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fortheloveoffanfic · 16 days ago

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Letters to Christmas: The Letter

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: Defying the logic of mail to bring you this subpar fic.

Fic summary Hozier masterlist

Summary: when Y/n's letter to an old flame ends up in the wrong mail box, Andrew decides to respond to a stranger across the pond.

Warnings: angst

Hey,

I know its been a while and I know I have no right sending this after everything, but its hard to see trees go up and not think about you. You always picked the best ones. I caved last year and got one of those plastic ones, from that department store we always went to. Its tall with frosted tips, and fills up that little space between the window and the fireplace really nicely. And there aren’t any pine needles to get caught in the floorboards, so that’s great too, but it doesn’t smell the same, but I guess a lot of things aren’t the same now. I haven’t decorated it yet, not like it matters, there’s no one but me here to see it and it feels awfully silly to decorate a tree that no one else is gonna see.

How’s the job going? And country living? Hopefully its everything you thought it would be, if there's anyone on this fucked up planet that deserves every shread of happiness that comes their way, its you. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted. Its funny how I used to know exactly what that was and now…..now we’re practically strangers.

Milo’s gone. I can’t remember if we’ve spoken since it happened, but we should’ve, you were his favorite person. But anyway, he was a happy cat, and it was quiet and easy. He just went to sleep on your chair one night and never woke up, he missed you so much, until the very end.

But enough of that.

If you do reply, send me a picture of an Irish winter, hopefully its prettier than Seattle around this time. Though, it doesn’t take much to be prettier than gray skies and slush on the sidewalk. Tell me about what work’s like, and your life there. Say anything.

I don’t know why I’m writing this, I guess I’m lonely. Or maybe bored, like you said. Maybe I’m looking for something that I only ever had with you – maybe I'll never have it with anyone else.

Love always,

Y/n.

There’s something in-between the penultimate and last paragraphs, but its been scratched off with such vigor that it isn't legible in the slightest. The dark patch of ink almost resembles those redacted documents in movies about rouge spies and wayward government agents and it makes Andrew think that whatever the letter’s author had written there must be so personal that they have no choice but to keep it near and dear. Its a secret that can’t be shared with someone she loves so deeply, so why should she share it with him, a total stranger thousands of miles away from her?

Then it hits him – almost an hour after pouring over this obviously personal letter, scrawled in slanted penmanship that reminds him of his own – these words were never meant for his eyes. He’s a stranger looking in, dragging his thumb along a little bleed in the ink that resembles a tear stain like the intruder he is. Its almost as bad as looking into someone’s window, except this person, whose face he’s never seen and whose voice he may never hear, won’t ever know that he is doing something that borders unspeakable.

Or will she?

Andrew has had the overwhelming urge to pen a response since his first reading of the letter that accidently made its way into his postbox. An accident – it couldn’t have been anything but that. It was addressed to a house one block over; 124 Crescent Avenue – his house is 124 Crenshaw Avenue, so he understands the mistake. Though, when he’d bundled himself up and walked over to Crescent Avenue, the house that the letter should have been delivered to was vacant with a ‘for sale’ sign pitched in the damp grass.

He should have taken it back to the post office, but snow had fallen on his mailbox, and subsequently melted, skewing the name on the front of the envelope so much that he could only make out a couple letters. It would have probably just been stamped with the words 'return to sender’ anyway, so really, he’s doing this person a service by offering them the illusion of receipt.

But that’s just an excuse concocted by prying eyes and a curious mind – and it does not deal with the itch to reply.

There’s just something about the ache welling off the page that resonates with him. Coming off a break-up himself, Andrew understands the sense of hopelessness that gets tangled up in an end. The ‘what if’s and ‘what could I have done?’s. Far too often, he thinks about the things he did that caused the demise of his own relationship;

It had started off as blaming her for not trying hard enough to understand him, but eventually, he’d come to terms with his own, albeit larger, role in the matter. Perhaps he should have tried harder to be someone she could understand.

Most days, Andrew tells himself that he’d do everything in his power to be different if she ever gives him a second – or rather third – chance. Though, he has very little faith in his ability to change. But he does know he’ll do anything to have things go back to the way they were before.

Rereading the bit about Y/n’s store bought tree, Andrew contemplates the amount of time he expends lately, watching his own, undecorated tree and thinking about the woman that used to carefully hang tinsel off the branches and hopes that she’s missing him the way he misses her, if only it would mean that she would allow him some undeserved opportunity for redemption.

Sloane. He was so sure it was going to be her for the rest of his life. They'd been together for so long that he isn't really sure that he quite knows how to do life without her.

The way things were, clearly they weren’t very good so why is he so eager to relive them?

He wonders if the writer of the letter in his hand – Y/n – feels the same way about her nameless person. Does she think about all the things she’d change if she had a second chance? She seems as lonely as he does right now, so perhaps she would.

Andrew wonders what she did to warrant the idea that her letter wouldn’t be welcome. As he does, he runs his thumb over her name at the bottom of the page, and suddenly his imagination is running wild with all sorts of thoughts. He wonders what she’s like, how she sounds and if she’s the sort of person that writes letters often. Maybe it was something special between her and the person she’d been hoping to reach, or maybe its something she just does. Anyhow, he likes it. he’s always wanted someone to write to when he’s away. Most of the people in his life prefer texting, because its faster, and its no easy task to converse via pen and paper when you’re on the road, covering three states in a week.

The rest of the day goes by so listlessly that he can’t help but let his mind stray to the letter over and over. It feels almost comical that he's sparing all this time thinking about words on a page, written by someone he’s never met.

By the time he gets to bed at around one am that night, a good fifteen hours since he first read Y/n’s letter, Andrew is staring at it again. The edges have now been softened by the number of times he'd picked it up and the words "Love always, Y/n" are underlined in his mind like a quiet echo, lingering longer than he liked to admit. He keeps wondering what she’d sound like if he could hear her say it which only serves to make him feel even more like an intruder, a stranger peering into someone else’s heartbreak.

Yet, he can’t shake the pull. It isn’t just her words; its the way they mirror his own thoughts. The hollow ache of losing something—someone—without ever knowing if you could have done better. Her loneliness is so painfully familiar, matching his own.

"She deserves her privacy," he mutters to himself, running his fingers over the previously untouched notebook that he’d brought along to bed. He keeps telling himself he’d only picked up because he’s been meaning to flesh out a couple ideas that have been swirling around over the past week. But the only person he’s lying to is himself, and he’s not doing a very good job of it.

Leaning back against the headboard, he exhaled sharply. "But what if..."

The thought was absurd, but it stuck. What if replying made things better, even if just for her? What if this small act of acknowledgment meant she didn’t have to feel like her words had been sent into the void?

Wouldn’t he like it if someone did it for him? He isn’t quite sure.

Nonetheless, Andrew reaches forward, pulls the notebook onto his lap, and uncaps his pen. The words started slowly, stilted, but they came:

Dear Y/n,

We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter……..

Y/n feels awfully stupid about sending that letter, but what makes her feel even worse is checking her mailbox in the lobby everyday only to find it empty. Its been a week since she sent it off, and she’s almost certain that its reached its destination by now.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you, a small voice insists. Y/n doesn’t think she has any right to grieve over it, she’s the whole reason their relationship met its ugly demise. It was her selfishness, her stubbornness, her putting her own needs over his. So really, she had absolutely no right to the privilege of his time or attention, but that doesn’t mean she can’t miss him.

Shaking off the memory, she slaps the little, brass door closed, locks it and trudges towards the elevator, defeated. Maybe its time to accept that he is not going to write back – maybe its about time she starts accepting that its over between them. For good, its done; she ruined it. She stomped all over the best thing she’s ever had and there’s no use crying about it now – though, after a couple glasses of wine, she probably will.

For almost ten years, they used to be each other’s everything, doesn’t that mean anything to him anymore?

"Ten years, Y/n. Ten fucking years," he stresses, running worn fingers through his wind touseled hair, "you can write from anywhere in the world. Seattle.....Ireland. Doesn't this - us - mean enough to you for you to give it a try?"

As the dull, metallic doors slide closed, effectively shutting out all the activity in the lobby, Y/n presses the worn button that’ll take her to the seventh floor and just when the elevator starts going up, a familiar Christmas tune comes over the speakers. Pressing her back to the cool reflective wall, she finds herself humming along to it. Even if she isn't in the grandest mood, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice never fails to lighten the weight on her shoulders. For a minute, Y/n shuts her eyes and lets a little fantasy take her;

He’ll write back, say he misses her. In another follow-up letter, she will apologize and ask if there’s still any chance for them. He’ll say yes – in her mind, he always says yes because, sometimes, you can love someone enough to give them a second chance.

In her silly little unmade memory, it all works out somehow. They do the long distance thing for a while, until he’s ready to come home to her.

The ding of the elevator startles Y/n out of thought, and with a jump, she pushes off the wall and awkwardly tugs at her cashmere scarf. “So stupid,” she mutters, shoving the strap of her bag higher up on her shoulder, clad in a heavy, gray long coat. Stepping out into the long hallway, she twists her frame awkwardly to reach into her handbag, rummaging around for her keys.

Y/n is within a few feet of her door, the last one down a hall that houses four other apartments, heeled boots wet with melting snow thumping softly on the long strip of burgundy and gold carpet. “Y/n!” The door right before hers swings open with the sort of enthusiasm that can only be mustered up by her eccentric, and frustratingly nosey, neighbor. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Gladis,” Y/n tries to hide her groan under a bubbly smile, “me? Why?” God, please let this be a quick conversation.

“Gosh, I swear, its like I never see you,” the older woman bulldozes right over her earlier question, “I'd never think you lived next door if it wasn’t for all those packages that get dropped off – a little shopping addiction, have we?”

Y/n chuckles wearily, quickly thinking up excuses that would validate an escape from the clutches of small talk with Gladis. “Ha, maybe,” she licks her lips and rubs her thumb along the side of her house key, “you know, i’d love to chat but I have a meeting in…..” pretending to check her watch, she summons a gasp that would make her highschool drama teacher proud, “thirty minutes, so I really should get going.”

“Oh, well, then,” Gladis frowns, “let me just give you this, I think your mail got mixed up in mine,” she explains, handing over a brown envelope littered with stamps on the front. “Coming all the way from Ireland, Peter’s out there, isn’t he?”

The envelope feels heavier than she’d expected. It wasn’t just the weight of the paper; it was the promise of something inside. A response. From Peter? Her heart twisted at the thought, but the handwriting on the front didn’t match his neat, precise script. This was different—messier, almost rushed.

Furrowing her brows, Y/n stares at the address that she’s certain isn’t Peter's. “Huh,” briefly, she glances back up at Gladis, “What? Oh, yeah, he is,” she rattles off, now even more eager to muster up a quick good-bye and be on her way. “Look um, I should go.”

“Oh, of course. Busy busy,” Gladis chuckles softly, then, as Y/n starts walking off, she adds in a tone of pesky judgment, “too busy to even decorate, I see.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Y/n slips her key into the lock. Of course, even she can admit how sad and plain her door, lacking a wreath like Gladis’ and her other neighbors, but Y/n just can’t seem to bring herself to decorate. Every time she looks at the boxes she’s pulled out of storage, it makes her a little sad – no Peter to insist on mistletoe in every doorway, or Milo to swat at twinkling lights with his tiny paw. “Yeah,” Y/n licks her lips, “something like that. Take care Gladis,” she manages soberly before slipping inside.

Upon shutting the door, Y/n presses her back to the cool, white-painted oak she gives the brown envelope another long look. She hesitates, her fingers trembling as they finally slide under the flap to tear it open. The crinkle of the paper fills the silence of her apartment as she unfolded the letter, joining the slight shake of her breathing.

Getting it out, the name at the bottom catches her eye first: Andy. Not Peter.

Y/n blinked. Confusion giving way to curiosity as she reads the opening lines.

“We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter...”

A stranger. A stranger had read her words. Her cheeks flushed hot, and she almost crumpled the paper on instinct, shame pooling in her chest. But something stops her. She can’t just do that, not when this stranger has given her time out of his day to offer whatever comfort he can muster up for someone oceans away.

So stumbles out of the foyer and into the living room, dropping herself unceremoniously onto the long sofa as she keeps reading.

Dear Y/n,

We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter but I hope you don’t mind me writing this. I know this is wrong—it wasn’t meant for me, and for that, I’m truly sorry. But I promise you, I tried to do the right thing and take it to its intended address, but the house is empty and up for sale, and the snow has all but ruined the envelope. So here I am, writing to a stranger, hoping I’m not overstepping by responding.

I’m Andy. Well, Andrew. You know, I’m not really sure how to do this.

But your words stayed with me. They remind me of something I’ve lost—or maybe, thrown away. I can’t explain it, but your letter didn’t feel like something I could just set aside. It was raw, honest and that kind of loneliness…….I think understand it. I know what it's like to feel like you’ve screwed everything up. To become a stranger to someone you used to know better than the back of your own hand. Its funny how that happens, how someone can become such a huge part of your life and know everything about you, and you think you know everything about them. And then one day they just…..leave, but you can’t really blame them because its all your fault.

I’m also sorry about your Milo, losing a pet is like losing a piece of your home. But for what its worth, I’m sure he appreciated you being there with him until the end. It's such a simple joy, having someone that stays until the end, not that I would know anything about it. I seem to have a knack for driving people away.

As for your tree, I have to admit that mine’s just as sad. It’s just sitting undecorated in the corner of my living room, looking a bit sorry for itself. I keep telling myself I’ll get around to putting up the lights and ornaments, but it feels strange doing it alone, I used to have someone to help me decorate too. But she’s gone now, and maybe this is my way of avoiding the reminder of what’s missing.

You asked about Irish winters. If I’m being honest, they’re usually pretty gray and the cold kind of seeps into your bones. Wicklow is never short on snow, or rain, so we’re no stranger to slush. And iced-over driveways. But so far, we’ve had a good one this year, no too much rain so the snow stays put – my driveways still frozen, though. Sometimes, at least where I’m from, it gets so quiet, almost like the world’s holding its breath. Its beautiful, its lonely.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this, except that it feels like the right thing to do. I don’t know what you were hoping to find when you sent your letter, but maybe this reply means that neither of us has wasted the effort. If you do write back, I’d like to hear more about your plastic tree—and maybe even see a picture. I’ll send one of mine in return. Let’s make it a contest. May the best tree win.

Take care, Y/n. And thank you for making me feel a little less lonely.

– Andy.

By the time she reaches the end, Y/n’s chest aches in a way that isn’t unpleasant. The tone isn’t mocking or dismissive. Its... kind. Empathetic. This Andy doesn’t know her, but somehow, he understands.

It takes her a handful of minutes to process everything that’s happened; her hope of reconnecting with Peter, this newfound affinity with a man she’s never met. Suddenly, and quite surprisingly, Y/n doesn’t feel the loss so greatly anymore.

Though, the longer Y/n stares at the letter, its neatly folded edges sharp when she drags her fingers along them, the more she starts feeling a tightness in her stomach. The kindness in his tone, the shared loneliness in his admissions, the unexpected warmth that radiated from every line—all of it made her chest ache in ways she couldn’t untangle.

But she can't shake the shame curling in her stomach.

Letting it go, she presses her fingertips to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. What was I thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, that's the truth. Sending that letter to Peter—an impulse born from desperation and the relentless tug of the holiday season—was foolish enough. But now, knowing a stranger has read her most private thoughts, her rawest emotions? Its borders unbearable.

Her cheeks burn at the memory of her own words, the confessions she’d stupidly spilled without thinking. “Maybe I’m looking for something that I only ever had with you.” How could she have written that? Would she even say that to Peter had they been on the phone, or in the same room? Probably not. And now, Andrew—a stranger—had seen it, read it, felt sorry for her.

She swallows hard, a lump forming in her throat and embarrassment suddenly gives way to anger that boils up and makes her skin hot. “He shouldn’t have opened it,” she mutters to the. “He had no right.” But the protest sounds hollow, even to her own ears. The house was vacant, and the envelope had been damaged by the snow. Andrew’s apology seemed sincere, and his intentions genuine.

But writing back to him feels... wrong. Like a betrayal of something she isn’t ready to let go of. She still loves Peter, these are thoughts meant for him, these feelings belong to him – she can’t just give her innermost thoughts to someone else like that.

Y/n spends so long wrapped up in turmoil that she almost forgets that there were other things besides Andrew’s letter in the envelope, until she goes to move it off her jean-cald lap and two photographs slip out. Drawing in a sharp breath, she collects them off the tweed cushion. The first one is of a backyard she’s never seen before, the pool is covered and there are patches of snow gathered near tall trees with white flecks peppered on the bare bones of ornamental bushes. The yard retreats into what she guesses is the forest, and she wonders what it must be like living so close to wildlife; she’s lived in the city all her life with only a couple vacations to the likes of Aspen and Maine – both with Peter – but seeing that much foliage in person is still foreign to her.

