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last-dropsevi · 3 days ago

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Sparks and Screws

Mechanic Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Stranded with a broken car in Zaun, you find yourself at Sevika’s garage, where her confident, magnetic presence instantly draws you in. Over time, your visits become less about car repairs and more about the growing tension between you.

Possesive behavior and Sexual tension.

In the heart of Zaun, tucked amidst the steel skeletons of industry and the shimmering neon haze, stood Sevika's garage. It was a haven for the grease-stained and the speed-obsessed—a place where the hum of engines and the faint melody of a half-tuned radio replaced the city's endless noise. The scent of oil and metal lingered thickly, a scent so constant it was almost a signature of the shop.

The first time you walked through the doors wasn’t planned. It was pure necessity. Your car had decided to stage a protest in the middle of Zaun traffic, coughing up smoke as you barely managed to roll it to the curb. Stranded and flustered, you’d scanned your surroundings until the glowing sign for “Zuan Auto Repeat” appeared like a beacon of salvation.

Inside, the space was a symphony of movement. Mechanics bustled about, tools clinking and tires screeching as they were dragged across the concrete. A group of men, all grease-slicked hands and cocky smirks, eyed you as you hesitantly stepped in. One of them, tall and confident, was the first to approach.

“Lost, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning just a bit too close.

Your awkward laugh and sheepish explanation about the state of your car only seemed to encourage him. “I can take a look for you,” he offered, his grin widening. “No charge for someone as pretty as you.”

Before you could respond, a commanding voice cut through the air. “I’ve got it.” You turned just in time to see her. Sevika. She stepped forward, wiping her hands on a rag, her mechanical arm catching the fluorescent light as it shifted with a faint whir. Dressed in a grease-streaked tank top and well-worn jeans, she exuded an effortless confidence that was both intimidating and magnetic. Her sharp gaze flicked from the man back to you, softening just slightly when she caught your nervous expression.

That feeling gnawed at her, especially when she watched the way they hesitated. Her instincts told her this one wasn’t like the others who stumbled in here—this was someone worth keeping an eye on. She adjusted her grip on the rag and moved forward, a touch of both desire and care flickering in her chest.

“You want it fixed right, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and rough, though not unkind.

You nodded quickly, your face flushing as the other mechanic muttered something under his breath and walked off.

“Come on,” Sevika said, gesturing for you to follow.

The hood of your car was open within minutes, and you stood awkwardly to the side, watching as Sevika inspected the engine with practiced ease. You couldn’t help but notice the way her muscles flexed as she worked, the contrast between her weathered hands and the careful precision of her movements. Something about that look in her eyes—sharp, but with a hint of warmth—made my pulse race faster than I’d like to admit.

“So, what’s the damage?” you ventured, trying to fill the silence.

She looked up, arching a brow. “The damage is you’ve been neglecting this thing for way too long.”

You blinked. “I didn’t know cars needed that much attention.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “Yeah, sweetheart, they do. You’re lucky this thing hasn’t fallen apart on you yet.”

Her teasing wasn’t cruel, but it still made you squirm. You watched as she wiped her hands on her rag, her smirk softening when she noticed your embarrassed fidgeting.

“It’s fixable,” she said. “But you’ve gotta take better care of it—or find someone who can.”

Over the next week, you returned a few times, more out of obligation than excitement. Each visit was met with the same dynamic: the men lingering a little too long as you walked in, and Sevika cutting through their attention with a glare that left no room for argument.

On your second visit, Sevika caught you glancing nervously at one of the mechanics who had been staring. “Ignore them,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “They’re idiots.”

“Seems like they’re just curious,” you replied lightly, though your flushed face betrayed how uncomfortable it made you.

“They don’t need to be curious about you,” Sevika muttered, her eyes narrowing briefly before she refocused on your car.

It wasn’t until your brakes started squealing—loudly—that you found yourself back in her garage for the third time. You explained the issue, your face heating as Sevika leaned over the hood once again, her movements as fluid and deliberate as ever.

When she straightened up, her expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You never changed your brake pads.”

“That’s… something you’re supposed to do?” you asked, tilting your head.

Her laughter filled the garage, drawing the attention of the others. But unlike their lingering stares, Sevika’s laugh warmed you.

“You’re a menace,” she said, shaking her head. “Alright. Here’s the deal. Bring it in every two weeks, and I’ll check it over for you. Make sure nothing else falls apart.”

“Every two weeks?” you repeated, frowning. “That sounds excessive.”

“For someone like you? It’s not,” she said with a smirk, her eyes locking onto mine for a beat longer than necessary. “And since you’re cute, I’ll even give you a discount.”

The moment the words left her mouth, you felt a flush rise to my cheeks, warmth spreading across my skin as her gaze lingered on me. your heart skipped; my mind short-circuiting as you tried to process what she’d said. Did she just call me cute? The thought lingered, making it even harder to focus on anything else. Her voice, so smooth and confident.

you gave a nervous laugh, your lips curling into a smile that felt way too goofy for the situation. You nodded, trying—and failing—to play it cool. “Deal,” you managed

And so, every two weeks, you found yourself back in Sevika’s garage. The checkups became less about the car and more about the two of you. You brought her coffee one day, then donuts the next, claiming it was a “thank you” for all her help.

“You keep this up, and I might actually start liking you,” Sevika teased, though the fondness in her tone made your chest flutter.

“You’d be lucky,” you shot back, grinning.

The tension between you grew with each visit—lingering glances, subtle brushes of hands as she handed you a wrench to “help” (not that you ever really knew what you were doing), and the way her smirk would soften into something more genuine when you laughed at her dry humor.

You noticed how her eyes would sometimes linger just a little longer than necessary, like she couldn’t help but admire the deep V-neck shirt you were wearing. The way it accentuated your chest didn’t go unnoticed by her, though she never said anything out loud. But the way her gaze would flicker there, before quickly returning to your face, made your heart race.

By the fourth visit, Sevika had stopped charging you altogether. When you realized, you confronted her, guilt weighing heavily on your words. “Sevika, this isn’t fair. I can’t just keep coming here for free.”

She shrugged, leaning against the counter, her gaze lingering on you just a little too long. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” you insisted. “Let me pay you back.”

Her brow quirked, a faint smirk playing at her lips. “How?”

You hesitated for only a moment before blurting, “I’ll take you out.”

That caught her off guard. She stared at you, her expression unreadable, before a slow, teasing grin spread across her face. “Dinner and drinks? You trying to bribe me?”

“Maybe,” you said, crossing your arms. “Is it working?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Alright, sweetheart. You’re on.”

As you left the garage that evening, your heart raced with the promise of something more. And for once, Sevika allowed herself to look forward to the unknown.

Masterlistssssss

But yeah guys sorry I haven’t posted in a while Tehe. ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARSSS MWAH

#sevika #arcane season two #sevika x you #jinx arcane #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #arcane x reader #sevika fluff #sevika x female reader #arcane drabbles #arcane imagine #female reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda

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lizziesangel · 2 days ago

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hi lizzie, i just love your writing!! thank you for keeping us well fed! if you haven’t already, could you possibly write soft!rafe taking care of drunk reader? maybe it’s early into their relationship & this is the first time she’s seeing a softer side of him & maybe she’s a little embarrassed having to be taken care of but also secretly loves it!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

she/her, mid 20’s, maybe not rafe’s typical skinny blonde model type 🧎‍♀️

thank you, sweet angel! i hope you enjoy your fic!✨

the night had started out innocently enough. kie’s birthday party was in full swing, her backyard strung with twinkling fairy lights and filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. you weren’t much of a drinker, but tonight felt like an exception. kie had insisted you try her signature cocktail—something fruity and deceptively strong—and from there, the drinks had kept coming.

you’d been having a great time—kie and her friends always threw the best parties, and tonight was no exception. you’d been having a great time—a little too great of a time.

by midnight, you were feeling… light. maybe a little too light. your cheeks felt hot, your laugh was louder than usual, and walking in a straight line felt like a fun challenge. it wasn’t until the party started winding down that you realized you might have overdone it.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, your phone in hand, squinting at the screen. it was late, but you figured your parents wouldn’t mind a quick call to pick you up. the idea of stumbling into an uber with a stranger was less appealing now that the alcohol was hitting way harder than you anticipated. you dialed their number, listening to the rings, only to be met with a voicemail.

you frowned, dialing once more. still no answer.

then a text pinged through: "at a business party tonight. won’t be able to answer—call us tomorrow. we love you!"

you sighed, your thumb hovering over the screen. the party was getting just a bit too chaotic for your liking now, and the thought of getting some fresh air sounded amazing. it wasn’t like you lived far, anyway. ten minutes tops, you thought to yourself, tugging your jacket tighter around your shoulders.

“leaving already?” kiara asked, catching you by the door. her smile was bright.

“yeah, just tired,” you said, waving it off with a lopsided grin. “i’ll be fine. it’s a quick walk.”

she nodded, “text me when you’re home, okay?”

you nodded, giving her a thumbs-up before slipping out into the cool night air.

the silence outside was a welcome contrast to the noise you’d left behind. the streets were dimly lit, but familiar. you shoved your hands in your pockets and started down the sidewalk, humming softly to yourself, the buzz of the alcohol making everything seem a little less real.

the soft rumble of an engine broke the quiet night, the glow of headlights sweeping over the sidewalk as a familiar black SUV slowed down beside you. you glanced up, squinting against the light, and your heart skipped when the window rolled down to reveal rafe leaning slightly toward the passenger side.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” his voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the street. his brows were furrowed, a mix of confusion and something else—concern? “i thought your parents were coming to get you.”

you stopped, suddenly hyperaware of your slightly unsteady stance on the pavement. “they couldn’t,” you slurred, waving your hand dismissively. “they’re at some work thing. it’s just a ten-minute wa—i’ll be... fine.”

his jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching. “fine? you’re drunk, walking home by yourself in the middle of the night. do you even hear yourself right now?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, rafe leaned across and pushed the passenger door open. “get in. now.”

there was no arguing with the tone of his voice, not that you were in much of a position to resist. you hesitated for half a second before climbing into the seat, the leather cool against your legs. he waited until you were buckled in before pulling away from the curb, the tension in the car palpable.

the silence stretched for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low but firm. “next time, call me. don’t ever do that again. don’t walk home alone when you’ve been drinking.”

you blinked at him, your head still spinning a little from the alcohol. “rafe, it’s the outer banks, have you seen this island? t-there’s, like... no crime here. ever.”

he glanced at you, his lips pressing into a tight line. “i don’t care. what if something happened to you? what if you tripped, or someone—” he cut himself off, shaking his head as if the thought itself was unbearable. “just call me, okay? no excuses. i don’t care what time it is or where you are. i’ll come get you.”

something in his tone made your chest tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. he wasn’t just scolding you—he meant it.

“okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“good.” he glanced at you again, his features softening just a fraction. “because i don’t want to find you wandering around in the dark again. got it?”

“got it,” you murmured, biting back a smile as you sank into the seat.

the air in the car was thick with unspoken words, the quiet punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of rafe’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. normally, rafe exuded this effortless, untouchable cool—sarcastic remarks, teasing smirks, and that air of confidence he wore like a second skin.

but tonight, something was different.

he wasn’t making jokes. he wasn’t brushing anything off. he looked serious, his jaw tight and his gaze focused on the road ahead as his hands gripped the wheel a little harder than necessary.

you stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye, your head leaning against the window. even with your buzzed haze, you could tell this wasn’t the rafe you were used to. this was… softer. more vulnerable, maybe.

when you noticed he wasn’t driving toward your place, your brow furrowed. “i don’t think this is the way to my house.”

“i know, baby,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “you’re not sleeping alone tonight. it’s not safe. you’re coming to mine.”

your mouth opened, but no sound came out. you hadn’t expected that. “rafe, i’m fine—”

“don’t,” he cut you off, glancing at you with a raised brow. “don’t argue. you’ve had too much to drink, you’re not thinking straight, and i’m not dropping you off so you’re home by yourself.”

“end of story.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words settling in your chest. he didn’t sound annoyed or inconvenienced. he sounded… protective. like he cared more than you ever thought he would. it was such a stark contrast to the laid-back rafe you’d come to know that it left you momentarily speechless.

as he turned into the long driveway leading to his family’s sprawling house, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“come on,” he said gently, holding out a hand to help you. “let’s get you inside.”

he led you upstairs with quiet confidence, his hand hovering near your back as if ready to steady you at any moment. the house was quiet, the distant hum of the air conditioning the only sound apart from your slightly uneven steps. when you entered his room, you hesitated, looking around the surprisingly clean space.

“sit,” he said gently, motioning to the edge of his bed. you obeyed, sinking into the soft comforter, and watched as he disappeared into the bathroom.

he came back a moment later with a cotton pad, a bottle of makeup remover, and a damp washcloth. “sarah leaves her stuff everywhere,” he said with a faint smirk, kneeling in front of you. “you can use this to take your makeup off. trust me, you don’t want to sleep in it.”

you blinked at him, surprised. “you… know about makeup remover?”

rafe gave a small shrug. “sarah’s made me her go-to errand boy enough times. i pick up things.” his voice was casual, but the way he handed you the cotton pad was almost… delicate, making you smile.

you swiped the pad across your face, your movements slow but steady, while rafe stayed there, crouched in front of you like he was waiting to catch you if you suddenly tipped over. when you were done, he handed you a glass of water and a toothbrush, his blue eyes meeting yours with quiet insistence. “drink all of this, and brush your teeth. trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

after finishing in the bathroom, you came back to find a neatly folded T-shirt and sweatpants sitting on the bed.

“you can change into these,” he said, standing a little awkwardly near the door. “they’ll be more comfortable than whatever you’re wearing.”

“thanks,” you said softly, picking up the clothes.

but when you tried to slip the his sweatpants on, your buzzed coordination made it nearly impossible. you fumbled, the fabric tangling around your legs as you tried to balance on one foot. “ugh,” you huffed in frustration.

rafe turned at the sound, his brows furrowing. “need help?”

you hesitated, your cheeks flushing. “uh, i think so,” you admitted quietly, feeling embarrassment creep up your spine.

he nodded, stepping closer, his expression careful and respectful. “okay,” he said simply, kneeling down. “just… hold on to my shoulder, and i’ll help you with these. don’t worry—i’m not looking.”

true to his word, he kept his eyes down, focusing only on pulling the sweatpants over your legs as you wobbled slightly, your hand gripping his shoulder for balance. his touch was steady and deliberate, not lingering even a second longer than necessary.

when he was done, he stood and stepped back, giving you space. “there,” he said, his voice softer now. “all set.”

“thanks,” you murmured, tugging at the hem of the shirt you were now wearing. it hung on you like a dress, the faint scent of cedar and something clean wrapping around you.

“you should lie down,” he said, pulling back the covers on his bed.

you blinked at him. “where are you sleeping?”

“i’ll, uh... take the couch,” he said automatically, but the words didn’t feel as confident as the rest of him.

“rafe,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “this bed is huge. there’s plenty of space for both of us.”

his brows lifted slightly, and for a second, he looked like he might argue. but then he nodded, his jaw relaxing as he grabbed a pillow and placed it on the opposite side of the bed. “okay,” he said, his voice dropping to something quieter. “but don’t hog the covers.”

you laughed softly, slipping under the blanket as he did the same. The space between you felt safe—close enough to feel his warmth but far enough to respect boundaries.

as you settled in, you turned your head toward him. “hey?”

“yeah?” he replied, his voice low in the dark.

“thank you,” you whispered.

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. then his voice came, soft and genuine. “anytime.”

And with that, the quiet comfort of his presence lulled you to sleep, leaving you with the lingering thought that this side of rafe was something you could get used to.

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⟢ MASTERLIST

@maybankslover ⟢ @diorstarkey ⟢ @user28388727 ⟢ @jznyy ⟢

#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey x you #outer banks x reader

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susicheng · 2 days ago

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⋆.˚ i spy with my little eye — l.mk

this is an 18+ work. mdni secret agent! mark x secret agent! reader warnings: death + murder, guns, knives (not used between each other) contains: oral (f receiving, mentioned m receiving), safe sex, piv, mentioned fingering, tease! mark word count: 2376

assignments like this one were always the most irritating. shoved into a tight gown, too much skin visible to any of the rich douchebags surrounding you. a knife pressing against your thigh where it’s tucked into a garter belt discreetly. an earpiece hidden by the over-the-top updo drowned in gallons of hairspray. the sickening sweet scent of perfume lingering on your skin to appeal to the prey.

the only consolation was knowing your agency wasn’t the only one with commissions for tonight. with this many wealthy men and women in one place, there had to be other targets beyond your own. though, you couldn’t help but hope that meant you’d see who you were really watching for.

that’s how these things always went. you kept an eye on the pig you were assigned to dispose of, and another on the man who erased their touches with his tongue and teeth.

it didn’t take long. you spotted the target before finishing your first glass of wine. so much for a pleasant conversation before enduring the leering glances and clumsy flirting from someone old enough to be your father.

time to play the game. with a final sip of wine and a subtle adjustment to your dress, you moved toward him. a smirk curled your lips as you approached, feigning a stumble to fall into his arms. his annoyance at first contact quickly melted into intrigue as he took in your fluttering lashes and too-innocent expression. you were in.

too many lingering touches, too many thinly veiled innuendos, and far too many explicit remarks later, he was convinced to “find somewhere more private.” by now, the powder slipped into his drink should have started working. his movements slowed, his steps unsteady as the two of you entered a private room.

the door shut behind you two. a hand slid to your waist, and then up, up, up. he didn’t hesitate to cop a feel before pressing his greasy hand firmly against your mouth. you felt the cold press of a gun barrel to your temple.

“pretty young things like you only approach me for two reasons.” he hissed.

he cocked the gun.

“you either want me dead, or you want to be spoiled.”

“judging by this little thing…” he used the gun to push your hair behind your ear, tap, tap, tapping on the earpiece previously hidden beneath it. his voice lowered to a whisper. “you’re here for the first one.”

it wasn’t the first time a target had figured you out. honestly, it was refreshing that he realized attractive women don’t usually flock to men like him. not that it made him any less deserving of a bullet.

he didn’t get the chance to finish you. with a quick twist and a knee to the groin, the gun was yours, and he was on the floor. now, it was your turn to press the barrel to his forehead.

“you’re smarter than you look,” you sneered. “still slow, though. that wine wasn’t just alcohol, y’know?”

his grin was sharp, defiant. his hand shot up your dress, pulling your knife from its hiding spot and plunging it into your thigh before you could dodge. instinct made you pull the trigger.

the gunshot echoed, his blood painting your dress a deep burgundy. pain shot through your leg, the knife buried deep in the muscle. with an easy press to your earpiece, and a murmured “it’s done” you disconnected it and took a deep breath. you had had enough of people barking demands in your ear all night.

suddenly, the doorknob rattled. you raised the gun, limping toward the door. it opened, and a figure entered swiftly.

before they could react, you had them pressed against the wall, the gun at their temple, your arm pressing against their throat as blood dripped to the floor.

“jesus. i check to see if you’re alive and i get jumped!?” they rasped, hands scrambling to pull at your arm.

you stepped back immediately, recognition hitting you like a slap to the face.

“mark?”

his laughter filled the room as you pulled him into a hug.

“holy shit, mark. you scared the shit out of me. i thought i was about to get found out.”

his arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you against him. you winced at the pressure it put on your thigh. mark pushed you back immediately, dropping to his knees and pulling your dress to the side from the slit in the long fabric.

“my god, you have an entire fucking knife in your leg! and you were still trying to put a bullet in my head?”

you had to say, the sight of him between your legs like that might have been doing something to your body, especially when his stern gaze met yours, making you inhale a sharp gasp. something in you tightened.

a disbelieved laugh echoed through the silent room. “no way you’re turned on right now. there’s a dead guy less than 2 feet from us and there’s a dagger sticking out of you. absolutely nothing is happening until you aren’t actively bleeding on the floor.”

you grumbled as he stood and lifted you into his arms easily, stepping over the corpse as he carried you further into the room, to the bed.

“y’know,” you said with a smirk, “you just said nothing’s happening, and now you’re carrying me to the bed. mixed signals, mark.”

he rolled his eyes as he gently laid you onto the plush sheets of a hotel bed too luxurious to be familiar with the stain of red seeping into it.

the moment you opened your mouth to continue your teasing, mark decided to tug the dagger out of your leg, eliciting a loud groan of pain. somehow he had found a first aid kit. how, you’re not sure, but mark always had a trick or two up his sleeve. obviously, being in this field had caused both of you to pick up some life-saving medical tricks. his hands moved with practiced efficiency, stitching and wrapping the wound with care.

“all done,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the bandages.

your fingers tangled in his hair as fire lit in your eyes.

