like she expected applause.

You covered your face with your hands, laughing — and when you peeked through your fingers, you realized how much you loved that routine. Even the bickering, the dramatics, the sharp retorts.

It was all so… familiar.

So yours.

The taste of coffee mixed with milk was so sweet on your tongue, it felt tailor-made for that morning.

Happiness came quietly, seeping gently through the spaces of the kitchen: in the scent of melting butter, the muffled sounds of laughter, the warmth of hands brushing now and then — accidentally or on purpose.

You found yourself smiling at them, without even realizing it. Not the forced, nervous smile from the beginning.

But a real one.

Loose. Warm. So honest it trembled.

Rio looked at you and raised a playful eyebrow.

“Falling in love, are we?”

You let out a laugh through your nose, not denying it, and Agatha murmured something like “Finally figured it out.”

The molasses on your plate had become a happy little face with horns. A clumsy attempt by Rio to draw a smiling little witch. You found it adorable.

And then…

Something sparked in your eyes.

“What happened to Wanda?”

The silence spread slowly, like smoke.

Not a tense silence. But a heavy one. Almost respectful.

Agatha placed her cup gently on the saucer, her fingers resting on the warm porcelain. Rio licked her lips, took a deep breath to answer — but Agatha spoke first.

“Her powers have been… suspended. Removed. Until you decide what to do.”

You blinked, feeling the ground fall away beneath you even though you were sitting.

“That means…”

Agatha looked at you with a half-smile. Not mocking — but with a kind of dark pride.

“That means her fate is in your hands.”

Your chest tightened. Your mind spun.

Not that you’d take revenge. Not that you wanted harm to come to Wanda — at least, not anymore.

But knowing this… Knowing you could.

Knowing you had that power.

That control.

It lit a spark.

Something dangerous. Warm. Almost… sweet.

You lowered your eyes, as if that could hide the thought. But Agatha had already seen it. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with that wicked tenderness only she possessed:

“Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?” you asked, surprised she had sensed it.

“The weight.” She said it like revealing an ancient secret. As if no other word in the world could better fit that moment.

“Weight? Of what?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. Your brow furrowed, your chest tightened. And still, you needed to hear it from her lips.

“Of being chosen.”

It was like too-tight a hug. Or a punch straight to the stomach. You still couldn’t tell. But something inside you tore open completely. And instead of pain, what flooded your body was a kind of fever — an impossible mix of relief, fear, pride, and vertigo.

To be chosen. To be the end of one story and the beginning of another. To be the knot in someone’s fate.

Suddenly, all your years of loneliness seemed to converge in that moment. All the times you felt forgotten, invisible, too small to fit into any bigger plan… all of that now seemed like it had only ever been a rehearsal.

A quiet preparation for this moment.

The moment you would be seen. Recognized. Chosen. Marked. You lowered your head. Part of you wanted to scream. The other just wanted to cry.

That’s when Rio approached from behind.

You felt her before you saw her — warm and solid, like a wall of flesh, bone, and magic wrapped around you.

Her arms circled your shoulders with a care that nearly broke you.

The touch wasn’t possessive. It was protective.

A physical reminder that you weren’t alone.

“You are our end,” Rio murmured, her lips brushing the back of your neck, her voice rough with something that sounded like worship. “And the beginning of her story, my love.”

You closed your eyes.

The kiss she placed on your skin carried everything you couldn’t name.

It wasn’t just affection — it was a vow. A sacrament. A seal.

You felt anger. So much anger toward Wanda.

For everything she did and took.

For making you feel small. Insignificant. Replaceable.

But you also felt responsibility. You were now the guardian of a power you didn’t fully understand. In your hands, you held the fate of the woman who once tried to control yours.

And finally, there was desire. Not the wild, raw kind from a few hours ago — but something else.

A deeper desire. A more dangerous one.

The desire to stay. To remain. To belong.

To never again live in a world where Agatha and Rio didn’t exist. The desire to deserve that touch, that love, that curse.

You were fury and mercy.

You were the poison and the cure.

The punishment and the miracle.

And when Rio’s kisses spread across your skin like a profane blessing, when Agatha’s eyes burned into you with that devoted intensity, something inside you unlock and called you.

[...]

The Audi engine hummed through the city. You’d grown spoiled, always riding in Aggie’s car in the mornings. Listening to her old-people music, breathing in the scent of leather.

It was a good routine to have.

When the car stopped, your heart sank — yes, the dreaded three blocks. Always three. The safe distance between their world and the one that still couldn’t know.

You sighed, hand hovering over the door handle with hesitation.

But before you could open it, Agatha’s fingers touched yours — firm, gentle.

“Don’t go yet,” she whispered. “I haven’t looked at you enough. My little student girl.”

You smiled, still surprised by how deeply it affected you. She said those things with such dangerous ease.

And you? You felt it all like it was the very first time.

How could someone with that much power make you feel so... so alive? So silly? So absurdly young, as if time held no weight at all?

Maybe being their secret... wasn’t so bad. Maybe mystery protected. Maybe silence built something only theirs — where the world couldn’t reach.

There was poetry in the hiding.

Freedom in what didn’t need to be explained.

But the clock was merciless, and you had to go. The project presentation was that afternoon, and despite the surreal life you lived with Agatha and Rio, part of you still existed in the ordinary world.

The student. The friend. The survivor.

“The presentation’s today,” you murmured, almost like an apology.

The ride had been short but sweet. Aggie looked at you at every red light like she was about to discover a new secret on your face.

And you? You laughed. A light, clean laugh — almost adolescent.

She nodded in understanding.

“Good luck, my heart,” she said, cupping your chin before kissing you. “Show them what you're made of.”

You entered the building on trembling legs, your heart pounding in your ears. It felt strange walking through the college halls, knowing what you now knew.

Knowing what had happened.

Knowing who you had become.

The presentation room was packed.

The final project of the class, led by Lilia, had turned into a small event.

As you walked in, Alice’s eyes found yours almost immediately — and you looked away. The anger still lived there, buried beneath layers of disappointment.

Then your gaze was caught by Lilia, seated at the front.

She didn’t smile.

Her face was the same as always: elegant, unreadable, a professional mask impossible to crack. But her eyes... her eyes said something more. She looked you up and down with a focus that pierced.

And a chill ran down your spine, like a ghost had passed behind you.

“Good morning, everyone,” Lilia’s voice rang out — steady, controlled. “I hope you're ready.”

She stood with her usual grace, unhurried. Leaned her hip against the corner of the desk, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the room like she knew exactly what everyone was trying to hide.

As she read out names, calling group by group, you felt Alice’s presence inching closer — like an unwanted shadow.

She was shorter than you, but in that moment, she seemed even smaller.

Smaller on the inside.

Shrunk by guilt, maybe. Or regret.

You heard her calling your name softly.

Once.

Again.

And again.

At first, you ignored her.

You really didn’t want to deal with that shit. Not now.

But she kept going.

And you turned.

Your face was serious. Rigid. Like stone refusing to be shaped by empty words.

A look you’d never shown her before.

And now, it was the only one you had to give.

But before you could say anything — before the flood of hurt, rage, and frustration came out — Lilia’s unmistakable voice cut in.

“Girls,” she called.

Your eyes turned to her.

“It’s your turn.”

You took a deep breath.

Gave Alice one last glance. And said, barely moving your lips: “Let’s get this over with.”