The second picture is of a sparse Christmas tree standing in front of a wide, floor to ceiling window. Its so tall, it almost reaches the high ceilings of what seems like a spacious living room. Her finger traces the outline of the tree, and she thinks back on what he said about not having someone to help him decorate. When Y/n turns it over, there note scrawled on the back and it reads: "Mine’s a little sad too."

Then, for the first time in days, Y/n smiles……and the anger wans.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #fanficton #holiday fic #letters to Christmas

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 6 months ago

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Jo Explains with Tarot : Solomon's Unforgettable Past

Incoming long winded explanation/analyzation about the Festival of Flowers from Solomon's "Unforgettable Past" Devilgram, but doing it with tarot cards. So, spoilers ahead and lots of nonsense beyond this point if this isn't your thing :) I broke this into sections so it'd be easier to read...hopefully.

Please note: these are my interpretations of the cards. Your interpretations may be different, and that's okay! That's great even. That just means there's more to learn from the cards than just one perspective. So neither of us are wrong, we just see things in different ways. Don't be afraid to expand with your own thoughts if you want!

So, I realized something recently. One of the days on the Obey Me calendar was the Devildom Flower Festival, held annually on June 20th. And I think it's safe to say it's the same festival you visit with Solomon in his card "Unforgettable Past."

In that, he explains the war the Devildom commemorates every year and the legend behind it. The timespan of the war was 7 days. So...from June 20th (not counting it) we'd see that the war started on June 13th.

Why does any of this matter? Well, it probably doesn't to anyone but me, but here I'm going to explain the significance of those dates with...tarot cards!

How this works is how you would calculate your personal birth cards. It's really simple. Just add up all the numbers in the date, but not before making each digit a single digit, to get your results. Usually you get two cards, though there are special instances where some might get three, but's not as common. (I'll use a random date as an example: 8/10/1983 - 8+1+0+1+9+8+3 = 30. There's only 21 major arcana cards that are applicable, so you'd break the 30 down as well to get 3 - the Empress. To get the second card from 3, you use what adds to make 3 which would be 1+2, put those together and you get 12 - the Hanged Man. It's kind of like the reversal of what we did to get the first card. I hope I explained that well enough.

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June 13th

With that out of the way, let's start with June 13, 6/13. This would give us 10. The tenth card in the major arcana is the Wheel of Fortune. Break down 10, and we get 1. The first card of the major arcana (ignoring the Fool since it's the zeroth card) is, ironically, the Magician.

The Magician card focuses on what you already have and expanding on those skills. Pictured in the card, there is one of each suit from the minor arcana laying on a table (one wand, cup, sword, and pentacle). Those represent the ace cards of those suits, which usually indicate beginnings or starting points. Essentially, the Magician already has novice level skills to help him navigate through his journeys, and as he experiences more his knowledge will grow and he'll "collect" more of each suit. He's an innovator, a go-getter, and as long as he keeps his head on his shoulders and doesn't get ahead of himself, he'll progress just fine. Also pictured is the Magician holding a candle in the air while pointing downwards with his free hand. To me, this could represent a guiding light, a symbol of the fifth element: spirit (as above, so below), a eureka! moment (the lightbulb over someone's head), or that he's declaring his own start - like charging into something with vigor. He's also got an infinity sign above his head, but that'll come in later...

The Wheel of Fortune focuses on chance and opportunity. Sometimes it's an indication of reigning in a new future or era, whether it's within our personal lives or seeing it unfold through society. A few things to note in the illustration is the little red guy??, the sphinx, and the snake surrounding the wheel. To me, I see the red guy kind of fox-like, or even devilish. Regardless, he's sneaky, cunning, willing to take risks to see himself come out at the top in the end. The sphinx is holding a sword, reminding me of the Justice card, or the suit of swords. The sphinx is logical, wielding rationale as a weapon should taking the risk turn to be less than ideal or difficult. A sharp intellect, if you will. And the snake, to me, represents the temptation of wanting to go along with something for the sake of knowledge or curiosity. There's also the three animals and one angel in the corners of the card, but I won't go into detail on them for the sake of brevity. But to me, they represent higher wisdom, or that the fate of the wheel is divinely guided.

According to his Devilgram story, he'd spoken to a demon in the human realm, which sparked the brazen idea that he could convince the Demon King and his citizens to work under him. It was an opportunity, a risk he was willing to take if it meant a more favorable fate/outcome for the human realm. Obviously, Solomon thought that he had what it took to get the king to see reason, whether it be through charm and wit alone, or through more brutal means. By that point, he was already able to subjugate demons to his will, so why not go father when the opportunity presents itself? Perhaps even doing so to test his own strength and power.

So, he had the skill, he had the charisma, but he also had the arrogance of the Magician in reverse. All he had to do was take matters into his own hands for the sake of "furthering human kind's development," find an opening, show just how powerful humans could be, and strike. And he struck hard. Solomon took his risk and fought with everything he had in him. Alone. That day, he held the destiny of the human realm in his hands.

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June 20th

Onto the eighth day, June 20, 6/20. Adding this gives us 8, which is the eighth card - Strength. And then 1+7 = 8, so put those together to get the number 17 - the Star.

The Strength card is just about that: strength. Strength doesn't have to be physical. More often than not, our inner courage defines our true strength. In this card, we see a woman who looks to be petting a lion. Whether she's attempting to befriend him or trying to soothe him, she's showing great bravery by approaching the situation with calmness and gentility. In the face of what could be a problematic situation, if not dealt with swiftly/correctly, this card reminds us that we have the option to fight with fearlessness, approach with a silent confidence, or we can choose to walk away altogether. Then that leads us to either being the bigger person or being cowardly, depending on the issue at hand. So, remember I mentioned the infinity symbol above the Magician's head? The lady in this card has one above her head as well. This, to me, is a call back that we have the skills to handle any problem that arises. We are equipped with strength and courage and any learned tricks we may have up our sleeve to give us the upper hand.

The Star is one of the more positive cards in the tarot deck (aside from the Sun of course). Maybe uplifting is a better way to describe it. This card holds hope for a brighter future, a better tomorrow. The Star reminds us that it's okay to heal, breathe, and wish upon hope that things can get better. The sky is the limit. In this illustration, there's a woman pouring water back into what looks to be a river with her foot hovering over it. It's almost like she'd lost hope to the cruelty of life, but she's ready try again and slowly dip her toes back in. She's allowing herself time to do so, reflecting on why she wants to and why she's ready, like affirmations. The ripples in the water remind me of both the ripple effect and of manifestations. By taking the initiative, good things may come her way or she may make change within the world around her. Also, in her other hand she's got another pitcher that's pouring out water onto the ground. We can take this either that she's unknowingly nurturing something in the midst of her finding herself, or that by enveloping herself in this new hope, she's actively pouring out the old.

On the eighth day, Solomon vanishes, ultimately putting a stop to the fighting. What led up to this decision, we don't know. Although, you can ask Solomon if "the sorcerer" just threw in the towel, to which he stills for a moment, almost as if he were offended or caught of guard by our question. He doesn't elaborate on that further, only responding with- "maybe. We'll never know for sure." It's telling that to him it obviously wasn't a matter of giving up. There was more at stake than just his pride or lust for power. And he made the decision to walk away when he probably could've went on for much longer.

And why would he leave a field of flowers as a "parting gift" if it meant nothing? He's a pretty cryptic guy, after all. But again, we don't know why exactly he did so. It could've been a promise that humanity would further on its own and they'd one day see he was right. Maybe it was the hope that the realms could coincide someday and that he recognized the Devildom's power. Or simply, it was his version of a "white flag." No matter what he originally meant by them, the flowers would go on to be the focus of the festival to commemorate the Devildom's victory. In Solomon's words, "it's a day to hope for peace and prosperity throughout the land."

#this was probably a waste of my time but whoo! it is done!!#idk i just found it neat the tarot cards made sense regarding the dates of the war #also the war ended on the last day of gemini...wonder if that means anything? lol probably not... unless?#do i make this into a series? idk maybe that's something i'll think about if people are into this sort of thing #definitely been wanting to do their birthdays...so maybe i'll finally get around to doing that #they wouldn't be as long as this though whew-#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbriger spoilers #obey me solomon #jo's thoughts

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arvandus · 6 months ago

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Picture Perfect (Sakura x f!OC)

Warnings: None! Pure fluff!

WC: 1,832

Author's note: this is a (very late) commission for @shhroomer as part of the @ficsforgaza event that I'm participating in! Thank you again for your support, and my apologies it took me so long to get this finished for you! I hope you like it!

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Sakura wasn’t sure exactly when Fujiwara started joining him, Suo, and Nirei on their patrols. All he did know was that he’d gotten used to it. Even though half of the time she got distracted, trailing behind to sketch in her sketchbook, or take pictures with the camera on her phone. She took pictures of everything, he realized... storefronts, people, the sky... even the graffiti. And she was always drawing, her sketchbook in one hand and her pencil in the other.

Sakura always liked peeking glances at her as she drew, taking in the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her pink tongue would stick out of the corner of her mouth. From a distance, she looked intimidating – black hair with long, bleached strands, piercings lining the pinna of her ears, her clothes loose and baggy, with an edge to them brought on by her chosen color palette.

But where others might have seen someone aggressive or off-putting, Sakura simply saw her as cute.

Today was different than the other days, though... today, Fujiwara had something box-like hanging from a thick strap around her neck.

“What’s that?” Sakura asked as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, this?” she looked down at the object and lifted it up. “It’s a polaroid camera! Isn’t it cool??”

“Eh?? Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“I like this better. The pictures feel more real and kinda nostalgic.” Plus,” she giggled, “It’s fun to flip the polaroid to make the picture show.”

Sakura stared down at her for a moment, then gave dry scoff.

Fujiwara’s violet eyes widened, and she poked Sakura’s arm. “Are you laughing at me??”

Sakura felt his cheeks warm. “What?! No!”

“Oh, he definitely laughed...” Suo said with a smirk. Nirei vigorously nodded his agreement next to him.

The heat in Sakura’s cheeks spread to his ears and down his neck. This whole time his two vice captains had kept their mouth shut and kept their distance. The fact that they chose now to chime in...

But before the playful argument could draw out, they were interrupted by an old shopkeeper, an elderly woman with thick glasses and wide smile.

“It’s so good to see you!” she beamed. “I have something for you boys....”

A moment later, Sakura, Suo, and Nirei each held a bag filled with containers of yakitori. Nirei was already opening his to take a bite, while Suo kept his sealed with the intent of taking it home. Sakura opened his as well, but paused when he noticed that Fujiwara was further away from him now, her sketchbook held protectively against her chest.

He’d come to realize over time that she only ever did that when she felt shy or out of place.

“You okay?” he asked. “Why are you so far away all of a sudden?”

“Me??” Fujiwara flushed. “No reason. I just don’t like to be in the way when your fans show up.”

Sakura stared at her for a moment, the stick of yakitori still in his hand. Then he thrust it out toward her.

“Here.”

“Huh?”

“Have one. They always give me too much.”

“A-are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Fujiwara gently took it from him. “Thanks!” she smiled. She subconsciously took a couple of steps closer and Sakura’s chest tightened with warmth. He liked having her close...

The sticky teriyaki was nearly dripping down the side and she held it out and leaned towards as she took a bite, struggling to keep her sketchbook and her camera clean.

“Oy,” Sakura grumbled. “Give me your stuff before you ruin it.”

Before Fujiwara could respond, Sakura had closed the gap between them and was removing the camera from around her neck and the sketchbook from her arm.

“What about you?” she protested. “You haven’t had any yet...”

“I’ll eat it later, I’m not hungry,” he lied.

“You’re a terrible liar, Sakura,” she teased. But she ate anyway, making quick work of the food partially out of hunger, and partially to allow Sakura a chance to eat as well.

As she ate, he looked at her camera that now hung around his neck.

“Why do you take so many pictures all the time?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, because there’s so much to see here!”

Sakura stared at her in blatant confusion. “Eh?”

“You don’t ever look around and notice how pretty things are?” Fujiwara asked with a curious tilt of her head. “Like yesterday, the sunset was the color of sherbert. And the graffiti around here is so unique and cool... oh! I have an idea. Why don’t you try taking some pictures? Here, you turn on the polaroid right here...” she flipped a small dial switch from red to green. “And then you look through this part and press this button.”

Embarrassment started to freeze up Sakura’s body, and he glanced back at his comrades...

Only to find that they were nowhere to be found. They’d managed to sneak away as soon as they reached the end of their patrol route, leaving Sakura to fend for himself.

Jerks...

“You want me to take a picture??” he stuttered. “Of what?”

“Of whatever you want!” she said with a smile. Her stick was empty and licked clean now, and she threw it away in the nearest trash can. She didn’t notice, however, that the corner of her mouth still had some teriyaki sauce on it...

Cute...

“You have some...” he started, then pointed to the corner of his mouth.

Fujiwara flushed, her eyes wide with embarrassment. “What?? It’s on my face? I need a napkin...” she started to look around, spinning in circles, and Sakura couldn’t help but chuckle as he pulled one from the bag he was given.

“Here,” he said.

Fujiwara yanked it from his hand and quickly wiped at her mouth, double and triple checking to make sure she’d gotten it all.

Sakura stared at her for a moment and then looked down at the camera. He shifted his hold on the items until he could hold the camera with a free hand. He lifted it and centered the image of her within the eye piece and clicked it.

Fujiwara froze as her pink cheeks turned practically red.

“D-DID YOU JUST TAKE A PICTURE OF ME??” she shouted.

“W-well, yeah! You said—”

Fujiwara was on him in an instant and snatched the polaroid photo that slowly popped out of the bottom of the camera.

“Give me that!!” she demanded. Then she took it and threw it into the trash can without even looking at it.

“WHAT?? WHAT’D YOU DO THAT FOR??” Sakura demanded.

“I didn’t mean take a picture of me!” she retorted, now entirely flustered.

Her eyes avoided his, and guilt crept from Sakura’s chest to his gut. Did... did he do something wrong??

His lips jutted into a pout and he looked away as he took the camera strap off of his neck. He thrusted it back into her arms along with her sketchbook.

“I told you wasn’t any good at this stuff...” he muttered.

He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and walked over to the fence that followed the river. He leaned his forearms against it and stared into the flowing waters. Fujiwara stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide. Then guilt softened her gaze. She looked down at her camera and then up at Sakura. She looked back at the trash can where she’d thrown the photo away. She took a hesitant breath and went over to it. Lucky for her, the trash can was nearly full, most of it consisting of bags, cans, and papers. And on top of it all, sat her photo, her surprised face now staring back at her.

Carefully she grabbed it and looked it over, checking both sides. Luckily it wasn’t dirty.

She stared at the picture and cringed. It wasn’t a good picture of her, at least not in her opinion...

But there must have been something that Sakura saw, something that was worth capturing, even if she might not see it.

She quietly went back to join him against the railing. Her grip tightened as she held out the undamaged photo to him.

“Here,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just... I didn’t think it would be a good picture of me.”

Sakura stared at the photo in her hand, and the icy ache in his gut began to warm again. He reached out for it, but her hand withdrew it.

“But....” she said, “I’ll only let you have this if you take a picture with me first.”

“Ha??” Sakura flustered. “How is that fair?”

“You get a picture of me, I get a picture of you,” she replied.

“You have a bunch of pictures of me!” Sakura countered. “You’re always taking pictures of me when I’m on patrol! Don’t think I don’t notice!”

Fujiwara flushed. “That... that’s different! That’s for artistic purposes, documenting the memories of Bofurin!”

“And this one is what? Personal?” Sakura countered, his heart pounding and cheeks hot.

Fujiwara froze, her jaw clenching slightly, before she spoke. “Yes.”

Sakura was stunned into silence, his eyes wide as they took in Fujiwara’s stubborn pout, the way her violet eyes both seemed to avoid his gaze but also bathe in the sight of him at the same time. A soft breeze pushed a few strands of her hair across her face, and he fought the sudden urge to tuck it behind her ear.

Sakura swallowed and then nodded. “Okay. Fine.”

He loved the way she smiled, the way everything about her shifted from nervousness to joy. She held out the polaroid, lining it up as best she could before clicking the button. A moment later, the polaroid poked out, and she removed it, shaking the photo to help it clear up faster.

Sakura watched as their faces slowly appeared. She was smiling, her head leaned towards him as if she were truly happy, as if she really wanted to be there with him, close to him. Sakura didn’t smile, but he wasn’t glowering like he used to, and it was the first time he’d seen a picture of himself where he could tell that he was actually happy.

“That’s a good one,” she whispered.

Sakura watched with longing as she tucked it away into the back of her sketchbook. A moment later, she handed over the photo of her that he’d taken.

He took it gingerly from her and started at it, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly in a hint of a smile. She really was cute... he wasn’t sure why she got so upset over it...

But for some reason, this new, unfamiliar sense of longing wasn’t entirely satisfied. His mind went back to the photo she’d tucked away of the two of them.

