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laylajeffany · 9 months ago

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Intentions are Everything | Chaos Universe OneShot for @fridayd13th

Summary: Wednesday and Enid (age 22) reconnect on a rainy night after routine and the season of life they are in keep them apart. WC: 4k exactly (welcome to layla's <5k challenge) Rated: T (I’m at work it would absolutely end best in sex but a Clifford the Big Red Dog stuffie is looking at me in my supply closet and I feel judged.)

Note: As I’m experimenting with some new writing rules for myself to set myself to different standards and expectations for future projects (not even fanfiction); I’m weaponizing my competence and refusing to use my available contract hours assisting others who do not have withitness and follow-through. When I’m at work and not with the children on a break per required of my union contract, I’m locking myself in my supply closet to write! I'm too efficient! Everything is done through April! However, it’s simply not the correct setting to be working on my multi-chapter work; I need at least two hours at a time for that. These one-shots have to be prompted by someone else (I can’t have stewing on the content), under 5K, and I’m not allowed to work on them at home. I'll probably upload these to AO3 once I have a few of them complete.

The prompt "Wenclair/Domestic/Chaos Universe/Rainy Day" was from @fridayd13th - thank you so much for everything you’ve done to support my writing over the last year, and all the other fanfic authors you have impacted by your sharing, comments, and kindness. Thank you! & a Black Menagerie update is in the editing phase and will be up tomorrow sometime!

It wasn’t supposed to rain.

And not just because she already had outdoor plans, but there hadn’t been a drop forecasted (Wednesday had been checking obsessively). If there was a way to light the sky on fire, she surely would have…only to have that flame extinguished, immediately – like her carefully structured night out.

That was dramatic. (Wasn’t she always? And to think, Enid was the one at the theater that evening.) With a silent pivot, Wednesday adjusted course without hesitating, not wanting to waste a moment, even if it included one of the heaviest sighs she’d ever released. She couldn’t be taken down by reanimated corpses of bigots, genocidal maniacs, werewolf councils, Hydes, or the weather.

Life had gotten between herself and her fiancée over the last few months, and as she managed to be surprised by a late April rain, it showed. Between her endless lectures, bookwork, and mock trials, Network meetings and Enid’s grueling six-day-a-week performance schedule that only had her off on Mondays (Wednesday’s latest day at law school, naturally), their time together that didn’t involve one of them working on something was rare and precious. After a heated argument the week before, ended by the redhead who lived in the basement unit of their townhouse, Wednesday had stormed off to New Jersey. A train ride and taxi to her family’s home had her barreling into her mother’s study wet (it had been raining then too), upset, and in the foulest of moods.

It had taken Morticia quite some time to put together the fractured pieces of information her daughter was revealing and advise the same thing that the other wise woman in her life already had; Enid and Wednesday just needed to spend meaningful time together. When all of their hours in one another’s space were domestic routines and transitional time trying to catch each other up on the latest without being part of it, they were bound to spat.

Enid had been more than a little bit upset that Wednesday’s solution to their problem was running away and had hotly asked for the night apart when Morticia said that she thought it would be more practical for Lurch to drop her off than deal with the train again. At the notion of spending the night alone in her parents’ house settled in, Wednesday had a meltdown the likes of which they hadn’t seen from her in years. Morticia had slept with her when she finally convinced her to at least lay down, likely in fear that she was going to slip into a meditation and wind up in the wrong side of the ether because of her twisted energy.

The next morning, she’d had a long and overdue chat about romance with both her parents. They spoke from the heart – it was mushy and disgusting. Their own experiences made her want to bury her head in the sand. Yet - Wednesday had desperately needed to hear it. She and Enid were a far cry from the two of them. Though she might’ve possessed some Gomez-like traits every now and again, Wednesday was her own, unique breed and would love her own way, too. But, to her chagrin, hearing their perspective did help – and it put her plan into motion.

Enid wasn’t home when Wednesday arrived – she had a matinee that afternoon and then an evening show as well. With all her focus, Wednesday tidied up their apartment not only in proper order, but also made sure she’d put Enid’s favorite sheets on the bed, started the incense she liked the best, and ordered all her prized snacks for the week when she had groceries delivered. After a long talk with the couple downstairs, about recovering from a blow-out (they were more than familiar with that topic), Wednesday also committed herself to certain actions for the week ahead.