You walked to the front of the room with steady steps, though your heart was pounding like mad in your chest.

Behind you, Alice hesitated, but followed — that was the deal. Even if the trust between you was broken, the work was shared.

At least on paper.

You didn’t look at her.

You didn’t have to.

This story was yours now.

Lilia leaned back slightly in her chair, fingers laced, her sharp gaze locked on you.

You plugged your USB into the projector. Took a deep breath.

And began.

“When we talk about character building, we’re taught to focus on conflict, motivation, trauma. But some creations don’t come from any of those places.”

The first images appeared on the screen: Paintings, shadows, scribbles. Fragments of a world where the real and the mythological aren’t opposites — They’re layers.

“Some characters aren’t written in ink. They’re summoned.”

You felt the room’s silence thicken, Lilia’s eyes like a knife against your skin — and still, you didn’t flinch.

“This is the story of two women. One made of absolute control. The other, of darkness in its most beautiful form.”'

You moved through the room like someone who knew exactly where they belonged.

“They appear in hidden records, in stories scholars like us would label as fiction. But what happens when fiction refuses to stay made up?”

The screen now showed a sketch of a map: three interlocking circles.

“They didn’t build kingdoms. They didn’t seek power for power’s sake. They shaped a being. A third figure. Not as heir. But as proof.”

Lilia was watching you with a hard gaze, making you want to flee from her eyes.

But you didn’t.

You stopped.

Agatha’s voice echoed in your mind: “Show them what you’re made of.”

And what are you made of?

The question slithered inside you like an ancient serpent.

You stood at the center of the room, under the weight of Lilia’s stare, under the quiet judgment, under the tense silence.

And somewhere deep within you, far beneath your skin, the answer began to rise.

You are made of your mother’s absence on Sunday mornings. Of your father’s frustration that you weren’t who he wanted you to be. Of the metallic taste of shame. Of the words you swallowed just to avoid looking weak.

You are made of the first time you saw Agatha and couldn’t tell if you were scared or mesmerized. Of the way Rio looked at you in that café, like she could paint your soul. Of the warm leather in their car. Of the scent of jasmine on her neck. Of the taste of freedom on the tip of your tongue.

You are made of the things that were almost said about you. And the ones you never allowed anyone to say.

You are made of magic that can’t be explained — only felt. And of a quiet hunger for belonging.

You are made of love. But not the soft, romantic kind. Love as a blade. A pact. A fire that burns everything down until only what’s real remains.

Your skin prickled. But your body stood firm.

On the outside, what others saw was a girl presenting a project.

But inside you, a temple was being built.

You inhaled.

Lifted your eyes.

And your voice, low and fatal, rang out:

"Proof that love can also be a kind of madness. That control can be care. And that sometimes… the best characters aren’t invented. They’re awakened."

Lilia moved for the first time. A slight tilt of her chin. Her mouth parted — not in surprise, but… fascination.

"Our characters don’t have names on paper. But they’ve left their signature on everything they touch: In the way someone leads without raising their voice. In the smile that hides entire worlds behind the eyes. In the body of someone who wasn’t made to obey… but to belong."

The final slide appeared.

Three figures dancing in blue flames, like shadows behind a sheer veil.

"This is our proposal: beings not born from a rational arc, but from a ritual. Who need no redemption — because they were born marked to be exactly what they are."

You fell silent.

And the silence after your final words was heavier than any applause.

Lilia sat like a sphinx.

Then she spoke, slowly, as if she’d swallowed shards of glass:

"You’re actually good. Truly impressive."

The words left Lilia’s lips like a rare flash of lightning in a clear sky. You didn’t answer — but your chest rose subtly, recognizing the compliment not as a gift, but as a nod of confirmation.

She was strict. Surgical.

She didn’t praise out of politeness.

But something in her tone said she had high expectations for you.

Beside her, Alice opened her mouth — hesitant, like she wanted to share the moment, soak in the glow.

But then the bell rang, shattering the spell.

The students began to disperse like leaves in the wind.

You said nothing. Just walked toward the door, leaving Alice behind, stuck in her own hesitation.

"Alright, class! Grades will be posted on the bulletin outside. Stay tuned." Lilia called out, watching the students walk through the doorway.

The work was done.

And now you could go home.

Watch a silly show with Lucky curled up beside you, always purring. Water your plants while waiting for your mommies to come home from work.

You took a deep breath.

Finally.

The peace that comes after giving your all.

But that peace was broken by the touch of a hand on your wrist.

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

"Hey—hey! You’re seriously just going to ignore me? You vanish for two days and when you come back, you’ve got this… this attitude..." she hesitated, as if unsure which word fit best. “Pretentious.” Her grip on your wrist tightened.

You turned on your heels, eyes cold.

Oh. My. God.

How dare she?

"Yes, Alice! I’d love to go back to the time when you were just the weird girl."

Ouch.

You knew that stung.

But well… it stung you too.

The betrayal, the lies and the silence.

She swallowed hard, as if she finally understood the real issue here. "Oh. Right. This is about the night of the party, I see."

"No, Alice." You let out a dry, cracked laugh. "This is about you. Your betrayal. Or better yet — were you ever really my friend at all?" You pointed a finger at her, each word slicing into her like a blade.

She blinked quickly, her eyes brimming with tears for a moment. "What—? Of course I was. I–I–"

"Funny… Wanda told me something else." You stepped back, arms crossed, waiting for her reaction.

Alice’s eyes widened for a split second. “Wanda…”

"The fucking witch who told you about the source. About me." You tried to control your voice, but the last part came out like a growl.

"Look. Billy said she was just some acquaintance. We didn’t… we didn’t even really know who she was."

Billy.

You remembered his eyes.

Dark. Deep. Haunted.

He had seen something in you before you even knew it existed.

And now you could see what he saw.

That son of a bitch.

What did he have to do with her?

You let out a tired sigh. The rage weighed on your shoulders like a stone. You rubbed them with your fingers, exhausted from feeling so much.

"Screw all this, okay? I don’t care anymore. I’m fine. More alive than ever." Your voice came out proud, confident.

And it was true.

You were alive.

More aware.

Stronger.

Because now you knew who you could count on — and who you couldn’t.

"The real question is: why did you agree to this? Why did you do this to a friend?"

Alice lowered her head, finally broken. The tears now fell freely, without shame. But her body remained rigid, like she was clinging to some scrap of dignity amid the collapse.

You looked away.

Not out of weakness.

But because it hurt too much to watch her fall apart.

You glanced around — students coming and going, ordinary lives, trivial problems. And you, standing in the middle of an open abyss.

"She said I could be stronger. More… powerful." The word came out broken. Like a child confessing she’d broken her sister’s favorite toy.

You stared at her in silence.

"Well… I hope it was worth it, at least."

You said it with confidence — and it was true.

But inside, you were shattered.

You closed your eyes for a moment, accepting what you’d known all along. Sometimes, people choose paths where there’s no room for you.

Deal with it.

You turned your back and disappeared into the crowd.

[...]

The door clicked shut behind you with a soft sound. And like magic, the world outside shrank into something distant, irrelevant.

Here, within the warmth of your walls, you were just… you again.

The jingle of Lucky’s collar was all it took to revive your heart.

You dropped your backpack to the floor and ran to him, throwing yourself onto the couch with a heavy sigh. The tiny furball landed on your lap in seconds, purring loud, heart racing with joy just to have you back.