“Fujiwara...” he muttered.

“Hm??”

“Can.... can we take one more?”

#fics for gaza #wind breaker #sakura haruka #sakura x OC

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bihansthot · 1 year ago

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Bi-Han’s IKEA Adventure

Pairing: Bi-Han x gender neutral!reader

Rating: Teen Plus? Mature? (suggestive themes and lots of swears, no smut)

Summary: You and Bi-Han go to IKEA to replace a broken desk, unfortunately for you, you get lost and have to wait for Sub-Zero to rescue you.

Author Notes: “qīn” is Mandarin for bae/babe and is my stand in for “y/n”, you don’t have to read it but you’ll notice little things if you’ve read Earning Your Keep. Gouta is my name I made up for Cyrax it means golden. This one is dumb and silly but I spent too much time watching videos of walkthroughs of the IKEA in Harbin so hopefully it matches up. I haven’t been to an IKEA in quite sometime so please enjoy it with a grain of salt lol. As always please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it. Hope you lovelies enjoy!

“We get in, we get out, no getting distracted by kitchenwares or baby shit you understand me qīn? We’re here for a new desk for my study, nothing else,” Bi-Han grips your shoulders and goes through his game plan with the calculated precision that came from years of being the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster.

“New desk and baby shit, got it,” you reply your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No. No! No baby shit, just a desk!” He repeats sternly, his brows furrowing into an unpleasant grimace.

“Ok, ok,” you wave him off and shrug out of his grip to grab a trolly and bag to attach to it, “to carry the desk,” you cut him off before the cryomancer can question you.

“Ok, good. Let’s do this,” he takes a deep breath and an employee gives him an odd look as the air around him condenses and little snowflakes fall from his exhalation.

Bi-Han did not like IKEA, a fact you were well aware of but being in remote China left you with few choices when it came to getting new furniture. Your options were to wait months for a master craftsman to carve a new desk for Bi-Han or as you suggested make the pilgrimage to the IKEA in Harbin. The cryomancer reluctantly chose the latter as it was nearly impossible to go through all of his paperwork in just a chair. You just hoped whatever you found at the store was sturdier than his old desk which could not withstand the Grandmaster’s might, you bit your bottom lip as you thought back to the events that broke the desk in the first place. The force and might he had taken you on the seemingly sturdy wooden desk passed down for generations had been no match for Bi-Han’s vigor.

“Qīn, qīn, hello? Are you even paying attention? You’re blocking the walkway,” Bi-Han frowns and wrestles the trolly away from you.

You flush as you come back to the present, “s-sorry I was thinking about something else.” The dull ache between your legs reminds of the way he had held you down, the way he had thrust into you so deeply, the way he absolutely claimed you as his own. You lick your lips subconsciously and trot after the cryomancer as the two of you wind through the immaculately decorated faux rooms.

Bi-Han stops once you reach a room that looks like it has a suitable steel framed desk, “u-utespel-utespelare? Who the fuck came up with this shit?” The cryomancer asks no one in particular as he pulls out his smartphone to snap a picture of that tag. “What do you think about this one qīn?” He asks leaning on the desk to see if it was capable of holding his weight.

“Do you want the Hemler too?” You ask gesturing to the matching chair, chuckling at the cryomancer’s inability to pronounce the Swedish designs.

Bi-Han raises an eyebrow as he smirks, “did we break the chair too?” He asks teasingly, snaking an arm around your waist and dropping a chilly kiss against the nape of your neck.

You shiver from the cold, “first of all, there was no we, you, you broke the desk, you pounded into me so hard I still ache,” you spin around to accuse him. “Your father is probably spinning in his grave, that was an antique passed down for generations,” you continue as start looking at the desk nicknacks and other tchotchkes.

“Let him spin, he deserves no peace,” Bi-Han snarls and throws a plush polar bear into the bag. He lets out a frustrated growl as he remembers the other reason he agreed to go to this cursed store, “fuck me, we need more cups. Tomas was tinkering around with his grenades again and blew up one of the cupboards in the kitchen.”

You blink at him, unfazed at his sudden aggression brought on by the mention of his father, “is that what that noise was? I thought it was Gouta fucking one of the maids in the kitchen again.”

Bi-Han narrows his icy eyes, “no, he got in deep shit for that, he knows better than to try that again.”

“You’re awfully hypocritical for someone who fucks their lover on any surface they can,” you counter throwing a stuffed dinosaur into the bright yellow bag.

“First of all, I’m the Grandmaster, I can do whatever the fuck I want, where ever the fuck I want. Second of all, I don’t want to eat jizz,” he scowls at the idea.

You burst into laughter before shushing him, “keep it down polar bear, you’re scaring the employees.” You chastise as you receive a bewildered expression from one of the IKEA staff members.

He rolls his eyes, “even if they speak English, I doubt they understand the word jizz qīn, this is still China, or did you forget?”

You sigh, hating it when he was right, “we’re not accomplishing anything, why don’t you go to the warehouse and get your utespelare and I’ll go to the kitchenwares section and pick out replacements for Tomas’ accident.”

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you in this store unsupervised, you’ll spend the entire treasury,” the cryomancer grumbles.

You swat at his well-defined pecs, “so what if I do, you’re a thief, just steal more.”

“I’m not a petty thief, I’m a highly skilled, trained professional,” Bi-Han sulks as you reach the escalators to take you up to the kitchenwares and further on up to the warehouse.

“Shit,” you sigh as you pull out your phone only to realize it’s dead. “Ok look Polar Bear my phone is dead but I’ll meet you at the cafe in 20 minutes ok?”

“I’m not eating their shitty meatballs or fucking lingonberries,” Bi-Han states making a disgusted face.

You shake your head and laugh, “no meatballs or lingonberries I promise, we just need somewhere to rendezvous.” You stand on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek as you take the trolly back from him, “I need it more than you do. You’re big and strong and can carry the desk easily.”

“Cafe, 20 mins,” Bi-Han confirms as he steps onto the escalator to head to the warehouse. Bi-Han easily locates his utespelare and checks out with relative ease before settling down to wait in the cafe.

You wander through the kitchenware section buying more than just the cups you needed, you couldn’t help it though, everything at the Lin Kuei Temple was so old. You were honestly shocked that they had electricity and silently thanked Papa Zero for seeing the value in modernizing and improving the living conditions. You enjoyed cooking even though there were maids at the temple to take care of everyday needs. You grab a new sauté pan and a couple of cute hot mitts before finally filling the cart with nonbreakable mugs and regular drinking cups. Without your phone you don’t realize how long has passed and continue to browse for goods you had no need for, “hmmm do we need a cactus? Probably not, Bi-Han would probably freeze it,” you mumble to yourself as you browse the houseplants. Eventually, you find yourself completely turned around and lost somewhere in between the throw pillows and lighting fixtures getting distracted by star-shaped lamps.

You look around and hunt for an employee to ask your way but can’t seem to find anyone, you look down to try and follow the tape arrows on the floor but much to your dismay there were none to be found. You try to trace your way back through the nonstop isles of displays but in the endless sea of rosenkärm, there appeared to be no exit in sight. “Heh heh heh shit,” you hiss under your breath.

30 minutes had gone past and Bi-Han was still waiting alone in the cafe, he checked his phone before belatedly realizing yours was dead and you probably were unaware how much time had actually passed so he decided to give you a few more minutes. He sighed and waited impatiently, 15 more minutes passed and still no sign of you, he hefted the heavy desk onto his shoulders before approaching one of the ideal cashiers. “I’ve lost my partner can you please page them for me,” Bi-Han reluctantly asks the employee in Chinese. “Their name is y/n but their Chinese isn’t very good, is it possible to page them in English?” He flashes the cashier his best convincing smile.

You freeze when you hear the page come over the loudspeaker and groan, “I know where you are Bi-Han, I don’t know where I am!” You let out a frustrated grunt and punch a pillow next to you before making an arbitrary left at the canning supplies. You’re led into a maze of bedding and start to feel anxious and overwhelmed, your breath quickens and your eyes dart around frantically searching for anyone. You still can’t find an employee but do manage to see a nice-looking couple so you approach them and in your broken Chinese make a gesture for going up an escalator, “zì-zìdòng f-fútī?”

They give you a bewildered look and exchange a few words and glances before gesturing behind you. You give them a hurried thanks before rushing off in the direction they pointed you to but much to your dismay you found yourself back in the kitchenwares. “You have got to be kidding me,” you sigh and try and think how you got to the kitchenwares the first time around so you could work your way back to the escalator.

Bi-Han paces back and forth by the registers growing more and more concerned, “can I leave this with you?” He asks the cashier and gestures to his utespelare. The poor cornered cashier nod’s reluctantly as Bi-Han sets the heavy desk down and begins his hunt for you. It takes a while for a Bi-Han to get back to the entrance what with IKEA being a veritable maze he decided the fastest way was to exit the store and go back to the original entrance. He shoulders past the casual families gawking and lounging around the faux living rooms set on his rescue mission.

You decide to stay where you were for the moment, not wanting to get more lost than you already were. “Sooner or later he’ll come find me,” you reassure yourself, you absently fiddle with a ladle that resembles a brontosaurus before shrugging and throwing it in the bag attached to the trolly. “I wonder if we need anything else,” you think out loud as you continue to peruse the myriad of utensils.

Bi-Han weaves in and out of the fellow patrons until he comes across the escalators, he prompts goes up one floor, and locates the directory. It doesn’t take him long to locate kitchenwares on the vertical post as he makes his way through the confusing aisles of condiments and pantry staples. Having been raised to be a master of the deadly arts Bi-Han would have been able to track you easily if you weren’t in a giant furniture store. If you were in the forest he could look for footprints or broken branches but since he was in an IKEA he kept his eyes focused on anything that might have caught your attention.

You look around the aisle more as you feel a dip in the temperature, at first you assume it’s the air conditioning but soon you’re able to see the tall cryomancer standing well above the other patrons. “Bi-Han!” You call out excitedly and start waving like a crazy person. You stay put though terrified you’ll somehow get lost between here and the ten feet away he is, and in your defense, there were an awful lot of home goods in the way.

His long strides quickly close the gap and his strong cold hands grip your shoulders, “qīn! You’re still looking at kitchenwares?! Do you know how long it’s been? How worried I’ve been?” Bi-Han berates you before getting worked up and going on a tangent in his native tongue.

From what you can tell he’s feeling a mixture of disappointment, relief, and annoyance. You can’t help but burst into tears and cling to him, “I got lost! I haven’t been here the whole time I’ve been adrift in a sea of fucking interior design! How many sheepskin rugs does this country need?!” You feel silly for crying and clinging to Bi-Han in public like this but it was a rarity the two of you got to be a normal couple and you had been an anxious mess since you got disoriented. You sniffle and try not to make too much of a mess of the cryomancer’s shirt.

Bi-Han holds you at arm’s length, blinks a few times as if he was dumbfounded, “you got lost? How? Qīn, there are signs everywhere…” The cryomancer gestures to one of the structural columns with signs posted on them.

You look at him incredulously, “it’s in Chinese! I don’t know how to read escalator! I can barely remember the word for it! I managed to ask a couple but ended up back in the damn kitchenware section.” You huff at him before stomping a foot in protest.

“I uh, huh. I guess they are,” he replies sheepishly, color creeping onto the cryomancer’s cheeks as he adverts his eyes. Bi-Han grabs your hand and the trolly and steers you back to the escalator. “I’m not letting go of you ever, I’m going to get one of those animal backpacks with the leashes for you I swear,” he grumbles as the two of you make your way to the registers. Bi-Han starts unpacking the bag and starts looking through all the unnecessary things you added, he sighs and shakes his head but doesn’t say anything deciding you had been through enough for the day. He keeps his hand wrapped around yours the whole time earning yet another bewildered gaze from the traumatized cashier Bi-Han had been chatting up earlier.

You giggle as the cryomancer refuses to let go of your hand thinking that maybe getting lost in IKEA wasn’t the worst way to spend the weekend. You can’t help but admire the way his biceps bulge and flex as he puts the goods back in the bag after getting the receipt. “Where’s the desk,” you ask him looking around as you two head towards the exit.

“Fuck. Don’t move,” he orders as he reluctantly lets go of your hand and goes back to the poor cashier to retrieve the whole reason they made this trip in the first place. The two of you make it back to the car before Bi-Han opens the door and buckles you in before loading up the back of the car with your purchases. He gets into the driver's seat and looks over at you as you plug your phone into the car charger. “Don’t do that to me again,” he whispers before he leans over to press a soft, cold kiss against your lips.

You grab his hand and weave your fingers in with his and sigh contently as you settle in for the long drive back to the Lin Kuei Temple.

#mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero #og sub zero #bi han’s ikea adventure #ikea #fluff fic #fics #fanfiction #reader insert #gender neutral insert #my writing

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artemis1214 · 5 months ago

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Blue Jay | Human Alastor One Shot

Prompt: A one-shot where human Alastor & Esme (OC) are going for a family walk in the park and start birdwatching.

Requested by @iluvhavingnobrain💜

A/N: This one-shot originally started with the prompt, but turned into something I little more on track for their family LOL. This also takes place right after my last one-shot "interruption."

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Alastor was focused on the intense stack of paperwork his secretary had bestowed upon him shortly after his broadcast. They were mostly contracts and payroll stubs that needed to be signed off on for the workers on his floor. They wouldn't take long, but it was an annoying task nonetheless. He sat outside his office at the secretary's desk, having sent her out for a smoke break to free himself of her babbling.

The young belle was always eager for his attention and praise, but Alastor could not be bothered - especially when his wife was just in the other room.

She was tending to their toddler in his office, keeping her entertained while he zoned in on his work. Esme roams through his desk drawers, her eyes lighting up when she discovers some paper and crayons. “Look, sweetie!” She chimes, shaking the box of crayons for the small child to take note.

Geneviève's eyes widen as she focuses on her mother. She makes a small squeal of excitement, her tiny hands reaching out to grab the box. She looks up at Esme, a wide, lively smile on her face, clearly eager to start coloring.

Esme sets her up with some plain paper on the floor and pours the crayons on the rug, "There ya go. Make some nice pictures.” She says as she walks over to the sofa, lighting a cigarette and sitting down waiting for Alastor to finish his paperwork.

Geneviève looks at the paper and crayons spread out in front of her, her little mind working overtime. She grabs one of the crayons, her tiny fingers grasping it tightly, and begins making marks on the paper. She seems to be drawing something, but it's hard to tell what exactly it is, as it's just a collection of random, colorful scribbles.

Moments pass as Geneviève continues to harshly scribble on the paper. She's laying down on the rub now, her nose is scrunched up trying to concentrate on what she is creating. Esme hums to herself, tapping her foot as she gently smacks her stick on the ashtray next to her. “Sweetheart, would you like to go to the park after this?” She asks, her voice was posh and sweet with a luscious transatlantic accent to it, but to Geneviève she just sounded like mommy.

She looks up from her drawing and her eyes light up with excitement. She nods her head vigorously, pushing her body to stand up from the rug.

"Alright, just make sure to ask your father, okay?"

Geneviève nods again, her little mind eager to go to the park. She gets up from the floor, her small legs wobbling a bit as she stands up. She toddles out the office and over to Alastor, clutching the box of crayons and her picture in her hands.

Alastor looks up as he feels a small tug on his leg, glancing down to see Geneviève standing at his side, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He sets aside the paperwork and lets out a soft chuckle as he reaches out to pick her up, hoisting her onto his lap. “What is it, dear? You know you mustn't bother me while I'm working.”

His daughter holds up her picture, showing it to him with pride. The picture is a mess of colors and shapes, but there's a distinct resemblance to a small family of stick figures—one tall, one shorter, and a teeny tiny small one standing between them. It's clear that she's tried to draw him, Esme, and herself.

"Is this us?" He asks, pointing to the figures. "You, me, and your momma?”

She nods and lets out a small giggle, hoping he'd like it.

He chuckles sheepishly, “Well….I…” he clears his throat, “I guess I've never looked better~” he smiles.

That's a lie. He indeed looks terrible, but he's not going to shatter her little heart.

Esme pops her head out of the office doorway, "Did you ask Papa what you wanted yet, Genny?”

Geneviève looks up at Esme, her little head tilting as if she's just remembered what she was supposed to do. She looks back at Alastor, her eyes wide and pleading, as she points to the window.

"No my girl, use your words." Esme says sternly, "You're nearly 3, come on, use your beautiful voice.”

Geneviève looks momentarily taken aback by the stern tone, her eyes widening a bit in surprise. But then she looks back at Alastor, "C-Can we go to the park, Daddy?" She asks, her voice soft and timid.

Alastor looks down at her, his expression softening as he gently pats her head, "Of course, darling," he replies softly. "We can go to the park after I finish up here, alright?”

But she doesn't wait, hopping off her father's lap and running to the elevator.