Unfortunately – the experimental medication she was on, after the sleepless night before, forced her to fall asleep when she laid in bed, trying to write a formal apology to her fiancée – afraid of forgetting something if she just tried to speak it all. It would still be from the heart, but scripted so she made sure to make every point.

That was how Enid woke her up with sweet, gentle kisses when she’d gotten home from her show, close to eleven. She had a fresh release of tears, and Wednesday’s notebook in her hand, stroking her cheeks and promising – she was forgiven, and that she was also sorry, for how she’d responded and reacted to everything.

In her grogginess, Wednesday made a promise – that she was going to give Enid a real date; she was going to honor her with something special, not routine, not a drive-by conversation. She wanted to give her a night that Enid could treasure.

And so, with two hours until her show released that Friday, Wednesday cooked, baked, transformed the attic space and prepared the environment with all the heart and ambiance-creating ability she had.

Locating her umbrella and stepping into black Wellies, she took the pink ones by the door into her hands and a jacket when she realized the temperature dipped as well. With a black and white striped snake over her shoulders tucked into her collar to stay dry, she made the familiar trek out of their Upper West Side apartment to Midtown – a journey she used to take when she was committed to making it to Enid’s show at least once a week.

How quickly things changed when novelty wore off. She hadn’t been to the theater in at last four months, she realized – vowing to change that, too.

One metro ride and a few blocks walked in the rain later, she stood outside the theater door, grateful the rain would keep most of the obsessive, obnoxious out-of-towners from lining up for autographs. Her snake poked his head out curiously when the door opened a few times, hoping for Enid, but it was always orchestra first, Wednesday reminded Augustus softly.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. Only three other cast members groaned at the rain before heading out themselves before Enid let out a full whine upon opening the door, then a completely delighted gasp. “Wednesday! Ohemgee, you did not have to come all the way here!”

“I didn’t want you caught in this beautiful weather without proper gear,” She said, passing Enid’s rainboots to her. She let out an excited squeak of appreciation, dipping back in and swapping her shoes, then accepting the rain jacket before positioning herself under Wednesday’s umbrella, wrapping an arm around her waist. Holding the handle and depositing a kiss to her lips, ignoring how she still had on her stage makeup and dreadful, bright red lipstick that probably transferred, Wednesday clarified, “There is an obvious change in plans from our rooftop dining experience in Brooklyn. But our evening is not ruined, simply altered.”

“Awe, well – that’s so sweet. I didn’t even know it had started to rain! I’m glad I don’t have to be super bummed out, either. Thanks for taking care of everything! Hey – how was the exam?”

“Grueling. Torture. It took me every available moment to finish. Naturally, I scored a hundred four,” Wednesday said with a little smirk as the sky emptied itself onto the city, hard raindrops rattling the waterproof covering above them as they moved to the subway station. “And the show?”

“The usual,” Enid shrugged. “Friday night crowds are notoriously off – though this one wasn’t so bad. I don’t know. It’s been almost seven months now – there’s rumblings about auditions the Crazy for You revival moving to the US, I’d for sure be auditioning for that – this role has me feeling a little...locked in. I’m not, like, over it – but I’d be up for something different.”

“Insert here a cheesy line about being crazy for you in any show you’re billed in. I also recognized on my way here – I haven’t come out to watch in so long. I’m genuinely sorry for the pacing of our time together and the inadequacies I’ve brought, Enid.”

“Oh, you do not need to apologize for that, Wednesday! This is my job, as much as it’s art. It’s not like I’m going to catch you in the courtroom on any kind of regular basis – that’d probably be sups inappropriate. Well – we know in the future that I’ll see you in the Supreme Court – but that’s like, you coming to opening night of me as a leading lady. It’s different. I don’t expect my partner at a weekly curtain call.”

“Still,” She said as they waited on the platform after taking the slippery stairs down, keeping her umbrella folded low to drip onto the already sopping tile, “I do like watching you perform. Even if this isn’t my favorite show – I’d like to see you soon. I’ll leave father and Em behind, though.”

Enid giggled. “I don’t mind their…enthusiastic reception to my stage presence,” Enid found careful words as the train arrived – packed, of course, for a Friday night on the 1 in Midtown. Finding a place to stand where they wouldn’t be absorbing too much liquid from others who’d been caught in the rainstorm unprepared, they took the short ride back uptown, making it home just as another couple was about to enter their shared foyer.

