#anyways he's very pretty i think you should all see | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lunebulous · 2 days ago

Text

How would Xavier react to seeing you dressed as a bride? - Bonus Chapter

C.w: fluff, non-established relationship, silly, xavier x reader, sfw, corpse bride mentions, not proofread.

Stirring a purple juice that seems to be thicker than it should, Xavier is startled by his own doorbell. He’s not waiting for anyone - didn’t ask for any takeout today - so he knows it’s you. He tries not to smile to himself as he dries his own hands in a dish towel nearby, only then realizing the mess he made in the kitchen. He starts desperately trying to tidy up before you ring again - so this will have to make do. He turns off the oven and rushes to the door.

“Coming.” He says in a soft and happy voice. And as if you didn’t hear, you start repeatedly ringing it again just to annoy him.

He opens it. “What’s all this for? Is someone chewing your arm off?” He smiles, just genuinely content in seeing you smiling at him, even if there is a hint of suspiciousness in your eyes. “No, but with the time it took you to answer me, I already could have started decomposing!” You retort, making him softly roll his eyes before taking a look at you. You are so adorable. There is what seems to be a pink photo album in your hands. He furrowed his eyebrows before letting you in. “It’s from the photoshoot my friends and I did, the pictures are ready and Anne just delivered it to me!” You say, taking your shoes off. Xavier giggles to himself when he sees your shark socks, but decides to not tease you about it - for now. “Since you were very kind and brought me food, I wanted to have my first look with you!” You walk towards his sofa, and he follows soon after, gazing at the top of your head. He wishes he could kiss it. “First look, huh. Did you have fun?” He asks, taking the photo album from your hands. It’s a baby pink hard leather cover, his fingers grazing against the texture. There is embroidery in the middle of it: a heart with an arrow through it. First look… Now he could say he had this experience once. “A lot. It was very funny, none of our costumes blended with each other so we were laughing the whole time.” You scoot closer, signaling for him to open it already.

“What were you again..? Dead bride..?” He places his arm on the back of the couch behind you, giving some space for you to move freely. “Corpse Bride, Xavier! I thought you knew who she was!” You stare at him, slapping his knee playfully.

“I do!” - He doesn’t. - “I just.. don’t remember the names, that’s all.” He shakes his head, looking down. “And you didn’t look like a corpse.. You looked like a cute-” “I know I didn’t! I wasn’t ready yet. You’ll see! Open it! Hurry!” Xavier sighs softly, his heart beating out of his chest. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed he didn’t get to compliment you. But he opens the album anyway. The first few pictures are you and your friends arriving, holding lots of bags. The photos are mostly made of ‘backstage’ moments, just as you and your friends requested. Throughout the pictures you can see the process of you guys taking out the makeup, some of you suddenly in costumes, Sam opening a package of a bald cap while Lexy laughed in disbelief. You haven't appeared in a lot of pictures yet. “Here Lexy is laughing because Sam chose to be Pitbull. It’s an old singer known as Mr. Worldwide. He’s bald, so she had to be too.” you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Pit. Bull..? Why did she choose.. a bald man? Out of so many..” He takes a look at you, meeting your ‘why-not’ gaze. “You girls...” Xavier is smiling too. He’s happy you’re happy with your weird little friends. “It’s the only time she’d have the opportunity to be photographed professionally as a bald man. That’s enough reason, I think. I get her.” You simply say, as he turns one more page. Finally, his pretty girl. You’re still in your normal clothes, painting one of your friend’s face orange. The picture is - in its own way - beautiful. It captures you both smiling to each other, even if your friend is half-orange in it. You’re not wearing that hairpin yet though. “Where did you get that hairpin..? It was pretty.” He stares at you in the photo. “Oh, Anne, the short-haired lady that photographed us gave it to me. First she just wanted to try making a hairstyle on my hair but she decided I should keep it after all.” You answer, mindlessly getting closer to him and turning another page, against his will. He wished he could look at you longer but he’s happy you’re leaning on him now.

“I understand.” Now he’s facing a picture of you, just the way you were when he saw you in-person there. In a bride dress, hairpin in place holding your bun up, with a smile so bright and beautiful it makes his heart clench. You’re leaning against the window, looking to your side and probably laughing at something one of your friends did. The natural light casts an ethereal glow around you. He can’t help but place a hand on his chest, disguising it as an itch. He quickly glances at you as you’re concentrating on the picture beside it. You are so precious to him and you have no idea. But someday he'll show you, by having you wear a white dress again, accompanied by a beautiful blue sapphire ring on your left hand. And you turn the page again. He frowns imperceptibly, letting you have your own special experience. After some chuckles and curious questions, you guys are almost at the end of the photo album, where lies a group picture. Xavier suddenly snorts at the scene. Getting startled by it, you look down to see what made him get that reaction, and your hands immediately press on your mouth, shoulders starting to shake from how much you’re holding back a loud laugh.

It’s you - Corpse Bride - along with Lord Farquaad, Morticia, Lorax, Gojo and Pitbull. There is no possible way this photoshoot made sense and you started thinking that this was the most irresponsible financial decision you have ever made - but worth the laugh. At the same time, all Xavier can see is you, almost melting on his lap over the album - laughing so hard it’s silent. It doesn’t take long before you sit up correctly again and he takes another look at the picture, now chuckling. You try to say something but there’s tears in your eyes and everytime you look at the picture you find something new to laugh at.

Finally getting to the end, he closes the album and you let out a heavy sigh, two tears streaming down your face. Xavier looks at you, and carefully dries them with his thumbs, using a light touch as to not ruin your makeup - just the way you taught him.

He himself sighs a bit too, feeling a mixture of love and pure admiration for your laugh and your own kind of weirdness. He cradles your face in his hands, the moment suddenly intimate between both of you. Calming down, you look at his eyes, searching for a feeling’s name you don’t even know.

He is not drying up your tears anymore, just.. holding you with adoring eyes. It makes you blush and panic a little, suddenly getting up. “Xavier, I-!” He looks at you with parted lips and wide eyes, before quickly going back to his smirking face. You try to not feel like there’s a lingering desire to hold each other close as you look down at him in silence for some seconds. “Uhm..Oh!” You start patting your pockets. “Anne said you paid her a sandwich before you came to the studio! She told me how she forgot her money and all, and how lucky she felt when you appeared and offered to pay for her!” You take out an envelope out of the inside pocket of your jacket, as Xavier stares at you with the most confusing expression you have ever seen etched on his face. But you keep going. “So she.. wanted to pay you back. Here it is.” You give him the envelope. Xavier takes it hesitantly, immediately noticing that the envelope feels firmer than it should. He has an idea of what it may be in mind, but he’s not so sure of it. You quickly take the photo album from his lap, breathing deeply as your heart starts calming itself down. You take a last glance at him - he’s staring at the envelope.

“Tell her I said thank you.” Xavier softly analyzes the envelope, not opening it. “I will. Then.. I should get going.” you point to his door behind you. “I left my windows open and I don't want all of my reports flying down the window.” You blurt out, making things up just to leave. Xavier can tell you’re nervous, so he doesn’t insist. He gets up and accompanies you to the door, waving bye. Slowly walking back to his living room, he opens the envelope. He knew it. It's two pictures of you, his beautiful pretend-bride. Both of them are identical - taken moments apart. You are sitting on a low stool, legs close to your body and a bottle of orange juice at your feet. In one of them you are taking a full bite of the sandwich he brought you, and in the other one your eyes are squinting in pure joy as you chew with round cheeks. There’s a soft blush on your face and he can tell how happy you were. Xavier caresses the picture as if you could feel it. As if you could feel how much he wants you by his side. He’s just waiting for the right moment. For the right moment to hold you close, to kiss your soft lips, to claim you as his. To ask you if he can be your boyfriend, just to wait some more before asking if you’d like to be his wife. But right now, something takes him out of it. He sniffs something. He startles like a cat, running to the kitchen. Shitshitshitshitshit! Instead of turning off the oven, he turned it all the way on. He sighs. “Not again…!” Turning off the oven - correctly, this time -, he takes a look at your pictures again. Turning them, he found out Anne had written “Your future bride looks cute enough to make a grown man cry, indeed.” And he blushes immediately. She still has no idea Xavier isn’t even her boyfriend yet, but it’s not like he’ll correct her anytime soon. He looks at the overheated oven, smelling like burnt iron.

First, he must learn how to cook to be a good husband, after all.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little series - and if it's of interest for anyone, Xavier kept these photos under a pile of clothes in his wardrobe - but he took some pictures of it with his cellphone so he could gaze at his bride anytime he felt like it - constantly.

#lads #love and deepspace #xavier #fanfiction #fanfic #lads xavier #xavier lads #xavier love and deepspace #fluff #xavier x mc #lnds #love and deepspace xavier #reader x xavier #xavier x reader

92 notes · View notes

melankkholy · 2 days ago

Text

what size does love wear? (part 1)

✎ The lights, the podium, and the spotlight are all yours. As an upstart model, your life went by pleasantly with the girls, but maybe you were too dim to realize that you were living in an illusion. Could Leon, the one and only rockstar of the hearts, be the man you were waiting for in a milieu full of counterfeit people, or are you too much of a hopeless romantic?

cw: NO MINORS AND I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY IT, messy messy messy, drugz, fem! model reader, family drama aka daddy and mommy issues, very uncanny and might be disturbing for some people idek, vom!ting and possibly or (implied eating disorders), p in v, oral (fem! receiving) praises, reader is going thru some shii, MDNI, that's all i can come up with, but please let me know if i missed something very vital, and find the song lyrics:3

It all unfolds that night at a soirée to which you were invited in the most gingerbread-like language.

You don’t have a clue how fat cats hang out at such a lavish icebreaker. That these people took you in very recently, right after your meteoric rise to superstardom, and with a wham bang. You didn’t quite make it onto the Hollywood Walk of Fame with all those big golds and jet-set stars, sure, but your killer legs, waist, and pretty tits promised you a chance to eavesdrop a wee bit on Victoria’s secret. Well, who knows? Maybe one day, even without any formal studies in acting, you could star as an aspiring actor in some movie and kiss the handsome and beefcake famous guys. You could be the next lead in a new goofy movie like Fifty Shades of Grey. Hollywood is full of pretty model casts these days, anyway.

So many possibilities.

Mostly with your height, physique, and poise, which would make most men who can’t be more than 5 feet and 7 inches tall (barely) outclass them in every way (never mind the grandfatherly inheritance that your mother inherited from whomever-whatever-who-cares and your surname that unexpectedly gained a notoriety, even your daddy abruptly switched to your mother’s maiden name on paper), you’re the size perfection angel of the runways. Precious, precious you.

A happy family tableau with your mother, who doesn’t listen to your advice to break up with that man, who happens to be your father, and he has a mania for alcohol and the girls younger than him of late.

The only vestige of this particular and domestic picture is you here, dressed in the elegance of a collectible piece from a costly collection of so-and-so, to the party you were summoned to.

“It tastes like shit.”

Claire’s whining in front of you, idly brandishing a hurricane glass full of bubbly as pale pink and powdery as her rosy cheeks. Thankful for the leverage of your elbows on the bistro table between you, you lift your chin, planted in the inner cushions of your joined palms, and give her a passing glance. Then your starry eyes drift back to the human orgy you’ve been tracking since the moment you stepped in the venue.

A myriad of eminent names. How exciting to be able to see their imperfect skin up close under the veneer of make-up. Turns out there is a huge Photoshop business going on in this particular circus.

Still, it’s hard not to get caught up in the allure of their luster. Thinking about how you were unanticipatedly plunged into a world of gold and silver, of all the thesauri that connote the existence of riches, you should absolutely bask in it—if they’ll let you.

“You’ve had too much to drink.” Jill gives Claire a little mouth joke from beside her, which elicits a muttered snort from Claire.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Dunno. Maybe snort a line or two. Together.”

“You could’ve told me from the start, Valentine.” Claire rolls her eyes and surveys you with her big blue lenses.

“Hey, you.”

You look up at Claire, a giddy smile lacing your lips.

“Huh?”

“Get in the back room. Jill, you and I are getting the motherfucking sniff on some good coke.”

Coke. Oh, great.

The hot “sport” of your demographic. Once your wacky mom’s, too.

The poison you swore you’d never put your mouth (actually your nose) on, or the antidote to survival, as your father would call it.

A silly little girl’s dumbest and greatest fear.

But you’re too much of a sucker to risk losing a high-profile group of friends like Jill and Claire, the only two girls you respect in this game of whatever. Just reject them, and in a fraction of a second, you’ll be all alone, and people here would pulverize you raw.

So without saying a word, you tag along behind them on a whim, as if cocaine is your passion. Since your friends are here, you just came to kick it.

The proverbial back room turns out to be really far back.

The smell of weed is tangy and mixed with other substances you can’t name the second you walk in. The scent of perfume adds a different festivity. Leaves a seductive melody and holds promises to give you airborne wings.

This must be the precise definition of getting wasted.

A few familiar faces greet you, occasionally stopping your group of three to take a quick photo—a social media travesty, for a photo that implies that the girl who wrapped her arms around you in nylon hugs with her platinum blonde and padded lips, whom you haven’t even said a word to yet, is a hoot on your social media account. Is it worth it?

Hell, maybe.

Followers are everything, even for you.

Chris, ass up, nose to nose in the coarse dust strewn on the glass surface table of the Boeing 707, straightens up as three pairs of heels materialize in front of him, oozing through the see-through transparency of the glass table.