Alastor's eyes widen in surprise as Geneviève hops off of his lap and takes off towards the elevator. He stands up quickly, a hint of worry in his eyes. "Hey, wait a minute-"

He starts to go after her, but he's too slow to catch up before she reaches the elevator. The doors start to close, and just before they do, Alastor catches a glimpse of their daughter inside, a curious and excited expression on her face.

Esme gasps and pounds on the elevator doors, "Oh my god! My baby, oh my god!" She opens the stairwell doors and frantically descends them.

Alastor follows right behind her, a mixture of panic and frustration on his face. "Dammit!" he mutters under his breath, his mind racing, "Where did she learn to run off like that!?”

"She's very quick!" Esme shouts, opening the stairwell doors. She sees their daughter in the arms of Charles, the elevator man. "Oh, Charles!" Esme runs to him, scooping up her baby, "Thank you so much."

Alastor lets out a sigh of relief, "Thanks, pal," he says to Charles, his tone filled with genuine gratitude. "I don't know what I would've done.”

Alastor takes Geneviève from Esme's arms and holds her tightly, his expression twisted in annoyance.

"You scared me, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft but stern. "Don't you ever run off like that again, okay?”

Geneviève wiggles in his grip, "P-Parkkkk" she whines, pointing to the exit.

Alastor looks at Geneviève, his expression torn, "You can't just run off like that, Geneviève," he says firmly. "You need to stay with me or your momma, okay? You're too little to go wandering off on your own.”

Geneviève pouts, her bottom lip trembling slightly. She seems to understand the seriousness of the situation, but her little mind is still stuck on going to play.

"But p-park pwease," she pleads, her eyes wide and hopeful as she looks up at him.

Esme turns to Charles, "Thank you so much." She says once again, "How could I ever repay you?”

Charles smiles warmly, his voice gentle and friendly. "No need for repayment, Miss," he replies. "I was glad to help. It's my job to ensure everyone in this building is safe, including your adorable little girl here.”

"Well, rest assured I will be bringing back a small token of my appreciation." She takes her daughter by the hand, "We wouldn't know what to do without you, Charlie."

The family makes their way out of the building and down to the park.

The air is warm and inviting as the family walks towards the park. Geneviève skips alongside her parents, her tiny feet carrying her with an incredible amount of energy. As they approach the park, the trees and green space come into view and the sounds of children playing fill the air.

"Oooh would you look at that." Esme says, stopping and looking up to see a beautiful white and blue bird in the tree, "What a lovely little thing."

Alastor looks up at the tree where Esme is pointing, and sure enough, there's a small, beautiful bird perched on one of the branches. Its feathers are a striking blue, making it stand out amongst oak.

"That's quite a sight," he agrees, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Beautiful little bird.”

"I wonder what kind of bird that is." She tilts her head to the side, "Why I've never seen one before."

Alastor looks at the bird for a few more moments, his gaze studying it with curiosity. "I'm not sure either," he says thoughtfully. "Looks like some sort of bluebird, but the white coloration is unusual. I'd have to get a closer look to tell you for sure.”

"With your eyes?" Esme teases. She leans up, "I guess it could be a blue bird, I see them a lot in this state."

Meanwhile, behind them, Geneviève is roaming away without their knowledge, heading to the slide that is rather far away from where her parents are standing.

Alastor chuckles at his wife's teasing, rolling his eyes playfully. He is about to respond when he suddenly notices that Geneviève is no longer by their side. He turns around, his heart skipping a beat as he realizes she has run off again.

"ooooh look at that one~" Esme continues, oblivious to what's going on.

"Esme," he says urgently, cutting her off mid sentence. "Where's Geneviève?”

She spins around, "W-What?! I - I thought you were holding her hand!"

Alastor's eyes widen in panic as he realizes their daughter is nowhere to be seen. "No! I thought YOU had her!" he says, his voice rising.

Esme takes off in quick strides, looking all around, "Genny! Where are you baby girl?!" She calls out, her hands trembling near her mouth.

Alastor follows soon after, his heart racing. He scans the park, his eyes darting from tree to tree, "Geneviève!" he calls out, his voice filled with desperation, “Come out now!”

Esme hears a familiar giggle and grabs Alastor's arm, "There! Hear that?" She enters the play area and her eyes quickly land on their daughter on the slide with some children.

Alastor follows Esme's direction and spots Geneviève on the slide, an overwhelming wave of relief washing over him, but his expression is soon taken over by rage.

"What the hell is she doing all the way over there?" he mutters, his voice a mix of anger and worry. He starts making his way over to the slide, Esme right beside him.

"Alastor, easy on her…”

“She can't just run off like that without warning. She's only three, for crying out loud!" He shakes his head, continuing to approach Geneviève.

As Geneviève comes down the slide and her eyes look up to her parents, she freezes with guilt in her eyes.

Alastor looks directly at Geneviève as she comes down the slide, their gazes lock, "Young lady," he says, his voice firm. "What do you think you're doing all the way over here? Without asking or telling us?”

Geneviève looks up at her father, her guilty expression clear on her face. She fidgets a bit, her small hands playing with the end of her dress. She knows she's in trouble and her little mind scrambled for an excuse.

"Answer your father miss, now." Esme narrows her eyes, her hands on her hips and her foot tapping into the grass.

Geneviève's eyes widened at Esme's stern tone. She can feel the disappointment in her parents' eyes and her lower lip starts to tremble.

"I... I wanted to play on the slide…”

Alastor crosses his arms, "And you thought running away was the right thing to do?" he asks, his words sharp and leaking anger.

Geneviève shakes her head, her eyes starting to fill with tears. She looks up at Alastor with puppy dog eyes, "No... I'm sorry, Daddy." She whispers, her little voice wavering with regret.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it." He roughly takes her wrist and begins to pull her away from the slide, "We're going home." He says sternly.

Geneviève whimpers as her father grabs her wrist and starts pulling her away. Her tears flow freely now, her little heart filled with distress, "N-No Daddy, p-please!" she pleads, her small feet stumbling as she tries to keep up with him.

“Hush!” He shouts at her, leaning over her with an intimidating glare.

"…Alastor." Esme says softly.

"No. This kind of behavior is unacceptable, Esme. We need to be firm."

"I know, I know dear, but she trusts you so much." She whispers for them to only hear, "You really want her to fear you?"

He's suddenly reminded of his own childhood and how he would never dare approach his father, always fearing the man's next move.

He lowers his gaze, looking at Geneviève's tear-streaked face. "No." He says, his voice a bit softer now. "But she needs to know that actions have consequences.”

Esme bends down to Geneviève's level, "Young lady, stop your crying...now." She says.

Geneviève hiccups, her tears slowing down as she attempts to control herself. Her little face is scrunched up and her cheeks are turning red.

"Do you want to lose mommy and daddy?" Esme asks, "Do you want some stranger to take you?”

Their daughter's eyes widened with fear and panic. The thought of losing her parents or being taken by a stranger is clearly a terrifying idea to her. She shakes her head furiously, "N-no! No, d-don't want that!" She stammers, her little chest heaving with panicked breaths.

Esme places a hand on her chest, steading her, "Well then, you must stop wondering off." She says, "Deep breaths, like I showed you now." She takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales from her mouth.

Geneviève nods shakily, her small chest heaving as she tries to control her rapid breaths. She closes her eyes and breathes along with her mother. With each breath, her body visibly calms down, her heart rate returning to a more steady pace.

"Daddy is scared of losing you." Esme whispers, "You want to stay with us right? In your warm house with all your toys?”

Geneviève nods again, her gaze shifting to Alastor. His stern expression softens as he watches his daughter slowly understand the gravity of her actions. She looks at each of her parents with big, teary eyes and speaks quietly.

"Y-yes, I w-want to s-stay.”

"Then, what are you going to do?" Esme asks with a soft nurturing smile.

Geneviève takes another shaky breath and looks up at her parents, her tears nearly dried. Her voice trembles a bit as she speaks, "I s-stay with mommy and daddy.”

Esme smiles and looks up at Alastor, seeing him refusing to look at her with a slight wetness to his eyes, "Oh now..." She chuckles softly, “I think Daddy is still a bit upset, come up.” She reaches for Geneviève who quickly jumps into her arms. Esme places their daughter in Alastor's chest, watching with a smile as she clings to his neck.

“There you go little one…” She says, rubbing her back, “You're okay.”

Alastor holds Geneviève closely, his arms wrapped around her small frame. His tension relaxes as he holds her, the fear of losing her still present in his mind. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of his daughter, feeling a mix of relief and love that threatens to overwhelm him.

Esme's face turns to a concerned expression as she takes in his quietness, “Hunny…” She says softly, “Do you want to sit down for a moment?”

He nods and moves to a nearby park bench, still cradling the child in his arms. He sits there quietly, enslaved by his own tormenting thoughts. The thought of losing his daughter sends him back to a memory in his childhood. A time where he thought he lost his own mother while playing around in the bayou. The fear that took over him and the tense feeling in his chest.

His grip on her tightens and Geneviève lets out a small squeak.

Esme notices his change and places a hand on his back, "Alastor?" She calls out, noting his dazed expression, "You're okay..." She whispers, rubbing his back. She takes her other hand and lessens his hold on the child just enough so that he isn't squeezing her to death.

Alastor's thoughts snap back to reality, Esme's touch grounding him. He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. He turns to Esme, his eyes a bit more clear now.

"I'm alright," he says, putting a weary smile on display.

“Mhmmm, sure you are.” Esme smirks sadly, rubbing his back. "She's safe, we're all okay." Geneviève begins to wiggle in his arms, moving her face closer to his and looking at him with her large green eyes,

Alastor looks down at her, her big eyes looking up at him with innocent curiosity. It's as if she can sense his turmoil, and she tries to soothe him with her presence. He takes a deep breath, his heart warm and full and aching at the same time. He gently strokes her hair, his gaze softening as he presses a soft kiss on her forehead.

Esme's eyes lighten up, "Hey look, it's that bird again." She says, pointing to a bird sitting next to them on the bench. Geneviève's eyes turn to it and she smiles softly.

Alastor follows Esme's gaze to the bird perched on the bench. He tilts his head, studying the bird for a moment.

"It's a blue jay," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of fascination. "Such a pretty little thing.”

"Ahh maybe your eyes aren't that bad after all~" Esme teases. She reaches into her bag and takes out some bread, "Do you want to give the birdy some food?" she asks Geneviève.

Geneviève's eyes light up at the sight of the bread. She loves birds and the idea of feeding the blue jay only adds to her excitement. She nods, "Yes, mommy!” She exclaims, her little hands already reaching for the food.

Esme hands her some pieces of bread, "Toss it at it now, don't let it nibble at your hand."

Geneviève smiles widely, holding the bread gently in her small hand. She takes a deep breath, and with all the precision a three-year-old can muster, she tosses the pieces of bread at the bird. She squeals excitedly as it pecks at the food, and then turns to her parents with a proud smile.

"I did it!”

🖤Words: 3000🖤

~ Artemis 🦌💗

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tiniedemon · 2 years ago

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— ♡

the waiting game | smau

part ten

you checked your appearance in the mirror for the millionth time, moving any stray strands of hair to their designated location and using a small beauty blender to pat out any flaws in your makeup. you were determined to look absolutely gorgeous for kyle, taking nearly three hours to get yourself ready. you carefully pulled your outfit on — a simple black top, black leather jacket, and dark wash jeans — and smoothed it over your body. bebe’s words echoed in your mind, reminding you how good you looked in black.

after one more glance in the mirror, an assured nod, and a practiced flirty smile, you decided you were ready. just in time, apparently, because the second you zipped up the boots you’d decided to wear, kyle’s modified exhaust could be heard stopping in front of your house. you took a deep breath to steady your heart and grabbed your phone and wallet, rushing down the stairs and out of the house.

kyle looked just as gorgeous as he always did, his red curls shining in the evening sun and sunglasses perched effortlessly on the bridge of his hooked nose. you made a mental note of how delicious his arms looked in the tight long sleeve he was wearing, and how the light grey fabric seemed to make his skin glow. the more you thought about it, the more you kicked yourself for being so ridiculously infatuated with him.

he looked up from his phone as you opened the door, flashing a giant smile of straight teeth and faint chin dimples. you smiled back, albeit a bit shaky with how nervous you were, and plopped down in his passenger seat.

“you look gorgeous,” he spoke, and you flushed. how did such a beautiful man even dare to compare himself with little ole you? you cleared your throat and fingered the zipper on your wallet, refusing to make eye contact with kyle.

“i think you look gorgeous too,” you stuttered, kicking yourself for how unsteady your voice was. you knew that if bebe were here she’d have blown a gasket hearing how much you let a man affect you.

“i was thinking we could go out by stark’s pond for pictures? the lighting there is always super pretty this time of day,” kyle offered, wiggling the gear shifter before letting his hand break down. you nodded vigorously, finding that you couldn’t trust your voice not to crack. kyle hesitated for a moment, a slight chuckle filling the silence, before he turned up the volume on his stereo and drove away from your house.

you looked around the car as he drove, noting the unopened box of condoms sitting in the cup holder and the nic stick settled under his leg. there was a dab pen resting with the box of condoms, and by the redness of his eyes and the silly smile consistently resting on his face, you guessed he’d been hitting it pretty recently. a few hair ties were hanging from one of the levers extended from his steering wheel. you made a mental note to leave a scrunchie of yours there at a later date.

overall the car was nice for an older model, the drive smooth and the speakers sounding pretty good. plus, you couldn’t deny that kyle driving a manual was extremely attractive. you couldn’t keep your eyes from straying to the way the veins in his forearms popped out every time he shifted.

you brought your nic stick to your lips, taking a long bit to curb the anxiety you were fighting. you couldn’t begin to explain why, but something about being alone with kyle left you feeling queasy. the butterflies in your stomach were nonstop fluttering about, and you were absolutely certain bebe would scold you for using that terminology.

while you were fighting your lusting inner demons, kyle had pulled into the small dirt road leading to stark’s pond. your keen eye picked up on the way he wiped his hands on his light wash jeans before turning to you with a grin. he picked up his dab pen and offered it to you, you taking a long pull from it as he spoke.

“i’m not really sure how this whole photography thing works, but i was thinking we just take a walk and see what kind of pictures you come out with?”

you nodded as soon as he finished speaking, already setting your wallet in the glove compartment as you coughed away the sting from the cart you’d just hit. you made a mental note of the ring settled on kyle’s left ring finger as he handed you his wallet to also place in there. a purity ring, maybe? you were a bit pleased by the thought. at least he wasn’t walking around slinging dick at other girls.

“that sounds like a lovely idea,” you finally responded, voice hoarse and eyes watery from your coughing fit. the two of you were out of the car in seconds, your phone out and camera open as you already started snapping pictures of his face. he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, a flush gathering on his cheeks and neck. you silently admired the smattering of faint freckles disappearing beneath the neckline of his shirt.

“we haven’t even started walking. why are you already taking pictures?” he stammered, ears glowing red. you grinned at him from behind your phone, a group of butterflies pressing against the walls of your stomach.

“with a model as pretty as you, candids are the absolute perfect way to photograph you,” you responded. he cleared his throat and slowly turned to walk away from you, raising a hand over his shoulder and using two fingers to wave you along behind him. you thanked the gods that you had managed to capture a picture of that, making plans to stare at it and giggle later. you didn’t dally about for much longer than two seconds, obediently jogging to catch up with his much longer stride.

masterlist

#the waiting game series #south park smau #kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader

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natedogx15 · 8 months ago

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Miraculous Descendent Chapter 59: The Wild Shot

Previous Chapter

As Cat Noir carries Kim away, the black cat-themed hero decides to talk to the Miraculous-less student.

"What were you thinking? Angering someone while there's a terrorist who feeds on the negative emotions of Paris' population." He asks the young man while continuing to carry him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect the guy to go feral when I was messing with him. I was just having some fun." Kim nervously tells the hero.

Cat Noir sighs when he hears this, and Kim goes on.

"I mean, I wasn't doing much. It's not like I threw anything at them. All I did was try and impress my friends by talking about how I could take a panther in a race." Kim tells the hero.

"You still should have been careful. Who knows what could happen with Hawkmoth around." Cat Noir tells the teen before seeing André Bourgeois' bakery and gets an idea.

"Hang on. I've got the perfect place to hide you from something with an amazing sense of smell." Cat Noir says before jumping off the rooftop, causing Kim to scream in fear and rush toward the store's entrance.

He quickly enters the empty shop and causes a slightly anxious André to jump and raise a wooden baking paddle defensively. However, the man soon calms down when he realizes who entered his shop.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you might be one of those wild animals that escaped the zoo." André says with a relieved smile as he stares at the hero and his plus one.

"Nope. Just your friendly neighborhood alley cat." Cat Noir says with a grin like he's been waiting to use that line for a while.

"Anyway. Can I hide this guy here until the Akuma is captured? The smell from the bakery should mask his scent and keep the Akuma from finding him." Cat Noir explains, causing André vigorously nods.