“you sure nothing’s happening?” you murmured, voice low and teasing.

mark sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re already down there… might as well finish what you started.”

you didn’t miss the way mark’s eyes fell to the thin piece of fabric separating himself from your core. when he met your eyes again, there was heat in his gaze. a subtle nod from you, and he was sliding your underwear down your legs, throwing the garment somewhere onto the hotel floor.

he dove into you with an eagerness you were not prepared for, grip on his hair tightening as a whine slid out from between your lips. his tongue moved expertly, pressing every button he could to work you up. his arms adjusted to wrap around your thighs (careful to avoid pressing on your wound), effectively pinning you down. all of your squirming and hair pulling was futile as mark dove deeper and held you tight against his mouth.

your whimpers were increasing in frequency, hands tugging hard on his hair as you desperately tried to pull him away from his place between your thighs.

“mark— mark, wait.” you gasped. “mark— need you… inside. please”

just when your orgasm was about to crash into you, he pulled himself away, adjusting to kiss up and down your thighs instead. your whine, of relief and of annoyance at your denied pleasure, filled the room as he continued to happily mark up your inner thighs, your hands still attempting to pull him upwards and get a move on.

that was one thing about you and mark that was different. he preferred to take his time. he liked to take you apart, piece by piece. cover the touches of your targets with touches of his own. make your body forget that it had ever been defiled by anyone other than mark himself. you, though, were impatient. you hated begging for what you wanted. you preferred to get what you need without much trouble.

something about the way mark forced you to be patient, though, was undeniably attractive. working you up until all you could think about was him, and then giving you an orgasm satisfying enough to last until the next time a mission overlapped. you couldn’t help yourself from craving him 24/7, though, despite the fact that it would never be possible to pursue a relationship given your careers. for now, these spontaneous rendezvous were enough for you.

with one final tug, after what felt like hours, mark relented and allowed himself to be pulled up your body. your lips finally met for the first time that night, your own taste lingering on his tongue.

“get inside of me. now.” you pulled him down further to whisper in his ear, delighting in the groan it earned from him.

“condom?” you sighed and reached into your bra, pulling the condom you had stashed there out and handing it to mark. the placement brought another smile of disbelief to his face, shaking his head as he unzipped his dress pants.

you hadn’t really had the time to appreciate it fully, but he looked good in a suit. you let your eyes drag up and down his body, gaze lingering on his now exposed dick as he rolled the condom on smoothly.

“ready?” you snapped your eyes up to his, meeting the smug expression on his face with a roll of your eyes.

“mark, if you don’t get inside of me right now, i might grab that gun and put a bullet in your leg.” his laughter echoed as he busied himself with lining himself up to your entrance.

he slid in smoothly, bottoming out with twin groans escaping both of your mouths. this part was always surprising to you. every time you saw each other again, it felt like he had gotten bigger. pressing deep into every part of you. he barely had to angle himself to hit all of the spots that elicited loud moans from you.

his movements began slow, his kisses traveling down the side of your neck and over the exposed parts of your cleavage. he had always liked leaving marks on you, painting you in shades of purple and red that he scanned your body for even when it had been months since you had last seen him. his kisses turned sharper, teeth infiltrating and pulling on your skin, as he picked up his pace. your hands clawed down his clothed back, one sliding up to wrap into his hair and pull him back up to meet your lips. with the moans you were letting out, and the grin on mark’s face, there wasn’t much actual kissing happening.

“you look really good covered in blood, by the way.” he gasped out against your lips, reminding you of the blood that had splattered over your entire body when you had shot the man still lying in the hotel room earlier.

stunned laughter sounded from your lips, morphing into a strained moan when one of mark’s hands slid down to press against your clit, the other arm working to hold himself up.

it didn’t take long for you to get close. his tenderness as he treated your wound worked you up more than you would care to admit, and he worked you halfway to transcending into another dimension when he ate you out.

“mark— mark. i’m,” you subconsciously clenched down on him, hard, pulling a hiss from his lips. “i’m close. please.”

he doubled his efforts, shifting down so his lips were brushing your ear as he spoke.

“yeah? go ahead. cum for me, pretty.”

the raspiness of his voice, his steady thrusts into you, his fingers abusing your most sensitive spot, all of it worked to push you easily over the edge, whimpering his name as he shuddered with you, flooding the condom with his own release.

you panted against each other for a who knows how long, until mark pulled out and tied off the condom, throwing it into the trash can placed in the corner of the room. he pulled you up, ignoring your whines and complaints as he dragged you into the bathroom to wash up.

after a quick shower together, in which you got on your knees to repay the favor from earlier and mark thanked you by burying his fingers inside of you until your legs were so shaky he had to carry you out of the tub, you worked together to scrub at your bloodstained dress. you shot a message to your agency’s cleanup crew, providing them with a room number as you blow dried the expensive fabric of your dress. thankfully, most of the more noticeable splatters had been mostly washed out. the worst of it was on the torso.

mark handed you his jacket to wear over the dress, effectively hiding the evidence of your kill. you tried to be discreet when you inhaled his scent surrounding you, but you still heard mark bark out a laugh, shutting down any thoughts that you had succeeded at that.

this part was always the hardest. leaving the hotel room hand in hand, still bantering as you made your way to the lobby, where the party had mostly vacated by now. making excuses to stay together.

“i’ll treat you to a quick dinner” led to “let’s just have a quick smoke break” which ultimately faded into “i’ll call you a ride. let me wait with you so i know you make it safely.”

getting into the car was difficult, mark leaving you with lingering kisses and promises gently whispered into your ear.

it wasn’t until you made it home that you noticed it. casually reaching into your (mark’s) pocket, instinctively looking for your phone there (which was still sitting safely in your purse), you found a small slip of paper. a smile spread across your face as you took in the contents.

0802 127th street

if you ever get sick of rushed one-night stands, find me here :)

— mark

mel yaps: this is my REAL 200 (now almost 300) follower special!! hope u all enjoy hehe.. fraktsiya mark has been clouding my brain for far too long i had to get it out of my system.

#: @f6llsun @i03jae @jeonghansshitester @holyhaech @chenlezip @mi1kteaa

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miksanchismosa · 1 day ago

Text

It is now almost 4 o’clock in the morning (VERY appropriate considering 🥹 in the extreme off chance you won’t know by the end of this post, Tae is my bias) and I’m feeling so many emotions I could sob. This is so beautiful and heart-wrenching (not for much longer I hope, tho the teaser for chapter 6 has me clutching my heart to make sure it’s still in one piece).

I do see from your blog that you are on hiatus, but i could not pass on telling you how much I enjoyed this story. I would love to be on the taglist once you return 🖤 (my main blog is @miksancheese but I don’t mind being tagged here as well). I’ve spent many nights up losing myself in ffs on this hellscape but I’m not sure I’ve read one that’s written Taehyung like you have. I fear just like the real Taehyung, you have made it that much harder for me to accept anything less a seemingly impossible standard. Men written by women are >>>. I am very happy I stumbled upon your blog and I cannot wait to dive further into your masterlist. Once I’m able to stop swimming in emotions from this doozy that is😵‍💫😂. The way you’re able to build tension and how you can write emotions so completely that they feel tangible is truly incredible. I think you’re incredibly talented and I hope that your hiatus is treating you well. I’ve seen a lot of content creators on this site face a lot of stress and struggle with their inspiration (and just the atmosphere of this site) and I just wanted to let you know that I feel incredibly lucky that you have chosen to share any of this with us FOR FREE to begin with. So thank you Ari 🖤

I would selfishly love to see you active again in 2025 at some point, but for now I hope you’re taking care of yourself and following inspiration where you can find it. Your love for writing is very evident from this story alone and I look forward to reading more from you in the future!

things we don’t say: masterlist (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re so, SO stupid), slooooow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 54.5k (and counting)

series warnings: swearing, sexual themes, one instance of mild violence, alcohol use, infidelity, brief mentions of neglectful parents and alcoholism (additional warnings given by chapter)

a/n: the below reflects my current plan for the series, but this is subject to change as it is very likely that certain parts will be broken up!

Read on ao3 // moodboard // author masterlist

MAIN STORY

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 5.5 (interlude) (m)

Part 6 (TEASER) (coming soon!)

Part 7

Epilogue

DRABBLES: THE BEFORE

Drabble 1: in which OC has too much to drink

Drabble 2: your eyes tell

DRABBLES: THE AFTER

Drabble 1

Drabble 2

Drabble 3

Drabble 4

Drabble 5

Drabble 6

#things we don’t say #taehyung x reader #a new favorite #slow burn #best friends to lovers #the most beautiful angst #if angst can be beautiful 😂#so soft I’ve changed phases competely and exist solely in a liquid state now #Ari!

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thesecondhandwoman · 2 days ago

Note

could i request a modern au w/ambessa, where she and the reader are celebs (actor au works with this if you want), and during an interview, the reader gets a rude question or comment, and Ambessa defends them? Like- public relationship or not, she's gonna protect her s/o from rude people

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis (AU): You and Ambessa were famous actors, constantly working together throughout your career, and the outside of it as girlfriends too. However, during an interview, an offensive question comes up that makes it a lot more serious.

Request: Anon 🤍

The bright studio lights bathed the room in a harsh glow, illuminating every detail of the set. You and Ambessa Medarda sat side by side on the plush chairs, the centerpiece of yet another promotional interview for Steel Hearts, the summer blockbuster that had shattered box office records. The film followed two battle-hardened warriors—Ambessa as a commanding general and you as a brilliant strategist—forced to unite against a common enemy. Critics had raved about your on-screen chemistry, and audiences couldn’t get enough.

The press tour, however, had been less glamorous. Endless questions, prying eyes, and the constant pressure to present a perfect image had drained your energy. You were thankful for Ambessa’s steady presence. She’d been through this circus more times than she cared to count, her calm demeanor and sharp wit a masterclass in handling the media.

Ambessa exuded power even when seated, her tailored black suit hugging her frame perfectly. Her polished shoes gleamed under the studio lights, and her short, silver hair was styled to perfection. Her hand rested casually on her knee, but you noticed how close it was to yours, her pinky brushing against your hand in a silent gesture of reassurance.

You glanced at her briefly, catching the subtle quirk of her lips, the kind of smile that was just for you. It was the same smile that had made you fall for her months ago when you were shooting the first battle sequence together. You had stumbled over your lines, nervous in her commanding presence, and she’d leaned in with that quiet smirk, whispering, “Relax. You’re brilliant.”

Those words had stuck with you, much like the woman herself.

The interviewer, a man in his late forties with a practiced grin, adjusted his cue cards. He was the latest in a string of journalists, most of whom asked similar questions. You hoped for the same today—something easy, something routine.

“So,” he began, his gaze flicking between you and Ambessa, “Steel Hearts has been a phenomenal success. Congratulations to you both. The chemistry between your characters has really resonated with audiences. Was that something you had to work on, or did it come naturally?”

You smiled politely, though your nerves prickled. “It’s always a process, but Ambessa made it easy. She’s a phenomenal scene partner.”

Ambessa chuckled, her voice a low rumble that seemed to command the room. “She’s being modest. Most of my best takes were because of her.”

The interviewer nodded, though there was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “Interesting. Well, some might say your character’s intelligence and strength were a bit aspirational. Do you think that’s realistic, given your off-screen persona?”

The question hit like a slap. Your smile faltered as you processed the insult buried in his words. Aspirational? Off-screen persona?

Beside you, Ambessa’s posture changed instantly. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes sharpened into a glare that could cut glass. “Excuse me?” Her voice was calm but laced with danger.

The man blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just meant—”

“No, I’d like you to clarify,” Ambessa interrupted, leaning forward slightly. Her presence was overwhelming, even seated. “Because it sounds like you’re questioning my partner’s capabilities, and I won’t let that stand.”

“I didn’t mean—” he stammered, his face reddening under the lights.

Ambessa cut him off with a cold smile, the kind that made her on-screen enemies cower. “She’s worked tirelessly for this role, and for every role she’s ever taken. If you can’t recognize that, then perhaps you’re in the wrong profession.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the tension thick enough to suffocate. You glanced at Ambessa, your heart pounding. Her protective fury was palpable, a force that wrapped around you like armor.

The interviewer fumbled with his cards, desperate to move on. “Well, moving on, what’s next for you two after Steel Hearts?”

You answered automatically, your voice steady despite the lingering sting of the earlier question. Ambessa’s hand rested on her knee again, close enough for her pinky to brush yours. It was a small touch, but it grounded you.

When the interview finally ended, Ambessa stood first, extending a hand to help you up. You took it, her grip firm and steady, and the two of you walked out of the studio together.

The moment you were alone in the hallway, she turned to you, her features softening in a way only you ever got to see. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though your voice wavered. “I didn’t expect that.”

Her hand cupped your face gently, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Ever. If anyone tries it again, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. “You’re terrifying when you’re angry, you know that?”

Her lips quirked into a small smirk. “Only when I have to be.”

You leaned into her touch, letting her hand anchor you. “Thank you for standing up for me. You didn’t have to go that far, though.”

Her eyes softened, the steel melting into something gentler. “Yes, I did. You’re brilliant, and no one gets to diminish that. Not on my watch.”

The sincerity in her voice made your chest tighten. She always had a way of making you feel like the center of her world, even when surrounded by the chaos of fame.

Ambessa tilted her head toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. You’ve had enough of this circus for one day.”

The car ride back to the apartment you shared was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comforting rather than awkward. Ambessa’s hand rested on the center console, and without thinking, you reached over to lace your fingers with hers. She glanced at you briefly, her expression softening further, before returning her eyes to the road.

Once you were home, you kicked off your heels with a sigh of relief. Ambessa followed you into the living room, shrugging off her suit jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch.

“Wine or tea?” she asked, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Tea,” you replied, sinking into the plush cushions. “I need to unwind, not wind up.”

She returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs, handing one to you before settling beside you. You curled up against her, letting her arm drape around your shoulders. The warmth of her body and the quiet intimacy of the moment eased the tension that had been coiled in your chest since the interview.

“You know,” she said after a moment, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, “you handled that question well. Even before I stepped in.”

You huffed a laugh. “I don’t know about that. My brain practically short-circuited.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but you didn’t let it show. You’re stronger than you think.”

You looked up at her, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. “You always know what to say.”

“Not always,” she said with a wry smile. “But I know how much you mean to me. That makes it easier.”

Your heart swelled, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned up to press a kiss to her lips. It was soft and lingering, a silent thank you for everything she’d done for you today—and every day before.

When you pulled back, she was looking at you with the kind of intensity that made your cheeks warm. “You’re everything to me,” she said quietly, her voice a promise. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. I’ll always have your back.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, instead curling tighter against her. “I love you, Ambessa.”

Her arm tightened around you, her lips pressing to the crown of your head. “And I love you. Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet conversation and shared laughter. The world outside could wait; for now, it was just the two of you, safe in each other’s arms.

The next morning, headlines about the interview flooded your notifications. Most of them were centered on Ambessa’s fiery defense of you, with phrases like “Ambessa Medarda Shuts Down Rude Interviewer” and “Power Couple Goals: Ambessa Protects Her Partner.”

You showed her one of the articles over breakfast, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve gone viral.”

She glanced at the headline and shrugged. “Good. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before asking you something stupid.”

You laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She smirked, her confidence as unshakable as ever. “I try.”

#ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #ambessa fanfic #ambessa medarda #ambessa #ambessa arcane #arcane ambessa #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #fluffy fanfic #fluff #fanfic writing #fanfic

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mrsimpurity · 1 day ago

Text

"AND I HIT IT LIKE IT’S ALL MINE" - satoru gojo

pairing: bestfriend!gojo x fem!reader

synopsis: having had enough of your 21 year long friendship with satoru, you come over in hopes of ending everything on somewhat good terms. things take a turn and after you make a heartfelt confession, satoru takes the last chance he might ever be offered

wc: 4.5k

warnings: dub con, manipulation, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, reader is naive, aftercare, cuddling, (gojo is a warning himself)

“you’re still friends with that guy?” shoko’s accusatory tone makes you sink in your seat in embarrassment. your little coffee date had been going well so far as the two of you had spent no less than two hours discussing absolutely everything that had happened this semester.

university and the stress which it provided, free of charge, was not the only thing that you and shoko shared. after stumbling upon her in one of the hallways on your very first day, the two of you found out that you had been assigned to the same dorm. soon enough, you and your roommate grew close and she became your most trusted friend.

of course though, she wasn’t your oldest friend. fate had decided you’d be tethered to one of the most (generally acknowledged) annoying men for your whole life. and this particular childhood best friend was your choice for conversation this time.

“we’re childhood friends, i can’t just ditch him.”

“babe, with your wellbeing in mind, you’re being a total idiot. he gives me the creeps.”

“shoko, he’s really not that bad!” telling shoko about him seemed okay to do. you’d even thought that they would get along. but after sharing all the ups and downs, if you could even call them that, which you and satoru had gone through during your 21 years of friendship, everything seemed a little weirder and… intimate?

sure, he could be a little handsy and familiar, but that was expected of someone who had seen you grow up. as you rambled on about your most recent “date” with him, shoko squinted her eyes in scrutiny, having had enough of listening to you talk about him. to her, he sounded like a complete stalker and obsessed psychopath who couldn’t get over his childhood crush.

the more you try to defend yourself though, the more you start to look back at your relationship with him. and in hindsight… perhaps he really could be a little weird at times?

like slipping a hand under your t-shirt whenever you’d mention you were on your period, for example.

“what? i’ve literally seen you naked when we were kids.” satoru would dismiss you whenever you’d voice your concerns about how 16 years later, your body had changed. but when his warm hands massage your sides and rub at your tummy as the pain fades away, your protests die on your tongue as you sink into his touch.

or kissing you on the mouth whenever the two of you would say farewell.

“hey, don’t leave me hanging.” satoru would pout, signaling he wanted a hug. but the second you’d reach to wrap your hands around him, he’d grab the back of your head and place a wet kiss on your cheek.

“ewww, satoru. we’re not kids anymore.” you’d whine, batting your eyelashes up at him in annoyance.

so he’d reach behind and pull you in by the neck, more carefully this time, as his lips land on yours. you freeze the first time he does it and satoru almost curses himself for being so fucking stupid and pushing himself onto you.

but the second time he tries his luck, you involuntarily moan into the kiss. he’s quick to slip his tongue inside your mouth for a moment before you suddenly push him away, surprised at yourself for even letting him do this.

and even as he sees you stare at the floor in embarrassment, stomping away from him, hands clutching your handbag for dear life, he can’t forget the sweet moan you’d just let out. and he swears his dick has never been harder.

“yeah, he’s totally alright. definitely not fucked in the head. remind me of that one time he fondled your tits.” shoko lands a blow that has your cheeks growing red as you scan the café, hoping nobody heard that.

“i told you we were just cuddling! he wanted to help me relax.” you desperately try to defend yourself.

“were you on your period again? wait, that was a different situation. sore from the gym? shit, wait, that’s not it.”

shoko’s ironic little comments were definitely not helping you decide whether or not to continue this strange dynamic between you and the white-haired man.

“enlighten me, please. what excuse did he have this time? he just had to feel you up?” shoko ends her argument that serves as a punch to your gut. you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face and frankly speaking, you’d much prefer that than to have shoko snatch your rose-colored glasses off your face and bring everything out in the open.

and even as your coffee date comes to an end and you completely change the topic, you’re left wondering if maybe shoko is right.

three days later, despite everything, you find yourself in satoru’s apartment. he had invited you over to play monopoly - something you did every week - but what he didn’t know was that he was about to be in for a surprise.

this was the night. you’d finally break ties and go your own ways. his confusing behavior didn’t necessarily make you feel uncomfortable. it was merely odd at times and as much as you’d appreciate an ounce of clarity, your friendship just had to end for good. and today was the perfect day to do this - the sooner, the better. maybe you’d break his heart but at least you’d leave with a little dignity.

“satoru, don’t bother getting the board games out. or the snacks.” you say as you take off your shoes, stopping a surprised satoru in his tracks. he retreats from the dinner table and turns to face you. he places both of his hands on your shoulders and tilts his head with a pout.

“what’s wrong? you don’t wanna play anymore?” satoru asks sadly.

his attempts at making you fold don’t work this time and you grab his wrists, bringing his arms back to his side.

“satoru, i’ve been thinking, y’know…” you’re nervous as you begin what’s forming out to be a long speech.

“i’m not really sure we should be friends anymore. i’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me and the fact that you stood alongside me all this time, but i don’t find meaning in this friendship anymore.” you’re pretty proud of yourself for standing up to satoru, who still can’t quite decipher what it is you want to say.

“i’ve had the chance to look at our situation from a different perspective and i don’t think it’s normal.” you finish, taking a deep breath. you can pretty much see the gears shifting in satoru’s mind as he lets out a disbelieving scoff.