“You’d be a great big brother if you didn’t always finish the best one ahead of us.”

“I’m always a big and great brother.” Chris Redfield, big and virile, stretches up in front of your eyes and wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve like a credit card sliding horizontally and smoothly through a POS machine.

Just like a goddamned joke.

In flesh and blood, Chris Redfield, the lead guitarist—a member of the very band you’ve been a diehard fan of since you were a teenager and whose songs have lulled you into slumber—is in front of you. Yes, you really were sleeping with rock music playing in the background.

His pupils are vacant. Like his cranium.

“You all look like those three girls from that cartoon where a professor accidentally creates three special strong girls—ahhh—what was the name again?”

“Powerpuff Girls?” Jill interjects at Chris’ reference with a wan grin, leaning her leg over the glass tilt table. Claire also crouches in front of her and clasps onto Jill’s knees. Almost as if she’s biding her time to eat her out. She might do that. Later.

“Yeah!” Chris snaps his fingers.

“Uh, I...” You spring forward to introduce yourself before the conversation drifts. Girls are already nose-dipping in the dusty spill on the table, and you stick your hand out to Chris.

Surprisingly, he accepts the handshake straight away. In the course of these formal introductions, whenever you were to extend your hand to someone, they’d be looking you over from head to toe like you were a little bit of a poseur. Ironically, Chris welcomes you with a genuine smile. It seems modesty hasn’t kicked the bucket.

You’re being all polite, handing Chris your name, and then—cue dramatic music—someone crashes through the pivot door like it’s a Hollywood blockbuster.

Every head turns in the cumulative direction of the sound, all but assured by the door’s dramatic swoosh, all collectively.

Turns out it’s none other than Leon Kennedy, the finest and equally “big-time rockin’ rock star of the twentieth generation,” as they say.

“His ass again?” Claire pipes up from where she’s sitting. She’s not a big fan of Leon. She has her reasons. In the interest of brevity, Claire and Leon had, in fact, dated in the interim. Once upon a time, there was a ship named Cleon, a name the adoring admirers nicknamed their own ship name in all corners of the tabloids.

While you can understand how ticked off she is, you might as well not do it at all. There is, at last, a deck of cards in front of you that you may see for the first and last time in your life. In fact, he is even moving towards you with his own confident steps.

For you, it’s a moment of blimey, but for him it’s as natural and insignificant as the instinct to pee when he’s drunk too much stuff.

“Hi there.”

Now you can understand people amplifying at the mere sound of a certain voice and, if necessary, wetting their pants, pussies, and dicks—Leon isn’t the pickiest about it, really. Now everything makes total sense. He must be getting laid as much as he’s making money with his mouth.

And he is. Add a pinch of that buzzing singing voice to a muscular body, a tall stature, and money in swollen pockets, and Leon gets what he wants in a jiffy. Kiss his ass if you will.

“There’s my cutest groupie.” Leon waves at Claire, heading for a fall.

Claire draws her middle finger at him and bites back a repartee.

Not a single name he doesn’t speak in the narrow circle of this social outlet. Then he sees you, and the wheel of fortune takes a reversal.

A newfangled face, delicate facial expressions, and striking beauty. Clearly, you’re the precious neophyte around here.

The art of the soft soap in the eccentric azure of his eyes is hard to miss. A depth to be dug into with picks and shovels.

How he greets you with a small mental shake of his head in contrast to his expressive gaze is enough for the conventional first pleasantries.

It’s hard to calculate how much it’s right to cast pointed glances at your friend’s ex-boyfriend. On a more cursory inspection, you and Claire weren’t that close, at least not close enough to make those ground rules—chicks before dicks ones. (Excuses!) You definitely need proper shrinks.

“Fucker.” Claire coughs up any remaining resentment in an epithetical whisper under her breath.

The exes find their way out of the scene, separated, and Claire tugs on your arm and flings herself straight into the dance floor. Leave it to Leon to steal a glance at you. He stares long and hard at the beauty next to his ex as you stomp off the scene. To Leon, the past is in the past, and the present is here to be remade. It’s nerve-racking when you leave, but he loves to watch you walking away.

And Jill is too doped up on cocaine to join you all.

─────────────────

“We never would have come if we knew he’d be here.” You tell Claire as she strums her hips to a peppy groove. You just want to bring your girl back to earth, even if it’s just a pulse.

“What? Jesus! Can’t hear you, gorgeous!” Claire curls her hands at the corners of her mouth as she lets it out. Of course she can’t hear you over this hubbub. You’re such an airhead.

But point taken. You shrug your shoulders as if to say it’s nothing and dance in unison to the song along with her jigging dance moves.

─────────────────

The DJ gets you moving with the record and the tempo of his tunes, the laser disco lights blinking on and off like thunder, making you dizzy from the jetlagged fatigue of the fateful night. For how many hours have you been standing in these Pigalle Follies and guzzling Silver Oak? God, you’re a mess. A hot one, that is.

The flashing disco lights alternately brighten and dazzle your eyes. You can’t even take a step, let alone do the dance. Sure, you’re running on fumes, but at least you look cute doing it.

That’s what happens when you drink on an empty stomach. Stupid bitch, you’re chewing yourself out.

Lights are moving sideways and up and down.

The sweat beading on the hair gathered at the nape of your neck is cold. You blink your eyes and cast them around for Claire, dim and desperate. Not a single facsimile of a peer stands.

Okay, but where’s she?

You push your way through the flesh and blood horde and find your way out of the club to the back door. Threshing, you flounder out of a dented metal door. The pit of your stomach is parched, as if tiny worms have colonized your entrails and organs.

Your hand pressed against your midsection is of no help.

Leaning against the wall, you’re propped up; you squint at the figure of a man (?) that now unfolds in front of you with the swoosh of the door. A lighted cigarette in his hand, he makes a knife-edge turn and spots you right off the bat.

Sewn into his eyes is a tapestry of something akin to concern. They are adumbral but bloodless and ultramarine.

Voices buzzing in your ear burst the bag of intricacies with a sharp pinprick. When you can feel the echoes finally reaching your earbuds, you can vaguely feel the man reaching for your forearm and tracing circles on your skin with soothing strokes.

“What the hell are you so tipsy for?”

Tipsy? Hell? He’s probing something about you.

“Leave me alone.”

“What? Leave you like this in the middle of an alley? What are you? Five?”

Your stomach produces a strange twinge, right there, in that very second.

You totter, but the man holding you by the arm means what he says.

“Look at you. What a fucking mess, huh, girl?” There he goes, tutting you like it’s his favorite sport.

“Don’t push it, Leon. What’re you, my mother?”

You just frown and shoot him a syringe of Claire’s inherited hatred but in your style.

“Go away. I’ll be fine.”

With all the audacity of a brilliant I-fucking-hate-my-best-friend’s-ex-boyfriend, you pull your arm free of his reach.

“They’ll eat you alive in here. You know that, right?” His voice is scratchy, preaching to you, but it’s emptier than a banker’s heart. His gaze, as in.

You don’t know. Makes you edgy, this one fucker.

“Why do you care?”

Really. What’s it really to him? Leon, too, in the clash of a second and a spontaneous question, unexpectedly finds himself striving for words.

When you push off the wall against which you were leaning, balance beats the hell out of you. Standing on the spikes of your heels is like an arsenal of iron nuts. So much so that Leon sucks in his breath in sheer exasperation before gripping you tightly by the forearm and flicking the glowing amber stub to the ground. Savior complex moment perhaps; he’s a martyr to his savior complex, not even understanding why he’s going this far.

“Where’re those girls you’re always stuck with? Claire and Jill?”

Obviously you don’t have an answer to that. You, for that matter, don’t have an answer to anything in the preamble. You just gawk at him with a vagabond animus.

You brush it off with a dejected shrug, and the withering stare you garner from him is quite enough to put you in your place, and then more. The abject skeleton in the closet that follows is beyond telling.

The puddle of bile that you can’t hold in any longer gushes out of your mouth. There and then. Luckily, courtesy of your miraculous reflexes, you turn your back on him and excrete the stagnant liquor in your system.

Leon retaliates by stepping back, as your arm falls out of his hands and you stoop, knees sore. A nervy and explosive burst of emotion is impinging on his face. You can’t see it, but you can more or less picture what kind of acrimony he’s donning.

What a perfect first impression spectacle.

Your gagging voice dies from throwing up in the empty streets; warm, misty tears well up in your eyes, the usual stuff, but the averse touch of his hand brushing your hair back from your face is a special ooh.

“You’re so fucked up.”

He couldn’t be more serious.

“You’re so pretty.”

You can’t be serious either!

But just as you lift your head to give him an answer, your stomach lurches to your feet one more time. So yes, you called your close friend’s singer boyfriend “pretty” in its truest essence, in all its pomp and circumstance. Delirious and graphic, hats off to you. You feel dizzy and more than ever dead. Like dead dead, open mouth, insert foot. The nebulous valance in front of your eyes is as opaque as an unaesthetic Instagram filter. Your balance is in tatters, and you slump, and then a thickset arm supports the back of your head securely.

─────────────────

How you made it through the dawn is a big red question mark.

The bundle of sunlight struck by the zenith of the alarming number of the morning is bright and citrusy. Almost no trace of its golden amber flavor. That’s because it’s not a morning sun. This is a midday sun.

You finally open your eyes at two o’clock in the forenoon. The sight that awaits you... what the hell is this?

This certainly isn’t your house, but whose residence is this?

And most importantly, where are your clothes? Why are you in your underwear?

You swallow the venin on the underside of the tongue, finding no strings as you idle around because you don’t even have any clues to connect the pieces together.

Could you have gotten so hammered yesterday that you fucked someone like those people in the movies?

At least he’s rich.

The interior is lavishly decked out; your restless eyes drift from the bed to the rows of frames on the wall. Pictures and hyperlinks and whatnot. Why would anyone hang a picture of the fucking Golden Gate Bridge in their bedroom?

What kind of moron did you fuck last night?

It’s up to you to figure out the equation.

You slip on a tacky jacket and spring out of bed. When you pick up your phone and peer at the screen and see that the digital numbers are advancing by leaps and bounds, you dash out of the room. Whatever the fuck you did in this bed yesterday with whomever you did it with has to be consigned to the past. No time for any of that. That’s what one-night stands are all about.

“Oh, fuck. Claire, I overslept. You gotta help me sway Ada so she doesn’t give me a hard time, babe.” Your fingers are rapidly drumming, and your eyes are on the screen as you thump into someone’s fucking chest.

It’s like lightning is spinning in your head. The phone falls out of your hand and thuds a heartbeat on the floor. Ouch. No shit. Apple, what a shitty marque of ass.

“My phone!”

It seems no matter how much money is just a green piece of paper to you now, or digital numbers with fat zeros in your bank account, there will always be a staunch ghetto in you. Somewhere deep in your very psyche.

“Jeez. Relax.” He crouches down and picks up the very remnant of your hapless phone.

“What happened to ‘hi’ and ‘hello’?”

No, but wait a second.

The distinct sound of yesterday’s “tryst.”

“Leon!”

Apparently your memory has erased all the barf memories from last night. Give them a little time, and they’ll chip away piece by piece and roast you in vile hell for the rest of the day.

“Leon!” He’s impersonating your voice, or rather your holler. Pretty much verbatim. It’s disturbingly good. He hands you your phone. The screen is cracked and spiderwebbed, and you take it reluctantly. Cough it up. You have to get a new model.

“Is this your place?”

“Eh. Like what you see?”

He’s acting like it’s all fun and games, and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash if the sky fell. His arrogance is of a priceless candor.

Just take a deep breath, in and now out. Everything’s all right. Everything is right as rain.

No way you fucked your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. You refuse to believe that.

“Why am I here?”

Leon gets the message.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t want to spoil your good mood by regaling you with your yesterday throw-up story, and he doesn’t want you to start your day like that. Everyone deserves to have a good day, and especially after a night of fuckery like last night, you need a whole Mediterranean circumnavigation.

“Look, sweetheart,” he begins, “let me buy you a brunch, yeah? There’s this place, okay? Down the block. Oh, they whip up scrambled eggs so fine. I’m talking about finger-licking good.”

He really is treating you over for some “brunch.”.

But why does everything have to be piled on top of each other? He just leaves you high and dry.

“Come on. Omelet and coffee. Yummy. Huh, and a special mix for you that’ll sober up a hangover.” Leon reaches out his hand to you as if in a desperate bargain.

“It’s a special Kennedy remedy.”

Your eyes fall on his outstretched palm while he’s grinning winningly.

“Sure. Why not? You do owe me an explanation anyway.”

There you go. He’s got you under his thumb now—like a walk in the park.

“Nice bra.” Leon can barely avert his eyes from your cleavage. “But don't forget to change, sunshine. I reckon I can find a spare shirt for ya.”

What a dipshit.

Rest is a moot point.

─────────────────

You’re not exactly sitting with the shittiest man in the world and chowing down on a portion of omelette. Really, the place where he brought you for a meal isn’t bad enough to be described as decent.

“So last night—”

He derails the conversation.

“No. We didn’t.” He sips his coffee, which dribbles down his parched throat. He’s been telling you this story for what seems like forever, even though it’s downright laughable—something hard to believe.

Pleasantly enough, you manage to shake off the blues, but now Leon’s hot under the collar.

The truth is, these bitter coffees are not his cup of tea, ’cause he loves tea more, but when he saw you getting a heavy Caffè Americano, he ended up ordering one too, just for a little spice.

Now Leon regrets his decision. Never again. Vanilla all the way, long live crony capitalism.