"My baby!" you cried, laughing as he wrapped himself around your arm, showering you in soft, playful bites. "Mommy missed you so much…"

For a few seconds, time dissolved in that cuddle. It was just you, him, and the purring.

Until a familiar voice came from behind the couch:

“Look, my love. Seems like we’re grandparents already.”

You turned to Agatha — who murmured in agreement while fixated on the iPad screen — and frowned. What were they doing home? So early?

“You bet we are,” you replied, kissing the top of the black cat’s head. “The real question is whether Lucky was properly fed these past two days.” Your tone was stern and serious.

Agatha scoffed, sinking into the armchair across from you. “Oh, please… He’s a cat. He ate his kibble every three hours, just like he should.”

“What? What kind of kibble? Lucky only eats the three-protein blend. No fish. So you have to remove every—”

“What a spoiled, demanding little creature,” Rio cut off your avalanche of instructions.

“Oh, really? Then take a good look at the monster you created,” Agatha shot back, dramatically pointing at you and Lucky curled up on the couch.

“I created?” Rio repeated, incredulous. “Says the woman don’t-feed-the-baby-sugar-because-it’s-bad-for-them.”

“Well, it is,” Agatha shrugged, as if she had just won the argument with a bulletproof truth.

You just laughed, defeated. Being with them felt like living inside a dream — a warm, silly, messy dream you never wanted to wake up from.

But then, something white hopped across your peripheral vision. You blinked.

A little puffball.

Lucky jumped down and went straight to it, sniffing curiously.

What…?

You leaned over the couch to get a better view and saw the tiny creature, pink-nosed and alert-eyed, sniffing your cat... and for a second, you couldn’t believe it. Lucky started licking the soft white fur, and the tiny being leapt forward, giving you a full view.

Your eyes widened.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Language,” Agatha warned, eyes still on the screen.

“Aggie. Love…” Rio chimed in, her voice thick with barely restrained amusement.

Agatha finally looked. She squinted at the little rabbit, as if deciphering a secret etched into its ears... then relaxed.

“Hm. That’s Señor Scratchy,” she said, trying to sound convincing.

Rio sank deeper into the couch, arms crossed. Like she already knew what was coming — and that it would be delightful to witness.

“No, it’s not. Señor Scratchy is a rabbit… plush,” you said with emphasis, like explaining something to a child who just told a very bad lie.

Agatha raised a cynical eyebrow. She glanced again at the bunny with the faint brown spots.

“Oh. He is?” She looked back at you, feigning innocence.

“Yes, Agatha. I remember perfectly. Plush,” Rio chimed in just to tease her, earning a deadly glare from the witch.

“Mommy…” you began, but didn’t even need to finish — Agatha sighed loudly, like someone caught red-handed but determined to keep her dignity.

“Ugh, fine!” She raised her hands, standing just to pick up the little furball. “Señor Scratchy was our pet before you got here.” She petted him gently.

“What?!” You were stunned and slightly outraged.

“And we had a deal that when you came here,” she continued, stroking the bunny, who seemed to approve with closed, content eyes, “he’d behave and help you adjust to the house.” Agatha rubbed his ears, and he practically melted in her lap with pleasure.

“And to us,” Rio added now, her chocolate-bright eyes piercing right into your heart.

Then it clicked. Why hugging that bunny always soothed your worst days. It felt like touching them. Like their emotions flowed right back through him.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

“Surprise!” Agatha stood up and placed the tiny creature in your lap.

“Oh my God!” you repeated, breathless, feeling the soft fur and that cool little pink nose brushing your fingers.

“We changed him back because we didn’t want Lucky to feel lonely while we went to pick you up,” Rio explained, petting him too.

“Oh my God! I have a real bunny!” You stood up with him in your arms, spinning excitedly. “You two are the best mommies in the world!”

They laughed at your enthusiasm.

“Sweetheart, don’t shake him like that. Rabbits naturally have fast heart rates. Let’s not give a centuries-old creature a heart attack,” Agatha warned, still smiling.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Forgot he’s not plush anymore.”

Rio burst out laughing, tossing her head back. Neck exposed, that wide smile — a spectacle on its own. All you could think was how beautiful she was.

“All right, little weirdo. No more surprises,” she pointed to the couch. “How about helping us choose your dress for your Mommy’s film premiere?”

“I already picked one,” Agatha said firmly, eyes glued to a website.

“Aggie!” Rio scolded. “We agreed she gets to choose this time, remember?”

“But it’s an important night!”

“For her too.” Rio now sounded like she was parenting a teenage Aggie. It was hilarious.

“Fine. But only tonight,” Agatha declared, pointing her finger like it was law — because obviously, your Mommy would never actually give up dressing and feeding you like her doll.

“Uh, hello? I’m still right here, remember?” you chimed in, sarcastic.

“Silence, child! Move over,” Agatha demanded, settling on the couch.

She handed you the tablet, and you started browsing through the dress options.

There were so many. All colors.

And you decided to tease her a little.

“Hmm… Which one should I pick?” you sang the words, making your Mommy visibly tense. “Maybe lace?” You saw Aggie swallow hard. “Or something made of polyester…?” You knew she’d hate that. And she really did — judging by the way she clenched the pillow like she wanted to strangle you.

“Or what about neon—?”

“Don’t you dare even think about it!” she exploded, finally.

You laughed and gave a mischievous grin, tongue pressed between your teeth.

“I got you.”

You returned your attention to the pictures. Until one of them stopped you cold.

It was long. A deep navy blue. Elegant and mysterious. A classic, sophisticated silhouette made for a red carpet. The full, structured skirt made the deep blue look almost black.

The bodice shimmered in starry blue — tight to the body, with thin straps. It came with a pair of long black satin gloves.

It was dramatic.

It was perfect.

Pure red carpet.

You whistled. “Yeah. I really got it.”

[...]

You were sweating inside the car.

The muffled sound of the crowd outside seemed distant, as if echoing through a glass dome. Cameras flashed like lightning. Shouts, flashes, and a red carpet that seemed endless. It was like standing on the edge of an abyss.

Your chest rose and fell in short, nervous breaths. The claustrophobia of the moment squeezed your waist tighter than any corset ever could.

To your left, Agatha held your gloved hand—her touch firm and calculated, as always. But her eyes, fixed on you, were pure embers. She tilted her head slightly and said, in that tone that made you tremble inside:

"Honey, breathe."

You tried. But all you managed was a dry swallow.

On the other side, Rio adjusted the choker around your neck—the one that had always been yours, even when you didn’t understand what it meant. Her fingers traced your collarbone with tenderness and reverence. Then she whispered, her lips brushing behind your ear:

"You look stunning."

A brief kiss, warm like melting wax.

"Everyone will see how you shine, my little gem."

Your gaze darted between them. And there it was—your anchor. Your temple. You felt the entire world pulling you out of that car, and yet, for a second, you wanted to stay there forever.

But the door opened.

And the world exploded in light.

You stepped out alone.

The night wind lifted the hem of your blue dress just enough to make the photographers lose their minds. It was as if you were made of liquid stardust.

They didn’t know your name.

Much less who you were.

But the dress told them your importance. And that this was where you belonged.

After the photos, you enter the building to join your staff colleagues.

"Hey!"

Yelena’s voice calls out to you in the middle of the brightly lit lobby, cutting through the noise of heels, laughter, and clinking glasses.

You turn—and there she is.

Beautiful.