“it’s shoko, isn’t it? i knew she’d put ideas in your head and try to convince you i’m the bad one.” he speaks, his demeanor different from any other time.

“i’m sorry, toru. it’s not like that, i promise. you know she’s my closest friend though. she’s bound to give me advice.”

“what about me? i thought i was your closest friend. are you really going to listen to a girl you barely know and fuck up everything we’ve built the past years?” satoru accusing you of leaving him behind absolutely infuriates you because you’ve been doing quite the opposite.

something snaps inside of you and you raise your tone, begging to scare him away.

“shut it, satoru! i’ve had enough of it being all about you. you’re so overprotective at times. all you do is walk behind me like a dog all the time. i’ve given dozens of guys the wrong impression-“

“i’m really sorry, i had no idea-“ your best friend attempts to speak over you, surprised at your outburst, but you cut him off.

“no, satoru, you’ll let me fucking finish. haven’t you sat down and ever wondered what the fuck you were doing, chasing me all these years? i’ve been so busy explaining to guys that there’s nothing going on between us.”

you’re running out of breath with the way you’re rambling about everything you’ve kept hidden inside of you. your chest feels like it’s going to explode, but your heart also feels lighter. you feel yourself tear up as you face your best friend like you used to do in the good old times, and share whatever’s on your mind.

“god damn it, i’m a virgin at 21 because i haven’t had a single chance to talk to a guy without you coming up to us and acting like you own me. touching me like i’m yours and acting like a psycho. what the fuck is wrong with you?”

tears spill down your cheeks and you absentmindedly wipe them, not letting your emotions get in the way. you have to get everything off your chest and it has to happen right now.

“we’re done. i don’t wanna hear from you anymore. whatever weird thing we had going on-“ you say as you signal, waving your hand between the two of you, the distance between your figures more evident than ever “-is over.”

satoru stands, baffled. you observe his reaction, watching his expression suddenly soften. you don’t realise you’re shaking, tears still streaming down your face at your stupid, but heartfelt confession. as you take a deep breath, satoru speaks.

“please, don’t leave like this. i had no idea you felt this way, baby.”

“don’t fucking call me that.” a shudder runs through your body at the pet name as your mind tries its best to fight against his honeyed words and handsome face which want to lure you in, ensnare you once again.

“all you had to do was tell me. we can fix this. we’ve known each other our whole lives. you could’ve told me sooner.” satoru speaks after a moment. he tries to be as careful as he can, praying he doesn’t upset you again.

he steps forward and waits for you to retreat, but as you stare at his face, your knees lock and you freeze in place - something that’s happened many times before.

he doesn’t waste a second as he reaches for your face.

“i’m so, so sorry. it was stupid of me to act this way.” and as his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing manner, you just can’t find it in yourself to say another word against him. he runs his thumb over your trembling lip.

“we’ll fix this. okay, baby?” you don’t even register the pet name, staring as satoru’s towering frame makes you feel like a little girl once again.

his lips lift up in a very small smirk which you’re almost sure resembles pity.

“you’re a virgin?” his words don’t mean to be insulting but he realises he’s hit a nerve when tears start streaming down your face once again. his eyes widen and he cradles your face with both of his hands.

“fuck, i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i was just curious, doll, i promise i wasn’t making fun of you” satoru whispers, holding your face like you’re a porcelain doll.

you don’t realise you’re in his territory once again as your feet walk you over to his bed. you take a seat, ass barely hanging on the edge of his freshly washed seats, your body prodding at your mind in its last attempts to get you the fuck out of here. but as satoru crouches down and you catch a whiff of his comforting scent, you know you’re a goner.

“i’ve been scared. i’ve grown accustomed to having you everywhere with me. i feel like it’d be weird. not that i’d be betraying you, it’s not like we’re together. just been scared, toru.” you mumble as your eyes fill up with tears at the thought of your pathetic love life. you feel as if you’re clawing at the walls, begging to regain a sense of dignity with your words, but your heart feels like it’s coming apart and has laid itself bare for satoru to pick at.

“you want me to help you, doll?” satoru’s suggestion fills the quiet room.

you’re convinced you’ve never cried harder in your life before as tears fill your eyes again. satoru seems like some kind of monster right now and your watery eyes further distort his image.

“i don’t know. ‘m scared it’s gonna hurt” your pitiful expression stares into satoru’s eyes. you’d come here to break things off with him and now, your body had surrendered. you were minutes away from taking your clothes off and getting under the sheets with this man.

“shhh.. hey, look at me, doll. don’t stain this pretty face with your tears. you’re scared, hm?” satoru was by no means a saint, but with the way his cock was straining against his pants as he watched you cry over the thought of his cock entering you - he could swear he was able to feel the heat of eternal hell creeping up on him.

“‘m sorry, i know it’s really stupid.” you couldn’t stop sniffling, elbows propped on your knees as you covered your face, begging for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth right now.

satoru gently pulls at your hands, forcing you to reveal your face. cupping your red cheeks, he carefully wipes at your tears with his thumbs as you sit in front of him on the edge of the bed.

“it’s not stupid, i promise. is that why you’ve been so frustrated? you could’ve just asked me.” he speaks to you condescendingly, but your mind can’t seem to notice.

“that’s embarrassing, why would i ever ask that of you?” is what you answer as you turn your head, avoiding his eyes out of sheer shame. satoru is quick to grab your chin and turn your head to face him.

“there’s nothing in the world i wouldn’t give you, baby. you just have to ask.” satoru speaks, so closely to your face, you can feel his breath on your lips. his words have a deeper meaning than you can currently register, but you take them in on a surface level as you lose all scruples you’ve seemed to have all this time.

satoru’s surprised when you’re the one who reaches for him. your lips crash on his and you stop thinking. your best friend pushes you further onto the bed and lays you on your back, his tongue still inside your mouth.

a whine creeps up your throat as his kisses now move alongside your jaw and carefully travel down your neck. satoru is quick to find the sweet spot near your ear and you let out a moan as he lets his tongue run over the mark he just left.

his kisses and touches never stop, even when his face hovers over yours to ask for consent.

“are you sure, doll? we can stop at any time. just wanna know you’re doing this because you want to.“ his words are muffled as he smothers you in kisses - on the edge of your lips, on your nose bridge, on the forehead.

“toru, i’m sure. please.” he places a final kiss on your lips, hearing the pure need in your voice.

his hands find purchase on the waistband of your sweatpants as he slides them down, peppering kisses down your legs in the process. you’re quick to get rid of your shirt and bra, throwing them wherever you can find.

your panties find themselves on the floor next before satoru kneels between your legs, spreading your thighs as far as he can. you don’t even realise what he’s doing before you feel his warm tongue lick a stripe between your folds and you can’t suppress the pornographicly loud moan the action elicits from you.

satoru’s fingers are squeezing your thighs as they threaten to close in on him. his mouth latches onto your clit and he alternates between sucking and placing kitten licks on the swollen nub.

“t-toru. more.” your pleas reach his ears and one hand moves between your legs.

“i know you want more, baby. just taking my time with you. i need you nice and wet for me so you can take me. think you can do that?”

you nod your head frantically as you feel his finger tease at your hole, gathering the arousal that’s practically dripping out of you and smearing your juices all over.

“sooo sticky and sweet.” satoru murmurs in fascination as his head falls down between your legs again, this time as he eases a finger inside your hole. you whine at the sudden intrusion but your pussy welcomes him in. he starts off slow, thrusting one finger inside you. your best friend picks up the pace as his tongue moves, your pussy a drenched mess. the tip of his tongue swirls on your clit and you’re convinced he’s spelling out something, but you’re teetering too close to the edge to even bother thinking about it.

a second finger enters you and satoru’s thrusts become more hurried when he sees you panting and shutting your eyes in hopes of prolonging your pleasure. he dives between your folds, tongue frantically licking and slurping.

“come on, baby. cum on my tongue. wanna taste more of you.”

satoru’s words and nose bumping against your clit send you over the edge as you lose control, hips jumping and legs twitching as pleasure overtakes your mind.

his fingers slow down and his licks turn into slow kisses. you shiver as satoru places one last smooch on your clit and takes his fingers out of your clenching hole.

he’s quick to bring those same fingers up to his mouth and run his tongue slowly up his digits. then he takes both of his fingers inside his mouth, sucking like he’s tasting nectar, and proves a point as he takes them out with a loud squelching sound.

the sight is so erotic, you don’t even register the fact that you’ve squeezed your thighs together, grinding against the sheets desperately, half-lidded and incredibly horny.

“baby, you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.” satoru speaks, moving his lips across your body, down your navel, on your chest, between your thighs - anywhere he can find. he was taking his time with you, cherishing every second in which your spectacular body was finally splayed out on display - all for him to enjoy.

he grabs your wrists and places a kiss on both of your palms before leaning down and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss once again. his tongue moves across yours as you become an open-mouthed slobbering mess, saliva spilling out from the corners of your mouth, running down your tongues and falling on your chest.

you moan inside his mouth, nails sinking in his back. satoru hisses at the pain and shuts his eyes and you take advantage of the moment, placing one last sweet kiss near the corner of his mouth before whispering.

“wan’ your cock inside, toru.” you’re long gone, completely having forgone the one and only goal you had for tonight - leave this friendship in the past.

satoru was living for this. finally hearing you speak up, whisper absolute filth in the tiny space between your mouths - god had finally smiled down on him. perhaps hell was not close.

“think you’re ready, hm?” he asks, moving your hair out of your face as he places a strand behind your ear. you nod, staring into his eyes full of love.

“anything for my baby. i’ll go slow, yeah?”

satoru discards his pants and you just now notice he had been completely clothed the whole time. the thought of you naked and writhing in his arms as he pleasures you, clothes on and all, makes your arousal practically gush out of you.

he finally takes his boxers off and all that can be heard is the loud gulp which comes from your throat.

he’s huge. sure, he’s always been a fit guy but you had never really paid attention to that or thought about the fact that he might be… well, to put it this way, gifted.

you stare up at the man as he hovers over you, watching the flame in your eyes suddenly die out. how were you supposed to fit all of him inside you?

satoru’s hands run down your thighs in attempts to soothe you.

“baby, with the way you’re staring at me, i’m the one starting to get scared.” he speaks.

“satoru, you’re huge.”

he’s baffled by your confession. of course, he was aware of the fact. many women had told him so, but they were ones who were chasing a certain porn fantasy. it enticed them and he didn’t mind their compliments. but as he stares down at his cock, the action almost humorous, he realises that there’s a chance you’ll decide he’s just too big and back out.

that thought doesn’t bother him as much as his next one does - what if he hurts you?

he shuts his mind off and is brought back to earth by the sight of your naked body below him.

he’ll fit just fine. he’ll make sure of that.

“nothing to worry about. i’ll make you feel really good, yeah?”

and without you having to ask him, he grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, hoping to bring you a sense of comfort.

he slaps his tip against your clit to tease you and you squirm, pussy clenching around nothing.

satoru lets out a small chuckle and begins pushing his tip inside, carefully moving through the first ring of resistance as your pussy clenches down on him. he has to bite down on his tongue. you were so goddamn tight, it was borderline painful. all he wanted was to break you in, spread you and mold your walls into the shape of his cock. but he couldn’t break his promise, not when his sweet girl was whining below him, writhing and whimpering at every prod and poke.

“fuck, you’ve gotta relax, baby. you’re squeezing me so tight.” satoru says with a breathless chuckle as he tries his best to sink another inch inside you.

“just a little more… biiig stretch. there we go.” your best friend mumbles softly as he bottoms out.

your pitiful moans fill his ears and he feels his heart sink. it takes all of his self-restraint not to pull out of you and just gather you in his arms so the pain could go away. but he knew that the best was yet to come. and the only better way to express his love for you was right here - you just had to push through the pain so he could show you heaven.

“i know, sweetheart, i know.” satoru shushes as his fingers move in gentle strokes all across your body in attempts to calm you down. your moans and aches slowly turn into whines for more as you get accustomed to his size.

“want me to move now, baby?” he asks as gently as he can, his voice barely a whisper. his fingers reach down between the two of you to rub your clit and you squeeze down on his cock at the feeling of his thumb rolling circles on your nub.

satoru lets out a quiet laugh as you nod at him again.

he begins by slowly pulling out and sliding his cock inside you. you’re wet, dripping down the sheets as you try your best to get accustomed to satoru’s size.

his moves turn into slow thrusts, controlled and not too harsh. satoru’s fingers reach down again and he helps you relax with a tease to your clit, distracting you from the fact that he’s picking up the pace, too lost in you.

your hand squeezes his as you look down and notice your tummy bulge whenever satoru thrusts deeper.

your moans get louder and your pussy clenches down on him at the sight. you’re whining incoherently, begging for more as your head falls back on the pillow.

“theeere we go, there’s my girl. feels good, yeah?”

“mmph” was all you could mumble out as satoru’s cock thrusted inside your hole, pleasure overtaking you for the first time in your life. his arms cage you in as he pants above your body. suddenly, he grabs a hold of your legs and props them up around his waist. you let out a loud moan at the change of positions, this new angle allowing him to reach even deeper inside you.

“‘m close, toru. so close.” you whine out.

“let go for me, doll. i’m right here. toru’s right here.”

your release crashes over you in waves as you convulse, writhing and squeezing satoru’s cock.

“fuck. i’m coming.”

“inside. please.” is all you manage to say. and satoru doesn’t wait for you to tell him twice. his own release comes soon after and you bask in the feeling of his cum filling your warm hole.

your pussy is still fluttering around his cock as satoru leans down to place a few kisses on your chest and finally meet your lips.

the kiss isn’t hurried, it’s sweeter than ever and makes your pussy clench down on his cock again.

“greedy,” satoru chuckles and slowly pulls out of you as your cum mixes with his and drips down your fluttering hole. you whine at the feeling of emptiness. “but i think that’s enough for tonight, baby.”

satoru kneels down between your legs and spreads them again to watch your juices drip out of your pussy.

before you can protest, his tongue laps up the remnants of your shared orgasm and you’re quick to shut your legs.

“you’re a pervert. and a tease.” you scoff at him in disbelief.

satoru envelops you in his arms and places a kiss on your head.

“let’s clean you up, baby.” his words are the last ones you register before you doze off soon after.

satoru takes care of you, bathing you and dressing you in one of his sweatshirts, opting to also give you his boxers rather than having you sleep bare (he wouldn’t be able to resist you.).

it’s pretty late now and you’re sleeping soundly in satoru’s arms who's enjoying your mere presence, when you suddenly get a notification. he takes a quick look at your screen that has lit up.

shoko: why aren’t you answering? 1:17 AM

don’t tell me that asshole came over again 1:17 AM

giving me the creeps again from miles away 1:18 AM

with you still in his arms, gojo grabs your phone from the nightstand as carefully as he can without disturbing your peacefully sleeping figure. his fingers move across the screen rapidly as he scoffs at the texts.

you: no 1:21 AM

i’m in his bed this time 1:22 AM

*photo attachment* 1:22 AM

and with a final photo of your head laying on his bare chest sent to your friend, gojo shuts your phone off and also dozes off, holding you as tight as ever, convinced that this way, you won’t try to run away from him again.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk satoru #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk smut #jjk fluff #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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brandnewvoice · 2 days ago

Note

HEYYYY

CAN YOU PERCHANCE WRITE

JINX×GN!READER HAVING DRUNK SEX!?

spinning vision

pairing: jinx x gn!reader - NSFW

summary: it seemed you and jinx had too much to drink at The Last Drop, and she sure looks good when your vision is spinning.

warnings: no use of y/n or pronouns, 2nd person reader, no use of nicknames, top/dom!reader, bottom/sub!jinx, drunk sex ig, dry humping, grinding, thigh riding, clothes on, overstimulation, knee against crotch thing ig, almost no aftercare.

author’s note: it’s here anon! i don’t think this is as great as my other fics but eh.

stumbling into jinx’s basement felt like a chore, arms holding to eachothers backs, holding one another just enough to keep you both not scattering to the floor. reaching closer to the center with each weak step, such step of jinx’s that brought you both to the ground, falling on your asses side by side on the hard metal surface.

you hissed in a mix of pain and annoyance, your spinning vision focusing on how she stared — or tried to, long blinks covering her irises constantly — intently at your shoulder.

“what?” you asked, watching as she crawled closer to you. “there’s a stain.” jinx noted, not giving you time to try and look at it before one of her legs perched itself in between yours.

she sat down on your thigh, one of her hands coming up to your chest and the other to examine the stain. she grumbled in annoyance shifting her hips forward to get a closer look, but the hitch of her breath from the accidental friction made her throw the importance of the stain away, as if it had importance in the first place.

her hand instead of carefully holding your shirt was now gripping your shoulder lightly for support, hesitantly rolling her hips another time with a deep breath.

the alcoholic smell that radiated off her was just a sign that you both would either really hate this or really love this in the morning, her half-lidded eyes just confirmed how bad her headache would and how much you would need to care for her, you couldn’t really care less about taking care of her, but yet.

your hands naturally made their way to her hips, motivating her to grind her hips against your thigh again. she bit her lip harshly as the grinding sped up, lowering her forehead onto your shoulder blade, a chest heaving as you placed kisses right by her ear.

jinx’s humping turning more desperate the longer it went on for, her back forming an arch and her legs moving for a better angle, which ended with her knee grinding against your core.

arousal flowing through your veins as you could feel the warmth pf her mound against your thigh, observing the way her head was thrown back in pleasure.

“c’mon jinxie, use my leg baby.” you muttered, observing her get closer to her orgasm only pushing you closer to the edge.

her moans spilled from her lips carelessly, the sinful sounds echoing together with the rustling of your clothes against hers.

her hips jerked with desperation, the sounds bubbling from her throat getting needier and louder, whines filling your ears.

you watched as her climax flowed through her, her hips trying to come to a stop and her heavy breaths. a slight wetness coming through her pants as you could feel it on your thigh.

you gripped her stuttering hips and humping her clothed cunt against yourself some more, desperate to release against her knee.

your half-lidded eyes tried focusing on the way her body convulsed with overstimulation, the way her thighs tensed, how her mouth was left agape and small tears formed on her eyes.

your body went over the edge as you reached your release, slowing down her hips and caressing her waist slowly as jinx’s body slumped forward, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

you took a few deep breaths before laying your back down to the metal floor, jinx coming down with you, her alcohol smelling breath hitting your neck. you both shifted around a little, the stickiness in your pants too uncomfortable to ignore completely.

you wrapped an arm around her when she curled up against you, sound asleep. you breathed in the mix of the scent of her hair and distinct smell of sex in the area, closing your eyes.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx lol #lol x reader #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx smut #lol smut #lamb writes stuff #we love subby jinx‼️‼️#we love gn reader‼️‼️#them queers said in unison

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 14 hours ago

Text

Rest is the Mission

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

Warnings: Fluff, Sick Reader

Authors Note: Hope you enjoy, I wrote this because I’m sick right now and feel like crap sooooooo enjoy :) I don’t know if I would label it a Poly fic go it’s gonna be with the boys

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

You’d felt it creeping up on you for days—a scratchy throat, a dull ache behind your eyes, and a fatigue that weighed heavier each morning. But you brushed it off. A cold wasn’t going to stop you. Not when your team needed you.

It wasn’t until today’s training session that the sickness became impossible to ignore. Each step felt like trudging through quicksand, and your vision blurred as sweat beaded on your forehead. You pushed forward, determined not to falter, until your foot caught on uneven ground and you stumbled.

A strong hand caught your arm. You blinked up to see Price, his piercing gaze scanning your flushed face.

“Right, that’s enough,” he said firmly. “Out with it. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you croaked, your voice betraying you. “Just a little tired.”

Price’s expression darkened. “Don’t lie to me, love. You’re burning up.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell, you’ve got a fever. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

“I can handle it,” you protested weakly.

“Handle it?” Soap’s voice cut in as he approached, eyebrows raised. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck, lass. You’re handling nothing but bedrest from now on.”

Before you could argue, Ghost appeared silently at your side. His gloved hand replaced Price’s on your forehead. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“You’re a liability to yourself like this,” he said bluntly. “Get to bed before you collapse. I’m not dragging your sorry arse off the floor.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though even to your own ears, the words sounded pathetic.

“Enough.” Price’s tone brooked no argument. “Soap, take her to her quarters. Gaz, get some water and medicine. Ghost, you’re with me—we’ll cover her workload for the day.”

Before you knew it, Soap was steering you back to your room, his arm a steadying presence. “You’re lucky we like you, hen,” he teased, though his eyes were soft with concern. “Otherwise, I’d leave you to learn your lesson the hard way.”

By the time you were tucked into bed, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, making it impossible to argue further.