"Of course. Before you go, though. Could I offer you some pastries to go? As a hero, you must keep up your strength." André says as he gives Cat Noir his best customer service smile and motions toward the variety of baked goods in the front desk display.

Cat Noir stares at the baked goods before accepting the offer and requesting a couple of crepes. André quickly puts the food in a bag before handing it to the hero and giving one to him directly. As the hero holds it, André takes out his phone and takes a quick picture.

"Thank you for your business," André enthusiastically says while pushing the hero out of his shop as he tries to comprehend what happened.

"Did I just get used as free advertisement?" He questions in confusion before deciding to shrug it off and enjoy the food before running toward Ladybug.

With said heroine, she's currently trying to knock Animan out of the air. But the animal-morphing Akuma is proving to be a more difficult target than her other air-born enemies. His small size and maneuverability make it nearly impossible for her to get a direct hit, and he's managed to scratch her a few times.

One of those times is now. He skillfully maneuvers through the storm of fireballs and charges at Ladybug, scraping her shoulder with his talon.

"Ow!" She shouts in alarm as she grabs her shoulder and tries to hit the bird from behind. However, Animan transforms into a fly, and Ladybug can't see him.

Ladybug looks around wildly for the Akuma, but he's too small for her. Seeing this causes her to panic, thinking he flew off after Kim. She quickly opens her yo-yo and shouts into the communicator.

"Cat Noir! I lost track of Animan! Is Kim somewhere safe?" She asks in a panic.

"Don't worry. I hid him somewhere the Akuma shouldn't find. It's somewhere no one would expect." Cat Noir tells her confidently, calming Ladybug's nerves.

"On another note, I got a couple of crepes if you want one." He tells her, causing Ladybug to pause and look at the communicator strangely.

She puts that information away for now and focuses on the current problem.

"Good. Try to stick close to him while I find Animan. And try to get Canine to help. We might need all of us to stop this Akuma and the escaped zoo animals." Ladybug orders.

"Right. I'll get on that, then. Be careful." Cat Noir pleads before hanging up and moving to return to the bakery to watch Kim while also trying to get Canine on the line.

With the dog-themed heroine, she's currently busy dealing with an escaped bear as it tries to attack someone. She's using her enhanced strength to hold the bear in place while the people run away from it. After seeing everyone escape, she pushes the bear back and grabs the rubber ball off her collar.

"Sorry." She apologizes before throwing the rubber ball at the bear.

It hits the bear in the face and knocks it out before returning to Canine. She winches as she sees the slumped-over bear, feeling bad. She doesn't have time to think about it, though. Cat Noir's call comes in before she can do anything else.

"Canine? An Akuma appeared at the zoo and released all the animals. He can transform into different animals and is after a student named Kim. I have Kim hidden in a bakery to hopefully mask his smell. Ladybug is currently trying to find the Akuma as it searches for Kim. Come to André's Boulangerie Patisserie." Cat Noir tells her, surprising Canine.

But she can't do much since animals besides the bear are still attacking people.

"Sorry. I have my hands a bit full right now trying to keep these animals from hurting anyone." Canine apologizes before running toward a ferret that's chasing a little kid.

She quickly picks it up and has the child run off to find their parents before saying.

"I'll try to head to Chloe's home after everything is settled here. Just try to keep him busy if he shows up." She tells Cat Noir before hanging up and running to help more people, the ferret still under her arm and struggling.

Hearing this causes Cat Noir to pause on his side of the call.

"I never said anything about Chloe." He thinks before shrugging it off as Canine eating there before and seeing Chloe help around the shop or something.

He suddenly hears something landing on the roof behind him. He turns around while expecting Ladybug but is instead met with a panther pouncing at him and knocking them off the roof. Cat Noir screams in surprise and fear as he falls with the panther over him and crashes on the ground, pinned by Animan.

"Where's the kiddo, Kitty Cat?" Animan demands while growling down at the hero.

"Sorry. I can't tell you that." Cat Noir tells the panther before kicking the panther off him and quickly getting up and back-flipping to get some distance between them.

He blinks in surprise when he realizes what he did and grins at Animan.

"I guess having superpowers helps against fighting wild animals." He quips to the animal-themed villain.

"Not if those animals are made from magic, too," Animan growls at Cat Noir before turning into a bear and charging at the hero, causing him to panic.

"Woah!" Cat Noir shouts when he sees the massive bear and pulls out his baton to fight them off.

Animan swipes at his side, and Cat Noir uses the baton to block him. However, the force behind the strike sends him flying slightly.

"Okay. Bad idea insulting him." Cat Noir tells himself as he sees Animan growl.

Not wanting to fight Animan, Cat Noir decides to cage the beast.

"Black Hole!" He shouts before slamming a hand on the ground.

The ability appears before him and quickly gets under Animan's feet before he can do anything about it. Now, the bear-transformed villain finds his feet sinking into the ground and a powerful force pulling him further down.

Animan growls as he desperately tries to free himself from the magic trap. However, whatever form he takes has its feet trapped in the ability. Even forms such as bugs or birds find themselves pulled down by the force behind Cat Noir's Black Hole before Animan can use them to escape.

"I love that power." Cat Noir grins before opening the communicator on his staff.

"I caught the Akuma. He's trapped in my Black Hole power near the bakery." He tells both Canine and Ladybug.

"I'm on my way," Ladybug says quickly.

"I'm still a little busy downtown. I'll try to hurry in case there's more trouble." Canine promises in a somewhat frantic tone before abruptly ending the call.

"Now then. Do you mind telling me where your butterfly is hidden so I can give it to Ladybug before she gets here?" Cat Noir asks politely, causing Animan, who is currently an elephant, to shriek at him through the nose before transforming back into a panther.

"Don't you dare mock me, Kitty Cat! I'll tear you limb from limb with your partner when she gets here!" Animan growls ferally, causing Cat Noir to jump slightly and take a few steps back.

"Okay. We seriously need to get that thing off of you." Cat Noir says in a slightly freaked-out tone as he watches Animan continue to growl at him.

Soon, Ladybug arrives, and Cat Noir takes this chance to inch behind her as she glares at Animan. She then notices his feet are trapped and panics slightly.

"The butterfly is in the bracelet wrapped around one of his front legs. Can you pull it out of your power?" She asks hopefully.

Hearing this causes Animan to snarl and bite at the heroes.

"Do I have to? I don't think my hand can reach in without getting trapped, anyway." He tells her nervously.

"We need to get it somehow." She tells him.

Cat Noir cringes and moves from behind her and to a position where the trapped Animan can't try to bite him.

"Do I just reach inside? How am I supposed to do this?" Cat Noir asks her in confusion.

"Maybe use your baton to try and break it," Ladybug suggests.

Nodding, Cat Noir pulls out the baton and lengthens it into the hole to try to find the bracelet. The force around the ability makes it difficult for him to maneuver the staff. Eventually, he feels the vibrations of his staff tapping something and grins.

"I think I found it." Cat Noir says enthusiastically.

"Good. Try to break it or pull it out." Ladybug tells him with a smile, not noticing Animan gain an aggressive grin in their excitement.

Suddenly, Cat Noir has to back away as Animan transforms again. Unlike before, though. Animan doesn't transform into a modern animal. Instead, his body grows until the trapped legs become too big for Cat Noir's power to hold him, and it breaks while he grows scales and other reptilian features.

The heroes look in shock and horror as they stare at the massive tyrannosaurus rex looming over them. Cat Noir immediately runs back to Ladybug's side, and the two are pushed back from the force Animan releases when he lets out a bestial roar.

Acting quickly, Ladybug grabs Cat Noir and creates another set of flaming wings before flying off. However, Animan turns into another dinosaur, a green pterodactyl, and flies after the heroes. Cat Noir panics as he sees the dinosaur gaining on them and taps his partner's arm.

"He's gaining on us! The giant dinosaur is gaining on us!" He shouts at Ladybug, causing the heroine to launch a trail of fireballs behind her to try and slow the dinosaur down.

However, the scales on Animan's new body prevent the fireballs from hurting him, and he continues to chase the heroes at the same speed. It isn't until one manages to hit him in the face that he's forced to slow down.

"Yes! You got him!" Cat Noir cheers before yelping as Ladybug suddenly dives and hides them under a canal bridge.

When she sees Animan fly past where they're hiding, she sighs in relief before putting them on the bridge instead of under it.

"So, he can turn into different dinosaurs. That's a thing now." Cat Noir says worriedly as Ladybug paces while trying to make a plan.

"Did you see the bracelet wrapped around his ankle still?" Ladybug asks him in a slightly desperate tone.

Cat Noir thinks about it and realizes he didn't see the bracelet wrapped around Animan's ankle.

"I don't think I saw it. Then again, I was more panicked about seeing a pterodactyl flying toward us. So, it might still be there." Cat Noir says with a slight shrug.

"Hopefully." She mutters before pulling out her yo-yo and calling Canine.

"Where are you? The Akuma can turn into dinosaurs, too? We could use your Command power to stop him." She tells the other heroine in an impatient yet worried tone.

"I'm sorry. Everything is still chaotic here, and I'm still trying to help secure all the animals. A lot of them are still trying to hurt people." Canine apologizes.

Ladybug and Cat Noir then hear a roar over the communicator.

"I've got to go. A gorilla is hitting a bus! I should be there soon after this!" Canine says in a panic before ending the call.

"How is it that we've been at this for so long, and I still find sentences like that strange?" Cat Noir asks curiously as Ladybug groans.

"This is bad. Animals are everywhere, and I don't know if we can fight magic dinosaurs!" She shouts in a panic as she rubs her head in her hands in stress.

"Hey, hey, hey. Can't we calm down? We've handled weather villains, mind controllers, and a guy who could shoot lasers from his eye. I think we can handle a dinosaur." Cat Noir says with a hopeful smile.

Hearing this causes Ladybug to take a few deep breaths to calm herself before nodding.

"You're right. You're right. We can handle this. He may have broken through your power, and my suit doesn't work. But we still have options. I'm going to need you to hold him off for a little while so I can recharge Seamstress and change outfits. Do you think you can do that if he shows up?" Ladybug asks him, causing Cat Noir to nod.

Cat Noir quickly gives a thumbs-up before saying.

"I can do that." He says, but there's an undertone of worry and fear behind his smile as he says this.

Ladybug doesn't notice it and gives him a thankful grin before hugging him.

"Great. Thanks. I'll be back as soon as possible." Ladybug says before flying off.

Neither notices someone trailing behind her as she tries to find a hiding place. It takes her flying over where Canine is for someone to see what's happening and panic. When Canine sees who it is, she quickly activates her communicator and calls for the flying heroine.

"Ladybug! Behind you! Lady Wifi is flying after you!" Canine shouts in a panic.

In the sky, Ladybug's yo-yo rings to signal the call and falters slightly when she opens it to the sudden shouting. Looking behind her, Ladybug panics when she sees Lady Wifi riding on a fast-forward icon behind her.

"She noticed you! Quickly stop her!" Hawkmoth orders Lady Wifi while being disappointed at losing the element of surprise.

Lady Wifi grins and fires a few pause icons at the heroine. Ladybug quickly launches another trail of fireballs behind her to block all the attacks before diving to escape from Lady Wifi's sight.

"Hang on. I'll help you." Ladybug can hear from her yo-yo, but Ladybug has other ideas.

"No. Leave Lady Wifi to me. Go help Cat Noir with Animan." She tells Canine.

Canine looks troubled by Ladybug's order but decides to listen to it. But not before saying one last thing, though.

"Alright. But please let me know if you need help." Canine says before hanging up and tracking Cat Noir via his baton.

As she moves to meet up with Cat Noir, Ladybug continues to be chased by Lady Wifi. The supervillainous follows Ladybug as she flies over the streets. Every time Lady Wifi would fire icons at Ladybug, the heroine would intercept it with fireballs or hide behind a car or other objects to avoid it.

"Hold still and give me your Miraculous. It's time for Paris to see your identity." Lady Wifi fumes in frustration as she misses another shot.

"Didn't we already cover why that's a bad idea?" Ladybug asks her in distress before flapping one of her wings and sending half a dozen fireballs at Lady Wifi.

As if she's riding a skateboard, Lady Wifi positions the icon she's riding between her and the fireballs and uses it to block them. However, the explosions when they hit the icon cause her to lose her balance and nearly send her tumbling off of it.

"Woah, woah, woah!" She panics as she tries to regain her balance while the icon wobbles.

Ladybug sees this and quickly launches another set of fireballs that hit the distracted Lady Wifi and launch her off the icon and into the ground. She groans as she pulls herself off the ground and notices her phone isn't in her hands. Panicking, she looks around and notices it a few inches away. Before she can grab it, a fireball slams into it and destroys the phone, releasing the butterfly. Ladybug then captures it in her yo-yo, and Lady Wifi turns back into Alya.

The teenage girl looks around in confusion before noticing her destroyed and burnt phone and groans.

"Ah, crap. I got turned into a villain again, didn't I?" She asks in both worry and annoyance.

Ladybug walks over to her with a look of pity but has to ask something.

"Yes, you did. I'm sorry, but are you still trying to learn my identity?" Ladybug asks with a disappointed glare.

Seeing this, Alya rapidly shakes her head.

"No. I don't know what I did while I was Lady Wifi again. But I'm not after your identity this time, I swear. I'm actually trying to help you by finding out who Hawkmoth is. The truth is, he told me something before I transformed, and it stayed with me after you beat me the first time. Since then, I've tried to figure out what he meant." Alya tells Ladybug, causing the girl's eyes to widen.

"What do you mean?" She quickly asks, focusing entirely on Alya's words.

As Alya is telling Ladybug about what she's been up to. Canine meets up with Cat Noir right as Animan finds the hero again. She watches as the hero ducks under a T-rex tail swing before having to block Animan's kick, sending him flying back.

"Don't you think you should try fighting something in your weight class? Like a monster truck or giant tank." Cat Noir asks nervously as he sees the giant dinosaur glare at him.

Instead of saying anything, Animan roars at the hero and pushes him back. Canine takes that as her queue to jump down and help the hero up.

"Are you okay, Cat Noir?" She asks worriedly.

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's a good thing these suits are made of magic." Cat Noir tells her with a grin as he motions toward his suit.

"Yeah. Do you know where his object is?" Canine asks while looking at the growling dinosaur.

He doesn't give them much time, though. He quickly charges at the two before they can formulate a plan, causing them to separate by jumping on opposite sides of Animan.

"It's an animal tooth bracelet! It was wrapped around his ankle, but now it's gone! It has to be on him still, though!" Cat Noir calls toward Canine before the two start looking over Animan's body for the bracelet.

But try as they might, the two can't seem to spot the bracelet. It's not on his tail, claws, wrists, ankles, or anywhere they can see. This causes the heroes to become worried.

"I don't see it!" Canine shouts as she has to jump back to avoid a tail swing.

"It has to be on him somewhere! Can't you use Fetch to find it?" Cat Noir asks before using his baton to get to higher ground to avoid a charging Animan.

"That's not how Fetch works! I have to touch the object with my weapon before using it!" Canine shouts toward Cat Noir.

"What about Command? Can't you make him tell us where it is or have him give it to us?" Cat Noir asks.

"Would it work? I don't know much about dinosaurs. I don't want to waste one of my powers." She quickly explains while throwing her weapon at Animan's head and causing the dinosaur to winch in pain before growling at her and trying to bite her.

However, that is a mistake on his part, as it gave Canine a chance to see what's in his mouth. There, resting on the middle of his tongue, is the bracelet.

"It's in his mouth!" Canine shouts to Cat Noir.

"Great! All we have to do is figure out how to get in a T-rex's mouth without getting torn to pieces!" Cat Noir states in a surprisingly sarcastic manner before realizing what he did.

"Wow. The adrenaline really brings out my sarcastic side." He mutters so no one but him would hear.

"I can handle that, hopefully. Let's see if this works. Command!" Canine shouts, causing her collar to glow orange.

"Open your mouth!" Canine orders the dinosaur, sending orange-tinted soundwaves at him and causing the T-rex to open his mouth.

"Get it!" Canine shouts toward Cat Noir as she runs toward Animan's mouth.

Both heroes rush toward Animan as he tries to close his mouth. But Canine's power is making it difficult for him to do that. So, he changes strategies and tries to keep the two heroes away with tail swings or kicks. Finally, Animan can feel his jaw closing, but Cat Noir reacts faster. He uses his baton to quickly close the distance between him and Animan's mouth before retracting it and lengthening it again to act as a jack to keep Animan's mouth open. Cat Noir then swiftly steals the bracelet before jumping out of Animan's mouth and breaking it.

Next Chapter

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous descendent #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #sabrina raincomprix #ml animan #alya cesaire #ladybug miraculous #black cat miraculous #dog miraculous #gabriel agreste #butterfly miraculous #lady wifi #miraculous ladybug rewrite

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starcitrine · 1 year ago

Text

I wonder if Rhinedottir was involved in the institute in Fontaine, The institute has 2 doors that can be opened and they have some sort of weird out of place thing in them.