A white dress shimmering like snow under neon lights. Her half-up hairstyle left a few strands loose, framing her glowing face. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine editorial. Or a dream.

"You look gorgeous." She smiles sincerely, her Russian accent caressing each syllable like a gift.

"You too," you reply, your heart still racing. "Seriously… wow. Like you fell from the wrong constellation."

Yelena laughs.

"Oh, stop. But thank you."

She looks you up and down and adds with a crooked smile: "You killed it out there. It was like… the birth of a star. Everyone stopped."

You shrug, shy, but your smile betrays you. "It was kinda scary."

"Scary is being in the middle of all those people trying not to look too emotional watching you shine. And I failed miserably." She nudges you lightly with her elbow. "Seriously, you’ve got talent. And presence. There’s something about you… that holds people."

You swallow hard.

You know why that happens.

Now you know it’s what a Source is.

Pure, eccentric energy.

You want to thank her, but part of you doesn’t know how. Compliments always felt like traps. But not with Yelena. With her, it’s just lightness.

Before you can respond, a woman’s voice—firm and slightly husky—calls her name:

"Yelena."

You both turn at the same time.

A woman approaches with decisive steps. Red hair. A high bun that looks sculpted. The black suit fits with millimeter precision, as if sewn directly onto her body. There’s something in her eyes that commands silence—and fire.

"We need to review the security for the outer wing. A press group got past the barrier."

Her voice doesn’t rise. But it demands.

Her gaze briefly sweeps over you. Assessing. Cutting.

Then returns to Yelena.

Yelena sighs, exasperated. "I’m coming. Two seconds."

The woman nods with an almost imperceptible movement and walks away, firm, elegant, an aura of power lingering in the air.

You can’t help it.

You look back at Yelena.

Then toward where the woman disappeared.

Then back at Yelena with raised eyebrows.

And venture:

"Girlfriend?"

Yelena chokes on the champagne she’d barely started drinking.

"Are you crazy?" she sputters, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing and coughing at the same time. "That’s Natasha. My older sister."

"Oh." You blink. "Wow."

"'Wow' is what everyone says before getting scolded. Or punched." Yelena laughs but then gives you a conspiratorial smirk. "She’s got that eternal-PMS Russian goddess aura, but… she’s good people. A legend in the military, actually."

You’re still staring down the hallway where Natasha went.

"She looked at me like she could hear my thoughts."

"She probably could," Yelena replies, amused. "She’s like a retired spy, head of security, espionage master, and queen of sarcasm. Anyway, don’t flirt with my sister. I want to keep liking you."

You widen your eyes.

"Oh. No. I wasn’t." You assure the blonde.

I mean, the woman was indeed a vision, but nothing that would make you take your eyes off your mommies. It was just a burning curiosity in your chest.

But you definitely didn’t need to worry about that now.

Not when your mommies stepped onto the red carpet.

Agatha appeared first, her eyes half-lidded as if reading secrets on the horizon. The black dress was as tight as it was liquid, as if dressing her by pure will alone.

The deep neckline merged with the dark choker, revealing the swell of her breasts with a kind of threatening elegance—as if sin had learned to walk in heels.

And right beside her came Rio.

The white dress ignited under the flashes, as soft as moonlight on sheets. The high bun left her long neck exposed, her skin gleaming, her generous décolletage on display like a sacred canvas.

Her neckline was deep too, but in a way that seemed almost innocent—almost. Because nothing about Rio was ever truly pure. It just seemed that way. Until you looked again.

The two of them walked as if they’d been born for that red floor.

You lost your breath. Literally. Your heart seemed to leap so hard your vision blurred for a second.

It was pure exhilaration.

And you knew.

You knew no one—no one—would ever be able to occupy that space like they did. Not Hollywood stars. Not queens, not legends.

Because they were all those things... and so much more.

Your entire body tingled.

You gripped the champagne flute tightly, as if it could keep you grounded. But every part of you wanted to run. Scream. Bite your own lips.

Or drop to your knees right there.

The cameras went wild.

Flashes exploded like fireworks.

But you didn’t see any of that.

You only saw them.

Agatha turned her head slightly.

And for a brief second—a single, precious second—her eyes met yours.

Rio held Agatha’s arm, pulling her slightly by the waist as she whispered something in the older woman’s ear. Agatha laughed, one of those nearly inaudible laughs you knew by heart.

The most beautiful sound in the world.

You felt your legs weaken.

If it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would’ve collapsed right then.

"Fuck..." you whispered without realizing.

Yelena let out a low whistle beside you. "The witches of Hollywood have arrived. "

You smiled. But inside... inside you were melting.

Part of you wanted to run to them. Drop to your knees and beg them to claim you right there on that carpet.

The other part... just wanted to keep watching.

To etch it into your retina. Tattoo it onto your soul.

Because, in that moment, you knew:

You belonged to those women.

Forever.

The party hall was soaked in expensive perfumes, artificial laughter, and clinking champagne flutes. You mingled for a few minutes, greeted who you needed to, smiled at who you should.

You watched your mommies from afar. They gestured dramatically. It was so fucking sensual. Your cunt clenched around nothing. Fuck. You’d barely arrived and already wanted to leave.

Your legs were nearly giving out, and you needed to go to the bathroom to empty your bladder, which felt swollen from the adrenaline.

You needed to splash your face and calm down.

The bathroom was luxurious. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and plaster moldings mimicked Greek sculptures.

You splashed cold water on the back of your neck and tried to take three deep breaths.

“Well, well, well… Looks like Agatha chose a decent dress this time.”

Wanda.

Shit.

You swallowed hard, feeling shaky. You wouldn’t show fear. Never again.

Fuck this.

“I chose it.”

The reply came out sharp, direct. Firmer than you thought you could muster. The back of your neck still dripped with cold water, but the heat of her name—Wanda—already surged through your veins like poison and desire.

You turned slowly, your damp fingers gripping the white marble sink. Wanda leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed, a champagne flute in hand, her gaze red as freshly spilled blood.

She wore a tight wine-colored jumpsuit with strategic cutouts and a plunging neckline that nearly reached her navel. Every curve seemed placed there with a singular purpose: to provoke. Command. Destabilize.

“Chose it?” She smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “Think that makes you... one of them?”

You forced your eyes not to waver.

This was Wanda.

Her. The woman who’d kidnapped and tortured you for two fucking days. You wanted to vomit. But not now. Tonight, you were different. You were full. Full of your mommies’ presence. Full of the power growing in your chest like an unbreakable secret.

“I don’t think. I know.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, sipping her champagne elegantly. “Hmm. And how’s it going, being their little doll?”

She stepped closer. Slow. Her heels echoed on the bathroom tiles like hammers chipping at your self-control. “Can you even handle all this, little girl?”

The taunt stung. Burned.

But instead of flinching, you smiled.

Slow.

Almost cruel.

As if, suddenly, you knew something she didn’t.

“They molded me,” you replied, lowering your voice like a forbidden prayer. “But I’m no doll. I’m fire. I’m a relic. I’m the curse they chose to love.”

Wanda stopped inches from you.

The air vibrated between you.

“You talk pretty for someone who still trembles at the sight of me.”

You smiled wider. Because yes, maybe your legs shook. Maybe your heart raced. But there was something in you now... something even she couldn’t break.

“I tremble because I feel too much. Not because I fear you.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes, as if trying to read between the lines of your soul. And maybe she was.