---

The next few hours were a blur of fever dreams and muffled voices. Each time you stirred, one of them was there.

Price sat by your bedside, a warm mug of tea in his hands. “Drink,” he ordered gently, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. He waited patiently, his steady presence grounding you as you sipped.

Soap was a constant whirlwind of energy, refusing to let the atmosphere grow too heavy. “Y’know, I once caught a cold on a mission in Siberia,” he said, perched on the edge of your bed. “Nearly froze my arse off. Thought I’d lose my nose to frostbite.” His exaggerated tales pulled weak chuckles from you, and he grinned, satisfied.

Ghost was quieter, but no less attentive. He lingered in the corner of your room, his masked face unreadable, but his actions spoke volumes. He adjusted your blankets when you tossed them off, refilled your water without being asked, and made sure the room stayed cool to help bring down your fever. Once, you woke to find him sitting on the floor beside your bed, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief, but it sent a wave of comfort through you.

And then there was Gaz, the self-proclaimed team medic for the day. He bustled in and out, armed with medicine and a determined expression. “Take these,” he instructed, handing you a handful of pills. When you hesitated, his brow furrowed. “Don’t make me pin you down, because I will.” His fierce protectiveness made you smile, and you took the medicine without further protest.

---

You’d hoped the worst was over, but as you sat up to sip the tea Price offered, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you. The room spun, and nausea coiled tight in your stomach. You barely managed to set the mug down before leaning over the side of the bed.

“Easy, easy,” Price said quickly, his large hand resting on your back. He steadied you as you breathed heavily, fighting against the rising bile in your throat.

“Soap, get a bucket!” Price barked, his commanding tone snapping Soap out of his half-asleep state.

“On it!” Soap scrambled to his feet and darted out of the room, returning moments later with a small bin. He handed it off to Price, who placed it in your lap just in time for you to heave into it.

“Shh, you’re alright,” Price murmured, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Let it out, love. You’ll feel better soon.”

The nausea subsided after a few minutes, leaving you trembling and exhausted. Price set the bin aside, careful not to spill it, and handed you a damp cloth to wipe your mouth.

“Sorry,” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“None of that,” Price replied firmly. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. We’re here for you.”

Soap crouched beside the bed, his brows drawn in concern. “Poor thing. Looks like it’s hitting you harder than we thought.” He reached for your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t worry—we’ll get you through this.”

Ghost silently pressed a cold compress to your forehead, his gloved hand steady. The coolness was a relief, but the pounding behind your eyes continued, relentless and sharp.

“Headache?” Gaz asked, his voice soft.

“Bad,” you whispered.

“Alright. Painkillers it is,” he said, heading for the door.

When he returned, he coaxed you into taking the pills with a few sips of water. “Good. Now close your eyes and rest,” he instructed.

---

The pounding in your head eased slightly as the day wore on, and the nausea subsided into a dull ache. Each time you woke, one of them was there—Price’s steady voice soothing you, Soap’s jokes lightening the mood, Ghost’s silent care easing the worst moments, and Gaz’s gentle persistence ensuring you stayed hydrated and medicated.

When you finally woke the next morning, the sunlight no longer felt harsh, and your stomach was calm. You looked around to see all four of them still there—Price in a chair by the door, Soap curled up on the floor, Ghost leaning against the wall, and Gaz sprawled on the edge of your bed.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you whispered, “Thanks, guys.”

Price stirred, his sharp eyes meeting yours. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you admitted.

“Good,” he said, standing and stretching. “But don’t think for a second you’re jumping back into work. You’re on bedrest until we say otherwise.”

Soap cracked an eye open and grinned. “Aye, we’ll pamper you whether you like it or not.”

“Get used to it,” Gaz added, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Ghost didn’t say anything, but his gloved hand briefly brushed your shoulder as he passed, a silent promise that they’d always have your back.

For once, you didn’t feel guilty about accepting their care. You knew they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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solar4seekstron · 3 days ago

Text

Doublepackage

TF1!Orion Pax x Cybertronian!GN!Reader x TF1!D-16 One-shot

Content: 18+, Switch Reader, Bottom Orion, Switch D-16

TW/Tags: Not much really, Orion being a silly bean, D being a total babygirl, fluff, couple smut scenes, established relationship between D and Orion cute sparklings.

Notes: Hehe reader is a little taller then the two :3 Because Reader is Gender Neutral the way the GN characters work is they have both a valve and spike. Also don’t lie we all know in tf smut valveplug the femmes and mechs have spikes and valves so why not GN Cybertronians.

It was like any other day for the miners of Iacon. Cybertronians coming in and out on the train. Late shifts are constant to get enough energon for the entire city itself.

Just like any other Cybertronian, you were no different when it came to overworking yourself.

Always pulling an old nighter, while your best friend Elita took the lead to keep things in check. It was an honest balance you preferred. So it’s less stressful while also making sure you and the others continue to eat as much as you need to.

You’ve been working for as long as you can remember.

But you started to take note of two Cybertronians a little short then you. Always looking at you when they think you won’t notice.

Orion Pax and D-16.

While Elita wasn’t a big fan of the two. You didn’t mind the chaotic duo when they were around. Always looked forward to knowing why D was choking out Orion before a shift.

Making sure to greet them with a smile.

You aren’t shy to admit that you have a bit of a crush on the two. At least just to yourself.

But after continuing to stop yourself from confessing your feelings towards them. It was eventually too late when the two announced they were dating.

Believing you lost your chance. Or so you thought.

It’s been a few days since the two got together. Of course, the two haven’t changed once. One day you were making sure the others were boarding onto the train.

D was ahead since Elita wished to speak to him about Orion's behavior.

She made sure to keep you out of it though, since you always stood up for them.

When the train was about to leave, once taking a single step onto the train. You then heard Orion calling your name while being chased by some survivors.

You could only roll your optics and watch as he got closer.

Grabbing him by the cervo and pulling him onto the train on time while the guards only slammed in the train doors.

You had Orion wrapped around in your arms while his face plate was squished into your chest.

You let out a chuckle while the others paid no mind. You were on your back while Orion was on top of you.

Letting your arms go to not be around him anymore. Slowly Orion placed his cervos against the floor next to you and lifted himself.

Looking at you with a smile. “Wow, thanks Y/N. Almost got caught back there.” You let out a soft hum when you responded. “No problem.”

You both just kinda stared at each other for a moment. After a minute you spoke.

“If D catches you he’ll do worse than those guards would’ve.”

Orion was pulled out of his little trance and finally got up while not hurting you.

Stumbling his words while getting up along with watching you get up yourself. “Oh yeah of course uhh sorry. Where is D anyway?” He asked looking around.

You crossed your arms. “Getting scolded by Elita since you decided to give her that scare yesterday.”

”Oh-“ Orion looked surprised and looked as if he felt bad.

You let out a deep chuckle. “Just don’t mess with Elita as much anymore. That boyfriend of yours will end up killing you before any guards of Iacon will. And I won’t be able to always save you. Not even from D-16 if it comes to it you know.”

Orion rubbed the back of his helm with his left cervo while the other went on his hip.

You placed one of your cervos on his shoulder while giving him a small smile before speaking once more. “You better give him a real good apology after the shift. Ya know.”

You and Orion both chuckled once the train got into the mines.

—————————————————————————————————-

It’s been 3 weeks since your little hang-out with Orion on the train. The two remained the same. Just Orion got a little smarter since then.

But you can’t help but always feel optics on you. Theirs.

This made you think for a good while. Only to come to a conclusion that made your spark start to race.

Primus could they know about your crush????

Ever since then, you tried to keep your distance to make things less awkward. But Primus you swear those two are trying to always talk to you. During a very late shift, you got on the train after everyone else.

It cart of the train was a lot more quiet. You noticed this. As soon as you realize it was just you in the last one-

You got a little sad.

You stood there holding the hangers connected to the ceiling while the train started to move. You looked out the window. That is until two certain bots appeared behind you.

Having got into the same part of the train when you weren’t looking.

From behind, the two optics open. Letting the light from their optics light up a little.

The two would glance at each other. Seeming to try to communicate with their body language. Orion had a smile on his dermas as he gestured to you while D just looked annoyed with a frown. You just let out an annoyed sigh while your other cervo went to be on your hip.

Seeing the two reflections from the window while the train was still in the mines before getting out. Another long ride.

You then finally speak.

“Alright, alright. I’ll make this easier for you both. Yes, I have a crush on you both. You can drop it now.” The two just stared at you with wide optics before glancing at each other and then back at you.

The room is silent for a moment. Orion was about to speak but D beat him to it. “You have a crush on us?!” You optics then going wide.

You then turn around because of his question.

You tried to find your words. “Uhhh did I say crush? I mean-“ Orion then interrupted you. “That’s great! Makes this a whole lot easier!” You just stared at him along with D. D. then let out a sigh.

You then asked. “Wait, isn’t that why you’re here with me on the train?”

You look at the two as the two look up at you. Orion then speaks. “Nope. We’re here to ask you out!” The train was silent once more.

You just stare at him as Orion continues to have his usual smile.

D then spoke when he realized you were still confused. “We have been watching you and honestly we realized we both want you as much as we want each other. You’re an incredible bot who always took care of us and we were well wondering. If you’d be our Conjunx? We really, really like you.”

He seemed nervous. Something you had never seen before with D. You then looked at Orion. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. So what do ya say?”

You thought for a moment. Soon letting out a sigh when and went to sit on the train. The two walk over and sit next to you on both sides. You finally speaking.

“Sure, I’d love to be both of your Conjunx.”

The two looked at each other with smiles. The two then leaned a bit closer to you to try to kiss you. Only to be stopped when they felt your cervo against their dermas stopping them.

The two optics open and look back at you when you let out a deep chuckle as the train soon comes to a stop.

”Your courtship can start tomorrow. Try your best to impress me yeah?” You stood and walked to the doors that opened. Leaving the two stunned for a moment.

You turned your helm a bit to look at them.

Giving them a little wink before fully walking out the two. Following a bit after before the train would turn off for the night.

—————————————————————————-

And so the two started their courtship with you. Gifts and everything.

The other miners would always give glances confused that the two mechs would wanna date someone taller. Poly relationships were common for both cog and cogless Cybertronians in Iacon.

For Orion, it was already a surprise that he was able to get with D. But to get someone as strong and hard-working as you.

That was an even bigger surprise.

As for D, honestly many thought because of his quiet nature and temper.

Then others might have a harder time to get along with him.

Many miners were proven wrong on the day you became the twos Conjunx.

Elita tried to make it clear to you that she won’t stop treating the two the same that she always has. But you made it clear after trapping her against the wall with you in front of her.

You making it clear to her that they’re your responsibility. And you’ve only been holding back when arm wrestling.

Life was great after that.

You and D always trying to keep and save Orion out of trouble. You and Orion always listening to D when he talks about his totally not crush Megatronus.

And sometimes when you guys didn’t have shifts. You three made sure to save up enough to have a great date together. Sometimes doing 2 on 2 dates to keep things a little interesting.

And mostly just to spoil the one who didn’t go on the date.

One day, when a date between the three of you went so well. Let’s just say the three of you got pretty excited when the thought of having a sparkling came up.

And so. You three got to work.

————————————————————————-

You were lying on your back. Not paying much mind to the hard metal beneath you.

Currently lying on top of a tall abandoned tower. Soft sighs and moans escape your dermas. The sunlight only set down through the cracks of the surface above the city.

The city growing quiet in the very far distance.

Your optics closed, legs shaking and cervos gently gripping at the fragile metal above you.

Your moans and grunts soon blocked by a soft kiss from Orion. His kiss with you was soft and full of passion. Your legs against the front of his arms along with going over his shoulders for a better angle.

Your valve clenching around Orion's spike nice and tightly.

His frame remains above yours. Cervos tightly gripping the side of your waist. Your kiss soon turning into something more. Dermas departs as glossa starts dancing together.

Hearing both your moans and dermas connecting. Hearing Ds own grunts and deep moans in the background from behind Orion.

D on his knees while his spike is well squeezed in Orion's valve. His thrust a little harder and rougher smelling his hips roughly against Orion's aft.

This makes Orion's thrust forcefully harsher against your now sensitive valve.

D holding Orion by the back of his neck, the other by his waist as he gets closer to his climax. Your cervos continue to hold Orion's waist.

One of your cervos behind is covered a little by Ds own. The interfacing becoming more rough thanks to D. Who seemed to be really into filling Orion up with his cum.

Soon his thrust gets faster and harder to handle. Both you and Orion's moans grow louder and louder into the kiss.

D continuously thrusting his hips at a rough paste. Your frame moves back and forth against the floor harshly. The sound of metal is heard.

Loudly. You slowly opened your optics.

Only got a few glimpses of D who seemed to be concentrating during the interface.

His optics closed and dermas parted. His moans seem to never end.

Your view is mostly filled with Orion. His optics are closed while his moans are silent by the kiss. Your cervo that was under Ds moved to hold the back of Orion's helm.

Keeping his helm close to continue the heated kiss. You three stay in the same position for a few more moments.

Feeling yourself shiver from a strong feeling in your abdomen. Before you realize it. You felt yourself finally released for the 1st time. Then Orions own in your valve not long after.

Both you and Orion staring at each other's optics while D seems to be slowing down.

Before letting out a final strained moan. Finally having is released in Orion. Orion glanced behind to look at D while trying to catch his breath.

This was your first time. Though you doubt it was their first time. The three of you continue for a few more rounds after that.

Safe to say your back needed a really good polish before you guys could think about returning to the other miners. And D definitely went overboard on the both of you.

Now it was only a matter of time. And you were honestly excited to see what the future held in store for the three of you.

——————————————————————————-

One day, after it’s been a couple of months. You were currently having an alone time on an abandoned tower close to the mountains towards the surface. Alone time is something you enjoy often. But not much.

Looking over the city while the sunset. D and Orion currently having their own little date at the moment.

You took in the view, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Your cervo over your stomach. After another moment, you let out a soft sigh. The silence was soon interrupted when Orion kicked the door for the roof of the building open.

His precious voice booming with cheer and excitement. “Great News!”

You responded casually. Both he and D walked towards you after D closed the door behind him. “Hey, sweetspark. Guessing the date went well?”

You turn around as he and D get closer. Orion hugged you as soon as he was close enough. You leaned down a little once he leaned back a bit.

You gently held him as his dermas soon connected with yours.

D only hears both of your kisses as he gets closer. We won’t admit it but he got a bit jealous. Like he always does.

You and Orion pulled from the kiss, creating only a little bit of distance as you both stared at each other. Orion then speaks, forgetting what he was about to tell you then.

“The date was great, but we sure missed you.” You let out a soft chuckle.

D then cleared his throat catching both of your attention. You and Orion both looking at him. D then raised his optics ridge with a frown on his dermas as he looked at Orion.

Orion the getting a bit nervous noticing Ds anger.

You thought he was upset he wasn’t getting attention. So you walked over to D while Orion glanced to the side nervous yet excited a bit.

You leaned down a bit while you spoke before giving D a kiss too.

“You have a good date, Sweetspark.” You both then share a loving kiss before he can respond. His cervos holding your waist. Your own going to his hips. Once you both pulled from the kiss Orion finally spoke.

”Well, me and D have some very exciting news.” You stood a bit straighter once you responded. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You felt D grip at your waist for a moment analog with Orion glancing at D then back at you with a large grin. You were a little more confused until he finally spoke with a cheer in his tone.

”D IS WITH SPARKLING!!!!” He boomed.

You were completely stunned. Staring at him with wide optics before looking back at D who just had a nervous smile on his dermas. You then said with joy in your voice.

“D that’s amazing! Finally with sparkling!”

You three chuckled while Orion got closer. The three of you in a group hug. Smiles on each of your faces. You stood a little straighter before speaking then.

”Well I was hoping to wait till after your date tonight. But I too have some news.”

The two stared at you curiously. “I too am with sparkling.” The two expressions soon lighten up as they both cheer. Both you and D are now with sparkling.

Unsure who’s the sire of the sparklings.

But time will only tell. For now. It was time to celebrate the day you and D became with sparkling.

————————————————————————-

A few months went by. Orion never came up with sparkling. So he did have to deal with two of his sparkmates suffering from having mood swings. And while you were a bit calmer but still had your moments.

D was worser.

One time you had to hold him back from hitting Orion. Who was currently hiding behind Jazz and Prowl. Who honestly looked worried.

This carried on for a good while.

Seems like everything was taking a while. But you’re sure it’s just the hormones. Dents starting to appear around your waist. Showing the sparkling in you growing. The same thing happening to D.

As time passed, one day while Orion was busy working.

You and D cuddling on the bench as you both watched a wrestling show. Your spark started to shine a bright blue.

Oh boy.

Let's just say D wasn’t very calm the entire time while you both rushed to the med bay. Hours went by since. Man, the entire birth was painful as hell.

But D stayed by your side the entire time.

Eventually, Orion was able to get there during it. He then gets to D and your side. Holding your cervo along with his while you kept trying to give birth. An hour went by. And she was finally here.

When you opened your optics D and Orion had tears in their optics.

When you finally calmed down and became more awake. Orion comforting you while D remained by your side. Soon the nurse came in with your sparkling wrapped up.

Orion helped you sit up so you’ll be able to hold her.

Orion kissing the side of your helm to comfort you. While D remained close with a smile on his dermas.

Once she was in your arms. You were blown away. She was beautiful. A perfect mix of you and Orion. Most of all having Orion's blue helmet. Now you know Orions of the Sire.

Her optics were closed but her intake was open as she breathed.

You, D, and Orion stared at her for a minute. She finally opening her optics. A bright green. Just like yours.

Soon showing her bright smile that looked so much like Orions. You swear her smile is going to be contagious for the rest of her life. Her smile was enough for Orion, D, and yourself to smile even wider.

She’s perfect. It was only a matter of time until D had your next sparkling.

———————————————————————-

Well, the next sparkling came a couple of weeks later. The sparkling was a bit late but still, he came to the world healthy. You remained by Ds side while Elita took care of your sparkling back with the miners.

Orion of course was working again. But of course, he made sure to make it for D.

And before you knew it along with who would’ve thought. The sparkling is a young and healthy girl who’s another perfect mix of D and Orion.

Orion had a large grin on his dermas when he realized he was also the sire. You just chuckled as tears fell down your cheeks. The three of you stared down at the little sparkling.

She had Ds helmet and chest plate while in Orion's colors. Her optics bright blue like Ds. After D was checked out the three of you were hit with the realization. It was time for you and D to create the final sibling.

Something Orion was pretty sad about. Since he knew what that meant.

And so one day when you all had a shift off. Orion was left with the other miners to take care of his two sparklings. Who were pretty big sparklings. You and D making it to the tower spot.

Once there, lets just say D got a little too excited about being a top again.

“So what position do you feel like doing babe? Laying down? Doggy style? OH! Or my fav. Wall.” You’d let out a deep chuckle as you walked up next to him. “Wall sounds good to me.”

You said as you both stood next to the wall outside on the roof. He had a large grin and started to stretch his arms.

He then said casually while also trying to impress. “I have been working out really hard. So no need to worry bout being dropped.” He continued while you came up behind him.

Only to startle him when you pinned him against the wall. Facing the wall while his back’s towards you.

D letting out a surprised yelp as you spoke at the same time.

”Oh, I’m too worried. Because given you handle birth better than me. It only makes sense you be the one carrying the sparkling again. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your cervo lifted back a little and gave his aft a good slap. Making his frame flinch a little.

”Now now baby come on I’m the one on top-“

You give another slap to his aft to shush him. He then hears your panel click open. Your spike rests well against his lower back while your frame almost fully covers him.

You then hear D make a gulp sound while he tries to glance back at you. You had your usual sweet smile on your dermas while you stared down at him.

”I better be hearing a click soon. Or else I’ll have to tease you as punishment.”

You teased. Only to hear the clock of his panel very soon. One of your cervos moving from his waist to over his stomach from his front. It sliding down to press your digits against the folds of his valve.

Making him moan and shiver. He was already soaking.

You soon got on your knees, your cervo returning to hold his waist. Before sitting on your aft. He stood between your legs until you moved him along with you to be just above your spike.

Gently placing you on and sliding your spike through his folds. He let out a loud moan.

Continueing until his aft finally meets your hips. Your cervos sliding to grip his hips. You continue to sit up. Leaning forward a little to kiss his shoulder and the back of his neck.

Gently whispering shh shh next to his audio sensors.

His valve trying to adjust to your spike which was a little larger than his own.

After a few moments, D eventually gave the nod. Trying to form his words as he glanced back at you. “Promise you won’t be too rough?”

You let out a deep chuckle and kissed the side of his helm. Pulling his frame against your own as you keep holding your hips. With your strength. You moved his frame up and down nicely on your spike.

His own cervos pressed against your arms.