Emiliana and Josie were soaked to the bone, obviously caught in the storm, and in Emiliana’s case – thrilled about it. Josie looked a little less than enthusiastic and both Wednesday and Enid backed away when her wife tried to embrace them. “It’s their date night, too – leave them alone,” Josie warned, tugging her back by the shoulders with a sigh.

“Well, I do not think they are going to be dining on roofs, bien-aimée!” Emiliana argued, about to go in again when Josie popped the lock on the lower-level unit with a groan, wishing the girls a good night – whatever they ended up doing, before ushering Emiliana downstairs while she spoke rapidly in French about which movie she wanted to watch and why would she need a shower, she was already wet?

Unable to hide her smirk, Wednesday took off her boots, setting them on a rug while Enid popped the umbrella open to dry off (chancing her luck) and shrugged out of her coat, hanging both damp garments on a hook before locking the main door, then opening their own when they entered the kitchen.

Enid’s enhanced smell must’ve picked up right away what Wednesday had baked for her. She looked at her with a little gasp, a near twinkle in her eye. “You didn’t? You did! Oh, Wednesday!”

“Snickerdoodles are upstairs already,” She said quietly – hating the way that ridiculous word rolled off her tongue; but if they were Enid’s favorite, easy-to-prepare desert – of course. “As is everything else that I could prepare in advance, there are a few things I need to finish now. Everything you need for your favorite bath is out and ready for you.”

“Awe, not possible,” Enid said with a little pout. Wednesday crossed her arms, suspicious about that – Enid’s preferences had hardly changed since she was seventeen and they first started their innocent soaks together. “You won’t be in it!”

Almost snorting, she rolled her eyes and kissed Enid’s cheek. “I cannot be two places at once. Yet. I’m still working on that spell. Go on – I’ll meet you upstairs in thirty minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you, Wednesday.” She returned the sweet little kiss before shaking her head and planting a long one on her lips, despite the lipstick. Wednesday refused to cringe, merely returned it before Enid pulled away with a laugh, wiping the red off her with her thumb. “I frickin’ love you.” With that she winked and headed up the stairs of the narrow unit.

Putting the rest of her plan into motion, Wednesday poured her attention into finishing the meal that she’d started, heading up to the attic to light the candles with a wave of her hand to complete the ambiance she’d started to set up.

Bringing up the last of the food on a butler’s tray she’d stolen from home ages before, Wednesday glanced at the time, hearing the sound of a drain circling. Taking her place up near the small, circular window that was pattered in rain. She lifted the bow of her cello, starting to play a melody of their favorite songs.

Enid took a familiar place on the bench in front of the window, watching Wednesday with a look of love she could see out of the corner of her eye. Her snake traveled from Wednesday’s neck to Enid’s pink, loungewear covered shoulders, licking her cheek, making her smile.

Finally finishing, she stood up, taking Enid’s hands, kissing her fingers before tucking her at the low table of the attic in front of the futon. Plating her a favorite rare beef dish, Wednesday started the small record player on an entertainment unit before taking a seat beside her.

They ate with comfortable conversation flowing – Enid brought up the show she was interested in again, Wednesday asked her to describe the plot – and stared at her with hearts in her eyes as she animatedly detailed the storyline and the roles she’d want to play within it. As she stacked the dirty dishes, moving the tray to the stairs, Wednesday put the cookies on the table, then flushed a little as she began to remove materials out of a basket. Giving a shrug, she hoped that she was matching the energy the moment called for as she explained, “We were going to go to that gallery…but – I…maybe you want to make something to add to ours up here?”

She gestured to the various crafts that Enid had hung up above the futon – a few embroidery pieces she’d experimented with, paintings, collages…

Enid nodded brightly. “I’d love to make something with you.”

The next forty minutes were spent painting on a canvas, the two working together to come up with an inspired design – an interpretation of their snake in the springtime – Augustus looking at it and offering his feedback, requesting more pale pink cherry blossom petals all around him.

As they finished, Wednesday took the dirty brushes and palette along with the dishes, hurrying them down to the sink before returning with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Enid had moved to the cushions, her expression of dopy desire a bit contagious as Wednesday poured her a glass and took a seat. She indicated her own intentions by sitting as close to fiancée as possible, a stacking her legs on top of Enid’s thighs as she twisted into the corner of the couch – just a touch obnoxiously. Enid giggled before taking a sip, drawing an arm just above her knees. She pressed a kiss to Wednesday’s lips, letting out a sigh. “You probably feel like the need to reconcile was largely on you, given how you ran…but it wasn’t, Wednesday. I’ve been just as distracted, and every bit as much to blame for us not spending the time we need together, too.”