But you were no longer an open book.

She leaned in, her face close to yours.

Her breath brushed your lips.

“You’ll get hurt with them. Think you’re special? You’re not. It’ll hurt so much when they leave.”

You swallowed hard but didn’t look away. Instead, you lifted your chin, gaze steady.

“If it hurts, I’ll love the pain. But you, Wanda… you’ll love it twice as hard. And then, you’ll understand me.”

Silence fell like thunder.

Wanda’s expression hardened for a second. Her mocking laugh died in her throat, morphing into something heavier.

Something she swallowed dryly.

You walked past her with elegance, leaving a trail of perfume, power, and something else—a spell, perhaps.

As you opened the door, you didn’t look back.

But you felt it.

Felt her gaze burning into your back.

Felt the seed of a curse taking root in the Scarlet Witch’s eyes.

Four hours later, the car glided silently through Los Angeles streets damp with early winter rain. City lights blinked outside as if still trying to compete with the glow of the night you’d left behind.

You leaned between them, exhausted.

Your feet ached from the heels. Your skin still pulsed with the thrill of it all.

But it was more than fatigue.

It was the feeling of something completing. Like a musical note finally finding its harmony.

Rio stroked your hair while Agatha rested her chin atop your head.

“You were perfect,” the older woman murmured.

“You were born for this, little gem,” Rio added, almost like a prophecy.

You didn’t reply. Just closed your eyes.

“I just want to get home,” you whined, tired and petulant. “I want to put on cozy pajamas and sleep.”

“Oh. Sleep?” Rio said. “But you haven’t seen the surprise we prepared for you.”

There.

The moment Rio said it, you cracked one eye open. “Surprise?”

“Oh yes, darling.”

In an impulse you lifted your torso off the bench.

“Tell Ralph to drive faster.” You ordered. “Hear that, Ralph? Faster!”

The mansion was dark, save for the muffled click of Agatha and Rio’s heels on marble. They walked ahead, letting you kick off your shoes at the door, the cold floor biting your feet.

The entire house felt different. Not the furniture. The air. As if… something had shifted. As if a cycle had finally closed.

You rushed to the bedroom. You wanted your surprise now. To kiss them. Maybe… more.

But when you crossed the threshold, you froze.

There, facing the bed, stood a mirror.

Enormous. Antique. Gilded frame ornate enough to feel alive.

And you knew it hadn’t been there that morning.

In its reflection, you saw something strange.

Agatha stood behind you, dressed in black like at the premiere. Rio, beside her, in white, as if balancing the scales.

But their reflections weren’t exact.

A faint shimmer hovered between their bodies. A blue glow invisible to ordinary eyes.

And it came… from you.

You looked at your hands. Nothing there.

But in the mirror, you glowed.

A soft click sounded behind you. The door closing.

“You see it, don’t you?” Agatha asked, her voice softer than ever.

You nodded, still staring. “What… is that?”

Rio stepped closer, removing her choker and placing it on the dresser like an ancient relic returned to its altar.

“It’s the truth,” she said. “And the gift.”

Agatha took your hand.

“It was never about having you, sweetie. It was about making you accept the bond. On your own.”

Rio finished: “You walked through the trials. Lived. Grew. Cried. Shone. And through it all… you stayed. You chose us.”

And as they spoke… you felt it.

Your heart changed rhythm. As if beating in triple time. As if it had finally found its song.

The mirror glowed—not with light, but with truth. The blue bond shimmered between your bodies. No longer a reflection. Now it was real.

Now, binding all three of you.

Agatha pressed her lips to your temple.

“The bond is sealed.”

You shuddered.

Energy shot up your spine like sweet, merciless lightning. Your skin prickled. Your chest burned from the inside out.

And then… something snapped.

Something inside you that was still human.

Something that bled.

That feared.

Something that no longer existed.

You staggered, but Rio caught you—steady, like an ancient vow.

“It’s done,” she whispered, her brown eyes brimming, reflecting gold as they shimmered. “You belong to us now. In all times.”

You looked into the mirror one last time.

And you saw it.

Your eyes were no longer the same.

They glowed—fluorescent blue, alive, impossible. As if made from the very essence of the night sky.

Something utterly terrifying to human eyes.

But perfect in their world.

You had become immortal.

This story was never meant for just anyone. It was written for those who find beauty in darkness. For those who fall in love with what is eerie and strange.

Where some see fear, others find peace.

And where others give up… you stayed.

Because sometimes, the path fate weaves toward joy is terrifying.

And that’s the beauty of living.

There were no fireworks.

No music.

Only the silence of eternity, being written by three hands.

You were no longer free.

You never would be again.

Three hearts.

One curse.

And the most beautiful of destinies.

~*~

Thanks for following Woven Fates, my beloved ones. I hope this story can reach everyone who reads this story :)

And yes... the spin-off will be WandNat x Reader.

Mommy will take a rest from writing 🥱 But I'll be always here to read you, my babies.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi

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redflagshipwriter · 1 year ago

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Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) ch3

“So, what’s your deal?” Jason asked, when Danny’s mouth was full of food. “You’re dead, I notice.”

Danny choked. He gave Jason a betrayed look with big blue eyes, a hand clapped over his mouth to contain any mess.

Jason smirked back, unrepentant. “I died once,” he shared. “Got better though.”

“You got be-”

“You were surprised about what it’s like to fight humans,” Jason continued. It was hard not to laugh at the confused outrage on his date’s face. “So that implies you fight someone else? You’re fighting ghosts or something? Or do ghosts have some kinda natural enemy? Vampires or some shit?” He might have been a bit flippant but sue him, it sounded a lot more magical than his daily life.

Danny opened his mouth and no words came out. He looked like he was in pain when he grudgingly admitted, “I do have a lot of beef with this one vampire guy, Vlad.”

Jason threw his head back and laughed. That was such a vampire guy name, what the hell?

“No, no, it’s not funny,” Danny protested. He waved his hands wildly, flinging a bit of bean from his burrito across the roof they were perched on. “He’s also a ghost- well, he’s a half of a ghost, but that’s a long story from when he was in college.”

“The half-ghost vampire has an undergraduate degree?” Jason interrupted. He needed to know what this fucker studied. Was it like, social science? Literature? Theater? That might explain Danny’s implied belief that a theme was an inherent rogue thing. No, wait, business administration?

Danny gave him a withering look. “He’s got a Doctorate.”

Jason flung his hands up in defeat against the world. That made more sense than an undergraduate degree somehow. There was just something about the type of person who got a Doctorate that made them, you know, creeps.

‘Or maybe they’ve just got enough specialized knowledge to act on latent creepiness,’ he mused. ‘...Shit, am I developing an anti education stance? Can I blame this on Crane and Quinn?’

Danny was continuing with his explanation of the vampire’s background. Every word made it nuttier. “He’s a scientist, actually, and the mayor of a small town. And he lives in a cheese mansion.”

This was a sharp divergence from vampire stereotypes and he needed to know everything.

“Is the mansion made of cheese?” Jason interrupted. He was leaning in, intent on every word. Why was this vampire the most interesting man in the world?

He got a weird look for that. “No, it just belonged to the Dairy King,” Danny said, like it was everyday knowledge that you could expect a layperson to have.

“Of course, the Dairy King,” Jason said wisely.

"Enough about me though!" Danny flailed a bit. "How did you get my uh, number?"