Moving him up and down nice and slow. You know he hates it when things are slow.

You can tell he was becoming impatient. His legs shaking while he continued to glance back at you. Your smile never has gone away. D then struggled with his words a little. Wanting just a little bit of control.

“Please….please…just a little more control…”

You can see the desperation in his optics. You can never say no to that face. And so slowing down the paste. You let him go for a moment. He lifted himself up and turned around.

Getting back on your lap, letting his spike slide right back in.

Your cervos returned to his hips with him now facing you. His arms move around your neck. A small smile on both of your dermas. Look into each other's optics before starting a soft make-out session.

His knees against the floor to help him start moving up and down on your spike. You both moan in the kiss with your optics closed. Your arms move around his waist to hold him close. Soon, to no one's surprise.

He soon started to take control while you were in the moment.

He was fast to push you back. Him on top and his hips moving faster on your spike.

Both of your moans get louder and D gets faster. You soon felt that strong feeling in your lower abdomen. This was going to be a long night.

—————————————————————————-

A couple of hours later, after a good few rounds. D was nice and full with your load. He was currently sitting up.

Still on your hips while your cervos were gripping his thighs, you both took a moment to gather yourself. All out of stamina and cum leaking from Ds valve.

D finally spoke after a few moments, he finally spoke. “I will be too sore to take care of the sparklings. Will your?”

He asked without finishing.

”Yes, of course sweetspark. And Orion will keep up his sire's duties. And if he doesn’t.”

”I’ll turn into a shovel. And Beat him.” He finished. Causing you both to chuckle as you slowly sit up. You both share a kiss once more. Enjoying the moment together a little while longer.

A few months went by. D was with sparkling. Your sparkling of course. You made sure to take good care of D along with Orion. Your two current sparkling always either sleeping or eating energon.

And so the days went. Your sparkling with D was born. He was a perfect mix of both you and D.

He had your frame plates and D colors. His Optics were yellow like Ds.

Your family with your two Conjunx was complete. And you couldn’t be any happier.

—————————————————————————————-

Your and Orion's sparkling is a healthy girl. With green optics and Orion's frame plates and your colors. She’s a bit more of a quiet type.

And is the most well-mannered and easiest sparkling for you three. Not to mention strong and taller. Always loved cuddles and being held. Mostly by D for some reason. Her name is (Name)

Ds and Orions sparkling a healthy girl. With bright blue optics and Ds frame plates and Orion's colors. Has a lot of her carrier anger issues.

Loves to cause trouble and start fights when she sees the chance. Is also very strong and can be chill at times. When they ate enough. Her name is (Name).

Your and D sparkling is a healthy boy. With your frame plates and Ds colors. Bright yellow optics. The only boy with his older siblings.

Like the oldest he’s quiet but he’s no different from his 2nd oldest sibling.

He was a troublemaker. But a lot smarter about it and when the sparklings were older. He ended up being taller like the oldest.

The middle is the shortest. Which only caused her to have even more anger issues.

Oh boy this one was a bit hard. Hope this was worth the wait!!!!! Really had fun writing this one!!!!!

As always a repost is appreciated and I’ll see you guys in the next post!!!!

#d 16 x orion pax #orion pax x reader #orion pax #transformers orion pax #transformers #x reader #transformers x reader #transformers one #transformers one x reader #transformers d16 #tf d16 #d 16 #tf one d16 #tfo d16 #d 16 x reader #tf orion pax #cybertronain reader #cybertronian reader #cybertronians

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claramelooo · 2 days ago

Text

CRIMSON REVERIE

Guys, I beg for patience hahaha

Long before Wanda and R's relationship, there is an extremely complex universe, so this needs to be built to make sense. I promise the kiss is comin and it will be surprising, in the meantime, enjoy the slow burn <3

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: the arrival of a well-known figure is what the witch in Wanda needed to take over the reins.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

FIRE

In an open field in space, a spacecraft glided smoothly through the infinite darkness. Inside, Carol Danvers was adjusting the settings on the main panel.

“Danvers,” Strange’s voice echoed in her communicator.

Carol rolled her eyes, but a smile curved her lips. “Sorcerer Supreme. Long time, no see. I hope this is important because I was in the middle of—”

“We need you,” Strange interrupted, the urgency in his voice cutting off any attempt at casual conversation.

Carol’s smile disappeared. “What’s going on?”

Strange appeared as a holographic projection in front of her, the Eye of Agamotto glowing on his chest. “The Scarlet Witch. Wanda Maximoff. I’ve located her.”

Carol crossed her arms, her face hardening. “Wasn’t she... dealt with at Mount Wundagore?”

“Not exactly,” Strange replied, his voice serious. “She survived. She’s in an alternate universe, without full powers for now, but that won’t last. If she remembers who she is—or worse, if another version of her intervenes—she could destroy reality again.”

Carol nodded slowly, the weight of the mission beginning to take shape in her mind. “And you want me to bring her in. Why? Seems more like your area of expertise.”

Strange sighed. “I can’t get involved directly. She has ties to the Darkhold that could interfere with my magic, even in a different universe. You, on the other hand, are practically indestructible.”

A sarcastic smile returned to Carol’s face. “Practically?”

Strange ignored the remark. “Your strength is what we need. But be careful, Carol. She may be weakened, but that doesn’t make her any less dangerous. Wanda is unpredictable. And, above all, she’s emotional.”

Carol tilted her head, her gaze narrowing. “So it’s a search-and-capture mission. Only this time, the target might destroy me if I make a mistake. Perfect.”

Strange opened a portal, his expression even darker. “Remember: she’s not the same Wanda we knew. Proceed with caution.”

[...]

Carol stepped through the portal into a world that seemed almost idyllic. The city's urbanization was a near-perfect blend of Westview and New York. The Captain took a deep breath, taking a moment to absorb the atmosphere. The place was surprisingly ordinary, but the small details buzzed in her mind with distrust. Impeccable lawns, vibrant flowers adorning windows, streets too clean, and yet… something felt off.

As she walked, her attention was drawn to a university at the city's center, surrounded by tall trees and an open field. This was where Strange had detected the core of Wanda's residual energy.

Bizarrely intriguing.

Carol found Wanda an interesting woman. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t help but admire Wanda—not just as the powerful Scarlet Witch, but as a woman. A woman seemingly burdened with sorrow and mystery, a walking paradox of strength and vulnerability.

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place you’d find a dark sorceress,” she murmured to herself, adjusting her communicator.

Strange responded in her ear. “She’s hidden herself in a universe that doesn’t attract attention. The problem is, that means the people here have no idea who she is... or what she’s capable of.”

As Carol walked the streets, she felt something—a subtle pulse in the air, almost like static electricity.

“She’s close,” Strange warned.

Entering the university, Carol tried to blend in with the students rushing out of their classes. Suddenly, someone bumped into her. Carol barely moved from the impact, but she looked down to see you had stumbled and fallen. It was unusual for her to be caught off guard, especially by something as mundane as an accidental encounter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, hurrying to gather the books and papers scattered on the ground.

Carol crouched to help, her eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. There was something about your presence that gave her pause—a strange magnetism, as if you carried something she couldn’t quite identify.

“It’s fine,” Carol replied, her voice calm. “Are you okay?”

You looked up, meeting her blue eyes. For a moment, time seemed to slow. There was an intensity there, as if Carol was seeing something deeper in you.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you replied, a bit flustered. “Sorry about that.”

Carol handed you the papers she’d picked up but didn’t step away immediately. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.

“You’re different,” she said without thinking.

You frowned, a little defensive. “What?”

Carol hesitated, realizing she’d spoken too much. “I don’t know. You just seem... special.”

You let out a short, nervous laugh. “If that’s your attempt at flirting, you need more practice.”

Carol smirked, surprised by your response. “It wasn’t that,” she said. “But I’ll take the tip.”

The moment was interrupted by a familiar sensation that passed through Carol like a wave. Energy. Red. Unstable. She immediately went on high alert, her eyes scanning for the source.

You noticed the change in her expression and followed her gaze. “Are you looking for someone?”

Carol glanced back at you, debating whether to be honest. “Maybe,” she said finally. “Do you study here?”

“Yes,” you replied, still intrigued. “Why?”

Before Carol could answer, a group of students passed between you, forcing her to step back. When she looked again, you were already walking away, heading into the main building.

She stood there for a moment, thinking. Something about you unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the energy she’d sensed. It was the way you seemed completely normal and yet... something more.

“Interesting,” Carol murmured to herself before continuing her search, now with you in mind.

As Carol moved through the corridors, she couldn’t stop thinking about you. That brief interaction had left a mark. There was something in your eyes, something that seemed to carry a weight heavier than it should for someone so young.

Then she heard it—a low laugh and a murmur unmistakable in its tone. Following the sound, Carol found you again, talking with a group of classmates. You seemed relaxed, but your eyes betrayed you. They held the same intensity she had seen in Wanda.

Carol’s heart raced. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she now knew her mission had just become much more complicated.

She entered the university office with decisive steps, the air charged with the familiar tension of magic. The space looked normal, but there was a latent energy that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Wanda stood near the window, her gaze lost on the horizon, but her posture rigid, as if ready to strike.

Wanda raised her eyes, and for a moment, her gaze met Carol’s. There was something almost unsettling in her expression, as if she were bracing for the worst and yet completely indifferent to it.

“Captain Marvel,” Wanda said, her tone disdainful but laced with exhaustion. “Come to take me back?”

Carol stopped a few steps away, her arms relaxed at her sides. “Depends,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you going to cooperate?”

Wanda let out a short, humorless laugh. “Cooperate? Do you think I’m some escaped prisoner?”

Carol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she sat down on the floor, crossing her legs as if she were there for a casual chat. The gesture made Wanda frown.

“Why are you here, Carol?” Wanda finally asked, her tone impatient.

“I’m here because you’re hurt, Wanda,” Carol said bluntly. “And when someone like you is hurting, the whole world feels it.”

Wanda looked away, as if the words had struck a sensitive nerve. “I’m not a danger to anyone here.”

“For now,” Carol replied softly. “But that’s not what this is about, is it? You’re not hiding because you want to hurt anyone. You’re hiding because you don’t know how to stop hurting yourself.”

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Wanda finally broke the silence, her voice lower, almost a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like, Carol. To lose everything. Absolutely everything. And still be expected to exist as if nothing happened.”

Carol tilted her head. “No, I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything,” she admitted. “But I know what it’s like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. To feel like you have to be strong all the time because if you break, everything else breaks with you.”

Wanda looked at her, her eyes shining with something Carol couldn’t quite identify. “And can you handle it?”

Carol gave a sad smile. “I do my best. But I won’t pretend it’s easy. And neither should you.”

The red glow in Wanda’s eyes flickered for a moment before being replaced by an expression of doubt. “I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted.

“Maybe you don’t need to fix it,” Carol said. “Maybe you just need to accept that you’re not alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Wanda seemed to consider the idea. But then, like a barrier being raised, her expression hardened again.

“You don’t understand,” she said, standing up. “I’m not just me. I’m her. I’m chaos. I’m destruction.”

Carol stood up as well, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s. “And I’m Carol Danvers,” she said firmly. “I’m a woman who’s faced gods and monsters. If you think I’m going to give up on you just because it’s easier, you’re wrong.”

For a moment, the silence returned, but this time, it felt different. A palpable tension hung in the air. Wanda finally looked away, her expression conflicted and contradictory.

“Leave, Carol,” she said weakly. “Before it’s too late.”

The conversation seemed to be nearing an end until Carol brought you up.

“Is it her? Is she the girl?” Carol asked, her voice laden with curiosity.

The weight of Carol's words hung in the air like distant thunder, but Wanda remained quiet, unmoving like a statue. Inside, however, she was a battlefield.

"She's right, you know," the Witch whispered in her mind, her voice dripping with venom and truth. "This girl is different. But you'll never have anything if you keep hiding."

Wanda clenched her fists, the red in her hands flickering between brightness and shadow. "I’m not hiding," she replied internally, her tone full of desperation and denial.

"Yes, you are. Hiding behind an idea of normalcy that was never yours. If you wanted your family, you should've fought for them. If you want this girl, you must fight now. Before it's too late."

The effect was immediate. Wanda faltered, her body trembling for a moment. The red glow Carol knew so well began emanating from Wanda’s hands, faint at first, but rapidly intensifying. Wanda closed her eyes, trying to contain the surge, but it was already too late.

"Don’t talk about her," Wanda whispered, her voice low but laden with threat. When she opened her eyes, the deep red glimmered within them, and Carol instinctively stepped back, raising an energy barrier.

"I knew it," Carol murmured, more to herself. "It’s her. She’s awakening something in you, something you can’t control."

"You don’t understand," Wanda growled, her voice now a blend of the woman Carol knew and something more primal. "She’s not just a girl. She... she completes me. She makes me feel alive in a way nothing else can."

Carol clenched her fists, struggling to maintain her composure. "It’s not her awakening this, Wanda. It’s the Witch within you. She’s using your feelings to gain strength."

Within Wanda's mind, the battle raged on. Carol's voice and the reality around her faded, replaced by an increasingly tumultuous internal dialogue.

"You see it, don’t you?" the Witch taunted, her voice echoing through Wanda's mind. "She understands, even if she tries to deny it. She knows I’m a part of you. I always have been."

"You’re just a part I never wanted," Wanda retorted, fighting to keep control of her thoughts. "You’re pain, chaos, destruction. I’ve tried... I’ve tried to get rid of you."

"And where has that led you?" the Witch shot back, sharp. "To loneliness. To emptiness. To the endless nights you spent crying over everything you’ve lost. But now... now you have something. Her. And you want to tell me you don’t feel the power growing because she’s here?"

Wanda hesitated, and the pause was enough for the Witch to press harder.

Wanda let out a bitter laugh, and the power around her intensified. "You think you can separate me from her? From myself? You have no idea what it’s like to live with this pain, this emptiness. She’s the only thing that fills it."

"The girl sees you, Wanda. All of you. Not just the mother, the teacher, the broken woman. She sees the strength The power. She sees... me."

As Carol continued speaking, trying to reach Wanda, the primal side of the Scarlet Witch began fully emerging. Wanda’s movements became more fluid, almost as if she were floating, and the crimson aura surrounding her grew nearly suffocating.

"I don’t want her to see this," Wanda whispered, the weight of the truth choking her. "I don’t want to be this. I don’t want to hurt her."

"You can’t hurt what’s meant for you," the Witch said, her voice dripping with certainty. "She’s here for a reason. You feel it, don’t you? She’s the thread connecting you to what you’re meant to be. Not the teacher. Not the mother. But the Scarlet Witch. Me."

Wanda shut her eyes, trying to push the words away, but they were like a constant drumbeat in her mind. Outside, she could feel Carol’s presence, the tension in the air, but she was too far gone to act.

"And if I lose everything again?" Wanda asked, her voice trembling.

"You only lose when you resist," the Witch replied, now soft, almost gentle. "Let me take over, Wanda. Just this once. You don’t have to bear this alone."

"I can’t..."

"You can," the voice interrupted firmly. "I am you, Wanda. We’re not enemies. We’re two sides of the same coin. And together... we’re unstoppable."

"Wanda," Carol tried once more. "You don’t have to do this. We can find a solution together."

But it was no longer Wanda in control.

"Don’t underestimate me, Captain," the Scarlet Witch said, her voice brimming with a confidence and cruelty that made Carol shudder. "I’m not the woman you think you know. Not anymore."

Carol felt the impact before the attack landed. Red energy slammed into her barrier, nearly knocking her backward. She countered, but she realized that, no matter how powerful she was, she was up against something far greater than just magic: it was a broken heart, a divided soul, and a passion that had turned into something dangerous and overwhelming.

Wanda’s internal struggle between her human side and the Scarlet Witch was palpable, but now, standing before Carol, the primal, wild side had taken control.

"She’s mine!" the Witch murmured, as if it were both a promise and a threat.

The air in the room thickened, charged with the energy of two titans on the brink of collision. Carol clenched her fists, golden energy beginning to radiate from her body, illuminating the space. Wanda, in turn, was entirely enveloped in her crimson aura, her eyes glowing with a dangerous intensity.

"If you won’t stand down willingly," Carol said gravely, "then I’ll use force."

Wanda tilted her head, a cruel smile curling her lips. "Fine."

Without another word, Carol struck first, surging forward at supersonic speed. Her golden energy tore through the air like a comet, aiming straight for Wanda’s chest. But the Scarlet Witch raised a hand casually, creating a crimson barrier that absorbed the blow as if it were nothing.

"You’re predictable," Wanda taunted before unleashing a wave of energy that sent Carol hurtling backward, smashing through the walls of the university office and landing in the courtyard.

Students fled in panic as the two titans clashed. Carol stood, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. She charged at Wanda again, this time surrounding her with an explosion of energy that fractured the ground beneath them.

"Is that all you’ve got?" Wanda mocked, before vanishing in a red mist and reappearing behind Carol, grabbing her by the neck with supernatural strength.

"You think you can stop me, Carol? Everything in this universe belongs to me, Captain... even you."

With a roar of rage, Carol channeled all her energy into a concentrated attack, exploding outward. The impact was so powerful that it tore a rift in the multiverse, exposing glimpses of parallel realities. But Wanda only laughed.

"You’re playing with forces you don’t understand," she said, extending her hands. Her red magic enveloped the rift, sealing it effortlessly.

Carol, panting, fell to her knees. But before she could react, Wanda whispered a spell, and magical chains wrapped around Carol’s body, binding her in place.

"You’re strong," Wanda admitted, circling Carol like a predator. "But brute strength is nothing against the power of chaos."

With an elegant gesture, Wanda conjured an orb of crimson energy filled with glowing runes. She sent it toward Carol like a breath, and though Carol tried to resist, the spell was irresistible. The Captain Marvel’s golden light faded, and her gaze turned vacant.

Carol rose slowly, but she was no longer herself. Her body was a vessel, now controlled by Wanda’s will.

"Welcome to my world, Captain," Wanda said, approaching Carol and caressing the ex-heroine’s face as if she were a masterpiece. "Perfect. Submissive. Mine."

Wanda smiled triumphantly, her eyes still glowing red. She raised her arms, and the universe around her seemed to bend to her will. The sky turned a pulsating crimson, and the air vibrated with raw energy.

Every star on the horizon flickered, as if fearing her presence.

"I warned you," she murmured, a victorious smile gracing her lips, her eyes blazing like fire. "Queens aren’t dethroned. They take what’s theirs."

And in that moment, the multiverse knelt before the Scarlet Witch as she rose above all, invincible, relentless, supreme.

[...]

The environment was in absolute chaos when you opened Wanda's office door. Papers were scattered across the floor, furniture was overturned, and the air carried the sharp tang of ozone and magic that made your hair stand on end. In the middle of it all, Wanda stood motionless, arms crossed, and her face etched with an unfriendly expression.

"What the hell happened here?!" you asked, eyes wide as you took in the wreckage.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, looking more irritated than usual. "None of your business, girl. Just clean it up."

You stopped surveying the mess and shot her an incredulous look. "Clean it? Me? Do you have any idea how bad this room is? It looks like a hurricane came through—or worse, like someone fought here. Alone, it'll take me hours!"

Wanda leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp. "I don't recall asking for your opinion. Just do it."

You let out a dramatic sigh, placing your hands on your hips. "Fine, but if you want me to clean all this up, maybe you should use those red fireballs you have. It’d make things easier, you know? Instead of just standing there barking orders like a tyrant."

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Wanda remained still, her eyes narrowing slowly as you, apparently fearless, kept your gaze fixed on her. Then something unexpected happened.

Wanda laughed. Not a free or kind laugh, but a low, dangerously sarcastic one. She stepped toward you, her heels echoing on the cluttered floor. Each step felt like a threat, but you stood your ground, even as your heart raced.

"You have a special talent for irritating me, don’t you?" she said, her voice low and controlled, though her eyes glowed with that red hue you were starting to recognize. "And no, those 'red fireballs,' as you call them, aren’t here to make your life easier."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "So what are they for? Boosting your ego? Because honestly, I think it's already big enough."

Wanda gave a crooked smile, stepping so close she was dangerously near. The heat of her presence was almost tangible. "You like testing limits, don’t you? Maybe I should show you what those 'fireballs' can really do."

Your heart raced, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you stepped back, stumbling slightly over some debris.

"Yeah, well, maybe I overstepped a little," you admitted, trying to sound indifferent as your mind screamed that getting out of this room alive would be a miracle.

Wanda tilted her head, as if assessing you. Then, with a quick gesture, she used her magic to lift a pile of papers and organize them neatly on the desk—just to prove she could.

"See?" you said, pointing at the magical movement. "Effortless. You could do this in two minutes. Why are you making me clean?"

Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes almost theatrically. "Because, girl, you need to learn that things in life don’t come for free. And, frankly, watching you complain is one of the few entertaining things in my day."

You huffed, but there was an unexpected warmth in your belly—a confusing mix of frustration and something else you didn’t want to admit. "Entertaining, huh? Great. I’ll clean. But know that I’m going to complain every second."

Wanda gave a slow, dangerous smile. "Do that, and I might add more tasks to your list. Who knows? Maybe I'll even use my 'fireballs'... just not in the way you’d like."

Her tone was a mix of threat and provocation, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to punch her or... something else. Muttering under your breath, you started picking up the wreckage while Wanda settled into her chair, watching you like you were live entertainment.

It was a power game, a dance of provocations and resistance, and deep down, you hated—or maybe loved—that Wanda Maximoff always seemed to have the last word.

You were at your wit's end by the time you finished cleaning the office. Every corner, every piece of paper, every bit of furniture had been meticulously attended to. Sweaty and exhausted, you looked around and let out a satisfied sigh. "Finally."

That’s when Wanda walked back in. She looked completely refreshed, as if she’d just returned from an exclusive spa. The contrast with your disheveled state was ridiculous.

She glanced around, hands on her hips, and made a face. "This is terrible! Do you have any idea how to clean?"

You blinked, incredulous. "Terrible? I spent HOURS cleaning this!"

Wanda merely snapped her fingers, and in the blink of an eye, the office became immaculate. The papers were stacked neatly, the furniture was back in place, and even the air felt fresher.

Your jaw dropped. "You’re telling me you could’ve done that the entire time?!"

Wanda shrugged, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips. "Of course. But where’s the fun in that?"

The blood rushed to your head, and you saw red. "You’re impossible! Arrogant, egotistical, tyrannical—"

Before you could finish your list of insults, you took a step forward, then another. Before you knew it, you were practically nose-to-nose with her, finger pointing like a dagger. Wanda simply raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Oh. The baby’s angry," she teased, tilting her head slightly. "I really do love seeing you like this. It makes my day."

You growled, patience completely gone, and tried to push her, but Wanda was quicker. In a movement almost casual, she grabbed your hair with one hand and held your neck with the other, pulling you close with enough force to make it clear who was in control.

"Just because I find you adorable when you’re angry," she said, her tone low and laced with something almost dangerous, "and I go out of my way to see that little face turn red, doesn’t mean I’ll let you forget who’s in charge here. Got it?"

Your heart raced, but you kept your gaze locked on hers, even as your skin tingled where her fingers touched.

"Got it?" she repeated, tightening her grip on your hair slightly.

You swallowed hard, unsure whether you hated or loved the sensation. "Yes, ma’am," you murmured, your voice slightly shaky.

Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a brief moment, and you saw something change in her expression. She was tempted. Tempted to do something she knew she shouldn’t.

Wanda watched you, her gaze fixed on yours as if seeing something that made her burn inside. The fire of anger and determination radiating from you was intoxicating. Every time your voice rose, every insult hurled her way, it drew a slow, dangerous smile to her lips. It wasn’t just the challenge that drew her; it was the raw force of your youth, your conviction.

The witch within her began to whisper. "Look at how she glows, how she resists. She’s like a storm waiting to be tamed. We could shape her, drink her in, consume every drop of that fire. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to feel that running through our veins?"

Wanda tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. Not when every move you made felt like a veiled invitation. "She provokes me," Wanda thought, the heat rising through her body. "Without even realizing it, she makes me vulnerable. But at the same time… she makes me feel alive."

"Touch her," the voice whispered. "Make her understand the power you hold. Kiss her, taste her. She belongs to us."

In that moment, Wanda reached out firmly, pulling you closer. There was no hesitation, only raw desire that seemed to overpower everything around her. She held you, her gaze burning with a mix of need and fascination.

"You have no idea what you’re provoking," Wanda murmured, but there was something inevitable in the way her voice wavered, as if she were on the verge of surrendering to everything she felt.

But before she could act, a knock at the door echoed through the room.

Wanda released you abruptly, stepping back with an exasperated sigh. "Come in," she said, her tone impatient, though her posture remained composed as if nothing had happened.

You took a step back, discreetly massaging your neck while glancing at the door. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, but no one seemed to notice—except the two of you.

The sound of the door closing behind whoever had entered was just a distant echo in your ears. Your focus was locked on Wanda, on her eyes burning like embers, as if the interruption had only fueled what was about to erupt between you.

The space around you seemed tighter, hotter, as if the very air was conspiring to pull you together again.

The tension wasn’t a thread anymore; it was a blazing cord wrapping around you both, tightening, scorching. There was something destructive in the energy flowing between you, a force threatening to consume anything in its path. Every exchanged glance, every shared breath felt like a step closer to the edge. It wasn’t simple desire, nor just anger—it was a ravenous hunger that wouldn’t settle for halves.

"She’s fire," Wanda thought, but the witch within her laughed, dark and satisfied. "And we are the gasoline."

If you touched again, it would be the end of control, of rationality. It would be the beginning of something deeper, wilder. A kiss wouldn’t be enough; it would only be the first crack in a dam ready to burst. You could feel it, as if every fiber of your being screamed to give in to the chaos, to the heat, to the inevitable.

Wanda averted her gaze for just a moment, as if trying to hold onto a shred of reason, but it was useless. You were there, a pulsing paradox of strength and vulnerability, and she wanted to devour every piece of it. Bites and kisses, skin against skin until the boundaries between you both were reduced to ashes. The thought was so visceral it made the air around her hum with untamed magic.

"We’ll burn together," the witch whispered, like a promise, like a sentence. "And it will be glorious."

And when Wanda’s eyes met yours again, she knew. It didn’t matter how many doors knocked or how many minutes she tried to buy with interruptions. The fire had already begun.

~*~

Call 911! A lesbian is having tachycardia longing for a Wanda like this!!

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000

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jjscrybaby · 2 days ago

Note

A request for JJ!!

I was thinking something kinda angst. So JJ hates the reader and she hates him. They both think each other has a great life and is jealous. But maybe one day on her usual bike ride around the cut, y/n sees JJ’s dad get aggressive with him and realises how JJ’s life is hard. But she doesn’t go to help because she was scared. Feeling bad that she didn’t help she wonders around and she goes home late which results in an argument with her mom. At that time JJ was doing a delivery with Pope and hears and sees everything and when y/n is outside walking around trying to calm herself down and distract from the pain she accidentally bumps into JJ and they have a talk.

jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (luke maybank being an ass, reader’s mom is also an ass, overall just bad parents!)

not proofread and written at 6am so my bad if there’s any mistakes 🤗

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One of the main differences between you and JJ were your social status’. JJ came from the Cut, he grew up catching his own food, roaming the streets at the age of seven without a care in the world, stealing just to get by. You grew up on Figure Eight, you never had to lift a finger, your parents never had to worry about where their next pay check was coming from. He was jealous.

JJ grew up with freedom, with a group of friends he called his family, he never had to worry about grades or being perfect because no one cared if he was. You grew up with snobby rich kids as the only people you could hang out with, your mom dictated everything you did down to the clothes you’d wear to the mall, you felt embarrassed to even leave the house if your hair was slightly greasy. You were jealous.

You’d known JJ Maybank since you were a kid, you went to the same Elementary school and then over the years you’d see each other at parties or at the club where he worked. There wasn’t ever something that happened that gave you both a reason to hate the other, you just did.

Something your parents were definitely not aware of was the route you’d take on your weekly bike ride. You needed an escape from the ‘perfect’ life, so at least once a week you’d take your little pink bicycle and you’d ride around the Cut. You weren’t sure what it was that drew you to it in the first place, especially after the horror stories you’d grown up hearing, but you always felt calm when you rode around with your AirPods in.

It was about six o’clock, you were supposed to be home for dinner in an hour because your father had some clients coming over and you were wanted as well. You were about to head back home when the sound of yelling caught your attention. You turned round the corner, standing still at the end of the street.

“You smell like a damn bar!” It was JJ. You didn’t know he lived here, but then again why would you? You weren’t friends. There was an older man stumbling after him, following the blonde down the porch steps.

“Ain’t that rich comin’ from you?” The man, who you assumed was non other than Luke Maybank, snorted.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” JJ scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at his dad.

“Means you ain’t better than me, kid. It’s in your blood, you’re a Maybank,” Luke mocked.

You could see JJ shake his head, a scowl on his face that was hiding the hurt he felt. “I’m nothin’ like you. And I never will be.”

“Say whatever you want, don’t make it true,” Luke shrugged, taking a sip from the beer that you hadn’t noticed was in his hand. “Where the fuck you goin’, anyways? Ain’t been home in weeks.”

Weeks? You had heard the stories about Luke, the robberies and the bar fights, but you didn’t think he’d treat his own son like this. He spoke to him as if he was a stranger, as if he couldn’t care less about him.

“Yeah, and I shouldn’t have bothered coming back at all,” JJ stated, turning to continue walking away. Luke grabbed his arm, yanking him back and holding him in place. “Get the fuck off me, man!”

“Gotta show some respect, Jay!” Luke yelled, making you flinch.

Why were the neighbours not coming out? Why hadn’t anyone done something about this? You felt sick, and you felt even worse when you got on your bike and rode away before you had to see how this ended.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“You alright?” JJ hated that question, especially when he knew why it was being asked. The shiner that he sported now. Pope looked at him sympathetically, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m fine. Ready to get some good tips,” JJ shrugged, taking the grocery bags from his hands. “Who orders food at eight o’clock?”

“Rich people,” Pope muttered. “Don’t lose any of that shit.“

“Yeah, yeah.”

JJ walked to your house, he knew it was yours from the last name above the slip of paper Pope had given him. He was starting to walk up the driveway when he heard the noise coming from the open front door.

“I told you to be here by seven! It’s half past!” Your mother exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

“I— I got held up, I’m sorry.” He’d never heard you sound so small. Usually, when the two of you got at each other’s throats at a Kegger, you’d stand your ground without a care in the world. It was one of the only things he respected about you.

“Held up with what?” Your mom scoffed. He could see through the cracks in the bushes that she was shaking her head, looking disappointed.

“It’s just dinner, mom. I don’t need to be here,” you tried to argue.

“Well, I’ve already told the Henderson’s that you aren’t home. So, therefore, you will not be home. Don’t come back until they’re gone,” she stated.

“What? Mom. I haven’t got anywhere to go,” you exclaimed, voice wavering.

The door closed in your face and you let out a shaky sigh. You’d been preoccupied, feeling guilty for not sticking up for JJ, so you’d gotten home a little later than planned. Was it really that big of a deal? Tears fell as you wandered back down your driveway, trying to think of where the hell you can go.

“Uh, hey.” You flinched in shock, turning to see JJ lurking by the bushes with two grocery bags.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked quietly.

“Delivery,” he explained.

“Right, well, I can’t take it,” you muttered. “Just go knock.”

“Wait there.” You weren’t sure why you did what he said, but it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. You stood and waited, watching as he left the bags on your front door step and knocked before coming back; he didn’t even wait for a tip. “C’mon.”

The two of you walked through Figure Eight in silence, him puffing on his vape every now and then whilst you tried not to burst into tears. “I saw you and your dad, earlier.”

“What?” He turned to look at you in confusion.

“Outside your house.”

“Why were you outside my house?” He asked.

“I wasn’t, I just happened to be going past,” you explained. You bit your nails before speaking again, letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s an ass.”

Surprisingly, JJ let out a chuckle. He nodded his head. “Yeah, he is. So is your mom.” You giggled, agreeing with him. “Guess we both have shitty parents, huh?”

“Seems like it,” you shrugged. “Never thought we’d have something in common.”

“You know, my friend, John B, his house is sorta the hangout for kids with shitty parents. Did you want to… you could come over, until you can go back home,” JJ offered. He sounded anxious, as if he was asking you on a date.

You found yourself nodding your head, shyly smiling at him. “Yeah, just until I can go back home.”

You didn’t go home, instead you spent the night chatting shit about your mom with JJ whilst he rambled about his dad. You ended the night in his bed, laid on his chest as the two of you shared a joint. You didn’t feel so jealous anymore, and you were certain he didn’t either.

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine

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eph3merall · 2 days ago

Text

tape 001 —

TOXIC!EX!MATT & TOXIC!MATT .ᐟ

TOXIC!EX!MATT . . .

⏾ crueler, more unforgiving than toxic!matt. cockier + more teasing. I KNOW? by travis scott. would go lengths to have you back at his side doesnt have to though, you end up crawling back anyways. manipulative. wasnt truthful throughout his childhood, the habit grew up with him and now its almost impossible to tell whenever the man is lying. aware of his own actions and how bad he's hurt you before. doesnt care. couldnt bother to care, either. gone to therapy lots due to this behavior, due to his lack of empathy. sometimes unsure of why girls like him so much his dick. deals drugs on the side, part of the reason why you left so many times. grew up getting told to care less about things. grinning at you when you make eye contact. the man knows what he is doing in bed. horrible and i mean horrible at confronting problems and emotions. lowkey immature. no matter how hard he tries he cant ever stop thinking about you.

⏾ best paired with ; na.

tape 001.5 —

TOXIC!MATT . . .

⏾ more pathetic. doesnt lack empathy like toxic!ex!matt. nicer, sweeter, would actually give a fuck (kind of) if he hurt you badly. insanely awkward when confronting about this type of stuff, however, not as bad as toxic!ex!matt. has you wrapped around his finger, finding pleasure in the way you cry for him. deep down is terrified of you leaving, even knowing you'll never be able to fully get rid of him. drugs, parties, hangouts with chris and nate where they shake their head when he comes stumbling towards with a girl under his arm. 'come on.. s'just for the night, guys' a weird balance of mean and kind. wants to not care, ends up caring too much and ruining things for both himself and the people around him. horrible decisions. hates the way he's practically lying to your face and you dont even realize it, but cant get himself to stop either. as a kid, got told he was 'too soft'.

⏾ best paired with ; ( coming soon ) naive!reader.

( i wont be tagging people in these, i just dont feel like i should since it isnt an actual writing )

#ᶻz eph3merall #ೀ toxic!ex!matt #ೀ toxic!matt #⟡ ݁₊ tape 001 - toxic!ex!matt #⟡ ݁₊ tape 001.5 - toxic!matt #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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astracora · 7 hours ago

Text

Turning Point - Part 4

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability, Xavier Anecdote and Lightseeker Myth mentions.

Word Count: 4584

Written: 7th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This one was rough for a lot of reasons. Also I think about how Xavier is the only confirmed character to watch MC die in his arms, way more than I should. So I feel like guilt is an emotion he would have to contend with the most. I'm also beyond heartbroken we didn't get him sobbing or reacting in game. Also I wrote like, so many side things while I was trying to work this bit out. But I've also gone back to chapter 3 to change the timeframe for Raffy's exhibit, so I can write out the chapter for him properly. (chapter? part?)

Now Playing: Starlight, by STARSET

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

Xavier can't focus, he knows Nero is talking to him. If he had to make a guess, he knows the topic… he just can't make himself hear it.

He doesn't dislike Nero, and while he couldn't care less about the topic of Lumiere, least of all when you talk about him, he normally listens. Because Nero likes Xavier, and is comfortable talking to him, and has zero interest in flirting with you.

It's a low threshold… he's aware he's a selfish creature. If the new companions he'd acquired weren't willing to die for you too, he probably would have less patience for them. Even if sometimes they do press on the edges of his tolerance.

It's probably part of his punishment…

For not being there.

For letting you get hurt.

"Xavier?"

"Xaviiiiiier?"

"Hey!"

His nose is held, and he jolts upright, looking forwards with wide eyes at Tara and Nero who are frowning.

"Are you alright?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bore you."

He shakes his head, trying to clear what you've dubbed his 'storm cloud', "Just tired."

Tired. Angry. Hurting. He let you down, and now you're suffering even more.

He thinks about the you he left behind, the future he turned his back on. He thinks about the throne, and the ship he chartered.

He thinks about every life he's taken to protect yours. All the blood on his hands.

With all of his vigilance, all of his love, it took moments to almost lose you. Again.

"You should head home, we don't have any missions, and you'll just fall asleep again." Tara laughs, pushing a paper bag towards him, "And take this back for them, alright?"

He's about to do so, when he sees documents on Nero's desk. Sketches of prosthetic arms, augmented with wanderer designs. "What are you doing?"

Nero jumps, shoving the paper back but too slowly, Xavier picks it up to peer at it. Alongside the sketches are notes.

'Adjust the metal casing so it can be used as an emergency shield.' 'Nerve transmitters that work from the brain, requires less input from residual limb.' 'Bioorganic materials from wanderers reduce rejection rate?' 'Will they want patterns? Or something more skin-like?'

He looks at Nero, from all the notes, even some he can't read because the handwriting is quick and frantic, "What's this?"

The man in question looks down, his glasses almost falling off his nose, "I was talking to some of the other hunters who have a prosthetic. or lost a limb."

"I was doing the talking, Nero was taking notes."

He nods, looking a little more backed up with Tara next to him, "I wanted to find out what they could have used more when they started working again. Ways I could help them." He blinks then, looking startled, "They're coming back right?"

Tara looks at Xavier too, and he feels like he's under a microscope, because her face has changed. Fear lurking in frantic eyes.

"They will." He affirms, because you're aiming to, and he knows you don't give up. You'll stumble, trip, fall and bleed… but you'll get up and start running again.

He thinks about the you he left behind, and the you now.

Scarred and angry, aching at the edges. He thinks of the laughter when you finish a mission, fist bumping him with glee. The photos he has of you where you're smiling. Even if you don't smile as wide as Tara does, even if the scars tug at your lips. He thinks about your eyes, glittering with mischief, as you steal something off his desk.

When you can't stop laughing when you ask to try his light blade, flashing teeth like a cat. Heated cheeks but amused. He shares a blush, but he wishes you wouldn't tease.

You're different, with overlaps in parts.

He misses your smile.

"Nero, can you help me with something?"

—-

When he gets back to the apartment building, the moon high in the sky, he wants to see you straight away… but his hunter uniform is dirty, and he wants to relax. Release the strain of the day. So he stops off, changes, and sees some of the doctor's clothes next to his bed.

He's not sure what made him offer his apartment as a secondary place to stay. He's not sure if it was the relief in your eyes when you saw them all there the next morning, or the guilt that he wasn't enough alone to protect you.

Regardless, he made a choice. Even though only the doctor seems to use it. Rafayel prefers to sleep on the floor, if he sleeps at all with his projects, Sylus drifts in and out like a ghost… he only stays when he stays next to you.

He finds himself sleeping against your bed when you do, when he's not fighting. Trying to chase out the guilt with his sword.

As he makes his way back to your apartment, he sees a note on the fridge.

Plate in fridge, reheat it.

With a sketch of a round crow… he thinks it's wearing a neck ruff?

"Courtesy of kitten," The voice is even, and he sees Sylus at the kitchen table. Prosthetic in hand, as he goes through motions they all know. Cleaning and tending to it. "The crow, that is. The food is me. An extra plate is easy."

Xavier would question the intelligence of eating food made by a criminal, but if he trusts Sylus' food in your hands, he doesn't fear it in his own. "Thanks." He doesn't want to think too hard about this. About the state of things. The people around him that he never would have met without you.

He fractures at the idea that he can't be enough to protect you.

He'll eat it later, when guilt doesn't turn his stomach.

"If you're going to check in on them, do it quietly." Sylus doesn't look up at him, content to ease leather with careful hands and cloth, "They finally got to sleep."

He bristles a little, at being told to be careful with you, eyes narrowing and cold, but it is not received. The man even has the nerve to begin humming, low and under his breath. Out of tune. Xavier doesn't think he's ever met another man so impossibly unbothered by the world around him.

The words are ignored, received with a huff, and he walks past, towards your bedroom. You're alone today, no Rafayel lay on the bed with you, sketching, no Zayne, reading in the dark, as you sleep. You are curled around a large plushie of a narwhal, arm clutching it to your chest as you mutter through your dreams.

It is a relief to see the steady movement of your breathing. Though he still does not settle down until he places a hand on your cheek, feeling the exhale. You're alive, you're here, and you're under his hands.

The guilt calms down, as he reminds himself of that.

Instead of going back out to eat, Xavier settles down on the floor, back pressed to the bed, cheek on the mattress. Watching you. It is one of the few times he is relieved for his ease of sleep. So he can drift off, watching you live.

—----

The next morning, he places a cup of coffee next to your bedside table, and gives a nod to Sylus who has been reading one of your books, before returning to the Hunter's Association. He comes face to face with an excited Nero.

He almost takes a step back. Very nearly turns around and walks out, before he remembers he asked for something, "Xavier!"

Tara is following close behind, hiding her laughter behind her hand, "He's been waiting by the door for you."