First room I found was some sort of secret study room with 2 rifthounds and a readable log (I can’t remember if the door needs a key)

The second room is weirder it has a pile of purple-black sludge in the middle surrounded by a circle of some sorts the sludge looks quite similar to the ooze in the chasm, thats not the only out of place object in this room, one side of the room has scarlet quartz near the wall which is strange considering the sludge and quartz are both from subareas where a celestial nail(?) is present.

While im not 100% sure where the Chasm ooze come from (I think Nahida’s story quest said forbidden knowledge?) but since Scarlet quartz is only found in Dragonspine and its pretty similar appearance to Crimson agate which is (imo) very important in Dragonspine and seems to have some source from Durin himself.

I know it could just be the researchers gathering data from other nations like with the Sumeru Tech but I think it would be kinds cool (and im starving for content) if Rhinedottir was involved somehow, even if it was just researchers finding her notes or her anonymously supporting.

I have not finished Fontaine so if I missed some added context or explanation I apologize

edit 1. circle found around the sludge is also found in Elynas (familiar names from the institute aswell)

edit 2. enigmatic page says that jakob confirmed that the Scarlet quartz and sludge were like like Elynas’ flesh and blood

Pictures and readable log from the room below

1. Rifthounds in study

2. Study with no Rifthounds ( they do not respawn )

3. Sludge in weird circle with Csralet Quartz the the right (Quartz and Sludge cannot be destroyed or removed)

4. Oozing concretion in Chasm

Ancient Note:

...Though it's a shame, we'll have to miss it. I was looking forward to Coppelius's new work. Ever since he was a child, he's always been incredibly talented...

...

...Out of consideration for everyone's safety, it has been decided that the Institute shall close. Driven by the energy and vigor of youth, the young ones are clamoring to go out and do battle. I hope someday they will understand the importance of prioritizing post-disaster reconstruction over marching off to die...

...

...I fear that it shan't be long before we must depart. We've chosen a good piece of land near the Fountain of Lucine as the post-relocation site... They even say they want to use the land to build an opera house — they'd sooner set faces aflame with shame and laughter! To think that anyone could be so comical...

...

...We're going to pay our respects at Basil's grave...

...I hope it all turns out like Emanuel said. However, it's the Institute's responsibility to support gifted and talented youths...

...

...Met with the newly-appointed Iudex. He has a peculiar temperament. Seems much more reliable than Leon and those other clowns...

...

...If all goes well, it has the potential to completely revolutionize our understanding of clockwork meka. The proposed methodology and plan are reliable. Worth paying more attention...

...

...The results of early phases have been satisfactory, we will increase our investment... Carter's leave requests have been increasing in frequency. Better have someone keep an eye on him. He may be having financial difficulties (not like it's possible for it to be a family matter)...

...

After some consideration, I've decided to enroll them and temporarily assign them to the same lab. However, I'm concerned about the impact of their joining after Alain on the mental state of others... must keep careful watch...

...

...Still unconscious during the visit, so couldn't speak...decided to take a blood sample and see if there's a cure, or a way to mitigate it...

...

Although the proposed research plan is expected to face challenges in obtaining recognition, I believe it holds significant practical value, so it justifies approval. Toxins remain in the soil and water and have not yet been fully neutralized... The water is producing deformed Oceanids... In a way, this could be a reflection of previous events. I only just learned that these are Karl's adopted children. It's a shame the Narzissenkreuz Institute no longer exists...

...

...This could be the biggest breakthrough in a century, it will change all of society...

...

...The report mentioned abnormal movements... I'll have to find a chance to talk to Emanuel about it...

#dragonspine #genshin impact #rhinedottir #chasm #genshin chasm #genshin impact spoilers #genshin spoilers #genshin 4.0 #genshin impact 4.0 #genshin durin #Im so bad at theories #im so sorry #ramblings #theory

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scarletooyoroi · 2 years ago

Note

"It isn't often to see people seeking out Aaru Village who aren't desert fold or aren't up for no good, I'll give that to ya." Though Thoma looks like a good fella, Candace's concern that he may have ulterior motives for being here is completely valid and understandable. Reason why upon further deliberation she asked Dehya to do her the favor of giving the Inazuman man a tour around the village, to test the waters and confirm or prove wrong her suspicions. "I've heard a thing or two about Inazuma. Hard not to when things had been complicated, right? I take that you being in Sumeru means that the travelling restrictions were lifted?"

There is nothing that isn't genuine and heartfelt curiosity to learn more but also from a personal perspective to see what this guy is about. Everyone who steps a foot in Aaru Village is for a reason, most of the visitors know their business. What about him? In their walk they find a young kid sitting on a carpet outside wearing ragged clothes and reading a book that must've seen better days. Her light blue, sharp eyes narrow at the poor sight. "...I wonder if the hardship Inazuma faced these past years can be comparable to the hardships of us desert folk. Being closed while being guaranteed a decent life doesn't sound half bad."

Just hearing about Inazuma within this moment leads him to a slew of heavy thoughts. Pleasant, but as of the most recent days, difficult, the kind of heaviness that only a taste of life within Teyvat in large could truly sort out.

Any ends of their more amiable part of the conversation finds itself edging down to a more focused calm. For the endless vitality in terms of people, the arts and might it could cultivate, there was a share of glaring wounds also gained and endured as a price.

Lightning flashes. Cutting through all and only allowing those that can rise above to be worthy. A cruel form of beauty.

"You're correct." His voice matches before looking over the mercenary. Just the sight of her vigor compels him to draw from his pool of calm as the oasis known as Aaru now being crossed. Even then, a more perceptive eye could show that despite the changes, struggle remains an underlying current to balance with success. Each step found themselves curious as much as they did thoughtful, accepting the situation with firm eyes that couldn't cast away their softness. Gripping at his cloak to keep it settled proper, Thoma's eyes would focus ahead once more.

As they find themselves situated underneath a small series of trees, giving them prize witness to the boons of Ajilenakh Nuts, he nearly pauses at the curious note that's drawn in the verbal sand. "....Dehya." His voice sounds strained at the notion, when in truth, just picturing the pain of others, witnessing it firsthand despite their vigor allowing them to claw through it by any means, it just hurts.

Within Thoma's eyes, there was no glory or graces to be found in pain like this.

"I'm afraid it's not that easy. Despite the change in scenery, culture and life, there's a cruel lining that stays adamant in persisting." Try as he might, the bitterness of being a firsthand witness, active in the waged war between Watatsumi and Inazuma's mainlands, over those who don Visions, it was a conflict that nurtures strife, newly made young without parents, the chaos that allows a heinous poison to settle with acidic, burning edges within.

"People get hurt, some can manage to fight against it, others are unfortunate to not get those particular means.. Suffering as a result." Licking at his dried lips, it's clear a more sensitive topic was broached to the traveling warrior, the sort that has him looking with a singular eye towards the past, one kept in the present.

"You've caught wind of the decrees I imagine, to be frank, there was a war that cost many their lives. No short thanks to the remnants of a god being used as part of a war effort.. and advantage for other dangerous powers, on top of the earlier made strife." Stepping over to a nearby edge, he's facing away for a moment, more focused on just.. processing it all.

"There are no comparisons when it comes to facing some form of Hell. I wouldn't want to dishonor those that even now, could be going through something we can't even imagine."

@mantichorae

#mantichorae #| Tucked Letters #oh ow

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astrxlfinale · 6 months ago

Note

Only when her voice manages to level a certain note does he manage to actually pause. A painful stalling, for it means that there's a cold logic awaiting him if he were to let her speak. He finds hints of a chilled expanse brewing beneath the lively light of his vigor, regardless of desperation, iron will or whatever else serving as it's forge. Firefly would face an expression that refuses to relent in terms of his facial features.

On the other hand? That shudder within his hands tell of a different story, as always, Caelus was a soul destined to wear so much of his emotion upon his sleeve.

A gnawing question finds itself trying to drill into his mind once borrowed time comes into the equation. ..Is what he's doing cruel? To face someone who's preparing for their finale, only to try finding some branch of hope he can't exactly prove? It melts horribly as she comes to explain how he'll live longer. The very thought causes his insides to clutch with brewing frustration. "Firefly.."

So why does this doubt persist? A roaring declaration to deny this fate, that above all else, a fighting will that goes beyond the weapon feels so needed?

For a fleeting moment, a battle transpires to fight away the sting of tears. Picturing futures where she's gone, times they could've shared evaporated, experiences that are countless when they just forged this connection.. To just not be there? It was similar to stakes piercing the most fragile veins of his heart. Chilling, haunting, wanting to void all strength within his body and make it simply crumble in bitter acceptance.

Even then, the fact she has the strength to stand while declaring all of this? Making the most of that time. As someone who tenderly holds choice to his heart, how could he ever come to deny someone that very light that serves as a birthright?

"..Then there's a wish I'm going to take." Caelus grits out, keeping his resolve firm to prevent any potentials cracks within his tone to triumph.

"I want to be a fool."

"And to the last damn second, I'm going eat up whatever kind of angle truth wants dictate, and make our own."

"Will you let me stay by your side to make it come to be?" Something. There had to be something. ..And right now, he has to accept the utter selfishness he's daring to brand this moment with.

E--eh? Firefly hardly expected that reaction, though.. she shouldn't say she was surprised by it. In a way.. she should have seen this coming. The Trailblazer, for all he is worth, is someone who continues down a path, never expecting to see the end, always ready to fulfill a new adventure until the spark of adventure finally dies on its own. His spark just so happens to be a hard one to extinguish.

Hands on her shoulders, taken aback and shaken by his shaking hands, twilit irises peering into golden yellows, finding all sorts of things hidden in that gaze. Desperation. Determination. Unwavering intention to find a means to fulfill something she can't fulfill herself..

" Caelus.. " Her words are interrupted by more statements. Aren't you the one who overcame two damn deaths? Her life to live well has a ton more chapters?

Ah.. If only he knew. If only he could understand.. that fateful day they met, when she not only explained herself but her condition as well -- chronic, unforgiving, uncurable. She was a weapon designed to fight -- and like all weapons, they eventually become dull and worn, even through meticulous years of honing, sharpening, and restoring. But as those edges are honed and sharpened, she can feel pieces of herself flaking off. It may not be happening quickly thanks to Sam, but she knows that the reality is unavoidable. She knows she's not as complete as she once was. And now that Glamoth is gone for good..

" Caelus.. listen to me. " Her voice pleads with him -- to try to simmer down that fiery attitude- to try to calm those suddenly spiking nerves of his.

" .. No one's journey lasts forever. But they can go on for a long, long time. Mine.. just so happens to have been that way. But I'm not like most other people. My circumstances simply aren't the same. Caelus.. "

" You'll .. live longer than I will. I know that for a certainty. "

" .. I'm living on borrowed time. And just because that's.. the truth.. it doesn't mean I don't want to make the most of the time that's still left. "

#remunporium #| Threads #Firefly do u see what you set yourself up with #cause oh this PAIN #its doing something

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cheolhub · 2 years ago

Text

6:30 p.m. — jeon wonwoo

summary. wonwoo catches you touching yourself while he’s at work and decides to show you that he’s all you need.

wc. 755 (or so)

warnings. unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, hard dom!wonu— MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s short but yeah… hard dom!woo my fave genre

you wish you could recall the moment you ended up in this position. with your head pushed into your drool and tear-soaked pillow, ass in the air, and wonwoo’s hand pinning your wrists to your back as he roughly fucks in and out of you.

“thought you were my good girl,” he mutters in disapproval.

you turn your head, heated cheek on the wet pillow, “i-i am!” you cry defensively.

he chuckles, shaking his head, “nah, i don’t think you are,” his thrusts are sharper now. his cock kissing your cervix with every vigorous stroke. “just a pretty little slut,”

wonwoo has been busy lately. between being an idol and trying to get at least 5 minutes of sleep, there wasn’t much free time given to him. as much as he wanted to, he had no time to be with you, so the days felt long and sad and you were extremely pent up.

he knew, too. he felt so horrible about leaving you at home alone every day before you woke up and he felt even worse when he’d come back in the middle of the night and see you were asleep.

you needed relief, just this once. he hadn’t fucked you good in a week and that’s 7 days too long for your poor body. you usually would never even think about touching yourself since he keeps you satisfied, but you were growing horny with every waking second that you’d smell the cologne on his clothes or see a picture of him or even hear his voice when he’d call you during his breaks.

the one day you thought it’d be a good idea, wonwoo had also thought it was a good idea to go home early and surprise you.

and there you were, two fingers shoved into your cunt and tears in your eyes as you frustratedly tried to reach an orgasm. and there he was, watching through the glasses sliding off his nose with his arms crossed and an evil smirk on his face.

now, you’re begging him for mercy as he pounds into you, sending your mind into a frenzy.

“what? can’t go 10 minutes without my cock, huh?” he asks, his words patronizing. he knows it’s mean and he knows you did the best you could, but he can’t stop when he feels you clenching around him as if life depended on it with every dirty word he spews.

“uh-uh,” you confirm. “missed it, m-missed you!”

his heart flutters at your words because, god, did he miss you too. the words that leave his mouth, though, are anything but sweet. “missed me so much you couldn’t even let me know you’ve been getting off on your own?”

his hand releases your wrist so he can pull you up, back pressed flush against his chest as he moves his lips against your ear. you cry out feeling his cock at a different, deeper angle. “how many times have you gotten off without me, hmm? how many times did you fuck yourself?”

“ah! no-none, won! today only,” you whine, his hot breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine. you try to wiggle for friction as he stays frozen deep in your weeping cunt.

he brings his hand to your throat, squeezing it gently to not hurt you. “and did you cum?”

you choke on a sob, his hand wrapping around your throat making you feel even more bothered, arousal gushing all over his soaked length. “nono! needed you, wonwoo,” you breathe. “always need you! please, m’ sorry!”

“aw, poor thing,” he coos almost condescendingly. you can feel the mocking pout pressed against your ear. “not even your pathetic fingers can make you feel good. lemme take care of you, yeah? give you what you need?”

even as you shrink under his belittling, you nod your head strenuously, feeling overwhelmingly needy. you whimper a mantra of pleads and begs before you’re pushed back into the mattress feeling his cock leave your cunt.

whines flee your mouth as wonwoo pauses for a second, “you sure you want it, baby?” his voice is soft, a stark contrast from the way he was whispering in your ear seconds prior.

“yes, i’m sure,” you shudder out, heart skipping a beat. “wan’ it bad, baby.”

“and you know what to say when you need me to stop, right?”

“mhm,”

“good girl,” he whispers. “now, keep yourself up on your arms, yeah? wanna hear you nice and loud for me.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo oneshot #jeon wonwoo smut

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yeehawbvby · 2 years ago

Text

Old Friends, New Battles (Leon x F!Reader)

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Your best friend’s duties as the Chairman of Galar's Pokémon league have taken priority in his life, and you miss him. So, you decide to pay him a visit. Things don’t go according to plan, but in the best way possible.

Author's Note: Edited one last time. Now featuring the Charizard Pose(tm)!!

I hope you all enjoy the final product, despite the v gratuitous and slightly ooc Leon! :’) Keep in mind, MC is NOT supposed to be Gloria or Victor!! And she is in her 20s/roughly Leon’s age

Please let me know what you think, and take care! x

Give it some love on ao3!

The Battle Tower: The former Champion of Galar’s soaring glory, right at the heart of Wyndon. Tall, shiny, and easy as cheri berry pie to find. Even easier to navigate internally, being that there’s no winding hallways or finicky stairwells to get lost in. Perfect for someone who’s bad with navigation! Perfect for Leon.

You’ve been lifelong friends with Leon, attached at the hip and unconditionally loving supporting one another since childhood. It’s pretty common knowledge too, now, given his time in the public eye. Arceus, it took you guys months after his grand victory to get reporters off your backs.

Headlines everywhere speculated what you were to him, calling you the Galarian Queen, the Champion’s Champion, and so on. Paparazzi took pictures of the two of you relaxing with one another in cafes, walking side by side through the city, even just sitting together and idly scrolling through your rotom phones on the train. Trainers and Challengers envied you, ladies and gaydies feared you. It was only once you defeated him and became the new Champion of the Galar region that people laid off. Somehow, your win shifted the general public opinion from “Ooo, they’re totally dating!” to “Wow, they must’ve trained together!” You don’t get it, but it’s whatever.

It’s not like you minded that people thought you two were together. But only because you wanted to be a good friend, and ease Leon’s stress by not making a big deal about it! Of course!

When Leon was the Champion, he barely had time for you friends. You two hung out every chance you could, but ex-Chairman Rose had put a ton on Leon’s plate.

Now, Leon’s the Chairman.

Your best friend is your boss.

And he lets you do anything you want.