Augustus appeared from her collar again and Wednesday smiled at the snake with the gentle sort of parent-like love she’d had for him since the start. “Hey, buddy…do you think you could take yourself to your enclosure for a little while? There’ll be a pinky for you in the morning.”

He let out a small hiss and twisted down her arm, leaving the two in full privacy. Wednesday had another long drink of wine and made a hopeful suggestion. “I have two more exams next week, but then the summer term doesn’t begin until mid-May. Is there any time over the next few weeks that you’d be able to get away from the show for a few days?”

Enid laughed. “I haven’t used an understudy yet! Our swings would be thrilled – I’m sure I could take some time, for us.”

The way she said it made Wednesday chug the rest of the wine in her glass before taking Enid’s from her, sweetly, and placing both on the table. She adjusted her position, sitting fully on her lap. Enid’s arms fell around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. Wednesday sighed into it, lazily dropping her arms around her shoulders, drawing herself closer, chests touching – even if they were just in comfortable sweatshirts – she loved the feeling. Enid let out a little sound of contentment as her tongue dipped into her mouth, pushing them even closer.

Enid pulled away with a sudden gasp – their teeth almost colliding as a bolt of lightning and crackle of thunder turned the nighttime rain shower into a thunderstorm. She giggled and groaned, sighing into Wednesday’s shoulder as Wednesday felt her heartrate skyrocket and decrease. Tangling her fingers into Enid’s hair, Wednesday just held her close, there, resting her head just on top of hers. “I love you,” She muttered quietly. “I’m really glad we spent tonight together, not just in routine, even if it wasn’t what we planned.”

“Me too,” Enid squeezed her middle, looking up with a sweet gaze. “I love you. I can’t believe how we let time get away from us. Hey – let me send a quick text to let my manager know I’m going to be out of the show – then I’m getting my laptop and my planner – we are so booking a trip for after your exams!”

Letting her go – even if she might’ve rather extended that time together physically, Wednesday figured she could get her fiancée all worked up and excited about time off together and then spend the time together in bed. Enid returned just moments later, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she gave herself a week off without asking – but expecting. Loving that for her self-confidence, Wednesday stretched out on the futon while she started to ramble excitedly, opening a glittery pink date book, actually blathering about what to fill in it. Her excited ramble went on for almost two straight minutes before she paused, mid-sentence, blushing as she glanced back at Wednesday. As she opened her mouth, Wednesday reminded her, “If you dare apologize for looking forward to spending time together…” She snapped her lips together and Wednesday smirked, putting her chin on Enid’s shoulder as she leaned over her. “There’s a full moon next week, too. We could maybe go somewhere that has a forest nearby if you’d like to wolf out. It’s been months, Enid. The Solstice was the last time…it just happened to be on a Monday, otherwise you probably would’ve taken your potion then, too.”

“You really want to spend time off chasing me through the trees?” Enid asked skeptically.

Dropping into a sit beside her, Wednesday took her hand into her own, letting her thumb rub a circle over the ring on her left. “I want to spend my time off with you. That’s all, Enid. I don’t care, particularly, what we do. I would like you to make sure you’re not disconnecting with the wolf part of you…we know the consequences of that. But if you don’t think you need to wolf out to stay connected, that’s fine, too.”

“Hm,” Enid laced the fingers that were playing with hers between them and kissed Wednesday’s cheek. “You know – we could really disconnect from the world, and only connect to each other – which always helps. Go to the Zypher property, be surrounded by mountains? We haven’t been in…what, two and a half years now?”

Liking the sound of that, Wednesday nuzzled her neck, also liking that it wouldn’t involve her traveling by plane, but the thought of being without running water and electricity for an entire week wasn’t quite what she wanted to deal with. Who would’ve thought – Wednesday Addams, a woman of the modern world?

“Or – we go to the Addams house in Jericho? We’d be able to bathe far more conveniently – but still have the woods.”

Enid chuckled into her lips with a kiss. “Fair, fair,” She spoke, pulling back. “Promise me you won’t get tangled up in a Network conspiracy while we’re there?”

With a single nod, Wednesday leaned in for another kiss. “I won’t even tell them we’re in town.”

“Well, that’s not nice. Aunt Larissa would ream you if we bumped into her at the store picking up stuff for dinner and hadn’t told her we were coming.”