"Three people responded that they're interested in talking to you. They're also happy to have notes taken, so I can help."

He wasn't sure he'd hear anything this quickly, he supposes he shouldn't be that surprised. Nero fixates on something, just as much as you do. His fixation tends to come in bursts of problem solving, yours comes in biting and tearing and clawing to the solution.

"Alright, let's go."

Jenna gives him time to talk, and he walks with Nero to a room where the three people are sat, chatting between themselves.

They still, and watch as he hesitates. An older man chuckles at him, waving his one hand, "Sit down, lad. We don't bite."

It moves his feet, into a chair, but not his mouth. He needs to move forwards, but he's not sure how.

What can he say? How can he help you? What words are there to help you move forwards?

He thinks about the trembling in your body, the tears that won't fall in your eyes. He is stuck. Xavier is stuck, like he's holding you under a meteor shower again. Shaking you.

Begging. For something.

A miracle.

"Nero already told us about your partner." A woman speaks, she sports a flexible keel prosthesis, "Not that we don't know about UNICORNs, you lot don't half make some noise." Her voice is cool, level, but she has a small smile. Warm eyes.

It eases him. "I wanted-"

"To ask questions right, lad? I can talk for hours for you."

So he lets them, as he listens. The old man works in analytics, collating information for the Association. He was born without his hand. Tried prosthetics, none took, he didn't want to keep trying.

"I accepted it straight away, my husband stood beside me. There are problems, but we work through them."

The young female hunter is from one of the Beta teams. Lost her foot in a fight with a wyrm, saved her partner in the process.

"I thought I'd accepted it, took the prosthetic training, everything went well. It was two years later, when I woke up one day, burst into tears. Couldn't stop." She fidgets, toying with her fingers for a moment, before straightening up, "Sometimes I still get sad, like I'm finally processing it, but normally it's just another day. It's a tool, not part of me, but it gave me most of my independence back. So even when I'm sad, I hold to that."

The third hunter twirls a pen around their prosthetic fingers, they're an arctic hunter, in the area for training. There's a large scar down their eye, and they don't react visually to the others, but leans forward to speak. They don't reveal how they gained their prosthetic.

"Didn't accept it, not for a long time. Woke up everyday angry, got reckless. Almost died." They exhale, deep, slow, tired, "Sometimes I'm still angry, but I'm still a fighter. I can still help my squad. So it's worth it. Took me longer to get around to using it than most, I dragged my feet, didn't want to learn for ages. It was my partner that got me moving, came to check in on me. Called me a fool, 'one life, idiot, keep living it'. So I did."

"It's hard sometimes, but people handle it differently."

Xavier sits and listens, they give tips on coming back to working as a hunter, they share everything he could even think to ask. Warm and ready, and understanding. They ask to meet you when you're back, tease him about his name and yours.

You're one of Jenna's best for a reason. Those hunter's reels certainly get watched a lot.

He tries not to think about the advertisements he's had to star in, either alongside you or alone. He's just relieved he doesn't get recognised as Lumiere.

That conversation would be even longer.

Hunters live a job at risk, he's aware of that… he can't stop thinking about it.

"Kid." He looks up, wants to correct the man, decides against it, "It's alright to be struggling, worrying about your partner. They're not gone though. Don't sit in the past. Get help yourself, but remember to share with them. Let that partner of yours know how you feel, they'll feel less isolated."

His shoulders jump, the chill in his back. He's been fatalising. Acting like you're broken when he knows that's what you're fearing. Thinking of you like you're gone, when you're right in front of him.

Stuck in the past…

Guilt and pain and worry making him think about you like he'll lose you if he stops.

You're alive, and you're moving forwards, and he needs to as well. With you. "Thank you." This thanks, he thinks, feels more honest. Like he's not biting his tongue to say it.

When Xavier returns home, he doesn't mind the plate left in the fridge for him.

He doesn't mind that the most wanted man of Philos is chuckling with your head in his lap, because he joins you on the sofa, and listens to you tell them about your sessions.

He has to remember you're capable of protecting yourself, you've always wanted to stand equal. Protecting others, as much as they protect you. Stubborn, and proud, to a fault sometimes.

As you smile, small and crooked at him, he offers you the notes he and Nero finished compiling.

You read them, eyes wide, and glimmering, before wrapping your arm around his neck.

"Thank you Xavier."

It's good to not be alone, he thinks. It's been far too long. Too many he's had to lose… That he's forgotten how to reach out, how to even take a hand, let alone stop himself from holding too tight out of fear.

He doesn't want to forget your future.

Even when Sylus smirks, calls him a little knightling, and he debates if you really need a support system that includes the criminal.

—----

Progress is steady. You struggle, and you stumble. But you remember the laughter in the kitchen and the beast dropping off your back to curl about your ankle.

You think about the notes handed to you by Xavier, carefully recorded accounts of acknowledgment, support… life.

You think about Tara, Simone and Nero. How much you want to get back to standing alongside them.

You think about gentle hands taking care of you in the bathroom while you shivered, and warm meals with arguing voices.

You think about Caleb. What he'd say if he were with you.

And you take one step at a time.

When you are not in front of Doctor Rin, clinging far too tightly to whoever's hand is turning bone white in your grip, you are practicing at home.

She's asked you what your goal was, the point you're aiming for.

It is easier, she reminds you, to have something to achieve.

It's an easy question, you want to be back in the field again, you want to make your life mean something. You want to fight alongside the people you trust, and not leave them to flounder alone.

When you are a hunter again, and taking on missions, that's when you'll have achieved your goal. You tell her, hand in a fist.

Her smile overlaps with Gran's, the day you'd told her and Caleb you got into the academy. You think about the way he'd poked you in the forehead, then ruffled your hair, 'Way ta go pipsqueak.'

You think he'd be pulling your hand, running forwards, if he were here. Just like he pulled you forwards everytime you got injured in a fight. Just like he pulled when you wanted to give up.

The memory keeps you from stopping.

Over the course of weeks, you set yourself challenges.

It starts with challenging yourself to hold your prosthetic.

It's not as heavy as you think it should be. The logical part of your brain reminds you that it's built for hunters specifically, and is replacing your arm.

It's that logical part of your brain that stops you from throwing it away from you. It is a tool, you tell yourself. Something that will ensure you can still be a hunter. That eventually, at the end of this, you will be able to go back to doing what you should be doing. Using your life to help others. No matter how short it is.

Some days it feels like it burns you when you place your hand on it. Those days, you leave your room, and sit by Rafayel as he paints. Watching him work, seeing the world he sees.

You ask him questions about his work, even though part of you worries you'll disturb him. He never indicates you are, answering you happily. You think he's happy to share, you hope he is. You're happy to listen.

One day you see his open sketchbook.

For a second, you see a sketch of you, worn and tired… but alive. Your body scarred, but you tremble to see yourself looking like art on his page.

You close the book, placing it back by his canvas, and go back to the prosthetic. To try again.

You learn to wear it, for short periods of time a day, to build up to throughout the day.

You start off, managing twenty minutes, before you have to rip the thing off. Relieved when Zayne catches your hand, stopping you from doing any damage to it. Before he helps you ease yourself out.

The straps are easy to adjust with one hand, but when you want it off, it feels as though you are on fire. Tearing at clothing melting into your skin.

He sits next to you and massages your residual limb, fingers easing hair from your face, tracing lines on your cheek. The fire in your body settles at the cool touch of his hands, and you settle again.

Later, you try again. When it burns, you remember the ice of Zayne's touch, and keep going.

The next stage is to clean it. You learn the motions, you study how to do it. Sat in the living room, tools to your side, figuring out how best to do it with one hand.

There are days when you drop the tools. Trying hard not to sob as they tumble to the floor. Choking back tears as your hand doesn't work the way you want it too. As you fail to follow the steps correctly. As you spill leather conditioner on the table, or the carpet.

In those moments, someone will join you at your side. Sylus will pull the tools away, and sit next to you, running through the motions he's been learning as he's watched you. Overtime, it becomes routine. He masters the steps before you do, assisting you, cleaning out the inner socket alongside as you gently clean the leather straps. Other times, Xavier, hesitant and unsure about touching your prosthetic, joins you. Head in your lap. You speak the steps out loud, running through them so he can learn them with you. The next time, he does it himself, calm and kind and warm. Smiling at you as he does so.

Everyday is a day to take your medication, your wounds are healing well, and with the care of those around you, you are coming away with scars, but no longer bleeding through bandages.

The final challenge is the practice, the movement and the acquainting yourself with the movement of your limb.

You sit in the hospital room you can't stand, hand anchored in Sylus', who has joined you for today. It is another day, and the weight of walking through corridors has eased somewhat. You know the passage of time means things become easier, you're used to that. The flow, the adjustment. The steps forward, and stumbles back.

Your heart has given you some experience in this.

Doctor Rin greets you easily, awaiting your arrival. As soon as she sees you, she smiles. It is that same warm smile that makes the ghosts lurk at your shoulders. It is an exhale to steady you, before you return it with a half smile. Hard enough to offer expressions, without the added grief pulling you back.

It passes easier than you expect. An introduction to the exercises you need to practice, information about not forcing yourself until you hurt. To take breaks and come back to it, if you fail five times, stop. Try again later.

To practice every day. It is a skill you have to learn. Not unlike when you were learning to use your weapons, struggling to learn how to aim. Falling down everytime you swung a claymore.

It is simple things. Can you open and close your new hand? Can you rotate your wrist?

It is a mountain, one you are scared to try to climb.

There is the stable hand in yours, a man who chuckles at you as you look at him, seeking out something in molten eyes. You don't like being weak in front of Sylus, despite him offering you the space to be yourself. It is a long standing fear.

You are more scared to be alone, however, so you turn back to the doctor.

You remind yourself of boxing training with Sylus, who teases you when you don't punch fast enough, but takes you in earnest. Rights your stance. Watches you practice. Praises you for improvement.

Challenges you to be better.

This is another tool you can use, something to enable you to fight again. To stand by him and fight again.

So you follow the doctor's instructions. It is an almost unconscious feeling. She has explained how the transmitters work, but you don't want to think about it too much. Understanding is something, you need it to be instinctual. If it's not, you won't be able to fight again.

Still, you feel yourself overextend. Overcompensate movement where it was once easy. The hand stares back at you as you watch it, and you try to remember what you used to do. Extend. Feel where the muscles should tense along your shoulder. Close. Open.

It reacts, but it is slow. Metal fingers steadily opening, closing. You try to twist your wrist, but it doesn't move the way you want. Frustration builds. You try again. You feel your shoulder twitch but nothing happens.

Your teeth grit, and you try again.

"Kitten." The voice calls you back, a firm grip takes your chin, turning your head to focus on his molten eyes again. There is a twinkle in there, his normally ever present smirk has evened out. Serious but calming. You watch the red of his eyes swirl, and you feel him smooth his thumb across your cheek. "Don't chase your tail, take a deep breath, try again."

He pushes you forwards. Always. Testing your limits, watching you grow.

You think about ways you'd trained your body to fight, ways you made yourself stronger. Running with Zayne, practicing with the blade with Xavier, maneuvers with Rafayel, strength training with Sylus. You are not going to stop until you learn how to use this.

Until you achieve that goal.

This time, when you try, it comes a little easier, as you calm yourself down. Heart settling into a steady rhythm and you watch the hand move. Twisting the wrist, opening and closing it. Pride settles in your chest, as you grin at it. Relief and satisfaction, that you haven't failed. You turn and you twist and watch in awe.

The fingers open a little quicker, you practice moving them but the individual movements are sluggish, and you try to pick things up, but you drop them more than you hold them.

When Sylus nudges you with his shoulder, smirking at you, you take on the pride in his eyes, and you keep moving forwards.

You hit a wall when you have to stretch it out properly, bending the elbow joint, but you settle.

You take the challenge.

It is a mountain you will learn to climb.

You learned how to be a hunter, you can learn this.

As you walk home with Sylus, twisting the arm despite your fatigue, he chuckles, "You look like you've received a new toy. You're like this when I get you a new gun."

You sniff at him, poking him with the metal hand, though its clumsy and more of a full hand than a finger. Marvelling at the feeling of heat from him that comes through the prosthetic. "You just wait, soon I'll be swinging a sword again."

He pauses, looking at you, and then laughs. A chuckle that shakes his hand in yours, and then pulls you in to flick your forehead, "Alright Kitten, let's get you there."

The exercises continue at home, you move into the kitchen while Sylus cooks, to practice with a ball. The more you do it, the easier it gets to learn the motions. Every new thing you try, however, is a hurdle you feel sick to overcome.

Sometimes the movement refuses to do as you want. So you remove it, and try not to cry, try not to drown, and find a distraction.

When you try to pick up a cup, you watch in horror as you drop it, smashing it across the floor. Sylus pulls you away from the fragments, soothing the upset, over breaking something. Over failing. Over being this.

After that you stick to things that won't break, won't hurt you. It still aches when you drop something, when you fail. You're never alone in the pain for too long, there is always a constant, someone there to keep you from spiralling.

The more they catch you, the less you need catching. Until you pick up a cup, and you laugh. Pride brimming. An achievement, no broken shards. A tool you are learning to use.

Later, when you're tired, but relieved, you sit at the kitchen table as Sylus sings along to a song in your playlist as he cooks, there is no Rafayel to argue with, so he seems far calmer. Happy. He always seems happy when he sings.

"Sy?"

He hums, looking back at you. His smiles are often more warm eyes than movement of his mouth, quirks and twitches. "What's wrong Kitten?"

You hesitate, thinking about how many days you've seen him stood at the counter, preparing food for you, and the others. It is guilt on your shoulders, but it is also relief and thankfulness. He is a warm presence, always answering the phone when you need him. "Can I help?"

He shrugs, "Sure, come and stir." So you join him, it is not a hard task, but you feel a little more like you're here. Helping.

Living and not existing. The creature at your ankle stirs and purrs, eased and happy.

You haven't heard it settle in such a long time.

"Thank you." You speak, staring into the pot, watching the swirling at the end of your spatula.

The man stands next to you and shrugs, unbothered, "Not a problem, kitten. I've told you, ask, demand, request. You can be greedy with me." He reaches over and flicks your forehead, before tapping your nose. "I'm always here for you. Even if you do let our food burn."

You panic as the heat bubbles over, and quickly turn it down, and he simply laughs at you. So you elbow him in the side, and revel in the way his laugh blossoms harder.

When you eat with everyone that evening, you help ladle out food, and set the table. You don't run away to the darkness of your room, and you add the laughter around you to your collection of reasons to keep moving.

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valjeancrazylover2 · 2 days ago

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Javert's Inspirations

So, neither option won that poll, so I'm making this post first. This is probably going to be me ranting more about Javerts I like than actually talking about my own Javert.

The characterisations of other characters have been taken from either one primary source, musical actor, or my own personal take. For example, Cosette is mainly inspired by the 1982 film, but has some influence from musical actresses such as Beatrice Penny-Touré.

Exeptions to this is the versions of the characters post-barricade, as from there is where my story mainly diverges, as most Javert & Valjean Live AUs do. Most of that is my own interpretation, since they are no longer in "normal" circumstances.

As such, Javert has been very fun to work on, because there have been many different characterisations that I find VERY entertaining. They all seem to lean into one aspect of his character more than the others, which makes him... strangely versatile, for such a rigid character?

So... what does this mean for my favourite baldie?

Let's start with the guy who started it all, and my blog icon: Todd Alan Johnson. There will be several musical Javerts listed here, but nobody was doing it like TAJavert. I blame him in part for getting me into Les Mis, as I had been a fan of TAJ for a while, when I stumbled across him in 2021 in Little Shop of Horrors as Orin Scrivello (my favourite character - can you tell I like villains). After being introduced to Les Mis through the work experience I was doing in Feb 2024, i revisited TAJ, finding out he had in fact played Javert - first in the third national US tour, and a few other times in smaller productions.

Thats when I found the pictures from Surflight's 2013 production.

And thus Chauvert was cemented in the brain. simply couldnt have it any other way. he just HAD to be bald. Because of this, and at the time I began designing him I didn't know anybody else who played Javert (this would later be changed when I saw stewart clarke live, but nothing really changed after that except for the javert bug eye truth to be solidified)

I really wish there was more footage of this production past these photos, because I NEED more of his bald head as Javert. And look at those sideburns! They're all-natural! Plus, i thought his face was a good fit in general for Javert. It's less obvious with his sideburns, but he's got that big jaw, talks with his bottom teeth showing, intense eyebrows, big buggy eyes when he wants them to be.

Pic from him as Sweeney Todd. My Javert's face is just a heavily cariacaturised version of his.

Additionally, I'm sure you're all familiar with jadenvargen/melancholyarchivist's art. I was a fan before, so finding out there was les mis art too was huge. My Javert was always a bit on the larger side, but that one drawing with Javert and Valjean labelled something like "tremendously large man" and "bigger even huger man" or whatever, cant find the piece right now. anyway that definitely confirmed for me that they were BOTH gonna be built and fat, rather than the lanky javert that I see most people draw.

So, that was the foundation.

From here I'm not really sure in what order inspirations came, but next was probably Anthony Perkins in LM1978, because you just dont get more diva that that. We all know how much of a drama queen Javert is, and in fact Perkins was so good at this that the first thing I did after watching this film was go downstairs and ask my mother if Perkins was gay (to which she replied "Oh, absolutely flaming")

My inspiration for Javert usually comes from small, inconsequential little actions or demeanour that catch my eye... Perkins had plenty, as well as a ring on his finger, which I always forget to draw, but my Javert is supposed to have.

Here's a select few bits I like of his, that have directly influenced my Javert. There's probably more, but I can't remember off the top of my head.

1) the walk. 2) the way he hold's the cane??

3) this whole scene, but specifically the there is no monsieur in this room! there is only a scoundrel! line. 4) the way he reacts to finding out valjean is still alive. VERY similar to how it goes down in my canon, just in a different setting/scenario.

outside of 1978, there havent really been any non-musical adaptation Javerts that have particularly stood out to me. I havent watched 1998 but he doesnt look like he'd be like my Javert, and 1982 despite being my favourite adaptation ... did not have the most memorable Javert.

Even in the radio dramas, which i love to death, don't really have much influence over my Javert, since I already have a very clear idea in my head of his speech, and most inspiration comes from visuals. the CBS radio drama probably comes the closest to the way he speaks, though. (his voiceclaims are either roger allam, todd alan johnson, or some random french guy with a really deep voice who came up on my instagram feed once. yes, I'm serious, my javert sounds like that.)

My javert is not exactly expressive, or outwardly "sassy", per se? I think he's more subtly camp, perhaps with the way he stands sometimes. Don't worry, he's still the absolute drama queen he is in the brick, with "would you like my hat?" and all, but he delivers it in a much more flat way. that's why I don't exactly look at the way perkins delivers "monsieur, monsieur le inspector now!" for my javert. yes, he'd say that, but with a little less visible sass, if that makes sense.

Pre-seine, he's expressive in his own way. whenever he loses control a little he's prone to getting visibly angry; distressed (see: losing valjean when chasing him through paris); when you can see him setting his jaw with a visible vein in his head, short-tempered and curt; or that sort of sinister glee with his "bark" of a laugh or patronising sneer. But other than that... you've gotta hear it in his voice. Sorry to all the cuntvert fans out there, my Javert tries to keep it professional when he can, but he's still trying to out-diva everyone at any given opportunity!

So we return to musical Javerts, then.

I've seen a few, so it's hard to gauge who's had an actual effect and who hasn't. There are a few I do know for a fact I have taken little bits from:

Terrence Mann is familiar to everyone I'm sure. sass-central, which contradicts the above paragraph, but he does it in a wonderfully weird and kind of menacing way which i LOVE. My javert leans more into that menacing side of things. He's always JUST in the shadows, just so that you might not notice him, but if you were wary of authority, you'd see him lurking. his stature, you might think would make him a bit lumbering, but he's shockingly agile and snakelike. Think of a tiger. (oh yeah, shere khan from the jungle book is another inspiration i guess, but I won't include him here - we know.) Terrence Mann is delightfully snide and insane and I love it.

Gifs of small bits of his performance I like.

And his soliloquy? oof.. believably absolutely losing his mind.

The Javert who has probably influenced mine the most is Hartwig Rudolz, from the german Duisburg production in the 90s. He's commanding, he's dignified and haughty, he's even got the sinister chipperness about him from time to time (he's chummy with Madeleine in the cart scene, even laughing and smiling with him. While not really my Javert, it's worth a mention. Also does a condescending chuckle when Thenardier asks to be let go before Stars.)

More gifs of bits I like!

Bonus gif, cus that wig is loooong!