You’ve used some of your prize money to travel around Galar and catch up with old friends. Professor Sonia and her new assistant Hop are killing it as researchers. Marnie, the new Gym Leader at Spikemuth, is more powerful than ever; and Piers is still the adorably caring guardian and older brother he’s always been for her, because why wouldn’t he be? And of course, Bede is still a little shit, albeit he’s now a little shit that’s being progressively humbled by Gym Leader Opal’s vigorous training.

After that, you traveled back up to Wyndon, taking the long way through all the Wild Areas and side roads to train up your Pokémon. Can’t hurt to get them stronger, if you want to keep on being the Champion.

But now… fuck. Now what?

The Battle Tower: Chairman Leon’s soaring glory, right at the heart of your new home city, Wyndon. Tall, like Leon. Shiny, like Leon’s winning smile. Sweet as a cheri berry pie, just like Leo– wait. No.

All this thinking about Leon the Battle Tower made you realize something. You’ve never actually utilized the Battle Tower. What better way to train and see Leon than to join in on the fun?

From what you’ve gathered via Leon’s stories of his new career, every time you’re about to tier up in the tower’s own mini-league of sorts, you’ll face off against him. The only way to actually tier up is to beat him in a battle, which sounds simple since you’ve done it before. The issue is, you can only bring three Pokémon, you can’t use potions or revives, and each Pokémon can only hold one item. If your Pokémon is too overpowered, its level is temporarily scaled down, for fairness.

You knew what you were up against when you were just a Challenger, but this is a whole new and nerve-wracking experience for you. Then again, when have you ever turned down a challenge? Your fiery passion and competitiveness as a Pokémon trainer is what brought you this far, after all. It’s one of the reasons you and Leon have gotten on so well for all this time too.

With your new goal in mind, you trek along the outskirts of Wyndon, scavenging for items that’ll be of use as well as battling enough to raise your Pokémons’ stats. You manage to trade with some other trainers you come across too, giving them wishing pieces or pearls or whatever in exchange for items and moves that’ll help your team. After a short week or so, and with a little research, you decide it’s finally time to enter the fight… but you found something interesting in your studies that’s giving you pause.

Because of the mysterious and intense nature of his tower, Leon holds a strict no-rotoms policy once you enter the elevator. If you have one on you, it’s imperative that you give it to a staff member until your departure from the vicinity. Leon prefers people don’t talk about their experiences within the tower in detail either, and for the most part, that’s respected.

Someone snuck their rotom in, though. And this someone leaked a video of their battle with Leon. They’re one of the rare trainers with a dynamax band, meaning both sides’ Pokémon were able to go all-out. The poster lost, but it looked like they put up an immaculate fight. You can’t help but wonder if they’ll become a Challenger and take you on, someday.

You’d watched the footage plenty before it got taken down, despite how dirty it felt. Like you were cheating, almost. But eh, whatever. It truly was helpful to figure out Leon’s current fighting style, as well as the style of his opponent. You wonder if all the Battle Tower competitors fight in such a fashion.

Something that’s been reluctantly lingering in your mind though, despite how much you want to focus on the battle you saw, is how good your best friend looked.

You feel like a dumbass for focusing on something so trivial, but Arceus, he looked hot out there. Maybe it’s ‘cause you miss him outside of your almost-daily texts. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s gotten better looking. Who fuckin’ knows, dude? Not you. Not like it matters anyway. It’s just a dumb little crush.

A dumb little crush that’s haunted you for… well over a decade. Ugh.

In the footage, Leon sported a red, caped suit jacket, tight tan dress pants, and black boots. No hat, which is a normal sight for you, but it had the public quakin’ in their boots. According to various forum-goers, Leon wears the same outfit at work every day. It’s his new “default” look, now that he’s retired the Champion jersey and corny, regal cape.

Since you’ll be seeing him again – and surprising him, too – you try to think of the ways you can make your ~grand reveal~ more interesting, since he’s gotten more interesting. You think of your previous pranks on one another. None would really work in the tower’s setting, because of how strict regulations understandably are in there. You think of something you can say that might dazzle him or whatever, but nothing comes to mind. You’ve been boring lately. You think of his time as Champion, translated into the beginning of your own reign… oh, that’s it!

The first time he saw you in your Champion uniform, he thought it was hilarious. You’d worn his clothes in the past, for spontaneous sleepovers and rainy day emergencies. But you’d never worn his uniform (he kept it strictly off-limits), and never owned the same outfit as him before that. He reveled in how dorky you two looked, walking around while wearing the same shit sans his “crown” from head to toe. He kept giving you dopey compliments, like, “Hey, nice jersey, where can I get one like that?” and so on.

It was so fucking corny. Infuriating after a little, honestly.

But it was adorable the way he beamed at you for no reason every here and there, and it’s a funny memory to look back on, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try and get that reaction out of him again.

So, it’s decided! You stop at a boutique the afternoon of your first tower appointment, purchase a replica of his Champion jersey (on clearance, which is nice), in his size to add to the effect. Stopping home to change, you pair it with tall white ribbon socks and plain black trainers, skipping any sort of pants. Don't want 'em, don’t need ‘em! His shirt size is basically a dress on your shorter form anyway. With that, you head off.

It’s a tough first few battles, but being the current reigning Champion comes with its privileges. For example, a few people were so taken aback by the concept of battling you that they practically let you win. You were bothered when whole adults did it, but took it easy on the occasional kid that showed up all starstruck. When the battles didn’t turn out so poorly, though, you had a blast. It’s the first true adrenaline rush you’ve had since the Finals, and you decide to make training here a more regular occurrence.

Finally, the time comes to battle Leon. You stand in the center of the floor, back straight, Pokéball in hand and clasped within the other behind your back. You want to keep a serious facade, but slip up once the door across the room slides open, revealing your opponent.

Leon takes a few steps, and once he processes who he’s about to face, he yells “Whoa, holy shit!” and breaks out into a sprint towards you. Both of you have goofy smiles plastered on your faces as he slams into you for a hug, picking you up and squeezing the crap out of you.

“Dude, stop!” you strain, laughing through the pain of your back being cracked like a walnut. He’s still as strong as ever.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he giggles, large hands still cupped onto your shoulders. “How are you doi–” he cuts himself off, face freezing as he notices what you’re wearing. You stifle another laugh as he scans your body. He sternly says your name.

“Hm?”

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, although it comes out more like a statement.

“What the fuck is what?” You snort back a chuckle, watching him watch you.

When his eyes raise to meet yours again, your own eyes widen. There’s something sinister about the way he’s looking at you now. His laugh has turned into a proud and cocky smirk, and he’s squinting down at you through long lashes and dilated pupils. Oh Arceus, why is this hot?! He hums inquisitively, and before you can ask what’s up, he turns and walks towards his place on the field, letting Inteleon free from its ball mid-stride.

You note to yourself how much more muscular he’s gotten since you’ve last seen him in person. You didn’t feel it up close, but the way his suit clings to the curvature of his arms is making you feel some sorta way.

“Wait, we’re starting already?!” you laugh, cheeks flaring with heat as your brain snaps back to the reality of your situation.

“You’ll get hit with a water pledge in about 5 seconds if you don’t ready your first Pokémon, Champ!”

With that, you begin your usual pre-battle ritual: You shake your head to rattle out any nerves, hop and roll your shoulders a few times, and finally, you pitch out your beloved Umbreon and begin.

_______________

Leon kicked your ass.

You were too distracted by how good he looks to fight to your full potential. Well, that and that look he gave you before the competition began.

Like, what was that?

Both of you are breathing heavy through the thick air as you stand opposite from one another. Sweat clings your new jersey to your body in weird ways, and Leon’s bangs are threatening to stick to his forehead. He ties his hair back into a high ponytail, and you follow his lead, noticing the way your own tresses are plastered to your neck and temples.

“I know that wasn’t the best you’ve got, mate!” he taunts. He strides towards you, shaking his head and glaring menacingly despite his wide smirk. “You think this is some kind of game?” Leon asks, crouching as much as he needs to with his hands on his thighs, to match your eye level. “You already took my title, now you think you can just waltz in here looking like me and run me out of my own tower, too?”

The corner of your mouth quirks up as you try to ready a snarky reply, but he continues.

“You know I don’t go easy on anyone,” he mutters, punctuating the end of the sentence with your name.

He’s never talked to you like this before. Something about the way your name lulled out of his mouth brings a new heat to your belly. Sure you’ve shared angry quarrels and bull-headed debates, but he’s never really had such an obvious fire in his eyes. You didn’t notice it in the video that one trainer captured, and you’ve definitely never noticed it in your own battles against one another. Not even during your title match.

“I-I’m just a little distracted today, I guess,” you stutter out when his gaze doesn’t falter.

He bites his lip as he studies your face, and you look down, as if a mild tilt would cover up the pink bulbs of your cheeks. You wonder nervously if it’s obvious how this new treatment is making you feel. When you glance up, you see his eyes flickering down your form again, drinking in the way your jersey that’s also kinda his jersey folds along your curves. You suck in a breath and look down again when he catches you staring at him, staring at you. He stands up straight and wraps around to your left, slinging a heavy right arm over your shoulders.

“You were my last battle for today,” he announces with a deep sigh, nodding towards the door “Let’s get outta here.”

The two of you make small talk as he leads you a few floors down. Yes, you read that correctly – Leon led you somewhere, and he knew where he was going! You’re so proud!

As you two ease into conversation, the butterfrees dissipate from your stomach. This is the Leon you’re used to. This is comfortable. It’s not confusing. It’s not sexy well like it totally is but like it’s easier to ignore when Leon is being Leon and not whatever the fuck that incubus back there was. It’s goofy and cozy and friendly and sarcastic and you missed it. Not that you were complaining about that other stuff… This is more familiar.

He’s bringing you to the locker rooms to freshen up before you two head out. ‘Cause you both reek. The facilities here are mainly used by staff, he says, but they’re rarely used at all by anyone other than him. It’s rare that the staff really need anywhere to change or store things, being that their work is so sedentary – although, he’s trying to change that. He wants them to get more involved! He has no plans to abandon his dreams of making Galarians the greatest Pokémon trainers in the world. You smile as he reassures you of it, and you believe with 100% certainty that he truly can achieve that.

When the two of you enter the locker rooms, you’re in awe of how pristine it is. Locker rooms are a weird thing to get excited over, but you’d be surprised by how many of them are just tiny lil’ sweatboxes. This is like a frickin’ spa, amidst a bunch of abnormally large lockers. Leon-sized lockers. Wyndon Stadiums’ changing room, the most clean and efficient locker room you’ve ever entered, doesn’t hold a candle to this.

Once you’re done voicing how cool it is in here, and once Leon’s done teasing you over how nerdy you sound, you head off to look for the showers. But little did you know that Leon was following you… At least until you thunk against cold metal. Leon’s got you trapped – your back against a probably vacant locker, and his arms on either side of you. He has that look in his eyes again.

“W-what’s up?”

“Why are you wearing my jersey?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, and despite your racing heart, you’re able to manage a sassy answer to match your face. “Technically, it’s not your jersey,” you prod. “It’s just got your numbers on it.”

His eyes narrow more, and so does the gap between you. “You went out and got a duplicate of my jersey… in my size?”

Refusing to give up your bravery, you nod, a smirk still present on your face. “Yeah. Just got it today. Ya like it?”

He breathes deeply, looking annoyed, but with a hint of amusement there. “I do,” Leon admits, his voice gravelly. “But why?”

“A lady can’t show some support for her predecessor?”

“Sure she can,” He chuckles. “But I need a real answer, please.” He waits for you to reply with raised brows and thinned lips.

“…To get a reaction out of you.”

“To get a reaction out of me.” You nod. “What kind of reaction?”

“I thought it would be more along the lines of the one you had when I started wearing my own Champion uniform,” you answer, “not… whatever this is.”

“Do you know what this is?” he growls.

You answer honestly, “Still trying to figure that out.” Well, it’s at least half honest.

You’re starting to get the idea, given his overall demeanor today and now this, that he feels the same things you’re feeling right now.

He sighs your name, sounding almost disappointed. “I know you’re smart enough to figure out what this is. You’re a clever woman.” His eyes pan from yours, to your lips, and back up, making your heart skip a beat. “I don’t doubt that your initial idea was to get a cheeky laugh out of me…” His voice softens, “But I haven’t seen you in weeks. Over a month, at least. You’re my best friend, but you’re also the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and you show up to my tower looking like this?”

Your eyes widen at his pseudo-confession. You know he thinks you’re cute, as you’ve both tossed plenty of looks-oriented compliments at each other before. But you always thought it was in a friendly sorta way. He’s never called you beautiful or anything. Your face feels like it’s been fire blasted by a charizard, and Leon’s cheeks are looking a little pink too.

A moment passes.

And then another.

And then a wave of courage overtakes you, so you act on it.

“So… you want me to take it off?” you whisper, your hands finding the hem of your jersey, and slowly beginning to lift it up.

You’ve seen each other naked before. You both needed to strip down to bathe while you camped together back in the day. But that was just pals being friends, doing what you needed to do to stay healthy in the Wild Area. This is much, much different.

You wonder briefly if the distance that’s grown between you two as his new duties took priority is the reason there’s such a newfound tension, right now.

But that thought is cut short when Leon’s gaze on you darkens and his hands cup around your cheeks and his lips crash down into yours. Arceus.

You let out a surprised squeak, but quickly adjust to the situation at hand, melting into his touch. Abandoning your grip on your shirt, you cling onto his jacket instead. He deepens the kiss, and you loosen your clutch, opting to rub lightly up and down his chest. You could swear you felt him shiver a little at the motion.

Leon’s always had a powerful aura about him, but he’s been known for being a gentle giant of sorts. Behind closed doors he can be an absolute nuisance, but that’s something only people dear to him – like you – know. And besides, he counteracts it by being… a genuinely amazing guy.

That being said, it catches you by surprise when his fingers find your neck and he squeezes. You can still breathe, but the restricted airflow is intoxicating as your vision is tickled with little stars. A soft moan slips out of you and you feel him smile against you before pulling back. He looks down at you like you’re his prey. As if he’s drinking in the sight of you, flustered and shivering beneath him, wearing his hands like a necklace. As if it’s something he’s imagined doing before.

He dips down again, kissing the corner of your mouth, then nibbling your jawline, and then removing one hand off your neck just to replace it with his teeth.

In between love bites, he purrs, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

His tongue swipes a sensitive spot, prompting another moan. One of your hands finds his ponytail and you absentmindedly play with his hair to self-soothe. You shake your head in response to his question, not knowing he felt this way at all until today.

“I always kept my jersey off-limits for borrowing for this exact reason…” You never would’ve expected Leon to be kinky about something like that. It’s so hot. “And you just waltzed in here wearing practically nothing but it.” His head comes back up to level with you, but his eyes quickly trail to your lips. Leaning in until his lips graze yours, he murmurs, “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

You’re both smiling now as you go in for another kiss. As if his last sentence made the both of you realize that you two aren’t just lusting after anyone, you’re lusting after your best friend.

You know each other better than anyone else. You’ll be able to figure out each other’s bodies so easily just from being so familiar with each other’s preferences and reactions… even just from being comfortable enough around each other to always openly communicate how you feel. None of what’s happening now feels awkward, and neither of you are worried about your friendship being ruined by it, because your bond has always gone so strong. Why would this put a screw in things?

You deepen the kiss with a widened mouth, gently sucking his tongue as your hands trail down his body, toying with the waist of his pants. “If I’d known I’d get this reaction out of you,” you lilt, cupping his length through the fabric, “I would’ve worn your jersey years ago.” You feel him twitch beneath your touch.

You’re about to strip away the cloth between your hand and his cock – which is gigantic when it’s hard, apparently, good lord – when he cups his hands around your thighs and lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist and pinning you against the lockers. You quietly curse to yourself at the feeling of your cores making contact like this, but your pleasure is interrupted by a stifled giggle from the Chairman.

Your foreheads are pressed together, but he won’t look you in the eye.

He’s up to something.

“Are you ready to have a cha–”

“For fuck’s sake, Lee, don’t say it…” you whine.

“A Champion time?”

“Leon,” you scold his name in the same way you’d scold a Pokémon doing something naughty. You still laugh, though. He’s chuckling against you, his laugh rumbling from his chest into your own as he plops his head into your shoulder. “You’re literally the worst.”

“I’m great.”

“You’re not even the Champion anymore.”

His head shoots back up, and he still looks like he’s in a silly and goofy mood, aside from his eyes boring into you like he wants to ravage you as punishment for saying that. He’s probably conflicted on how to feel about this. Does he take the insult to heart, or will he brush it off? Whatever. If it means Leon’ll be more rough with you, then maybe you should taunt him more.

One of his hands finds your throat again, and he squeezes harder than previously. You groan and roll your eyes shut, and he whispers against your earlobe, “At least I’m not a bottom bitch.”

It was supposed to be a cheeky roast, but instead, his words turn you on more. Arceus, you really are such a bottom bitch! You’d laugh if you could, but instead you just smile, drinking in the pleasurable pain of mild asphyxiation.