Ah. Jason took a big bite to delay while he chose his words.

There was no point in trying to hide his vigilante identity from Danny. The guy probably didn't even understand the concept.

So he might as well top whatever story Danny had.

"The bat guy who taught me all about being a child soldier got grabbed by this group of loser cultists, right?" He gestured in a way that did absolutely nothing to illustrate the situation.

Danny cocked his head. "This is off to a good start."

"They tried to sacrifice him. You gotta remember him - big ugly guy, dressed in black and gray, underwear on the outside of his pants in a way that's never been cool?"

Danny didn't seem to have words, but he lifted his hands to make two ears on top of his head.

He pointed with both hands. "That's the guy," Jason agreed. "At the time, we didn't know what kind of sacrifice it was. We were thinking more along the lines of blood sacrifice?" He shrugged as if the idea of B biting it meant nothing to him.

Danny made a pffft sound of air escaping between his lips. "I tossed him back." He flailed in place. "I- isn't- wasn't that- that was a while ago," he stuttered. "I kinda forgot about him."

"...You got offered a cape, then a few weeks later a bunch of others, and you didn't make a mental connection?" Jason checked.

Danny flushed. "Time doesn't match up between the realms and anyway, I'm really busy!" He crossed his arms and accidentally knocked over his drink. "I've got a lot going on in my life. Anyway, for a ghost?" Danny blew a raspberry. "I'm sorry to break your heart, but none of you dress wild enough to stand out in the Infinite Realms. We've got robot dudes and child pirates and giant eyeballs and stuff." He gave Jason a smug look. It was cute.

Jason acted on impulse and reached out to ruffle Danny's hair. He realized what he was doing too late. His hand froze above Danny's head.

Danny tilted his face up and made an inquisitive sound.

"There was a bug." Jason pulled his hand back. What was wrong with him? He didn't go touching other people just because they were cute. "It flew off."

"...Right," Danny said. "You're being very normal." He seemed delighted by this, the little gremlin. "So. You were a child soldier too?"

Jason nearly fell off his perch.

Danny shrieked a laugh and pointed. "Ha!" He crowed. "I win! I shocked you first!"

"There wasn't a competition!" Jason lied. His face was bright red. It was too late to save face. "What do you mean too?" He demanded. "Were you a child?"

"Somewhat recently," Danny said. He gave Jason a catlike smile. "Adults come from teenagers, teenagers come from kids, kids come from babies. Do you need to know-"

"I know where babies come from." Jason cut him off. He tried to look off put at the way Danny laughed at him but fuck it, it was funny, in a dumb way. "Of course you were a kid, that was silly of me," he admitted. "Ghosts are made from humans, right?"

"Well yes, but actually no," Danny said, philosophical. "Some of us. I was. Other ghosts are made from like, vultures, or ideas."

It kinda seemed like ghost taxonomy was more complicated than he was ready to get into at the moment. Those two things were pretty fuckin disparate.

Jason sighed heavily and picked up his food again, just to have something to do with his hands.

A thought occurred. He didn't let it show on his face but he felt sick to his stomach.

Danny was dead. Danny said he'd been a child recently, and a child soldier.

Someone needed their ass kicked.

Danny: we are having such a whimsical time!

Jason: sirens screaming

#dp x dc #red check yes #dead on main

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xjulixred45x · 12 days ago

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sowwy but im absolutely in love with your concept of Yuu!Parent and the Yuus from the manga being siblings, so if you dont mind me i would love to share some random thoughts i have about it <333

Is just, i was thinking that the Yuu siblings after reuniting with Yuu!Parent everyone would be like extra caring because of all the time they have been separated and how Yuu!Parent would be wanting to care of their childs, but would be the Yuu siblings the one taking care and teaching Yuu!Parent everything about Twisted wonderland

And just imagine that now that they parent is in Twisted Wonderland too they would end up showing them up A LOT! But, like, they didn't even mean to bragg about their parent so much, they are just too excited

Alsoooo since Grim refuses to be treaten like the cat he is the he becomes an unoficial son >:3c

OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR WRITING WORK FOR SEVERAL OF MY FAVORITE FANDOMS😍. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR IDEAS.

They mean this work here

And yes! Totally! I already have this mental image that when a new sibling arrived in Twisted Wonderland, the other previous Yuus would stick to them like glue (either worried about how to adapt the new Yuu to this world, knowing why specific family members kept appearing, if their mom/dad was okay, if they were looking for them in their world, etc.), so when Yuu! Parent enters the mix, the kids stick to him like ticks.

Yuu!Parent is so confused about so many things in the world of Twisted Wonderland. What do you mean the coin is different? What is Magicam? WHY IS THERE A TALKING CAT WITH FIRE EARS IN THE HOUSE?!

Yuu!Parent is definitely scared of several things at first (Lilia tried to greet them in her typical head-first way and got hit in the face with a frying pan). As much as Yuu!Parent wants to protect their children now that they has them within reach again, they'll have to accept that they's not even qualified to be in that world. They do, they have the experience, so the children will have to guide them little by little.

The first thing Yuu!Parent becomes familiar with is money, laws, etc. Things to be able to be a "normal" citizen within TWST, and at least give their children a hand in academics. Speaking of which, the Yuus can't stop talking about their parent, so much so that it's almost exhausting, whether it's about how the dormitory has never been cleaner, or when one of them gets a good grade after a study session with Yuu!Parent, or bringing homemade bento boxes to the cafeteria that Yuu!Parent clearly made. They're just so happy to have a sense of normalcy back.

Grim definitely scared Yuu!Parent a lot the first time. Afterward, they thought he was a house cat (much to his outrage), and now he's officially getting the son treatment—no more tuna after 11, he must be in bed before 12, he must wear a sweater in the winter to avoid catching a cold, and in return, he'll get their homemade food. Grim may act tough, but he loves the attention and cuddles.

Yuuken still tries to be the man of the house, but he's relaxed considerably, on the one hand, not being as strict with himself, and on the other hand, being much more protective of Yuu!Parent due to the context. This is an even more dangerous world than the ones they come from. Not only that, but Yuu!Parent has no idea where they stand, so Yuuken is quite vigilant in case anyone tries to take advantage of that.

Yuuka, similar to Yuuken, relaxes considerably when Yuu!Parent is around; it's almost like a switch. When Yuu!Parent isn't around, she reverts to her almost intimidating self, but it's never like that when her parent is around for some reason. She definitely tries to help with errands and teaches Yuu!Parent a few things about TWST culture.

Yuuta is so happy to be cooking with Yuu!Parent again after so many months of heartache that the first time they do it while in TWST, they probably both cry, simply overwhelmed by the joy of being together again. Yuuta probably tells Yuu!Parent about several of the adventures they had (with Yuuna), even if he tries to leave out the scariest details so as not to scare Yuu!Parent shitless (or make them kill Crowley too soon...).

Yuuna bursts into tears as soon as she sees Yuu!Parent at NRC. She's so happy to see them, but on the other hand, she feels it's unfair that whatever brought them to TWST also stole her parent, but she's quickly comforted by Yuu!Parent. They usually spend their time wandering around NRC/Twisted Wonderland in general, shopping for clothes, trying food, practicing tricks with Grim, and trying to catch up on their lives.

When they first arrived at Twisted Wonderland, the shabby dorm had never felt so homey, even after all the siblings arrived, but now it does, filled with laughter, jokes, and noise. NOW IT'S A HOME.