“I can’t even bring myself to believe it.”

“Neither can I. Who knew you had a little Viking god in you?”

“Viking god?”

Leon nods in approbation. The musing is rather sweet, but too much sweetness makes your cheeks fat, and that’s the absolute last thing you need. Pounds. Swollen face.

“They drink heavily too, don’t they?”

“I don’t drink that much,” you rectify him.

“You do. I know a blackout drunk when I see one.”

You palm your face in dismay, because how long can you put up with this charade?

“Why did you drink all that?”

For what does it matter to him? That you have to implicitly profess to him that you detest him. Can’t be buddy-buddy with someone Claire hates; blood and guts be damned.

“Nevermind. I mean, you don’t always get some chivalrous knight on a white horse coming to your rescue. Watch yourself. Get your shit together next time.”

Get your shit together.’

You’re not planning to get your life together, which has never been in order, on his say-so.

This is no picnic.

─────────────────

That day, after that specific coffee date, not only were you tardy for the last rehearsal, but you were also vituperated by Claire.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Claire, I swear to you—”

“Oh, not this again!”

Sheva’s writhing between you and Claire, her head is cracking open, so to speak. She keeps one hand on your shoulder and the other on Claire’s forearm, but her arms draw back, both of you rebuffing her every gesture.

“You showed up in his jacket. For fuck’s sake. You’re looking me in the eye and fucking lying to me.”

“It’s not what you think.”

Your words have always been meager in expressing your true self-defense. It’s no better now.

“So you really are fighting over a guy. This is really happening. Girls, this guy bleaches his hair regularly!” Sheva chimes in and maintains her equanimity. What you are doing is quite puerile in her eyes.

“I wonder how you’d react if your best friend fucked your ex-boyfriend, Sheva. Would you be so cool and mighty about it?”

Aww. She still considers you her BFF.

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called, an ex! Why can’t you just believe her? If you can’t trust your best friend, who else can you trust?” Sheva nudges Claire with a little gust of force, and Claire slumps down on the couch. She’s cross and indignant and doesn’t care that her butt stings when Sheva pushes her.

Seems calmer, or that’s what you’re praying for. Please let it be so. Please, please, friendship Gods and Goddesses.

“You need to believe me, Claire. I told you.”

Not a word comes out of her mouth, and she purses her million-dollar lips closely. Looking like she can’t decide on what might fall out of her tongue.

“I didn’t sleep with Leon.”

You grovel on your knees; just how pathetic you can be when you want to be.

Another last whine, forlorn (you may have already said the same thing a hundred times since you’ve arrived home).

“You saw it on my dress. Full of fucking retch, Claire!”

More details to go, and you wish you could explain to her how utterly incapacitated you were last night. From under her pretty eyelashes, she gives you a downcast appraisal.

“I went out for some air after dancing with you. I was a mess, Claire. I looked everywhere for you. Then he came, and, you know, silly me, I fucking dozed off.”

Sheva hugs her arms across her chest, monitoring a hushed and more subdued conversation between the two of you. Probably best not to interrupt.

“Ugh. He always loved being the big hero.” Claire finally swallows her reticence, endearingly vacillating. Thank God.

“Don’t fall for him. Don’t be a moron. God, you’re so stupid. You don’t even know it. He’ll set you up in a game, and before you know it, you’ll be stuck in the mud.”

Well, you weren’t expecting a herd of counselors from your best friend. It leaves a peppery ginger on your tongue.

“Pfff. Claire, don’t be ridiculous. You really think I’m hung up on Leon? He’s not my type. Piers is my type, duh.” You say it like the kookiest thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

For all the things you don’t know, you speak with the vanity of a clueless nepo baby, as if you’ve been in this line of endeavor since the day you were born.

“I saw the way he looked at you. I know that look.”

Ha. Now she’s channeling the ultimate Daenerys Targaryen speech.

“Very well, Claire Targaryen.” You smile dotingly at her, thinking it wouldn’t harm sharing a witty little tidbit.

“Seriously... just go, okay? Leave me alone.”

That’s where the rubber hits the road. Claire, your dearest friend, wants you out of here. It’s unbelievable. In your head, your memory is bare and there are no words, but your heart is crushed in a tearful pain that you can’t articulate. There are no labels or names for this feeling in your vocabulary.

You blink at her, twice and your smile frazzle subtly.

She won’t change her mind, that is for sure. She wants you gone.

You get up and walk out of there while you can. Sheva lingers behind you, but you’re fast and rightfully upset.

─────────────────

Wearing Leon’s Schott jacket and the t-shirt combo he provided is not exactly the kind of fancy getaway you’d want to pull off, but you’re quite adamant.

You go to the only place you can go.

To home.

It’s been years; you haven’t seen your parents, and who knows what it’s like now? In the car, your model face, admired by millions, the one you bequeathed from those two people who hated each other like a curse on their souls so passionately, is in a state of shambles.

Walking into the garden of a vast estate your mom bought for a pittance, you can spot your father’s nifty all-black Stellantis. It sparkles in the glow of the porch light just above the main doorjamb.

You cringe and then look at the door and the gold-engraved “welcome” inscription on the double sash of the wooden door. Just how “cozy” would it be to step in here again after so many years?

As you muster up the guts within yourself to ring the doorbell, the door itself flies open. Two pairs of eyes you’ve never seen before, but who instantly identify your face, are staring at one another.

“Oh my God! It’s you!” The girl is the walking example of the L.A. accent itself.

Since she’s wearing a skintight “daddy’s girl” tank top and a short denim skirt, odds are good that you’re talking to one of your dad’s new dollies. You know, the bimbo and the Barbie ones.

She envelops you in a bear hug. Sweet, toffee, and mucilaginous undertones of muscat perfume overwhelm all your senses.

“I’m your biggest fan. Oh, my room and my walls are full of your latest Vogue photoshoots. Versace was such a fantastic choice for your palette. That dress... ah! I-uh. Was. In. Love.”

There’s a certain luster in the girl’s eyes as she goes on and on. Really, Dad, how old could this poor girl be? You can’t stop thinking about it, but the more you think about it, the more deeply it sickens you.

“Thanks.”

As riveted as you were by the prospect, you had gotten far enough in this biz to learn how to keep those around you at bay with fake cheerful smiles. Perhaps you really do have that rampaging Hollywood blood coursing through your veins.

“I came to see my dad, but—”

She sweeps her arm down from your shoulder to your waist, and with her free hand, she whips out her flip phone, smiling at the camera.

“Say cheese!”

You don’t.

Your pose with a faded pallor mirrors on her screen, and you catch a dubious glance from her. She’s plainly querying you.

“A little smile would do you good...”

“Bitch.” She nags the last word in a barely audible coo, clammed up more than any of the preceding chunks of words that came out of her mouth.

Excellent.

Like you have no problems, and you have to put up with this horseshit. Why did you even bother coming here? This house isn’t even your home. Not anymore. They’ve carted away everything from your childhood, and a handful of crumbs of fragmentary images of the past are all that’s left of any of it for you.

No point insisting on three drips of memories in a life that takes many liters to survive. Nostalgia is frivolous.

Besides, you feel bitchy enough to give this girl her paycheck.

Except your dearest father does intervene. His noisome mug never dims a morsel, not even when he sees you.

“What a strange coincidence, sweetheart.”

“Certainly is.”

Forget it.

Could a man who never knew how to be a decent father suddenly, by some strange turn of fate, come to discover what it means to be one? You’re a delusional one. This is just one of your little glitches—the very first instinct of a little girl running to her daddy any time she’s hurt. He never knew how to mend and heal those little wounds in the first place.

“Why did you come here?” Your father’s brows shoot to his hairline. A horrible sight for his hair is receding. Reprehensibly.

Doesn’t look like he’s going to let you in, though. He appears quite happy with his new girlfriend on his arm, and his common-law wife, your mother, is somewhere who knows where.

“Well. It’s Mom.” You perjure, drawing a blank verse or two. Moments like these are precisely when the words essentially latch at the base of your throat.

“She’s not here.”

“Ha. Yeah. I can see that.” Your facial tissues, your lips, they all start to ache from ersatz smiling arts and language. Poker face can only do what it costs.

“I think—”

“You need to—”

Your words and your father’s words jar with one another. It’s a mess. Even for a glimpse, it baffles you how much emotion there is in the old man’s face. And him too. His girlfriend rolls her eyes, a numbing distaste for the father and daughter in all this kerfuffle.

“Ugh. This is so boring.”

She walks inside.

You nervously fidget with the folds of the jacket Leon gave you as a provisional.

“I think I’d better go.”

“You’re right.” The old man clears his throat as if he were about to overcome an obstacle. He’s silently begging you to put an end to his misery here, and you’re doing that just fine; you’re always ready to walk the tracks.

“Good night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo. I’ll call you when your mom gets home.”

“Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

You won’t. How would anybody give a fuck? It’s too late.

It’s nothing but a night alone for a wounded heart and the coveting of a whim that never had a chance to bloom.

Either your menstrual cycle is nearing or the end itself is near.

The billboards are lit up with crystallized lights. It’s a visual. Makes your eyes glaze over a bit.

The sign just above it reads “THE END IS NEAR!” in capital lettering. Above that are plaques with the new single releases of Leon and his group. He’s the talk of the city, and the world for that matter, so his face is in the foreground, a cerebral display, and Chris and Carlos’ faces are hot on his shoulders. The chorus of their million-selling track on Spotify is rasping in your frostbitten ears. Leon’s voice is a smooth crossover riff, raspy, and he’s making love with the bass guitar.

On the terrace where you are sitting, a breeze gently caresses your face, leaving the crisp touch of snow on your cheek. The cold sinks into your veins, blue-tinted blood rushing through your body, no thanks to the booze. You feel queerly toasty.

Leon’s jacket definitely lasts through the cold winters. It’s like your personal furnace.

The traffic is hectic past the glass handrail, jostled by the car lights streaming down, and the first baby snowflakes of January are pelting down from the sky. It’s quite late, the rush hour of hungover midnight.

Even as the elliptical chases the minute hand, you watch the passers-by. The prominent and whitewashed faces are just names. They greet you, acknowledge you with gracious smiles, but that’s it. Never so genuine that they would actually sit down next to you.

Except for one name.

Except for Leon, who, in what must have been an illusory twist of fate, casually crosses the table with a flute of champagne in his hand.

He doesn’t recognize you at first when he passes by your booth, but on the second glance, he captures that swan-like grace at once.

Stepping backwards, as if he’s moonwalking, he skips over to your side to forestall your horrified side-eye.

“I shoulda known you were a vampire. You never sleep.”

He thinks he’s made a stylish enough debut with these words. Whatever it takes to charm you.

“No, come on. Are you stalking me?”

“Nah. I’m too much of a busy man for that kind of thing, sweetheart. Though I’ve heard on some fanfiction sites that there are people out there. They write me off as a complete weirdo.”

He slides into the chair straight across from you.

“Check it out when you’re feeling like it.”

Absently your eyes wander over his shoulder and zero in on the mass of light in the distance. In shimmering floodlights, people are laughing and making TikTok videos, some twerking, others striking jaunty poses for the camera for their thirst trap edits. Bread and butter for the fans.

“’s rude to overlook someone when they’re talking to you. Didn’t your mother tell you that?”

In your consciousness, you realize that even Leon’s name is lost in the cacophony of your milieu. You still do have a problem named Leon at this table.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?”

Thoughts pile up in the back of your foggy brain, but they don’t coalesce into a harmonious, final answer. The blurry words worm their way out of your mouth, and they evaporate in the bitter cold air.

Should you be kind and remind him that you’re weak?

“I don’t know.” You bluntly say, but Leon can smell the suspense.

“Are you drunk again?”

The arch of your eyebrow furrows instinctively, automatic as the blooming of a flower when you water it—flourishing and blushing. But drown it too much, and it wilts, fades. He just doesn’t grasp it, can’t get it through his thick skull that you don’t want to chit-chat.

Be that as it may, there’s one fact that’s indisputable: you want to fuck him. You��re simply at odds with yourself.

The more Leon comes at you, the more you’re falling into error, but beggars can’t be choosers.

It’s unfortunate that you can roll over when you feel a stone.

That thing you’re ruthlessly searching for could quite possibly be Leon. He’s the one who has reduced you to the devil’s quarry himself. Either that or you’re the one in extremis.

Right now, however, it’s a bet neither of you care about. Unworthy of further discussion. Mouths are otherwise occupied.

Your mouth shamelessly hyphenates his name while his mouth ecstasies on the honeydew betwixt your spread legs. Your eyes roll graphically as the tip of his nose, which looks good when he takes a snort from the lining of vanilla icys, bumps against the nacre of your clit a crack or two. It’s like you’re possessed by something, by demons or poltergeists.

The sullen and muffled fumes of profanity are belching out of the bedroom door where he’s propping you up against it. This is the very public domain information; Leon Kennedy is an excellent pussy eater.

It’s one thing to hear from the women he’s slept with that he’s that swell; it’s quite something else to have the saccharine taste of your cunt melting in his mouth like cotton candy on the tip of his tongue just then.

“Leon... fuck. No. Want it.” Your tongue is all dry.

You can’t remember the last time you felt the highs of ecstasy from a tongue fuck like this. Hollywood is full of people with small dicks, and the whole insertion and pull-out game sucks here, foreplay is long gone.

Luckily, you can always take a chance on someone (actually your best friend’s ex-boyfriend) who at least knows how to worship what he sees, and you reap the rewards of the risk you take. And he feels generous enough to let you have it all tonight.