Once he lets go and you’re able to use your words, you suggest that you do this stuff in the showers. Two pidoves with one stone, and all that. He agrees, but rather than putting you down, Leon opts to just carry you there.

“I can walk, you know.”

“But you’re fun to toss around.”

That shuts you right up.

From the moment you two enter the small, sauna-like capsule – The showers have their own rooms, rather than being tiny little stalls here! This place rocks. – you begin stripping one another. You point out that Leon’s gotten more buff since you last saw him, poking at his abs while he flexes them for show. You also admit that you were very much ogling at him because of this during your battle, but he already knew. Damn.

As soon as the two of you are fully naked, you can’t keep your hands off of each other.

“Hey, these have grown since I last saw them!” he points out, massaging your boobs with both hands.

You snort and swat him away, turning the water on after. “I’d hope so,” you laugh, “We were barely adults the last time you saw them.”

“Your boobs will always have a special place in my heart, you know,” he teases. “They were the first ones I saw in person.”

“How sweet,” you sarcastically enthuse. “Now get down here so I can kiss you or something.”

He obliges before lifting you up again, just to seat you on the bench below the showerhead. Feeling Leon’s bare chest in this context is weird. Not in a bad way, by any means. It’s just… different. You feel his muscles ripple below your palms as he tugs you closer to him, perfectly aligning his cock with your entrance.

“Mmmf!” You moan into his mouth at the contact, embarrassed by how easily the tip threatens to slide in.

Leon pulls back, his face beaming with a devilish pride. “Mother of Arceus, you’re wet.”

“Shut up.” You cover your face, feeling bashful.

“How often do you get this wet for me?” he muses softly, teasing the tip of his penis along your folds. Making you want to scream.

He removes your hands from your face with one of his, and pins your wrists above you. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, a poor attempt to quell the lewd mewls Leon’s drawing out.

“How many times have you touched yourself, wishing it was your Champion doing the work for you instead?” he prods, despite you not having answered his previous question.

The sounds of water pattering against the floor and your skin, Leon’s heavy breathing, and your heady whines fill the small room. It sounds disgusting, but like, in a good way. You pity the poor staff member that might have to walk past you two and hear all this.

You feel so delectably small writhing beneath Leon, while he admires you like a damn trophy. His pupils are blown wide as he takes in the sight of you, almost-silently muttering something about how perfect you look. Finally, he slips the head past your entrance, proceeding slowly while you both adjust to each other’s sizes. You moan in unison, and he scans you for consent to start moving. After a few short moments, you nod, desperate to feel more of him.

“Fuck, you’re way too tight, mate,” he groans endearingly, steadily picking up speed.

Chuckling amidst your moans, you force out, “Maybe you’re just too big, Has-been.” You learned earlier that your bratty nature brings out a new side of Leon, and you want to see more of it.

Your plan goes swimmingly. Leon’s award-winning smile is on full display as he laughs, but there’s something hellish in the way his brows furrow above his narrowing eyes. He tightens his grip on your side, nails threatening to dig through your skin, as he slams into you.

“Holy fuck, Lee!”

You begin slipping, and noticing the scrunched-up position you’re being forced into with each movement, Leon repositions so that you can lay down fully.

You cheekily thank him for the gentlemanly behavior, to which he responds with a firm slap to your tit.

You moan out in surprise as he latches his hand around it, pounding into you harder again now that you’re comfortable. He smiles at the positive response, and repeats the action, prompting the same one again.

“You like that, princess?” he purrs, making your stomach do a flip. Fuck, that was so cool.

“Princess?” you strain out, starry-eyed and reveling in the new nickname.

“Ahah~,” he pauses to curse your name under his breath, “you’re more like a queen now, I guess.”

“N-no I– fuck!– I prefer princess, actually.”

Leon laughs at your effort to talk, bending down to give you a sweet forehead kiss. As if he isn’t ravaging your lower half right now. “Good, so do I,” he agrees. “My filthy fucking princess,” he lilts.

“Oh Arceus mate, that’s so hot,” you half-giggle and half-moan.

“I can tone it down, if you want,” he mumbles, stifling a chuckle. “I can, like…” He sits up and slowly, as if wanting you to stop him, begins to morph into his signature Charizard pose.

”Lee for the love of all that is holy do NOT—“

He thrusts into you as he snaps into formation, and you’re disappointed by how good it feels. Leon’s chest vibrates as he holds back his laughter, while you nearly cackle him right out of you. Your companion’s nose scrunches with laughter as he turns his face towards you again, readjusting as to not be completely ejected.

The conversation falters, and you comfortably focus on each other instead. He toys with your nipples and you with his, discovering that you’re both only kinda into that. He knows now that you’re into being choked and slapped at, but you find out soon enough that he definitely isn’t. Fine by you, since it means you don’t have to do as much work. He is into having his hair pulled, though, but he retracts it after discovering that you do too. He won’t let you touch his amethyst tresses anymore. At least not this time.

He roughly flips you over, flinging your body as though you weigh nothing. Both of your legs are slotted between his now, one of his kneeled beside you for support and the other planted on the tile ground. Leon has you face down, booty up. Old faithful.

Having had very few sexual partners prior to this, you’ve never been with somebody this big... So it’s only natural that such a deep-reaching position would feel so much more intense than before. The noises you’re making are animalistic, and he’s adoring every second of it. Leon does you the favor of tugging your head up by the ponytail with one hand and choking you with the other. You reward him by thrusting your hips back into his, not only making his job easier but heightening the pleasure for both of you.

“Shit, just like that,” he growls, demanding that you move faster consequently.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re both reaching your limits. Leon removes his grip from your soaked hair and relocates the respective hand to the small of your back. He moans your name like a prayer, nails deliciously carving into the skin of your throat as he approaches his climax. The added pain is like a dopamine hit, leaving you blissfully apathetic to the marks Leon’s adorning you with.

“H-how close are you?” he grunts, “I’ll never live it down if you don’t finish first.”

You grin back at him over your shoulder, knowing he’s right, but not confirming nor denying anything. “Harder, Lee,” you moan. “Please, I’m so fucking close!”

Both hands move to grip your ass, and he takes full control, bouncing you against his hips with a second wind to finish the two of you off. As fate would have it, you manage to cum together. Aww. Once you’re both finished, he collapses atop your back, squishing you against the bench. You giggle as you try to squirm him off of you, and he suddenly gives up, realizing that he just came inside you.

“Oh no–”

“You’re good,” you wave him off. “I’m still on birth control.”

“Oh thank Arceus.”

He pulls out and helps you up atop wobbly legs, guiding you to the soap so you can actually freshen up now. The two of you chat as you bathe together, catching up a little more in-depth than your usual texting allows. Enthusing one another about cool Pokémon you encountered, and whatnot. It’s just like old times.

Once you’re both done and wrapped up in towels, you exit the shower room and sit on the bench nearer to Leon’s locker.

“We should probably talk about, uh…” he gestures between the two of you as he falters, “Us. Or something.”

“Yeup,” you agree with a nod. “Can we grab takeout or something, first? I’m starving.”

“Good call,” he answers, scruffing his hair dry with a towel. “Paldean sound okay?” he asks, peaking at you adorably through the fabric.

You groan with pleasure, “Please.”

“Arceus,” he laughs, “That sounds so weird now.”

“You sound so weird always!”

“Speak for yourself, Champ,” he taunts, proceeding to pitch up his voice and imitate your moans. You swat at his pec, he swats your boob back, and the two of you proceed to smackdown at one another for a few seconds like a bunch of feral rhyperiors.

“I forfeit,” you announce, standing up to change. “Do you have anything I can borrow? My jersey probably stinks.”

With a dastardly grin, Leon pulls his actual Champion jersey out from his locker. And you proceed to wear the shit out of it as you two eat food, talk about your feelings, and roam each other’s bodies some more.

194 notes · View notes

csainzsgirly · 2 years ago

Note

pierre just teasing you all night while you're out but when you get home...

Say no more 😮‍💨

You were out with some girlfriends for the night, as a club had organized a girlsnight and you hadn’t seen your friends in a while. Pierre was already trying to keep you at home when he saw the dress you were wearing, the short, black dress that accentuated your beautiful curves so perfectly, the rhinestone end of the dress teasing your ass. You went out anyway, having fun with your girlfriends, but it didn’t take long until he was texting you.

Pierre: I can’t stop thinking about how sexy you looked, baby 😮‍💨

You swiped the text away, knowing damn well what he was doing. Ignoring it seemed to work for a little while, until he started sending pictures. Your curiosity was sparked, but you managed to ignore it, turning off the sound on your phone. But Pierre knew how to keep your thoughts on him, and you just had to move to the bathroom to see the video he send you.

Pierre: All I want to do is lift that dress and bend you over 😈

Your eyes darted over the screen as you opened the video of him jerking his cock, your mouth nearly watering at the sight of his hand wrapped around his veiny cock, your pussy becoming wet at the thought of it inside you, or the feeling of his heavy cock on your tongue while he thrusts into your mouth. Pierre notices you’re online, that you saw the video, so he sends a voice note right after, capturing the rough, low growls and moans while letting you hear the slick sound of his cock moving through his hand.

It’s enough to get you home, and you make up a weak excuse why you need to get an uber right now. You’re aroused and incredibly horny when you get back to Pierre’s apartment, no time wasted as you kick off your heels, throw your purse around the corner to meet him in the bedroom. He’s still there, a pair of sweats on that captures the outline of his cock. “I hate you,” you mutter as you climb on the bed to straddle him. “Let me fuck you like it then,” Pierre replies before your lips slam together.

Your panties are ripped apart under your dress and you’re bent over before you can blink. Face down, ass up on the bed while he slides his hard cock through your folds and pushes deeply inside. Pierre moans at the feeling of your wet cunt, tight and warm around him, and he starts his vigorous pace to ravish you completely. Your hands fist into the sheets, feeling him stretching you out, hitting your g-spot over and over before he fills you with his cum.

#pg

47 notes · View notes

finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

Note

I'm currently stuck at work and it got me thinking so here's a little request for you: Oz working later than usual and Reader missing him?

Re: I Miss You

Farrell!Penguin x Female!Reader, word count: 1.4k this was heavily influenced by the "why don't you send me a little email" gif as well as my headcanon that oz types like a dad over email urm i really don't think i could love oswald cobblepot more than i do without it becoming a concern for my general wellbeing so thank you for indulging 💜 pls let me know if you want a different style, but i feel like you know by now that i am just an incorrigible whore who can't be tamed 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: masturbation, joi kinda, daddy!kink obviously

Oswald’s office was eerily quiet apart from the gramophone playing out some swing classics at a low volume, something to soothe him while he worked. It was near impossible to concentrate though, and he kept finding his eyes drifting to the gold-plated clock on the wall, a gift from someone long dead by his hand. All he had to do was focus, get through the folder of information handed to him by one of his ‘inside’ guys, information he couldn’t just hand off to a lackey to sift through. But his mind was constantly drifting, watching the clock seemingly jump by half hours each time he glanced at it, swearing it had only been seconds. He said he’d be home by 8pm. It was now 11.30pm.

He pulled out his wallet, flipping through it for the picture of you he kept in there, stroking his thumb over it. It seemed a bit silly, maybe pointless, since there were pictures of you on the wall, and one framed on the desk. But the one in his wallet was his favourite. As he smiled down at it in his hand, he wondered if you were worried about him. You hadn’t texted, but you knew better than that. If he was busy, he’d never look at his phone. He had to keep it away from him, or the distractions would be endless. This was the longest he’d ever been late by, and he feared you might be really stressed, wondering where he was. One look wouldn’t hurt.

Oz began to stand from his desk when he heard the little ping of an incoming email. It was from you. You knew how to get in touch with him if you needed him, he thought, smirking to himself, clicking on the email.

I Miss You Hey Ozzie! When are you coming home? Don’t feel bad, but I made dinner. Yours can be warmed up later, though. I’m not bothered about that, but I miss you!!! Yours <3

Tapping at the keyboard, Oz left his reply with you, fingers rubbing his temples as the guilt threatened to give him a headache.

Re: I Miss You Hey dollface. Got work to do. Let me finish here. Won’t be home any earlier with distractions. Promise to be quick. Keep sofa warm for me. Daddy.

A renewed sense of focus, Oz lifted the files again, taking some vigorous notes before his mind slipped again, ruminating on the fact you missed him. There was someone, beautiful and in love with him, sitting alone in his house, waiting for him to return to shower him in affection and he was here, at work, ignoring you.

Re: I Miss You Ok. I’ve been waiting for you all day, don’t work too hard. Yours <3

Another pang of guilt rang through his chest, anytime he felt you were in even the slightest of pain drove him crazy, but when it was his fault? He couldn’t cope. All he wanted was to get back to you, hold you in his arms, kiss you, feel you. Twice during a meeting with a prospective ‘partner’ he’d been so distracted thinking of the way he had left you in the morning, tiny nightdress on, the silk sheets clinging to your body, outlining your lower half under the sheets, face bare, peaceful, hair wild. He’d pressed a kiss to your forehead and left, knowing he’d get to come back to it later. That was more than 12 hours ago. He was growing impatient.

Re: I Miss You I’ve missed you too sweetheart. Thinking about you all day. Will be home soon. Be waiting for me. Want you. Daddy

It’s a while before you reply again, giving Oz enough time to look at the files again, scanning them and taking nothing in. Disappointed that he’s not with you. Disappointed that he’s not finished his work. Disappointed that you weren’t distracting him anymore. Another ping had him scrambling to the his screen, desperate to hear from you, even if it was another message tinged with a sad tone.

Re: I Miss You *open img attachment* Yours <3

Oz clicked on the little attachment, no thumbnail available, and he was glad. That would have been a tease, it would have ruined the surprise. He leaned in closer to his screen, cursing the fact that at his age, he should probably get some glasses for this kind of thing. But realistically, how was he to know that at midnight on a random night you’d be sending him the most lurid image of yourself, strewn over his desk at home, his favourite of your lingerie on, winking at him from behind the camera. He placed his hands over his face, rubbing them down and slapping his cheeks lightly, trying to focus on what he was doing, or at least what he was about to do. If he could just get over thinking about you, he could rush through the rest of the papers and get home to you.

Re: I Miss You Meeting invite with Oswald Cobblepot. Please click here to accept. Daddy

Oz was staring into the camera when you arrived on screen. Still wearing the outfit from your picture, he groaned when he saw you.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. But that, this, it’s a little unfair don’t you think? I mean come on!”

“If you’d been home when you said you would be you wouldn’t be missing it. I told you I’d made you dinner.” You winked at him, giggling at your own line. As much as it made you cringe to flirt so outrightly, you knew it drove Oz wild.

“Oh, baby. You’re killing me here. How am I supposed to finish my work now with you lookin’ like that?”

“I think you deserve a little bit of punishment, maybe a better look at what you’re missing?”

“That so? You show me then, dollface. Show Daddy what you have waiting for him.”

Standing up from his desk chair you turned, back towards the camera, pushing the chair further back from the desk, ass out the whole time.

“You done this before, toots?” Oz joked from behind, you shot him a smirk from over your shoulder before settling back into the chair, letting your legs open slowly, laying as far to the sides as the arms would let you. When you brought your attention to the screen, you could see Oz’s hand was under the desk, the movement you could see making it obvious that he was stroking his cock, his smile wide and crooked, gold tooth catching the light of the desk lamp. Knowing he was touching himself, his other hand gripping the edge of the desk, shirt untucked and exposing the bottom of his stomach, thick dark body hair visible, saliva pooling in your mouth, you let out a moan, biting your lip.

“Don’t keep it in kid, let it out. Let Daddy hear you. Why don’t you just move those little panties to the side, touch yourself for me.” You sighed against your touch, fingers rubbing against your clit, trying to maintain eye contact with Oz through the screen, but you threw your head back at the sound of his appreciation, groaning at the sight of you.

“Good girl, maybe you put your fingers inside now, think of Daddy when you do it, huh?”

You did as you were told, humming in pleasure at the sensation, letting his name slip out past your lips, Oswald, Daddy, Ozzie. All of them, over and over again as you pushed inside yourself, listening to his breathing growing heavier as he pumped at his cock furiously under the desk, keeping it hidden from you, teasing you whether he meant to or not.

“You think…huh…you think you could take…slip the bra down…mmm…”

He could barely get a sentence out, only stumbling more of the expletives he was mumbling as you pulled the bra down, cup pressing into your breasts, lifting them slightly, your fingers running slowly, almost coyly over them as you licked your lips, eyes meeting Oz’s the entire time.

“Wait…wait, baby. Stop, stop.”

It was abrupt, strange, but you did as you were told. You stared, waiting for his next instruction.

“Don’t do anything else. And don’t move. I’m coming home now, I’ve got more important work to finish there.”

You smiled to yourself as the screen went black on Oz’s side and the call was disconnected.

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