_______

(ESPAÑOL)

OH POR DIOS AMO TUS TRABAJOS DE ESCRITURA DE VARIOS DE MIS FANDOMS FAVORITOS MUCHAS GRACIAS POR TUS IDEAS

¡Y si! ¡Totalmente! De por si tengo esta imagen mental de que cuando llegaba un nuevo hermano a Twisted Wonderland, los otros Yuus anteriores se le pegaban como pegamento (ya sea preocupados sobre cómo adaptar al nuevo Yuu a este mundo, saber porque seguían apareciendo miembros de su familia en específico, si su mama/papa estaba bien, si los estaban buscando en su mundo, etc.), por lo que cuando llega Yuu! Parent a la mezcla, los niños se le pegan como garrapatas.

Yuu!Parent esta tan confundido sobre tantas cosas del mundo de Twisted Wonderland ¿Cómo que la moneda es diferente? ¿Qué es Magicam? ¡¿PORQUE HAY UN GATO CON OREJAS DE FUEGO QUE HABLA EN LA CASA?!

Definitivamente Yuu!Parent se asusta de varias cosas al principio (Lilia quiso ir a saludarlos de su forma típica, de cabeza, y recibió un golpe de sarten en toda la cara), por más que Yuu!Parent quiera proteger a sus hijos ahora que los vuelve a tener al alcance, tendrá que aceptar que no está capacitado para siquiera estar en ese mundo, ellos si, tienen la experiencia, por lo que los niños tendrán que guiarle de poquito a poquito.

El primer aspecto con el que Yuu!Parent se hace familiar es con el dinero, las leyes, etc. Cosas para poder ser un ciudadano “normal” dentro de TWST, y por lo menos darle una mano a sus hijos en aspectos académicos. Hablando de eso, los Yuus no dejan de hablar de su padre/madre, tanto que es casi agotador, ya sea de como el dormitorio nunca había estado tan limpio, o cuando uno de ellos saca una buena nota después de una sesión de estudio con Yuu!Parent, o trayendo a la cafetería bentos caseros que claramente Yuu!Parent hizo. Simplemente están tan felices de volver a tener un sentido de normalidad.

Grim definitivamente asusto mucho la primera vez a Yuu!Parent. Después pensaron que era un gato doméstico (para su indignación), y ahora oficialmente está recibiendo el tratamiento de hijo, ósea, no mas atún después de las 11, debe estar en su cama antes de las 12, debe ponerse un suéter en temporada de invierno para no resfriarse, y a cambio recibirá su comida casera. Grim actuara rudo, pero ama la atención y los mimos.

Yuuken sigue tratando de ser el hombre de la casa, pero se ha relajado considerablemente en un extremo, no siendo tan estricto consigo mismo, y por otro lado siendo mucho mas protector con Yuu!Parent debido al contexto. Este es un mundo aun mas peligroso del que vienen, no solo eso, sino que Yuu!Parent no tiene idea de donde están parados, por lo que Yuuken es bastante atento en caso de que alguien intente aprovecharse de eso.

Yuuka, de forma similar a Yuuken, se relaja considerablemente cuando Yuu!Parent esta cerca, es casi como un interruptor, cuando Yuu!Parent no esta, vuelve a su yo casi intimidante, pero nunca es asi cuando su padre/madre esta cerca por alguna razón. Definitivamente quien trata de ayudar con los mandados y le enseña a Yuu!Parent algunas cosas de la cultura de TWST.

Yuuta esta tan feliz de volver a cocinar con Yuu!Parent después de tantos meses de angustia, que probablemente la primera vez que lo hacen estando en TWST ambos lloran, simplemente muy abrumados por la felicidad de estar todos juntos otra vez. Yuuta probablemente le cuenta a Yuu!Parent varias de las aventuras que tuvieron (junto a Yuuna), aun si trata de quitar los detalles mas aterradores para no espantar a Yuu!Parent (o hacer que mate a Crowley tan pronto…).

Yuuna directamente llora en cuanto ve a Yuu!Parent en NRC, esta tan feliz de verle, pero por otra parte siente que es injusto que lo que sea que los haya traído a TWST también haya robado a su padre/madre, pero es consolada rápidamente por Yuu!Parent. Suelen pasar el tiempo paseándose por NRC/Twisted Wonderland en general, comprando ropa, probando comida, practicando trucos con Grim y tratando de ponerse al día con sus vidas.

Cuando llegaron a Twisted Wonderland, el dormitorio destartalado nunca se había sentido tan hogareño, incluso cuando legaron todos los hermanos, pero ahora sí, lleno de risas, chistes, ruido. AHORA SI es un hogar.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

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juniperdugong · 10 months ago

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Relationship quirks Maknae Line ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Seungkwan Brings home food

IT DOES NOT MATTER if you have or have not eaten, are starving, or have a full belly! Boo Seungkwan is GOING. To. Bring. Home. Food. For. You. Won't take no for an answer! And not only did he keep snacks on himself before you guys started dating but even more so now. He is such a sweetheart who will never allow you to go hungry.

Honestly, he's hypocritical in that he'll start going on a diet but the minute that you say that you need to go on a diet - the gates of hell break loose in your home. Completely outraged that you won't eat at least a bite of what he's offering you. Pouts and acts like you just told him that you want to break up or something worse. The type to say, "FINE THEN I'LL EAT IT MYSELF", then proceeds to give you the nastiest stare-down of your life as he takes a bite. (If you don't concede to his little charade quick enough this WILL become a silent treatment game)

Vernon Sends pictures of himself

Lowkey, you become a photo storage for this man. Sends a photo to you every single time he thinks of you, which is a lot more often than one might think. Is constantly sending you pics of random things he's found and can't send to anyone else. The one constant is his damn face that never changes in any of the pics despite the angle changes. It's gotten to the point where you've had to ask how he does it but he just shrugs.

Every question you ask is answered in either a meme or a photo of him looking like his regular deadpan self, no words either and if you ask for clarification he just sends another photo of him looking confused as hell.

This really is his own special brand of clinginess. You'll hear a message notification from him, open it, and it's his face at the most unflattering angle... He's literally lying on your stomach right at this moment. No explanation, even if you ask he doesn't give one.

Dino Assumes you're following him everywhere

The opposite of Wonwoo's habit lol. Dino sees absolutely no reason why you shouldn't be by his side at all times. You're his number one comfort, so why wouldn't you be with him 24/7? Weird that you would even think he'd let you leave. He has a spider sense for when you're moving too far away from him and he will immediately grab and bring you towards him.

More than the physical though, this dude will not allow you to be by yourself. If he's going on tour, congrats! You are also going on tour! There's a company trip? Great! You're a part of the company now. It may even get to the point of him downright refusing to go places if he knows there won't be space for you.

"I need to go outside and get some fresh air." "Okay, babe." "I said...I need to go outside and get some fresh air." "Alright, hun, I'll be right here." *Genuinely tweaking out at this point, gets up, and grabs your hand. Dragging you with him.* "You could've just asked me to follow you." *Leaning his head on your shoulder, still slightly upset* "You're supposed to know! I need you near me whenever possible."