With a touch as sensuous as a butterfly’s wing, his thumb meanders through your aching bundle of nerves, igniting a fire of euphoria through your body. When he lightly palms your opening, when he feels the plushness of your slick walls, a delicate breath escapes your mouth, akin to a prayer of subservience to this very moment of pure pinch and rapture.

“So sweet when you cum.”

He blows your mind, the story of how you got here, the blowjob you pulled on him in his car — all that’s in the past. The only thing that matters is that you need to forget everything that happened tonight in the morning and the painstaking labor of that commitment. Pulling his belt on and off takes no extra time flat. His aching erection takes a toll on Leon, both psychologically and physically.

When he tucks you properly into his bed, he casts a phantom over you like he’s your own exclusive brand of ghost. Kissing on a first date was never his thing, but he can’t let you go when his lips are still tantalized by your moreish taste.

He’s making a nicer entrance than you’d expect and then some; you’re squeezing him so tightly, and he’s stippling hot kisses across the tender flesh of your throat.

Breathless and forehead to forehead is too romantic and superfluous for a debut tryst, but that’s what rebound sex is for.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Maybe he’s louder than you are in these seconds— in these very seconds of his whet of thrust followed by the seconds of him pulling out soon to only bully back into your dewy cunt.

Makes your head reeling, and he wallows in the sin of the tightness stretching around the sheer girth of his cock.

“Pussy’s so fucking good. She’s all swollen from me.” His whisper is fervid and sweeping against your cheek.

Yes. Indeed, his mouth doesn’t seem to be shutting up here either, even when he��s fucking you deep in his own bed.

The deep azure shade of his eyes is clouded with pearlescent blue; his pupils are pitch-black orbs, and he watches his cock slide in and out of your drenched pussy in chaotic upheaval, the metal of his frenum piercing taunting your swollen clit as you drape his dick in a warm cocoon.

“Pretty, pretty pussy suckin’ me so nice, yeah?” His voice is a throaty whisper that makes your poor, mushy brain tingle tunefully — an acrid, itchy scab that has just covered the wound.

“Fuck,” he grunts crassly, “been thinking about this all—ungh!—night—this fucking skirt up and fucking you real loud, baby.”

Seriously, he could just write a song or a lengthy poem for your lovely pussy right here and then.

A hubristic tinge variegates his pink lips, a wicked one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s enjoying this; hell, he’s fucking loving it. His laugh-like treble is a low rumble as he pounds into you with a little more force, a little more urgency. The bed rocks under you, groaning abjectly.

“C’mon, baby, cum on my cock. Y’know I got you. I got you so good.”

He knows how to do it.

Once bodies and emotions are merged, they move into a harmonic coherence, and just like that, he makes you cum for the second time tonight. A string of bland events that are frozen in your brain, clinging to your fiber, you feel your own tears trickling down your cheek in an attempt to get rid of them in one fell swoop, barely blinking open your eyes.

You cradle his cheek closer, pushing away the wisps of hair falling in curtains in front of his blues. You want to kiss away the cruelty that cloaks his lips, but Leon, unable to tear himself away from your pussy that is still squeezing him, is too engrossed for such kisses.

One blink and you’ll miss that fleeting moment as the seconds tick by, Leon barely pulls out a shred from you and strokes his cock on your belly until he finds comfort in it, painting white ribbons on your dainty skin.

Seconds afterward are spent on your own, burdened by the cost of your one night’s slip-up, and you two stare at each other wide-eyed.

Two pairs of eyes, parted lips, and a kind of rare prettiness you usually find in men that will haunt you for a while. Ken blonde hair aglow in the light of the dawn and buried layers of emotions locked away in secrets that are too debauched to divulge.

Pearls of promise on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t dare spill them out. Heaven will hate you. Claire will hate you.

In Leon’s estimation, per contra, you’re a damsel in distress, big eyes, and a girl who has somehow succeeded in wrapping all her depravity in the thin threads of her angelic eyes. Seraphic but dangerous. An inner part of his brain keeps hammering into his thoughts that everything has only just begun.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy

67 notes · View notes

lancer-fan-club-was-taken · 1 day ago

Text

as much as i love overanalyzing things, i feel like people just need to like- stop overanalyzing papyrus. not because it's bad to do, you should think critically about the media you enjoy, but because a lot of analysis i see of him hinges on the idea that he's a much simpler character then he really is.

i just- i hate to say it but he's not just a gag character? in any route he's not just a gag character. i think he's honestly very comparable to chara, because he's basically been forced into being this symbol of hope for his big brother and even undyne. papyrus is all but confirmed to be the only reason sans gets up in the morning, and undyne treasures her friendship with him so much that she refuses to let him get into any danger, even though he's probably more then capable of handling it.

i'd argue the best ending for him is the family endings. he gets an actual job, he's doing something that doesn't just involve being a symbol. in every other neutral ending where he's alive, THATS what he becomes. just a symbol for hope like chara, he doesn't do anything as king except try to cheer people up, and in one of undyne's endings, he just "stands around and looks cute." even in true pacifist when he becomes an ambassador or mascot, yes, he's decided that for himself but that's still having him be a symbol.

it's honestly kinda ironic that his scarf has become a symbol for sans' trauma in the murder route.

i feel like the reason why he has so many lines and is one of the deuteragonists is to prove that he's NOT just a symbol. same with chara being the narrator. (fight me.) they are more then the symbol they were forced to become.

also red is associated with hope. his outfit is pretty much all red despite using blue magic. INTERESTING.

anyway. etc. etc. pap is not an outliner or flat yall have been HAD.

#undertale #papyrus #.txt #i'm sorry if this sounds passive aggressive #i don't mean it to be #i just really don't like it when people misinterpret my blorbo #<- same goes with gorey and al. if i see a post misinterpreting them ill go off as ive shown lmao #utdr #papyrus undertale #<- his full legal name.#you like how i said people should stope over analyzing pap then over analyzed him? me neither

61 notes · View notes

toxiclizardwrites · 2 days ago

Text

I don't want to get too much into the weeds with this because I don't want to give it a lot of publicity. I just have some thoughts on the alleged Telegram group that is apparently cyber stalking the Sleep Token band members, sharing personal information about them, pictures, etc.

I remember seeing a video of Justin Bieber (don't care for his music, am indifferent overall to him as an artist) very nicely talking to a group of young girls camped out outside his home but at the same time almost exasperatedly begging them to leave him alone. They pretty much ignored him and tried to get hugs and autographs. I felt so bad for him. He looked tired.

I saw another video of Tobias Forge from Ghost where some fans figured out where he would be existing from a venue after a show and were waiting for him. His, I assume security team, were there and calmly explained to the fans that Tobias was tired, not feeling well, and while he would talk to them it would have to be kept short. A bit more amicable of an interaction but still made me feel bad for him.

I know I get thirsty on this blog and joke about how I want to eat/bite/or do things to the members of Sleep Token but it's very important to remember that these are real people and they deserve that separation between fans. It keeps them safe. They put their art out for us to enjoy and that's honestly it. If they want to interact with fans, they should be in control of that for safety reasons. We are not entitled to interactions of any kind. Write fanfic. Draw art. Talk with friends. That's how we can gush about how much we love Sleep Token.

I think that the majority of people on Tumblr's section of the fandom, from what I've seen, would not cross this boundary, but I just had some thoughts on my mind that I wanted to get out.

I hope everyone involved in Sleep Token is safe. Unfortunately this kind of behaviour won't stop but I hope it's more bluffing and lip service rather than any tangible threat.

Anyway hope you all have a great day.

#random thoughts #re: the telegram thing #sleep token #just my two cents #leave them alone #listen to the music and enjoy

56 notes · View notes

le-chevalier-au-lion · 3 days ago

Note

extremely unpopular ship but. marc/luca with 24 + 21

marc/luca: 21 (biting) + 24 (dacryphilia)

Luca braces for it like he braces for hitting the ground after being highsided off his bike. Marc saying you’re nothing like Valentino or you’re just like Valentino. Or—God fucking forbid—being sorry about how shit the Honda is. Poor boy, wasting his career on a comeback that won’t deliver.

He never does. Which is half the reason that they’re doing this, in the first place.

It’s not an accident, is the thing. Luca enjoys making mistakes with his eyes wide open.

He grinds up into Marc, dirty, slow sweeps, right against his prostate. The wet squelch of lube echoes gunshot loud between them, accusatory—as does Marc’s breathless little gasp. Luca keeps at it, again, again, again, so he’ll get another one of those noises, but Marc only throws his head back, puts it against his shoulder, miles of smooth, tanned skin in his bobbing throat.

Pretty, Luca thinks, a hysterical little laugh stuck behind his teeth, shaking when he runs a forcibly idle touch over Marc’s waxed, soft thighs.

“More?” He asks, careful.

Marc nods—open-mouthed, greedy—and drags him to hold his cock. Luca’s hands are calloused, bony, dry. Probably doesn’t feel that good, in retrospect. Marc bucks into his grip anyway, fucks into his slightly unsteady fist with abandon, like he’s bending a bad bike to take a tricky corner.

Luca bites into the soft insides of his cheek. Focus.

So he leaves a bite on Marc’s throat next. Mean, deep—it’s right there, after all. Presses down hard on the imprint of his teeth he left on the swell of Marc’s pec, on his nipple, on the knob of his hipbone. They’re growing dark already, a splotchy purple-red on gold, ugly, round lines.

He keens, jolts, legs falling open, hooked over Luca’s skinny knees. It’s like pressing on the keys of a baby grand at random, only to find out everything sounds fantastic. His cock twitches in his hand, leaks. Each slide is wetter and easier than the last.

Christ. Luca sucks in a breath, tucked against the corded muscle of Marc’s neck.

But Marc is allergic to breaks or something like that. Twists his head around and tugs him up by his hair. They’re looking at each other—which should technically be sobering, a cold wash of reality, but only makes Luca ache to press a kiss on the corner of his shiv-quick smile.

In a bit, maybe.

“You really are mean,” he says, winded, in this dangerous, wild delight.

Luca arches an eyebrow, immaculate through the hell press of Marc’s ass around his cock, how it rakes over him like an electric shock. “You asked me to.”

“People don’t usually—ah, shit, see—first fuck is usually a warm-up. Very polite.”

Luca debates for a split second, five lights and off they go, prying the words from the bottom of his throat. I actually get off on making people cry, just like that. Decides against it at Marc’s dark, cutting stare, his open-mouthed, shameless hunger. Too much like feeding a shark.

Makes himself grin, instead. “I’m very polite. You always say that.”

“Asshole,” he says—in Spanish. Putilla, like Luca doesn’t know what it means. And he laughs through it too, this ugly, honking laugh.

It’s not what you call someone doing a favor, sort of. Luca keeps smiling.

Squeezes Marc’s cock hard, drags his nails all the way to his flushed, wet head. Marc chokes on whatever noise he was making, scrambles to scratch him back, at his wrist, legs twitching to cover himself up on instinct.

He lets them fall limp, though. Stares wide-eyed, expectant. Challenging. Luca croons something sweet-sounding, backs off just a little. His grip is too tight, cruel, but more pleasure now, working him over in quick, rough twists of his palm.

Nothing about it is pretty, exactly—except Marc crumbling against him, Luca is at his strings. Except Marc whining, high-pitched and raw, when he shivers and comes with Luca running a nail over his slit and biting down on his nape.

Luca grunts, muffled through Marc tightening up around his cock, through the pound of blood in his ears.

It’s probably the funniest—most absurd—consequence of going to an engineer’s birthday party, he thinks, nerves in overdrive, about to giggle or moan or come, same fucking difference, heart drumming against his ribcage, thoughts hitting every corner.

Marc hisses out a thick noise, holds his arm. There’s no real strength behind it. Luca gets back on with what could be called his meanness, smears Marc’s come over his own dick. Jerks him only a fraction gentler than he was.

He isn’t crying, yet.

Not like he asked to, not like Luca wants to see.

But maybe soon, he thinks, perverse and not caring all that much about it, heat prickling under his skin, spit pooling over his tongue. Luca gives him a light nibble on his earlobe as a reward, more intent than actual pressure.

“More?” Luca breathes out, barely a whisper.

Marc—lashes wet, fluttering, almost there—nods.

#marc/luca #marc marquez #luca marini #you say unpopular pairing but christ they're popular to me #devil permutation cursed third person in the room #i'm sorry i'm just loving luca reaching for the ONE person that he abso-fucking-lutely shouldn't #and marc never getting far from tall mean blond bastards #also by the time i'm done i'll count how many of my fills have: a) luca marini domming someone b) overstimulation/orgasm denial #anyway #motogp #motogp rpf #rpf #chev fics #chev fills a prompt #also this 844 words and not 1k and it's fine #i'm FINE about it

61 notes · View notes

dragqueenstarscream · 2 days ago

Note

In relation to your Starop Library au post:

-Starscream suddenly starts going to the library more often, asking for assistance finding books all the way at the other end of the library despite already knowing where they are whenever Optimus is on staff.

-Star starts sitting near Optimus' desk, occasionally staring at him and taking care of his appearance even more than usual. (He'll deny it to the end of the Earth though)

-In some places (*cough cough* Amarica *cough cough*) the average salary of a librarian can be pretty low compared to living costs so if Starscream finds out Optimus has trouble with living costs he mysteriously gets a raise.

-Whenever Op has trouble finding someplace in the city due to being from the country, Starscream would immediately assist him. Trying to find a good coffee shop or bookstore? Need a ride home since it's dark outside? He'll jump at the opportunity to be near Optimus longer, although he'll probably act annoyed about it.