Three more would be Nic Greenshields, Jordan Simon Pollard and Michael Ball. They are all great Javerts (which might be a hot take, I'm not sure if ballvert is popular but I've been a fan of his for 5 years so maybe i'm biased.) I can't say TOO much on Nic and Michael acting-wise, because Michael Ball has only been in the arena tours, and the footage ive seen of Nic Greenshields is not the GREATEST quality - but they all have an air of haughty dignity about them, which obviously i try to give my Javert.

Jordan I've had the pleasure of seeing in person, twice, as well as meeting the guy. He's been the understudy for a while. He takes quite an expressive approach to Javert, using mainly his eyebrows, which i definitely think makes up most of my Javert's expressiveness. He really knows how to use his face to act - seriously, I can barely believe it's the same guy ! He usually has quite a furrowed brow, with his chin jutting out a little, standing with his chest puffed out. He's 6'3, and quite broad-chested (seeing as he works out) so you can imagine what kind of a presence that creates.

Both Nic and Jordan, being in the same production (Jordan was Nic's u/s in the UK tour, is now Stewart Clarke's on the West End) had this moment, but after Thenardier asks to be let go, on "it was me what told you so!", they turn and step forward so that Javert is basically chest-to-face with Thenardier (and the guy playing him at the time was like, a foot shorter than the both of them). I liked that a lot. Absolutely something my Javert is doing. He's got the height and the tits for it, there's no way he isn't, cmon

Also, both Nic and Michael also have the benefit of being broader than most Javerts, Nic especially, as he stands at a whopping 6'6, so he's a SERIOUS presence onstage. My javert is around that margin at 6'6-6'7, so that checks.

I know a lot of people say Ballvert is "too cute" or whatever, and i'd totally agree as a michael ball fan, but if you ignore the fact it's Michael Ball, i think he seems a bit more "unsuspectingly cruel" than outwardly intimidating. While this doesn't exactly reflect my Javert, he DOES have some good bits. From my notes when I saw him in the arena tour:

the wway he takes off his gloves in the confrontation was not only kinda sexy (sorry) but a bit foreboding. he has a nice amount of sass, which of course is always appreciated. his general attitude in Stars, too, like he's truly earnest, and someone mentioned how he sings it like a love song - yuuup. His soliloquy is also amazing, the way he portrays Javert as being just so scared of what's happening, but lapsing into anger... ouuh.

I have not fully planned out my Javert's suicide (attempt) yet, how he would be responding, but I've been leaning into the more fearful approach. I mean, his entire worldview has been shattered like that, the entire structure of which he built his life on has just crumbled in front of him, i'd be frightened too.

Anyway, random detail - if you were interested in the origin of Javert's scar, like, from a meta perspective:

Adam Robert Lewis, of course, with his cool nose scar.

My javert had a scar anyway, just a small cut on the lip, probably from a nasty hit to the face which never quite healed right and scarred, but something about ARL's scar really worked... so the scar extended a few inches up the face. It's changed places since then, originally going from the lip to the nose, then from the lip to below the eye, but now it's branched off to both. I still don't have a specific origin for the scar in canon, so you can make one up yourself.

Linking to that scar, and also linking back to Michael Ball - i mistook a shadow on his eye for a burst blood vessel, and thought it would be an interesting look for my Javert. I'm a sucker for temporary details (Javert's moustache post-msurm, for one), so I've given him a bad eye for early M-sur-M. Very recent development.

HONORABLE JAVERT MENTIONS, THAT INSPIRED ME SLIGHTLY OR CEMENTED A SPECIFIC IDEA:

Stewart Clarke. He was the first I physically SAW, and also the one I've seen the most, since he's the current West End Javert. Very good javert, unsettling with those eyeballs, very spitty, which I totally forgot to mention is also an integral part to my Javert. So, thanks Stew! His soliloquy is also just out-of-this-world, seriously. Seek out a recent audio of his if you haven't heard him. He's nuts.

Jeremy Secomb. Sir Eyeballs Supreme. If you want a Javert with an unsettling stare, he's your guy. And he's currently the Bishop in the arena tour! What a way to convince Valjean to be a good guy, just staring him down with your evil fucking peepers. When partnered with Peter Lockyer, they form THE valvert duo, they kissed on video in costume, so many cute photos of them together, and they LOOK the parts. Jeremy looking like those toys you sqeeze and their eyes pop out vs Peter's soft face and kind smile like a golden retriever or something. Seriously perfect.

Nick Rehberger. Current US Javert. Great at really minor acting choices, sassy man apocalypse. Very dignified. VERY handsome. Bit gay. Amazing voice. What more could you want?

Roger Allam. Now, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. I've already mentioned he's one of the 3 people I cycle through for my Javert's voiceclaim, and there's like NO (publically available) footage of him. I am planning on viewing the footage they do have, but that's some time in the future. The OLCR is my personal listening choice when I'm listening to the musical soundtrack, so Allam is kind of burned into my brain. I know it probably sounds crazy but the way his voice sounds really influenced the way I have Javert physically speak, with his heavy jaw. Anything about his specific physicality is completely imagined - but hopefully not for long.

Chris Murray. Another german Javert I really like, from a 2007 nonrep production. If you like unhinged Javerts with eyeballs for days, he's your man. He's also just greatly unsettling. He almost made the cut with gifs, but unfortunately Terrence Mann won out. He was just a little TOO chipper about things. But i do love how his amiability is very obviously a ruse, with the way he holds a stiff smile in The Robbery on "But where's the gentleman gone / And why on Earth did he run?" (or, the German lyrics, whatever. It's that part of the song.)

Preston Truman Boyd. One part only. He's the reason I gave Javert a moustache and weird little chin beard thing post-msurm. I just thought that was important enough to get a mention, other than that I haven't really seen much of him enough to say.

ANYWAY, that's about it !!

There's probably more i've missed, but it's 5.30am right now, and I'm flagging. Plus, the post is long enough as is.

If you've read this far, I gotta know - who's your favourite Javert, or at least top 5? Have they influenced the way you view Javert in any way?

If you're like me and like taking tidbits from different sources, what are yours? Im curious to know !!! PLEASE tell me!!!!!!

Much love to my favourite bald freak <3

#les mis #byron wisdom #les inspo #javert #todd alan johnson #terrence mann #hartwig rudolz #anthony perkins #not tagging the other javerts....... they didn't get gifs.

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loveacrosstimes · 2 days ago

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The Nurse and the Rancher - Ch. 2

Summary: Claire, a 27-year-old nurse from NYC accidentally gets transported back to California in 1995. There she meets Jamie, a 25-year-old Scot who recently inherited his uncle’s sprawling ranch in St. Helena.

Claire trudged along an undefined path at the edge of town, clumsily retracing her steps. She hoped to stumble back to the dirt road along the forest where she’d fallen through time, away from the hustle and bustle of New York City where everyone was walking with purpose.

Towards jobs, towards love, towards passions.

Sometimes, failure and heartbreak.

Either way, time – or the lack thereof – propelled the ebb and flow of foot traffic, helping to move people along on their journeys.

Here, in Le Cressida, time seemed to meander, chugging along just enough to avoid rousing suspicion, but without enough urgency to produce anything worth getting out of bed for.

She’d not seen a single soul until she’d managed to find the convenience store nestled unreasonably deep inside of this place that looked like the remains of a dilapidated movie set.

Le Cressida – the name even sounded fake .

What was undeniably real, however, was the irreparable damage this California dirt was doing to her favorite pair of work shoes. Frank had gotten them after she’d spent months complaining of the way every other pair she’d found seemed impartial to hospital floors – like the cushion and support they were supposed to provide were suggestions .

Now, they were coated in such grime, there wasn’t a washing machine that could salvage them. And yet, this would be a worthy sacrifice for her if she could just find … this … fucking … trail.

Pushing out a deep breath, she continued along the path, hoping to snuff out the long, dirt road where the universe had spit her out like yesterday’s trash. It’d seemed long and unforgiving at the time, sprawled out in front of her like a looming side quest, relishing in her arduous journey ahead.

Now that she needed it, it was nowhere to be found.

In hindsight, a map would’ve been a better investment than a newspaper – but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

At least the sun wasn’t quite as vicious as when she’d arrived. A thin layer of clouds had gathered in the sky, blocking just enough heat and UV rays to provide her with a little bit of relief.

Walking several more hundred yards, Claire eventually ran out of trees, arriving to the edge of a wooden fence. She stopped, trying to remember if she’d passed one during her earlier trek into town. She didn’t immediately place it but kept walking until she realized what the fence was enshrouding: a modest bungalow that had seen much better days.

Worry rose where relief should’ve settled. There was no way she’d have passed this house and not remembered, or stopped to seek help, which meant that she’d somehow turned a wrong corner on her way back. She turned backwards, peering back over her journey, unsure where she’d gone wrong, a gnawing feeling building in her stomach.

If she couldn’t find the spot she’d somehow fallen through, how could she ever get back home? Granted, she hadn’t exactly figured out the logistics of a plan, but getting back to the spot was the first step to reversing this mind-boggling situation she’d found herself in.

With a loud sigh, she resigned her gaze upward, noticing that the thin smear of clouds were thickening and darkening before her very eyes. At this rate, she only had a few hours of daylight left – even less if a storm rolled in.

“Just what I need," she huffed.

Grabbing at the fence, Clair hoisted herself up backwards to give herself a better view of the area. Other than the house, carved amid the shrubbery, there was nothing other than thick trees stretching in both directions.

She bent down and planted one hand on top of the fence to steady herself as she hopped back down onto the ground.

Claire sunk into the fence, allowing the thick, splintery wood to support her for a spell. As a nurse, she was used to being on her feet, but not while traversing an unfamiliar state in an unfamiliar time, in godforsaken heat.

If she didn’t get out of the elements, she’d eventually collapse from exhaustion.

Pressing a hand into her face, Claire blinked rapidly, hoping that if she did it enough times, she'd wake up from what had to be a dream. It had to be. Because if it wasn't, she was simply a woman out of time with no means of providing for herself, or letting her loved ones know she was okay.

Loved ones. What loved ones. Frank was all but five years old in 1993, and still living in Germany, where his father was stationed in the army.

Meanwhile, her mother, Julia Beauchamp, hadn't even met her father yet -- in this timeline. But even if she had, it's not like she would be the mother she knew in the present or through her childhood. A comforting, level-headed, if not slightly reclusive woman, who occasionally stashed her with her grandmother for days, occasionally weeks, at a time.

Not that she’d minded. Her Grandma Agnes had been the living embodiment of a warm hug in her childhood.

Gulping, Claire realized that, for the first time in her life, she had no one but herself. The thought burned the inside of her nose, signaling that the tears were on the horizon. But they arrived quicker, heavier than she thought.

“Come on, get it together.”

Standing upright against the fence, she peered back towards the house.

From the road, she couldn't tell whether or not it was occupied or abandoned.

Given her position, she wasn’t sure what the better option would be.

On the one hand, she needed food, a change of clothes, and a decent place to sleep. But who in their right mind would take in a total stranger? Even if they were crazy enough, that doesn’t mean it’d be a smart decision for her – unless the home just so happened to be occupied by a sweet, little old lady, who thought Claire reminded her of her granddaughter. Someone aching to extend a little maternal affection.

A hot meal, a bath, a place to rest her aching body.

One sleep — that's all she needed. Enough time to come up with a real, viable plan, and figure out how to navigate this town she'd ended up in long enough to find the portal. Enough time to explain to Frank why she didn’t come back home on the night of their anniversary when their marriage was already hanging on by a thread.

And yet, that was the best-case scenario.

The house could very well belong to someone far less hospitable, who'd only make this journey more difficult for her; who’d ensure that she never had to worry about facing her husband after ghosting him on one of the most important days of their marriage, thus far.

Either way, she had to try.

Planting her hands into the fence, Claire hoisted herself up once more, just as she heard a car approaching down the dirt road. Well, less like a car and more like a black, mechanical whale, choking on the dry, California air.

It sputtered along the trail, gasping with each inch it gained, surrounded by a dust cloud befitting the dirty kid from Charlie Brown.

Balancing on top of the fence, Claire glanced back at the home, wondering if she should make herself scarce or if she’d be better off hitching a ride from whoever owned this very loud, very clunky piece of junk.

Afterall, the house would still be there to explore if they said no. And if they could drop her back off at the point where she’d come through – maybe this wouldn’t end up being the worst anniversary she’d ever had.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to give Frank another reason to think her heart wasn’t in their marriage. Maybe she’d be able to convince herself .

Claire approached the dirt road, nearly throwing herself in front of the car.

The old clunker skidded to an ungraceful stop a few feet in front of her. Before the occupants could survey the hurdle in their journey, Claire was approaching the driver’s side.

“What the hell are you doing, lady??” spit out the driver – an upper middle-aged man. There were also two, slightly younger men in the passenger seat and one in the back, too. “We got places to be.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Claire said, attempting to soothe his rancor, before turning her attention to the other men. “I was wondering if you gentlemen could help a lady out.”

The man in the passenger seat leaned forward, an unsettling glint in his eye. “Well, that depends on what kind of help a lady needs,” he grumbled in his best attempt at a seductive tone.

The comment garnered a chuckle from the man in the backseat.

“Hush up, Aaron. You too, Rob,” said the older man.

His tone wiped the smirks from their faces.

“What do you need, ma’am?” He asked. “We’re on a schedule.”

“A ride if you can manage. I was out here doing a house call today, but I’m not familiar with these parts, and I’ve gotten a little turned around.”

He eyed her attire. “You a nurse?”

“Yeah. For the local hospital … about ten miles out,” she said, remembering that detail about her story from the diner.

The hospital’s name didn’t surface as easily.

“Rosedale Medical Center?”

“Y-yeah, that one.”

He scratched his temple. “That’s a ways off … How’d you get all the way out here without any wheels?”

Oh right . If she was going to keep lying, she had to come up with a story that accounted for these little details that could trip her up – like this. “Uh, my friend dropped me off this morning,” she said quickly. “They were supposed to pick me up, but never showed up.”

His curious expression resigned into casual acceptance. “Some friend,” he said, humping his shoulders.

“Yeah, well they’re probably swamped at the hospital and haven’t gotten off yet, but as you can see, the weather is turning, and I’m trying to get out of here before the rain comes.”

That last part was true.

Sucking his teeth, he tilted his head. “I’d like to help you, but 10 miles both ways will set us back too much. And we have a lot of work to do.”

“That’s okay, actually,” she said quickly. “I’m actually just trying to get about a half mile or so from here to the road near my patient’s house. I kinda got lost and, I want to wait to see if my friend comes back up this way … well, that way,” she said pointing behind her.

In truth, she was hoping to locate the portal and figure out how to get back through – not that he needed to know that.

She swept her bottom lip into her teeth, hoping that her desperation would sway him.

It’s not like she had any cash to offer him — that jackass at the diner had made sure of that.

“And what if they don’t?”

“Well, then I’m no worse off than I am right now, am I?” She said with a sly smile to soften his grumbly exterior.

“I don’t know …”

“Aww, come on, daddio,” said one man.

“Yeah, the little lady asked nicely,” said the other.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Claire kept her focus on the driver, as he was obviously calling the shots.

“Okay, I’ll do you one better,” he eventually said. “How about you ride with us over to our place, spend the night there, we’ll drive you back to the hospital in the morning … the whole ten miles.”

Claire flashed him a panicked smile – there was no way in hell she’d take up shelter with three strange men overnight. “That’s such a generous offer, but I couldn’t impose on you like this.”

“Trust, you wouldn’t be imposing," he said. “Besides, we haven’t had a woman around the house since my wife died a few years back.”

A beat passed before she managed to push a conciliatory message out through her constricting throat. She doubted the feminine energy he was missing was anything she was willing or able to give him.

“Thanks …” he said dismissively, not noticing – or perhaps caring – about her discomfort. “So what do you say?”

She smiled politely. “I can’t, really. It’s too much of an ask.”

“Nonsense. Besides, you could earn your stay by whipping us up a quick meal. It’s been ages since we had anything decent to eat.”

“Hey, I do the best I can,” Aaron retorted, genuinely offended.

“Hush, boy,” the older man shot back – a reply that set off a back-and-forth between them that curdled her blood.

The absolute nerve of these men to think that after a long day at work she’d spend her evening cooking for them of all people. Nevermind the fact that she hadn’t actually made it to work – one second she was following a skeletal stray cat into one of the only working phone booths left in NYC, the next she was in hillbilly purgatory – it was still a nonstarter.

She barely enjoyed cooking for Frank, and she’d be damned if she was going to cook for another man on their anniversary.

“Gentlemen!” she yelled, cutting through the noise, “As I said, I appreciate the offer, but I really have to get home tonight. My husband is waiting for me, and he’ll have a fit if I don’t turn up.”

Refusing to wait for their response, and hoping to God that knowing another man had claimed her would be enough to satisfy their archaic sensibilities, Claire straightened her posture, and started back up down the road in the direction she’d come.

She hoped to hear the exasperated cranking of their car start up, then pass her by on their merry way.

These men obviously had nothing of value to offer her. And though a ride would’ve been nice, without them, she had time to regroup and maybe find some shelter for the night, since it was becoming clearer she probably wasn’t going to make it back to her home, her time today.

The cranking came, but not quick enough for her.

As she walked, a car crawled up behind her, but she kept her head forward until she couldn’t ignore their presence.

“What, you’re too good to cook for me and my sons?” Called out the father.

Claire drifted off the dirt road, onto the brushy overgrowth, hoping they’d realize she wasn’t going to bite, but her non response only made them slow down even more.

“Hey, bitch, my daddy asked you a question!” yelled one of the sons.

Clasping her arms over her chest, she pivoted to walk into the opposite direction, hoping they’d think she was too much trouble to pursue. But the car cranking down let her know that she wasn’t that lucky.

She quickly glanced back, noting the way the good-for-nothing father watched from the driver’s side. Before she knew it, the sons had exited the vehicle, and were quickly approaching her.

With no other options, she took off down the road, running as quickly as she could, kicking up dust with every step. It was barely a few seconds before she felt a man's hand yank her backwards by the arm.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” She yelled fighting to free herself from his grasp, as the heady laugh of the other brother pierced her eardrums.

He stood close, watching his brother manhandle her.

The more she thrashed, the tighter he gripped.

With her other fist, she pounded against his forearm, but it made no difference. So she dug her nails into his arm as hard as she could, drawing flesh and blood underneath the surface, causing him to release a loud, screechy howl.

For a second she was free, the urge to take off – despite the other brother being mere feet away – strong. But then he whacked her with an angry, vengeful hand, across her shoulder. She fell to the ground with a thud, the approving laughter from the other brother, drowning out her own agonizing cry.

Claire pressed her hands into the ground to stand, the sharp piercing pain in her shoulder causing her to collapse onto her back just as the brother she struck closed in on her. She kicked her feet, attempting to keep him at bay. He absorbed every kick, every thrash, cursing loudly when her foot managed to hit him at the perfect angle.

But that only angered him further. He dropped down onto his knees, using his weight to subdue her.

“Get off of me, you bastard!”

Unable to fight him off, she grabbed a handful of dirt and grass and threw it into his face, temporarily blinding him and rendering her invisible, as he tried to rid his eyes of the debris.

Claire balled up her fist and hit him as hard as she could across the face, nearly cracking her knuckles in the process. The man wailed, falling over onto his side, giving her just enough leeway to try to escape.

But she was immediately kicked back down by the second man, whose casual delight had evolved into rage. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, voice dripping with grisly intent.

In pain, and worn down from the absolute worst day she’d ever experienced, her body froze into a defensive position, as if it knew that she could never overpower two adult men, especially those with such delicately bruised egos.

Would this be how she would die? Alone in the middle of Le Cressida, California, 29 years in the past.

She closed her eyes shut, not wanting them to be the last thing she saw before she met her end.

For a moment, her mind drifted to Frank, their modern, yet cozy, adorably decorated apartment just outside of the city. Their wedding day. Her parents. The babies in the neonatal unit who depended on her. All the wonderful things this life had blessed her with.

Yes, that’s how she’d go out – focusing on the goo — arggghh . A firm hand around Claire's neck ripped her from her thoughts, back into the present

She gasped, flailing as she fought to take a clear breath until the weight of the other brother’s body cemented her arms to her side.

“One meal – that’s all you had to agree too. But no, you thought you were too good! Not you’re gonna p–”

BANG!!!!

A deafening sound exploded behind them, piercing her eardrums, and, when mixed with her depleted oxygen, made her head spin. The only thing that kept her lucid was seeing the man's face shift from nefarious delight into bright white terror.

And then she heard it...

“You, you, step away from the lass! ” yelled out a distinctively familiar, comforting. voice.

Firm, commanding, imbued with a heavy, Scottish accent...

Note: I hope you enjoy! Also, I updated on AO3 as well.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #claire fraser #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

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