A/N: Super sorry that this one came a day late, lovelies! But it's here now and I absolutely adore these boys. I think my favorite of all the habits is probably Woozi's (I'm quite literally biased) but the one that I'm most like is Vernon. Wbu??? Please reblog and comment! Let me know ur thoughts in my asks. Oh! And my requests are opennnnn! Have a great one, babes!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

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silverthehedgehogexplained · 5 months ago

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Explaining Silver the Hedgehog's Backstory

One of the most confusing subjects in the Sonic fandom is Silver’s backstory, the chronology of Sonic 06 and how it affects the characters. So in this post I’ll go over what we know about Silver’s backstory, its effects on his character, his involvement with Blaze and how the ending of Sonic 06 affects them.

Silver was born 200 years into a devastated future ravaged by the Flames of Disaster Iblis. The sky was always dark and the world was filled with endless wastelands ravaged by constant disasters and hostile Iblis spawn. The people are exhausted and live without hope. Iblis rampages and burns everything in its path. Silver has fought against Iblis for most of his life and tried to find the source of the disaster for just as long but no one could tell him how the world came to ruin.

This backstory informs Silver's character in the following ways:

Silver is a warrior. He is proficient in and enjoys fighting, has very aggressive determined expressions with constant fists and is a noted fighter(Shadow describes him as a fighter in Team Sonic Racing) whose power is respected by Sonic and Shadow. Silver is extremely powerful and capable of defeating small armies of enemies and giant monsters by himself. This stems from his apocalyptic background in the hostile future filled with Iblis minions and disasters such as flame tornadoes that he had to battle constantly. When you surprise him in Generations he is instantly ready to fight and angrily looks around, he comes from a world where all manner of Iblis spawn could attack at any given moment. It is explained in Silver's introduction story on Sonic Channel that Silver fought and struggled for half his lifetime, indicating that Silver fought against Iblis and its forces from a very early age.

Silver is naive, he has a black and white perspective and tackles things bluntly. He expects people to believe and cooperate with him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish things about his mission. He is earnest, he has no filter and acts unrefined when talking to people(which in Japanese is signified by his use of the informal "Ore" and "Anta" to address himself and others when he speaks). He sometimes takes things literally, misinterprets things or doesn't get jokes. He can also be unfamiliar with things in Sonic's time period. We don't know how people lived in the apocalyptic future or what they did and didn't have access to but it seems to be very rudimentary, destitute and even militarized as one of the glimpses into Silver's future from Sonic Pict shows him eating calorie bar rations that are described as apple flavored. Related to the above, Silver likely spent the majority of his time fighting.

Silver is also very pragmatic. He has a straight to the point mindset and hates distractions, frivolous details or just things getting in his way. As a survivor there is no room for pointless things for him.

On the flip side of that however, Silver is also wide-eyed. He loves challenges and experiencing fun new things he never had access to and is said to engage in cheerful activities following the historical change of 06.

Silver is incredibly optimistic and hopeful. He was able to fight through the hopeless ruined future world because he had the hope for a blue sky and the determination to keep fighting when everyone else had given into despair.

Most importantly of all however is Silver's deep love and drive for peace and prosperity. Silver is a very empathetic person that cares deeply for the state of the world and people around him. Note the beginning of his story in 06 where he expresses outrage at the state of his future with dark skies, endless wastelands and people that live in despair then contrast that with his later dialogue throughout the series where he expresses love for blue skies, beautiful vistas or just places where people live happily. Something as simple as a desert is beautiful to him simply because there is no destruction and the people are happy. Silver particularly loves and desires to protect smiles and blue skies because he came from a world that is stated to be filled with darkness and despair according to Sonic Team's Sonic Channel stories. Silver fights for peace and prosperity for the world and its people because he has experienced quite literal hellish suffering and devastation.

I also want to emphasize that Blaze isn't part of Silver's backstory and he didn't have her in his life in the apocalyptic future. Sonic Team head Takashi Iizuka confirmed that Silver and Eggman Nega originate from the future while Blaze originates from her dimension and writer Ian Flynn has confirmed that Sonic Rush takes place before Sonic 06 with these answers on his podcast.

"I can't get too much into it because this is kind of internal stuff that has not been clarified publicly but Sonic Rush comes first, the Blaze of 06 is the Blaze of Rush and she doesn't die, she turns into Burning Blaze and warps back to her own dimension and forgets the events of 06."

"I don't know how much I can get into it without being given the official go-ahead, but Blaze is not from Silver's post-apocalyptic future. She is from her own dimension and it's extremely nuancey, but she doesn't really see or interact with Sonic until like the very very end of Silver's campaign. It's...an incredibly narrow loophole but she doesn't necessarily know that it's Sonic they're after. Again I'm sure someone can tear that apart very easily but suffice to say, I believe the intention is that she doesn't know that Silver is targeting Sonic specifically and she has no interaction with him or really anybody else in the main cast for that reason."

Meaning that Silver and Blaze only met shortly before the events of 06 and Silver faced the ruined future on his own before that point.

Things are gonna get a bit complicated here but Blaze only temporarily appearing in the future before being ripped away from Silver actually ties into their Tanabata parallel. In the story of Tanabata, Orihime(the princess) only descends to the world of Hikoboshi(the cow herder) for a short while before they are separated for neglecting their duties. At the end of Silver's story, Silver neglects his duty by refusing to seal Blaze away and so they are separated, only to ever meet again when crossing paths in Sonic's world.

When arriving in Wave Ocean, Blaze notes the world of the past. This is because Blaze seems to actually have amnesia.

According to Ian Flynn, the reason why Blaze was kept away from the cast besides Silver in 06 is as a narrow loophole to keep her from realizing it was Sonic they were after. In a 2012 Q&A for the Sonic Boom convention, Sonic Team Creative Officer Takashi Iizuka stated that the characters in 06 had amnesia and at the end of the Metal Virus arc in IDW we learn that rough inter-dimensional travel can cause amnesia which happens to Sonic when he crashes into Blaze's dimension. Blaze then reawakens Sonic's memories by reminding him of his super form, something that Blaze was kept from in 06.

What happens with Blaze in 06 as I understand it is that at some point prior to the events of the game Blaze was transported to the future where she developed amnesia upon arrival before joining Silver in his war against Iblis. They are deceived by Mephiles into trying to assassinate Sonic before Silver learns the truth and returns to the future to seal Iblis away, he is unable to do so however due to not being a compatible vessel and Blaze seals Iblis and herself away instead. Following the defeat of Solaris and the subsequent historical change, Blaze warps back to her Dimension and forgets the events of 06(according to Ian Flynn).

Silver also warps back to the future and forgets the events of 06 but not his apocalyptic life under the devastation of Iblis, only the events of 06 itself and his original partnership with Blaze which was clarified in his Fast Friends Forever profile that states he can't remember how his future was restored(as in the events of 06).

So yes, the ending of Sonic 06 doesn't change Silver or Blaze's backstories. Silver is still the apocalyptic warrior from Sonic 06 and Blaze is still the imperial princess from Sonic Rush before and after the events of 06.

The endings of both Silver’s Story and the Last Story of 06 tie into the game’s themes of duty, sacrifice and exchange.

“Do we have to sacrifice something in order to gain something?”

To gain something you have to lose something, to become a hero you must be willing to make sacrifices. Blaze sacrifices herself to save the future and in exchange for the peaceful happy future he always wanted, Silver, alongside everyone else, loses their memories of the events of 06.

But Silver's duty doesn't end there. He continues to protect the peace of the future as new disasters and changes in the timeline occur, and just like with Iblis, Silver will continue fighting them for a peaceful world.

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