-If Optimus is in collage on scholarship (or highschool based on how old they are) and needs an expensive textbook(s), brand new copies of them are mysteriously donated the the library by an anonymous source, or Star would let him borrow his if he had it.

Sorry if these are out of character, I just like sharing my StarOp brainrot

-💌 anon

see you get it!! you see the vision!!

as for the out of character worry, remember that, in some iterations, starscream was actually a very different person before the main war happens, like in skybound. since this is an au where nothing goes horribly horribly wrong and nobody dies, i think we can play with that possibility here. anyway!

- he would. he absolutely would. he'll ask for the same book several times even when he should know where it is by now. he thinks he's so sly, but optimus caught onto what starscream was doing a while ago. he just plays along because he thinks it's cute.

- i could definitely see starscream switching his usual study sessions from his dorm to the library so he can be near optimus. it's no coincidence that he also wears nicer outfits and fixes up his hair on his study days. maybe he'll throw on some jewelry if he's feeling especially fancy.

- i imagine in this au, optimus is working at the library to help with paying tuition while the rest of his money goes to food and rent. starscream comes from a family rich enough to afford the full ride, so he's a little shocked. cue a "mysterious donor" paying rent for optimus and his roommates. i wonder who that could be!

- starscream knows a good opportunity when he sees one. if optimus is looking for a nice place to treat himself with his christmas bonus, starscream has a recommendation. new movie out that optimus wants to see? starscream knows the best theater and can pay for the best seats. optimus needs a ride back to his apartment because his pickup truck is in the shop? starscream drives him in his rolls royce. he acts annoyed, but really he's just emotionally constipated.

- college textbooks are ridiculously expensive, so if optimus is having trouble affording the pricey physics textbooks he needs... oh, wow! someone donated a bunch of physics textbooks to the library! how kind! definitely without any ulterior motives of any sort!

also, what would their names be in this au? i imagine optimus' would be orson ryan pax, but he always goes by ryan or orion because he sees orson as an old man's name. what about starscream? something fancy and british probably

#mmmmmm i love this premise #i also love knock out being starscream's wingman #he knows that his best friend is dow BAD #and he just wants to help starscream bag himself a beefy country bf #transformers #starscream #optimus prime #starop #starprime #starpax #starscream x optimus prime #starscream x orion pax #maccadam #answering things

32 notes · View notes

deadpool15 · 2 days ago

Text

Delicate Flower

Warning ‼️-Sexual encounters, Penetrative sex, fem receiving oral, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Squirting, creampie

“Wait sooo, why are you telling me this?” Hyunjin asked while staring wide eyed at Seungmin. The conversation at there usual boys night for the members ventured off to a completely different topic after one too many shots were taken. “Well, I wasn’t necessarily telling you I was just speaking out loud with you in the room to be honest, you having large ears is your own responsibility.” The slick remark catching Hyun so off guard he just stares in silence. “When did she tell you anyways, you two aren’t that close?” Min smiled at the question seeking to tease his member about the situation, “we are actually very close, she was just simply telling me about her life and what not. Then, she just spilled that she is a virgin, I was shocked but I let it go unlike you seem to be able to right now”.

Few weeks later….

I couldn’t get it out of my head, Lily was a virgin. I don’t know why it shocked me considering how she is with anything sexual. Looking back I started to realize the differences in her attitude whenever sexual encounters were brought up, she wouldn’t completely shut down of course. Though, it seems she was always brush it off and manage to flip the conversation around to another person. Never thinking too much of it in the moment. Not even noticing it. I felt bad about the whole thing, now that I knew it’s as if my mind wouldn’t let it go. Whenever, I would see Lily I felt wrong. She was so innocent and probably didn’t even know who to do certain things and all my brain could think about was being the one and only person to teach her.

It started off as little things nothing major. Seeing her around the company and using any excuse to leave. But rehearsing could only get me so far especially since she was friends with all the members. Then, it got worse I started having dreams about her.

Moving around in bed I notice my room lap is on, “could’ve sworn I turned that off”. I reach over my bedside to turn it off yet again in my mind until I take notice of Lily. In my room. That’s never happened before. “Hyun, sorry I was waiting for you to wake up, we were supposed to meet the members. I was closer to the dorm so I suggested to come get you but you were sleeping. Didn’t wanna wake you.” Looking at her she was dressed in a babydoll nightie. She loved those, though I can truthfully say not nearly as much as me. She always looked so delicate in them, as if she was waiting for someone to taint that perfect little imagine of her. “You know, you talk in your sleep, not fully but I could make out what you were saying.” Hearing that I froze.

There was no way this was happening right now, she isn’t here. “You want to have sex with me Hyun, that’s really dirty of you. I’m like your best friend. Chan thinks of me as a little sister, I thought you did as well. But you’re just a disgusting pervert. Right, Hyun?” The fucked up part about this was seeing her like that in that outfit was making this worse. I wanted to completely defile her. Only to put the pieces back together afterwards. Reaching out to grab her waist, she was always so soft. “I’m not a pervert, Lily bear. You’re just- something special to me.” She looks up at me with those big eyes and I can only imagine how they will look while she is choking on my cock.

“You want to choking on your cock, wow Hyun. You’re just disgusting. Can’t believe you would say that out loud pretty boy. But I don’t believe you have the right equipment for all that anyways. We should go the boys are already at the restaurant.” She goes to turn around but no before I pull her back to settle in my lap. “The right equipment baby, you’re fucking joking right? You don’t think I’m big enough for you?” I could tell by the slight smirk and the essence that seeping through her short ass bottoms she was getting off to this. “Wow, here I was thinking you were a good little obedient girl and you turned out to be just a whore. Getting off on my thigh, just need a big cock to fill that little virgin pussy to the brim don’t you, sweets?”….

Moving back and forth across my lap, humping me like a dog in heat she continues her little ministration. “Making promises you can’t keep, I wouldn’t be able to tell it was in realistically. But go on prove you’re a big boy.” Hearing that was just enough to set me off boys be dammed. I was gonna teach her to behave. Aggressive kisses running down her neck leaning into her chest. I moved to pull her top off leaving nothing but her bare, just sitting there all perfect for me. “You talk so much shit for your body to be aching for me right now, waiting to be filled.” Before, she could get a word at I manhandled her over. Throwing her into the middle of my bed so she could be on all fours.

Yanking her bottoms down while leaving raspberry like kisses down her spine. “Coming to my room with just this shit on, you were asking to be fucked. Every time, I see you walking around the dorm for other men to see you huh? You want them too?” Leaning over her while gripping the globes of her ass in the palm of my hands. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” My brain was in overdrive right now I finally had her right where I wanted her, nothing else mattered to me as she was later out arching while my thumb rubbed figure 8’s against her clit. Leaking all over my bed puffy and swollen. I was practically in heaven, until she had to screw me over.

“You weren’t exactly my target audience, I was hoping maybe Lixie would notice but I could settle for you.” Hearing that completely fucked me up. “Bullshit.” Not even letting her start up again before I jammed my finger inside her. “A-ahhh shit….w-wait Hyun.” Hearing the sloppy sounds of my fingers sloshing around inside of her fat cunt, it almost was enough to deter me from her bratty ass statement. I had to remain focused though, I couldn’t get pussy drunk just yet. “No, there’s not fucking wait gonna take my fingers in your little cunt and like it right. I was gonna be so gentle with you bear and you screwed me over like this. So, I know now you don’t need gentle love you need it rough.”

Jamming two more fingers straight in, I had to prepare her, as bratty as she was being I know she couldn’t take me without any prep. “Ooooohh…..shit f-fuck slow down”. She tried to push her hand out to stop me but I just moved them out the way. “You can take it, all that fucking attitude I know you can.” Having enough of waiting I shoved my face in between her thighs. “Ooo….god…Hyun…yesss.” Keeping up the rhythm my fingers started while shoving my tongue deep into her cunt as I sucked her clit in my mouth. She tasted amazing, “fuck you taste like strawberries baby, gonna have you sit on my face for hours next time ok.” Hearing no response I slapped her ass twice. Making her jolt and her head turned to look back at me while crying. Crying out not she was gonna cum for me for right in my mouth or I think I might lose it. Feeling her clench as I slapped her ass again. It felt almost like she was closing in on my tongue, I knew she was close. “Come on baby, in my mouth. Give it to me.”

Gripping her closer to me as she yelled out, “Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk.” She squirted, first time ever and I made her squirt. Yea, it’s safe to say I was never getting over this moment. Picking up her braids gathering enough hair to pull her backwards. That arch was gonna make me slow my mind. She looked a mess her makeup was ruined mascara running down her face, sweating everywhere and not to mention the tears. And call me a sick asshole, but I loved every second of it. She was perfect. And mine. “Are you crying baby, really I haven’t even made you cum on my dick yet, too much?” She was so out of it I had to tap her face a couple of times. Must of took a lot out her, first orgasm. “You can take it, right ?” She started at me for a minute, then smiled, “I think your fingers wouldn’t disappoint me as much as your dick is going too.” Hearing that made me laugh, “I hope you never lose your spark bear, because from now on I’m gonna love fucking the fight right outta ya.”

“Prove it. Stop talking Hyun.” Letting go of her face she lands back on the pillows, I move slightly so I can drop my pants and underwear. Leaving my throbbing cock to sit in my hands as I stroke it firmly, Lily tries to turn and take a look. I hurry and place my palms on her back deepening the arch. “You don’t have to see, you’re gonna feel every inch inside you and know.” Pushing her head into the pillows just how I like it. I sit there and admire her, my little brat. I slowly start to push in not wanting to overwhelm her. But it was probably the most difficult task in my life considering how tight she was, it was as if my fingers weren’t even in her before. It takes all my willpower not to just hammer into her. Inch by inch it feels like the process takes forever. “Oo my god you’re too fucking big Hyun, wait.” I start leaving more kisses on her back and playing with her clit, trying to distract her from the pressure. “Can you take more for me baby? I know you can I mean you said I was little, remember?” As much as I want to make the pain go away I can’t resist teasing her.

“F-fuck there is more omg wait are you….s-shit. T-too big Hyun.” I just grab ahold of her hips and start to shove the remaining length inside of her. She screams and I give her a minute to recover, she feels like fucking heaven on the inside so warm and wet. Gripping me so tightly. It’s like I’m in a haze for a moment until I hear her hitting me in the thigh to start moving. Without any further explanation, I start slamming my hips into hers leaving her thrashing around the bed clawing at the sheets. She tries to move her hand to my waist to slow me down again. “No we aren’t doing that shit again, I’m too small for you remember that. So, take it.” She continues to scream and moan and I lose myself in the pleasure of it all. “Come on louder, b-baby…fuck.” I manage to find that beautiful spot that has her quivering and running away from me, feeling it trapped around my cock is gonna make me pass out. “So… f-fucking wet, angel. Lixie can’t get you like this.” I reach down to thumb her clit again. Best night of my life. Before I know she clenching and squirting again. “Yes, sweets give me more f-fuck just like t-that.” And my hips continued to hammer into her overstimulating muscles and all it meant nothing to me, I needed her to realize she was mine. “Yes, sweets throw that sit on me come on give it t-to me baby.” As she started to fuck her plush ass back against me only one thing was running through my mind. Hearing her moan my name until she couldn’t speak anymore, spanking her til her ass was raw just like her pussy was my mission. From that night forward. No more was the delicate little flower.

Hope y’all enjoy 😉 and plzzzz ignore the spelling if it’s wrong I never check it I need to do better.

#hyunjin #stray kids smut #stray kids #lee felix #hyunjin smut #fanfic #writing #black oc #black!reader

37 notes · View notes

demigodsanswer · 1 day ago

Note

I really love the royal's au, and I love the percabeth's babies, I would love to read when they found out about Annabeth's first pregnancy because according to my numbers, the pregnancy and the wedding were at the same time hahahahaha

I was wondering if anyone was going to do the math! Yes, they get pregnant very quickly. The backstory to this is that, about a month before the formal wedding they are supposed to have, there's a bit of a public scandal (I'll probably write about this another time), and so to put down any notion from the government, their families, or the public that they shouldn't get married, Percy and Annabeth basically elope. They get married in a private chapel, with just Sally and Fred in attendance. They then abscond to Iceland for a mini-moon, before coming back to have the actual big ceremony. It's only after the big public ceremony that they announce they've actually been married for about a month.

So this fic takes place on their mini-moon in Iceland, and then jumps forward about a month and a half to their actual honeymoon in the Italian Rivera.

Percy might now be a member of the Swedish royal family, but he was not, by any means, used to Summers in the extreme north. The sun hadn't set in a month. His and Annabeth's room in the palace had blackout curtains, which helped a little, but his sleep schedule was wildly thrown off. Now in a small hotel in Iceland, hiding out from the rest of the world, he really was struggling to sleep.

He should be exhausted by all accounts. He went from scandal, to marriage, to his new wife riding him for all he was worth in just a few long days. They'd left the hotel once or twice, to see the hot springs and to eat the most delicious hot dog Percy had ever tried. But mostly, they'd been honeymooning.

Percy had finally drifted to sleep maybe an hour before Annabeth's alarm went off. Percy flailed wildly, trying to find her phone to shut it off.

"I got it," Annabeth mumbled. "I need to get up and take my birth control, I don't think I did yesterday," she said.

"Alright, when you're done, come back and cuddle," Percy said, trying to rediscover sleep with little success.

A minute later, she sat on the bed and shook him.