“Grocery delivery,” Wednesday refuted. Enid shot her a look. “We can have one dinner with them. One. I’m very serious. This is going to be our time, Enid. We…we need it. It’s going to be a long summer – I’m so close to done, and the last two semesters are going to be grueling. Remember, I will be hospitalized at some point because I’m going to be so in over my head and taking horrible care of myself and refusing to let you do it for me,” She sighed – wishing she’d never had that vision, years ago. “But until then – we have this time together. I want it to be meaningful – just us.” Thunder made the entire place rumble and Enid nodded, then let out a little sound of sympathy as a slithering snake hurried himself up the steps and into Wednesday’s lap, trembling. “It’s okay, buddy,” She whispered, kissing his cheek as she held him close, letting him circle back around her neck. “Well, just us and the boy.”

Enid acknowledged what she’d said before, “Meaningful. It sucks to think that a lot of the time we do have together isn’t meaningful – and I guess I didn’t really understand that until this all blew up,” She sighed. “It’s hard to think that just because you spend every night sleeping next to the love of your life, it can get routine, so fast. I hate that. I don’t want that for us.” She thumbed her planner. “Do you think – we could pen in some more date nights? This was really nice. Not just dinner because we both happen to be home…which; has been rare for us – but intentional dates. I think we need to make sure we have at least one a month? Once a week would be better – but until you’re finished with school, I think we should be a little more realistic -”

Wednesday tilted her head in a bit of good news. “Actually, we can. Every Monday. My evening course was moved to Tuesdays and Thursdays for the summer class.”

Letting out a little gasp, Enid tossed her arms around her fiancée. “That’s amazing! OhEmGee, this is perfect! Hey – how about we put our first Monday after vacation at that Brooklynn rooftop and gallery, hm? I mean, truthfully – I think I preferred this, just us doing our own thing up here -”

“Then, let’s plan to do our own thing up here,” Wednesday argued gently. “Why go out and force ourselves to do something that neither of us really want to do? Just because it’s what is expected of a couple on a date? You know I would always rather be in with you. We can make it special, so long as we intend to.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course. I’ve long ago learned, intentions are everything, didn’t I? I suppose I just never applied it to our long-term romance.”

Enid kissed each cheek, then the tip of her nose. “I do believe I have some intentions for how I’d like to close out this night.”

Wednesday dropped her hands to her hips. “Hm. Funny, so did I. What if our intentions don’t align?”

She gave a playful growl, then nipped her lip playfully, making Wednesday close her eyes and give a little groan. “Yeah,” Enid pulled away, “I’m pretty sure – we both want the same thing. Come on. GusGus, bedtime, buddy. This date night continues for another hour!”

“Oh, that’s all?” Wednesday teased, earning a playful push as she smirked, fully intending on making meaning out of every moment of the rest of their night together.

#fanfic #wednesday 2022 #wenclair #chaos for the fly #prompt fic #CftF One-Shots

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centuryberry · 4 months ago

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Queen of the Mountain Universe

So, after watching Season 5 (which has devastated me, by the way - completely and utterly destroyed me), I was inspired to incorporate a certain character into the Queen of the Mountain Universe and tie together the AUs tied to the games. (Excluding the A/B/O AU, Fae AU, and the Imperial Harem AU.)

This technically isn't a fic spoiler since I won't be adding any of this into the main fic itself, mind you. I already have too much planned in Acts II and III to include the new revelations, but I'm writing my ideas here. (May consider writing some oneshots set post-QotM.)

Warning: Spoilers for LMK Season 5 below!

We all knew it was Xiangliu. This snake man has a grip on me that only happened once before when Season 1 Macaque sashayed into my life. Holy hell, he's the definition of chaotic neutral. Also, the hints of lore he dropped before casually moving on because he thought it wasn't important? Drove me insane. What do you mean you and Wukong used to be friends? What do you mean Macaque made a deal? What do you mean be "he's winning"?! Who's he?!

I have no idea what LMK has planned for him (or if he's even going to come back in the future seasons), but I know what plans I have for him now.

To be honest, Xiangliu (the Nine-Headed Demon who nearly scammed Ao Guang and his ilk in Chapter 16) wasn't supposed to be significant in the Queen of the Mountain universe. But with how Season 5 ended up, I made him into a more important player.