"What?" He asked, cracking his eyes open.

"I haven't taken my birth control in seven days," Annabeth said.

"Well, that's not ideal," Percy said. They'd had plenty of sex, none or it with condoms, and Percy was pretty sure he hadn't pulled out once.

"I have a morning after pill with me," Annabeth said, letting the statement hang in the air.

"Will it work at this point?" Percy asked.

"Maybe not, depends on if I've ovulated or not."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

Annabeth was quiet for a moment. "I mean, I usually take seven days of placebo pills anyway, and I haven't gotten pregnant before. So, odds are low anyway. No reason to worry. I mean, I just got my period, so it's probably fine."

"So ...?" Percy asked.

"So, I think I'm just going to restart the pills and not bother with the Plan B," she said.

"What if ..." Percy said, not sure how to feel about his question. He felt excited about it, but he didn't want to make Annabeth feel like he had any expectations.

"If I'm pregnant?" Annabeth asked with a smile. She laid back down next to him. "Well, that's your job isn't it? To help me populate our royal line?"

Percy nodded, and Annabeth slipped back under the covers.

When they woke a few hours later, Annabeth groaned. "I forgot to take it again!" Before finally, actually, taking the small pill for the first time all week.

Six weeks later ...

The Italian Rivera was idyllic. They'd been here for two weeks, and they had two more weeks of honeymoon scheduled. Nico had given them some recommendation for places to eat and things to do. But mostly, they stayed in the large house, or ventured outside to swim, walk, or bike. Percy had never been so relaxed.

Which is why he felt terrible for his poor wife, who was now in bed, her hand over her eyes, complaining that she felt nauseous. They'd ruled out the food -- Percy had eaten all the same things and felt fine. She wasn't feverish. And she probably wasn't hung over. They hadn't been drinking much, favoring other sins (although, he supposed, they weren't sins anymore, now that they were married. Well, except for the anal. That was probably still sinful.)

"I'm gonna be sick," Annabeth said suddenly, tumbling out of the bed and running towards the bathroom. Percy followed behind her, kneeling on the ground next to her as she got sick, holding her hair back.

"Should I get a doctor?" Percy asked, once Annabeth seemed past the worst of it. He handed her a glass of tap water.

Annabeth leaned back on her heels. She had her thinking face on.

"How many weeks has it been since Iceland?" She asked him.

Percy counted. "Six, give or take," he said. Annabeth nodded. Percy caught up to her thinking then. "Do you think--"

Her face was neutral, her hopes low. "I think we should get a pregnancy test," she said.

Percy was able to get one himself, leaving Annabeth in the bathroom of the home, still riding out some waves of ... sickness of an inconclusive origin.

They sat next to each other on the bed as the test worked.

"How would you feel if it was positive?" Percy asked.

"Really excited," Annabeth confessed.

"If it's not?" Percy asked.

"Disappointed but ..." She took his hands and looked at him. "I know we said we'd wait a year, or a few months at least, but I think, maybe, what if we got started sooner?"

Percy kissed her. Her mouth tasted like toothpaste and mouthwash. "I'd like that," he promised.

"It should be ready," Annabeth said, standing. They'd left it in the bathroom, so neither of them would be tempted to look before it was finished.

They covered their eyes and stumbled into the bathroom.

"Count of three?" Percy said.

"One... two... three ..." Annabeth said. Both of their eyes popped open and fixed on the drugstore test. Before Percy's brain could even really process the sight of the two dark blue lines, Annabeth was hugging him and crying.

Percy hugged her back, his eyes still staring at the test in disbelieving joy. "Oh, you are so pregnant," he said. There was no misreading the clearly crossed lines.

"We're going to have a baby!" Annabeth said with a sob, crying into his shoulder. Percy gave her a good squeeze and felt himself start to cry.

"We're having a baby," he said back.

The baby, of course, was also the heir to the Swedish throne, which meant a swift end to their honeymoon. The two packed up quick, and tried to make their return to Sweden as covert as possible, but word got out anyway.

"Daddy, I'm fine," Annabeth said to her father over the phone. Fred had called before they even left Italian airspace. "I just haven't been feeling well, and I want to see our doctor, instead of some random doctor in Italy."

They were waiting to make sure everything looked okay before they got Fred's hopes up, but as consequence, Annabeth was stressing her father out. They had considered not even telling him they were coming home so soon, but of course, if anyone was going to hear about Annabeth's movements, it would be her father. And if their staff didn't tell him, Twitter would.

A few random accounts had correctly predicted the reason for their return, but Percy didn't engage with any speculation.

"I'm going to the doctor as soon as we get back, and she should have answers for us. I'll call you as soon as I know," Annabeth promised.

When she hung up, Percy took her hand. "Do you think he'll be angry?" Percy asked.

"No, we were and are married. Even if we weren't, he'd be excited," Annabeth promised.

Percy and Annabeth went right from the airport to the doctor's office. Annabeth knew that if she saw her father, she'd tell him, and she wanted to be sure there was a baby before that happened.

The doctor warned that it might be too early for a heart beat, and that if they didn't hear one, it wasn't the end of the world. But Percy was sure Annabeth's kid would be tough and above average in every way. So of course there was already a heartbeat. And of course, both parents wept the moment it was heard.

"Everything looks good here," the doctor said, pointing to the spot in Annabeth's womb that was their baby. She had a heavy Swedish accent, but spoke in English so Percy could participate. "We count weeks from the end date of your last period, not when you think conception happened, so looks like you're about seven, maybe eight weeks along?" The doctor predicted.

"But I had a period six weeks ago?" Annabeth asked.

"That might have been implantation bleeding," the doctor speculated. Annabeth nodded as if she knew what that was, but Percy had never heard of it before.

"So, everything is okay?" Percy asked.

"Everything looks great so far," the doctor promised. "We'll keep doing periodic scans, of course." Then she ran through a list of things that were normal, things to get checked out, and emergencies. Percy listened closely to all of these, taking notes on his phone, as his wife's attention drifted away from the doctor's words and back towards the screen.

They left the appointment with three sheets of sonogram pictures: one for them, one to send to Sally in New York, and one for Fred, who was waiting for them the moment they walked through the door.

Annabeth's father said a few rapid things in Swedish to her. Percy could have sworn his hair was going whiter by the minute.

"Daddy, it's okay, I'm fine," she said. Fred seemed to see her face for the first time and registered their uncontrollable joy.

"Why did you come back early?" He asked then, switching to English for Percy.

Annabeth just reached into her purse and handed him the images. Fred seemed frozen as his brain processed what his daughter had handed him.

"I thought you and the government might prefer if I was back home while I'm pregnant with the country's heir," she said.

The moment her father started to cry, so did Annabeth. While he congratulated and hugged her, Percy glanced around, and saw Hugo standing there, also near tears it seemed. Percy realized that this man must have known Annabeth for a while. Percy smiled at him. He tried to tell him this is a secret, but he was pretty sure he said: "[You hold it secret.]" Close enough. Hugo nodded.

"So soon?" Fred asked, pulling away from her. And then he looked at Percy. "So soon?"

Annabeth just shrugged while Percy floundered looking for an excuse.

"We were already married when it happened," Annabeth confirmed.

"You were pregnant during the big wedding?" Fred asked.

Annabeth nodded. "Not that we knew yet. We came back as soon as we found out."

"I'm so happy for you two," Fred said with a smile, pulling Percy in for a hug. "Now, go get some rest. News of your shortened honeymoon has broken, and people will want answers."

"We don't want the public to know this early," Annabeth said.

"We'll figure out something to say," Fred promised. "But we can figure that out tomorrow."

Not that Percy would know the difference between today and tomorrow, since all the hours were still blending together into one long sunlight-filled day.

#modern royals au #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #my writing

27 notes · View notes

eclipsethemagic · 1 day ago

Text

Snowed in |KNJ| |M|

Summary: Being roommates with Namjoon has always had it's ups and downs, but being snowed in with him? Well maybe it will be fun

Paring: Nonidol! Namjoon xf!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, lil bit of angus

sw: unprotected sex ( don't do- be safe), soft Dom Joon ( we love gentle Joon), spit, ( you'll figure it out when you see it ), praise kink, choking (f.rec), semi rough sex, expedition kink?, breeding kink ( more so reader then Joon), hand kink ( you'll see)

Song of the day: worth it by: avant + railway by: stray kids

[s.masterlist]

w.c: 3,268

a/n: I’m sorry! This was been supposed to come out, and I got so back tracked from work and then school that I just am now posting it. Don’t worry the rest of the Christmas oneshots will be posted, and if there’s any mistakes in here I’m sorry :(

Namjoon has to be an idiot if he thought that it wouldn't snow. Namjoon has to be an idiot to book a vacation with all of his friends in the middle of the mountain in the middle of December and didn't think it wouldn't snow.

He's an idiot.

He felt like the universe was laughing at him, telling him that he is indeed an idiot. And it wouldn't have been bad if he wasn't stuck with you. His roommate, one of his very best friends. But you and Namjoon weren't on talking terms at the moment, and it wasn't like he hated you. Oh no, he actually enjoyed your company throughout the whole vacation. It was just- you hated him. And it wasn't like it was a good reason too.

You and him had a disagreement about one of your good friends that Namjoon hated and he didn't want them there. Which you invited the person anyway and it sent Namjoon into a spiral. He stopped talking to you for a week, and then the week turned into a month before your trip. Yoongi, Namjoon other best friend, suggested that you two should talk before the trip, which you did on your ride there to the cabin. Namjoon and you had agreement that you two would be civil, and that you should keep your friend away from him during the trip.

Which you did.

But that was until the night before. Namjoon had just got out of the shower, he had on his sweatpants and a hoodie as he walked downstairs to the living room. Everyone was doing their own thing, Yoongi, and his boyfriend Jimin was packing their things up to leave that night leaving just you, Namjoon and that annoying ass friend of yours May. Namjoon didn't see that May was on the couch waiting for you to come downstairs, maybe it was the simple fact that any time he seen her he would just ignore her existence. "Oh it's you." Namjoon hears her voice from the bottom of the steps. A groan escapes his lips, he had two options. One was just going straight back upstairs and going to his room until she left or two go in the kitchen, hope she doesn't say anything to him and then go back upstairs. Before he could even pick any of those options the small girl walks up to him.

She smiles, flashing her pretty white teeth. May always tried to get Namjoon's attention whenever she could. And he hated it. Namjoon had a type, and May didn't check those boxes off. You know what else he hated? Was when he kissed her on new year's eve the year before. And he told her, he was drunk out of his mind when he seen her but nope. May just couldn't let him go. "Hi." It was simple enough to let her get the hint that he didn't want to talk to her. But knowing the girl in front of him, it didn't click in that tiny brain of hers. Namjoon walks past her, walking into the kitchen like planned. He then goes to grab a cup from the cabinet and opens the fridge to get some juice.

"You know, we been here for two whole weeks and haven't said a word to me." Namjoon mentally wants to shoot himself. He doesn't respond as the girl continues talking to him. "Did I do something wrong?" She ask. "Because if I did you a can tell me.." she whispers. Namjoon turns around to see her near the kitchen door, her hand playing with one of the ringers on her finger. She's not even looking at him and deep down Namjoon feels bad. I mean, she's right. He hasn't said a word to her the whole trip, but he also didn't even talk to her friend who just so happens to walk in the kitchen as well looking at them both.

"What's going on..?" You say, "is he being a dick again?" May doesn't say anything at first, her eyes still looking at the floor. Namjoon continues to pour his juice, before he hears May's voice. "I just asked him why he's been ignoring me all week." She smiles at you, it was a weak one, But she still tried to smile. You could hear the sadness in her voice as she spoke and it made you feel bad. "Joon stop being an asshole."

Dick? Asshole?

"Asshole? You're calling me an asshole?" He repeats back to you, his eyes widen and his long pointy fingers digs into his chest as he points to himself and then back at you. May's mouth goes to open before she's cut off by you. "Yes. You. You're being a dick and asshole, stop being an asshole." Namjoon lets out a little laugh, you see his jaw moves a bit before he slams the fridge close when he puts the juice back. With his glass in his hand he walks past you both, and the kitchen door slams causing May to flitch a little.

And after that, Namjoon hasn't said a word to you. Even when May left early the next morning Joon didn't even say bye to the girl, even now as the snow leaves you two stuck in, he hasn't left his room and it started to worry you. Maybe calling him an asshole and a dick was too much, but if felt right at the time. It needed to be said, because truth be told Namjoon was indeed being a dick, a bitch and everything above, over a girl who did nothing to him. Deep down his and May's relationship was never like that. Even since high school they always been somewhat cordial. But if you think about it too much, your brain starts to hurt. You knock twice on your best friend's door, nothing, so you knock again. "Hey Joon? I made you a grilled cheese and some soup. I haven't seen you all day, or have you left that room. Joonie I'm starting to worry." With a sigh you place the tray near his door. "I'll leave it by your door..please eat." And with those words you leave, going to your own room and shutting the door softy.

Namjoon doesn't open the door until he hears your door shut. Looking down he notices the food, smiling softy. Even if he was still mad at you, somehow you knew how to make his heart hurt less. He shuts the door after grabbing the food and setting it on the desk near his bed. The snow was still falling, hitting the trees and covering the ground. Growing up Namjoon loved the snow, he loved looking at it, playing with it and he loved being in it. If his parents would have gave him a chance he'll probably live in it if he could. But that's what the thing was about Namjoon, snow reminded him of you oddly enough. You were beautiful just like snow, he could look at you and not get tired of looking at you, just like snow. His heart grew 10 times more when he was near you like snow, and his mood would get 10 times better being with you like snow. And if you would give me a chance like the snow does, he'll make your life worthwhile.

Namjoon doesn't know when his fascination about you came about, but he knew that you were the most beautiful girl he laid his eyes on. His junior year in high school was the first time you came over to his house, it was the first time he seen his mom be so friendly with a girl he ever brought over. In fact it was the first time he seen his mom so excited that you'll come over the next day, and you did, you came over the next day, and the day after that and the day after that until his mom passed away. He remembers the day before she died, and the words she spoke. "Keep her son, she's a keeper. Do it for mama hm?" And ever since then Joon hasn't left your side.

It had to be 5 in the morning when Namjoon finally came out of his room. His dishes in his hand as he walks down the stairs slowly, trying to not fall. He noticed the Christmas tree lights where still on when he walks in the kitchen, setting his dishes in the sink, he walks back in the living room to turn them off, that's before he noticed you on the couch, curled up under the covers. You look so peaceful, and as much as he wants to look at you, he's questioning why you're down here in the first place. Namjoon walks over to you, he bends down and shakes you gently. "Petal." He mumbles, and he does it again when you don't wake up. You let out a groan, your eyes squeezes shut. "Petal, you have to get off the couch come on." He says and you open your eyes just a bit to look at him. He smiles softly when you shake your head, the sleep crowning your brain and Namjoon does the next best option. He picks you up, one arm underneath you as he walks back up the stairs. Your head is against his chest, falling back to sleep without a care in the world.

The few days after that, you and namjoon's relationship got better. And the first time since you two been snowed in, you actually went outside with him to play in the snow. It was the first in a very long time that he seen you smile. And that's all he ever wanted for you, was to smile. "So Christmas is tomorrow and we're stuck here." You pout as you flop on the couch next to him. "Is it that bad that you're stuck here with me?" Namjoon says as he looks up from his book. His glasses on the bridge of his nose, and he turns his head at you. "I'm not saying that it's bad that I'm with you, I'm just saying that it's bad that we're stuck here and not at home. Don't you miss your bed? I miss my bed." You still pout and it's hard for Namjoon to not smile at you.

"Technically speaking you haven't even been in your bed, you been in mines. And yes, I do I miss home, but with you? I can make a home out of anything petal." Normally his flirting wouldn't make you feel all hot, and your cheeks burn. But it did, in fact the water you were drinking made you choke after hearing those words leave his mouth. Who was he to tell you that? And why did his words have such an affect on you? And what made matters worse, is that Namjoon knew how to use his words for use- he's smart like that. And his words made your cunt throb. Yeah maybe you do need to get laid.

"Shut up." Is all you could say, Namjoon lets out a deep chuckle. his dimples on full display as he continues to look at the book he was reading. "Aw, did I make you shy?" He questions as he grabs a sticky note from the coffee table and puts it in between the part he was reading and shuts the book. "No."

"No?" He questions again as he looks at you. He notices that you quickly look away, a small smile forming on your lips that makes him want to laugh. "Okay maybe. But who just says that?"

"Say what?"

"That- are you trying to trick me right now?" Namjoon sees you tilt your head. "No, I'm being serious." He laughs and shakes his head. "Use your big girl words." Fuck, did your pussy get wetter? "Do you mean it? That you can make a home out of anything if I'm by your side?" You see Namjoon nod his head and smile. He shoots closer, and you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest. "Yeah, I mean it petal." He stares in your eyes, his dragon shaped eyes staring back at you. "Can I kiss you?"

What?

Your eyes widen as you hear your own words leave your mouth. And it doesn't make it better when Namjoon blinks, his eyes widen just like yours. "Kiss me?" He switches from English to Korean so fast that it makes you nervous. "I mean- sure?" It was a question, and that made you more nervous than before. "We don't have to-" you're cut off when you feel his plumped lips on yours. You could taste his strawberry chapstick, and a groans leaves your lips when he pulls you closer. His lips moves against yours, it was like his lips were meant for yours. Namjoon feels your hands grip his shirt, his own hands moving from the back of your neck to your waist, squeezing the fat just a bit. You don't know when you two pull away, but he looks at you, a small smile forms on his lips as he grins at you. "I'm so glad I wanted to do this." And you don't comment on it, as you pulls his face to yours to kiss you again.

Everything happened so fast, at first you two were just kissing, but then you crawled in his lap, and then you started grinding on him, and the next thing he knows is that he's on top of you, rubbing his dick against your wet folds. He's mesmerized. His dragon like eyes glued on your cunt, the way it feels so warm against him. And the sounds it makes, the sounds you make, his brain is spinning. And what makes matters worse is that he thinks your pussy is so pretty, he actually mumbles it when he first seen it. And that made you feel all warm inside. "Joon? Please? Can you fuck me please?" He hears you say, a whine leaves your throat when he groans, a fat glob of spit lands on your cunt and Namjoon rubs his dick again against you for good measure before he slides into you.

It's uncomfortable at first, since he didn't prep you and he's so big. You felt like he would split you in half, thick and big, and you should have known the stretch would burn. You feel him stop at first, your eyes fluttering close. "Do you want me to stop baby?" God the pet name. You let out a low hum opening your eyes just a bit. "No, you can keep going." He nods, and continues to slide in. When he bottoms out you feel namjoon big hand bring your legs up against your chest before he moves his hips. The couch was smaller than him, and he really tried his best not to hurt you. The last thing he wanted for yalls first time was to hurt you and for you to never let him touch you again.

Once he got the rhythm just right, a loud moan is heard from your lips. Your hand grips his arm to sturdy yourself and you feel namjoon go deeper if that was possible and his hand presses down the bottom of your stomach. "Fuck you're so tight petal." He grunts, and you're so fucked out that you don't even notice Namjoon slowing down his movements. A whine leaves your lips, and Namjoon looks down at you, he leans down to pull you in a kiss, taking your breath away before he slams his hips against yours. "S-Sorry, I thought I seen someone outside." Oh, that's right, Namjoon left the curtains wide open when he came down after he left his room in the morning. Usually it would turn you off to know someone could see you getting dicked down by your best friend but for some reason the thought of someone seeing you like this, so fucked out of your mind, being your best friend flush light, his little sex toy, that it made you even more wetter then before. "Shit- baby did you get tighter?" Namjoon lets your legs go for a moment, you feel his thumb rub against your puffy clit and your eyes roll back.

"There you go, go ahead and cream on my cock baby, that's it good fucking girl." You don't know when your orgasm hit, but you felt like you were floating. A white ring of your cum coats his dick as he goes harder, he could feel his orgasm in the bottom of his stomach. You bring namjoon's free hand to your throat, and he tilts his head for a moment. When it finally clicks, he nods and squeezes your throat and you moan. "F-Fuck baby I'm going to cum, where you want it?" In you. Is the first thought that comes to your mind. The thought of Namjoon hot seed filling you up makes your brain shut down in the best way. "In me, please baby? I want your babies, don't you want to mark me as yours? I'll be yours forever."

Fuck, Namjoon wanted that. He lets go of your throat and goes faster, with a few thrust later Namjoon cums inside you and a moan leaves his throat. After riding out his high he pulls out slowly, and he goes to kiss you again.

After you two finish cleaning up and showering you end up laying down in his bed. Your head on his chest as he rubs circles against your back. "What now?" He hears you say against him. Namjoon doesn't say anything at first, afraid of saying the wrong thing. "You..I mean do you like me?" He ask, and it makes you think. Do you like him? I mean the signs were there. You hated him when he kissed May that night, you actually hated any female he ended up dating because it wasn't you. So do you like him?

"Yeah.. do you like me?"

"I thought it was obvious." He snorts and you look up at him. "The fuck do you mean you thought it was obvious? I ain't know shit Namjoon." He bites the bottom of his lip, a laugh threatening to leave his lips. "Pay attention more?" He says and you hit his chest playfully. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He laughs. "Yes petal, I like you, I like you a lot actually. Why you think I turn down May every chance I get?" Well, you always thought it was because he was playing hard to get, or just being a dick. "Because you're a dick, why else?"

"Don't piss me off." He mumbles and rolls his eyes and it makes you giggle just a bit. "Well if that's the case, I like you too." You smile and peck his lips before laying back down. "Well that was easy enough." You hear him mumble and it makes you laugh. "Yeah, yeah."

#bts #bts fanfction #kpop #oneshots #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #hard thoughts #smut bts #christmas #25 days to christmas mini series masterlist

21 notes · View notes

oleandequill · 2 days ago

Text

You know, it drives me crazy to know that technically there’s two (at least in terms of prominence cause I think there’s also a TFA one though it doesn’t seem as talked about) canonical Shattered Glass continuities: the one made by FunPub and the IDW reboot.

Cause the thing is, those two comics have vastly different Megatrons and Optimus Primes.

Like we have FunPub Megatron who is a mathematician and Optronix who was a librarian that backstabbed his way to the top.

Then we have the IDW versions where Megatron is a miner/civil activist who keeps getting tossed into jail and Orion Pax who is a senator in this version.

And what fascinates me is that in the FunPub version, Optimus actually lives (though he becomes Nova Prime). Meanwhile, in the IDW version, I think he dies (?) or well his fate is much worse in comparison to FunPub!OP.

Also what’s up with both Megatrons having a fakeout death? FunPub!Megatron does get killed by Cyclonus but he comes back as Galvatron. Meanwhile IDW!Megatron gets defeated by OP and is momentarily thought to be dead (he just went into self-exile).

There’s not actually a lot of difference between the two OPs (cause honestly they both seem insane), though I guess one could interpret FunPub!OP as much more depressing cause the only reason he’s evil is cause he saw life as meaningless unless history remembers you and when he becomes Nova Prime, he’s still a little jerk but he’s tamer so I assume that was his original personality. IDW!OP just wants total power and only initially hides behind a nice facade.

The two Megatrons are vastly different though in my opinion. Cause FunPub!Megatron really was just some guy who predicted civil war and was good enough to want to stop it (this Megatron wasn’t affected by the caste system, he just genuinely saw something wrong was happening and chose to do something about it). IDW!Megatron was someone who was affected by the caste system and was trying his best to bring attention to it. FunPub!Megatron is also very nice (like not overly nice but he’s genuinely such a nice guy and this is why he’s my favorite aside from him being a nerd lmao). IDW!Megatron is a bit more jaded (which is fair cause the caste system is horrible and his “friend” is an asshole).

Even the relationship between OP and Megatron are different in both continuities. I’m pretty sure in FunPub these two never interacted before the war, where OP gets pissed that this random mathematician is opposing him. In IDW, OP and Megatron were “friends” with OP even bailing Megatron out of jail, though their “friendship” was already toxic even before the war cause Megatron seemed to really see through OP’s BS.

All this to say, there should really be a crossover between both continuities.

SGFunPub!Megs and SGIDW!OP meeting would be kinda fun and dangerous, especially if they meet each other before the civil war broke out. Megatron wouldn’t know who OP is while OP would see another version of his Megatron who he could possibly trick. Also this has the added bonus of a hilarious scenario where Megatron predicts OP is the cause of the civil war through math and that pisses off OP cause genuinely tf you mean you computed that through math. This one is more dangerous though as OP genuinely wants power and will not be swayed by whatever Megatron says.

SGIDW!Megs and SGFunPub!OP might honestly end up the happier version ngl. Cause OP clearly has an existential crisis that Megatron can probably fix by convincing him that OP can still be remembered in history by doing the right thing… such as being a civil rights activist. Like… I’m just saying maybe FunPub!OP needs therapy (and unlike IDW!OP, he actually gets a canonical redemption arc so he’s not completely lost).

Anyway, will I write this? Maybe (I really shouldn’t though cause I have a series and two writing requests to finish lmao). Because I am officially employed now and thus have a fixed schedule unlike the previous weeks where my schedule was erratic (which is not good for my OCD as I need a fixed schedule or I will be very upset sksksksk) as I had nothing to do but read, play video games, and exist lmao

#transformers shattered glass #shattered glass #sg idw #sg funpub #sg megop #sg megatron #sg optimus prime #optronix #megop #opmeg

29 notes · View notes

rlbbackup · 12 hours ago

Text

A year in review - 2024 (SxF)

So, after reading the lovely @unhappy-sometimes's 2024 retrospective (which I highly recommend you read!), I thought I'd do something similar!

This will be pretty long and have lots of links and tags but I hope you enjoy this little romp I took down memory lane about all the fics I wrote this past year!

All for Naught

This was a fic that was inspired by a conversation with @glacialdawn and I wrote it up completely in 12 hours. I’m not exaggerating! We were just goofing off in dms and we got on the topic of Yuri’s decision to become an SSS officer and how it relates to Yor’s raising him…and it evolved from there.

All in all, I’m VERY proud of how this fic turned out. Having it be solely from Yor’s POV and forcing her to deal with an abrupt change in how she views her brother was a lot of fun. Of all the reveals that may or may not happen in SxF, I personally feel that the Briar Siblings reveal will be the most critical. Yeah there’s betrayal involved in the TwiYor one and Anya’s reveal will likely end in bloodshed, but Yor has hid what she needed to do to raise Yuri for over a decade and a half at least. And while she admits that her brother is intense, seeing him in his work environment would probably shatter something within her. The work of the SSS isn’t glorious. Neither is that of an assassin.

All this to say that with this as the start of my fics in 2024, I’m not surprised how later fics turned out XD

Hypothetically…

While my Post-reveal, Pre-relationship series has been written almost entirely out of order, I really enjoyed the inspiration that led me to writing this one. When I saw this post by @itsmechini, the words almost poured out of me. Twilight and Yor have had a lot of things taken from them in life, things that ultimately made them who they are but they didn’t have a choice or say in the matter. Having the choice to reveal who they truly are to each other and accepting the other for who they are feels like a healing of that particular wound and I couldn’t help but put pen to paper.

I was also inspired by the writing style of the lovely Puolain while writing this, leading me to use different scene change styles and I think it flows better because of it!

I will also admit that I cried several times while writing this, especially at Yor’s answer to a hypothetical question asked. Beyond that, this was a really cathartic fic to write and I’m glad I got to share it with you guys!

Side by Side and Locked in Tight

THIS FIC.

It’s been bouncing around in my head for a long time now, since I love the song that inspired this (Cop Car by Sam Hunt - there is also a version by Keith Urban, but the Sam Hunt version feels softer so I’m going with that one XD). I had an early draft of this fic existing in my Google docs since… 2021 I think? Right after I fell down the Ken/Anya shipping cavern and haven’t wanted to climb back out.

But actually writing this fic was a STRUGGLE until talking prompts out with the people in the SxF Rare Pair server. While it was a NSFW prompt, handcuffs just broke through the fog I’d had regarding this plot idea and BOOM I was finally able to post it.

While Ken has some of the shortest character involvement in SxF, I love this kid. I get he’s practically an OC at this point, but I’m okay with that and I love playing around with how he’d interact with the Cecil Hall Gang. I want them all to be friends. Anya should have more friends!

Anyway! I go back and read this fic from time to time and I’m still happy with it. Especially the twist at the end XD

Don’t forget to lock the door

Another fic created with the help of the Rare Pair Server! (love you guys!)

One thing that makes me laugh constantly in SxF is the fact that the Forger’s apartment has a deadbolt but it looks like the Forgers never use it XD. Imagine all those times people barged into the apartment stopped by a simple use of a sliding lock 🤣So, why not make it a plot point of a fic!

I blame @creativwit for this ultimately. Though it was a pleasure to write Twilight and Franky needling each other and Yor soothing both of them. On a second/third/however many times I’ve read this thing, I still love how they are soft with each other in their own ways.

Little Black Number

A fic inspired by my own art!

Sometime in 2023, I was talking to some friends on discord when I was reminded of Princess Diana’s “Revenge Dress” that she wore after then Prince Charles’ “Tell All” interview where he sort of hinted at being unfaithful to her during their marriage. This spiraled into “I’m pretty sure Yor would look fantastic in the Revenge dress” and going from there.

Now, based on anecdotal evidence, it’s believed by myself and others that SxF takes place mostly in an alternate version of the 1960s. Endo-Sensei does mix things about the world regarding technology in his story, but the fashion is straight out of 1960s fashion magazines. So, the revenge dress is way out of the possibilities. Still. I think the dress would look good on Yor and drew it!

The dress I describe in the story is notably different (namely that the skirt is ankle/floor length versus the above knee design of the inspiration).

To the story itself, I really want Yor to have friends and while I’m still wary of Melinda I think the two of them could be close! So I wrote about them having girl time together, bonding even when they are in two different social groups and where they can compromise on things. It was a quick and fun write! I really loved this one!

A moment of weakness

This fic was inspired by @/usleepover's art on Twitter!

Like most of the other fics mentioned here, this was inspired by chats on Discord. I have USleepover and @astersugar for this. Long before ch. 109, we were wondering what would lead these two to interact, and guessed that it would probably involve Dr. Forger’s office. Now…that conversation spiraled into something wildly different from what I did in this fic, but it did inspire me.

As a little more background, I have had a fic in the background for a year and a half now where Yor experiences a medical emergency and how the Forgers’ lives change as a result. I have no idea when or if I will ever post that fic since it’s…heavy. Emotionally and mentally heavy. But I was able to write this in relation to it. While I’m not specific in what ails Yor, I did leave enough for one to guess. Like it’s larger, heavier sister, this fic took an emotional toll on me. Having someone you love in the hospital and not being able to do a damn thing to help them is…difficult. I can’t put into words exactly how difficult that is. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, that’s how bad it is. So writing Loid and Melinda come to terms that they are out of their depths and still want to do something for Yor was cathartic in a way. I’m really happy with how this one came out and still reread it on occasion.

Rendezvous

I half blame @sister-cna-reader for this 🤣Her Hidden Under Roses’ Au with McMahon and Sylvia has me in a CHOKE HOLD and I was sunk for this ship from the start. So I decided to write about it. The other person I “blame” for this is @/Ari_Gateau on AO3 for encouraging me and ultimately giving me the prompt idea in the first place! You both are wonderful and I love you dearly!

I went back and forth on where in any timeline to put this, but ultimately decided that my PRPR verse was the best place. With Twilight and Thorn Princess revealed to each other, I could see their handlers also involved in that. Handler and Director aren’t exactly friends, but they are allies enough to watch each other’s backs if they find themselves on an assignment where they have aligned goals.

Leaving this fic with the ending I did was a choice I also debated internally but I like it! And I guess that’s what matters 🤣

Pink Sakura

OH BOY THIS FIC.

The inspiration for this hit me upside the head very suddenly on Kiss Day (May 23) and I decided to choose violence. Like with Side by Side and Locked in Tight, I pulled my “canon but mostly an OC” buddy Ken back for some hanahaki “fun” 🤣This one is in the same universe as Flowers and Thorns, but this is clearly the angster younger sister. And once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. I wrote for almost three days straight before I was ready to post this. But it was worth it.

Adding Anya’s chapter wasn’t something I had originally planned (not that there was much planning involved in this fic 🤣) but once I finished Ken’s chapter, I realized there were some pretty glaring plot holes. So I used Anya to fill them and I think that worked out really well! I know hanahaki isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I enjoy it and I’m glad I wrote this one!

New Moon Blues

I return to my Myth Au! 👏 I’ve mentioned this in my author notes, but this whole au was developed by several people (@httplovecraft1890 , @gonnahypatia, @whatroguewrites, @awphooey2u, @juuyeah and @connoisseursdecomfort) and started by @foxtamer113. I couldn’t have made this without everyone’s inputs!

This one was a plot we had discussed ages ago. I think once we nailed Loid and Yor’s roles down, we almost immediately started brainstorming how Anya fit into their lives. We pretty much made her their biological child from the start (if my memory serves me), which I genuinely love in Aus. We did debate over HOW she was born, even though we agreed that she would be a baby goddess. One of the ideas mentioned was something about mingling blood and tears but we decided that the "Athena" route was much more fun to play with. In the end, I altered it just a bit mostly because of inspiration from a comment on the story before this one (Soothing Rays). (thank you to that commentor! I can’t find it right now, but you are amazing!)

Floodgates / Throwing Away Fate (just to keep you safe)

These fics are a RIDE my guys.

First off, Floodgates was originally a gift from the lovely @creativwit and I hijacked it because of conversations about this au on discord 🤣(like several others on this list amirite??) The idea of Kasper came from those conversations and we’ve grown insanely attached to him. Originally, he was going to be the contact that Garden silenced in ch 43, but we loved him too much to do that.

Since then, we had this idea of what would happen if Franky really did end up in Garden’s crosshairs, and Wit wrote the first chapter of Floodgates as a start. I’m pretty invested in Yor as a fault, so I kept thinking about how she would handle this situation and ended up writing the “interludes” for this fic. I’ve since renamed those chapters to the lyrics of Loyal, Brave, True by Christina Aguilera since that’s the song I primarily write these chapters to.

Throwing Away Fate is a prequel (hence why i’m mentioning it here) and was pulled from those same conversations. I love the idea of Kasper already been head over heels for Franky before the real action gets going in Floodgates, so I wanted to explore how he found Franky and went on this adventure running from Garden. Originally, I had wanted to write more (up until they are found in Floodgates ch. 1) but I was running out of steam and didn’t want to force myself any farther. Maybe one day I’ll (or wit, or both of us together) write the scene where Shopkeeper finds Kas. That might be fun 😈

Crosslegged in the Dim Light

Unlike the song this title is drawn from, it’s pure fluff! I saw this art by EvuriKigen and immediately started writing. There wasn’t much thought put into the development of this fic since I just started writing. The only thing I did think was that I wanted this to be in my Post Reveal/Pre relationship series, where even though Twilight and Yor have all their cards on the table, sometimes they don’t need to talk about the specifics of their jobs. They know and trust their partner, and that’s really the point of this story. 🥰

Inferno

Shifting gears pretty abruptly, we once again dive into my chats over discord 🤣While I will grumble about how Yuri’s superior doesn’t have a name 😒, I love the dynamic Endo-Sensei set up for the First Lieutenant (I know in the English version he’s called “Captain” but the Japanese says “First Lieutenant” so that’s what I’m going with!), Yuri and Chloe. So I wanted to expand on that outside of their tracking down WISE agents.

And while I know there is no evidence of any of them being closer than colleagues, my shipping brain just loves the idea of Chloe at least admiring her superior. Hence This fic.

Like Crosslegged in the Dim Light, I wrote this one very quickly and with little thought about plot. I’m pretty happy with this one!

7 Minutes in Heaven

This one was a beautiful joint venture with @cambot77, @sister-cna-reader, @strangeduckpaper and @creativwit! As with several of the last fics, this one started it’s life on discord. It was our original hope to have this done by Kiss Day (May 23) but that changed as we all kept writing. It was a blast!

Writing out a list of all the pairs to start off was a treat because I kept randomly forgetting some of them XD. But we got them all and planned out a vague idea of what could happen in each chapter. Then I used an online spinner to divide up the ships that hadn’t been previously claimed. After confirming that everyone was happy with what they had, we made the order.

Ao3’s Collections and Co-author features really helped us here and reading everyone’s chapters brought me genuine joy. It’s so wonderful watching how all of our different writing styles and takes on the characters fit together as a whole. I honestly cannot pick a favorite chapter since I love them all. Thank you all again, my dears. This project was so much fun!

Complicity

The fact that it took me 9 months to finish this one is still astounding to me 🤣I had planned for All For Naught to be a stand alone, but then I saw a prompt on the @dailytwiyorprompts tumblr and that quickly flew out the window!

Seeing everything from Twilight’s perspective and going through his mental gymnastics was honestly a blast. Not sure if there will be a follow up to this duology or not, but anything’s possible.

Psyche

The last fic I started in 2024. This is a gift for the lovely @cantareincminor and was something she requested specifically. Her prompt was: “Mole hunt arc with a twist: Garden sends Thorn Princess to Shellbury to assassinate Wheeler. Instead of Nightfall, Thorn Princess is the one to stumble upon Wheeler and Twilight. She absolutely mops the floor with Wheeler and saves Twilight. Up to you whether his mask is off or on—could be awesome either way if she believes her husband or her brother is in danger.”

No going to lie, I was completely surprised when this developed into a 10k first chapter. The second chapter is still in the works and looks like it may also end up about that length and there’s no clue about the 3rd. But I want to talk about the inspirations behind this fic beyond the prompt.

The title for this fic changed multiple times as I was writing it and probably spent more time as “untitled” than anything else. But within the day I posted it, I was struck by Orpheus by Cantare herself! I honestly love mythology (as my Myth series shows I hope 😅) and considered the wider plot of where this story would go. Without giving away too much, the story of Eros and Psyche just fits. Yor is the wife that doesn’t truly know her husband and through some twist of fate ends up finding out. While this story won’t be a one-to-one retelling of the myth, there may be echoes found within it until the end. And I’m really excited to share that with you all!

Honorable Mention: Sleeping with the Telephone

While I started this fic back in Nov 2023, a lot of it has been written in 2024. This fic has been an honest to goodness rollercoaster to write…and it’s not done yet.

In my author’s note, I mention that I originally wrote part of the first chapter as a one shot on my RP blog, but it has developed moreso than I could have anticipated. There are a lot of themes in this, from draftees suddenly leaving their children and spouses behind, to family dynamics and the struggles therein, how war impacts relationships as a whole, and the like. Of course most, if not all, of these are addressed in Spy x Family, but bringing the war back to Ostania and having them fight another country entirely was interesting.

Unlike the phenomenal @niregonnagiveyouup’s Not a Vein of Stars (which i HIGHLY recommend), I wanted to base this story around some of the hot conflicts during the Cold War. The US and USSR were infamous for recruiting other countries to help fight “their own” wars (like the Philippines sending troops to South Korea and The Warsaw pact sending troops to fight with the USSR in Albania). This still happens in the present day (such as the UK sending troops to Afghanistan and Belarus to Ukraine), even if it’s not to the same insanity that WW2 was. I don’t like it. I never have liked war, and writing this story from the perspective of a family being caught in the proverbial crossfire helped me hate it all the more.

But this story is a passion project of mine. I’m at the home stretch and re-reading this story to center myself for that happy ending I’ve promised myself really helps me love it all the more. Someday soon that fic will have a complete next to it’s name and I can’t wait.

I know this was long as heck, but thanks for sticking with me! I didn’t realize I had written so much this past year since I took a break for a good chunk of it. But in hindsight, I’m really proud of how all of these works turned out and want to thank everyone who read, left kudos and/or comments. You all are wonderful!

Happy 2025 everyone! Here’s to more stories! 🍾

#long post #Like TOO LONG #Year in retrospect #spy x family #rachel writes things #sxf fanfics #my works #behind the scenes

16 notes · View notes