Just like the LMK world, I'd like to think that the QotM world also experiences a similar "cycle" in the form of "resets." It would make sense, right? As In the Sun's Embrace and Sunchaser are games that encourages reloads and resets to explore different routes, it's not too far-fetched to think that the world itself experiences something similar.

I've always had a fondness of Time Loops in stories, especially with at least one person remembering every loop. Xiangliu would be that person in this case. Somehow, he became aware of what was happening and yearned for an escape from this constant resetting of the world.

(He must've gone insane gaining and losing friends, lovers, and enemies, doomed to repeat the same song and dance again except his bonds would never be the same since he's always changing and always growing while everyone else regresses every time.)

Eventually, he removed himself from the living world all together and replaced one of the Ten Kings of the Underworld to find a way out. Still, he'd pop up here and then to maybe make some interventions or watch when something new played out.

While a lot of the diverging AUs are mostly due to the different choices made by individuals, I'd like to think that Xiangliu made some of them possible. Notably, Warlord Shanzha AU, Withered Grave Flowers AU, Detoxify AU, and Extra Pilgrim AU.

Well, you noticed how LBD seems to be absent in those AUs, right? How Yue magically comes out of things alive and unpossessed by her into the modern era? Well, the answer in Xiangliu. He doesn't do this in every cycle, but he sometimes has the heart to spare Yue from her canon fate. Making her fate better always seems to give happier endings to all of the celestial monkeys. Not perfect, but happier.

(And, because it would be so funny to me, I'd like to think he at least hooked up with every member of the celestial monkey poly occasionally in between cycles. So he has a history with all of them which I may expand on in another post if anyone's interested.)

So, there you have it. A way for all of these AUs to technically be canon. (Thank you, Season 5.)

As for what Xiangliu is doing during Queen of the Mountain, he's doing nothing. For the first time, he didn't have to do anything to make a drastic change to the usual script. For the first time, he's interested to see how things turn out. Because of a certain six-eared baby monkey yaoguai who ended up in the palanquin.

#queen of the mountain #warlord shanzha au #withered grave flowers au #detoxify au #extra pilgrim au #lmk season 5 spoilers #includes a certain villain #video game mechanics #shadowpeach #iceflower #maybe celestial primate poly #replanted au #the queen the king and their warrior au

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twstgarden · 1 year ago

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✿ ❝ 𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘄? ❞ (17+)

━ leona kingscholar x fem! reader ━ thinking you have moved on, you would not spare a glance at your ex, yet you found yourself looking back and fantasising about what could have been. getting no closure, you wonder if your relationship was really over. (modern au! the setting stays the same, but they are not students of night raven college) (f/n means first name) ━ song(s) used: is it over now? by taylor swift, style by taylor swift

17+, reader discretion is advised cw: (including, but not limited to) talks of unhealthy romantic relationships, hints of infidelity, implied intimacy/mature content, mentions of self-harm

requested by: @lqmoncake request type: oneshot requester's message: hii i was wondering if u could write a leona x reader (fem or gn wtv u want!!) story?? oneshot?? (sorry ive never requested anything) based off the song is it over now by taylor swift 🌝🌝 (the model in the song can be like vill or something idk whatever you want and can the new guy be malleus pls) thank u and take care mama 💗💗 florist's note: angst! my time to shine~ time to write for drama. thank you for the request, little one, and do take care of yourself as well. <3

this work may contain slight spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

whilst you sat on the floor, you were rummaging through your belongings to sort out the things that are deemed as trash and ones that you might need. it was all going well until you came across a specific necklace.

you stared at the pendant of the golden necklace as memories started flooding your head. you kept telling yourself that you had moved on, that you were already happy with your current lover, malleus.

but sometimes, thoughts of the past start to haunt you.

being in a relationship with someone who never had their personal wounds healed can be quite traumatizing, to say the least, but oh, the first stages of a newly-bloomed relationship will always be blissful no matter how unhealthy it ends.

midnight you come and pick me up, no headlights a long drive could end in burning flames or paradise

not everyone was aware of your relationship with the second prince of sunset savanna, and that is exactly how you both wanted it. you knew what you walked into the moment you started dating this prince. you knew exactly what people would think once your relationship with him had been publicized.

and yet you did not care. all you knew was this blissful private relationship could either end badly or wonderfully, and you knew the former would have been the outcome if you were to be realistic.

this was another one of the nights where you stayed with him in his home. it was way past 12 in the morning as you went to his room and cuddled with him whilst you two spoke about your day, your hands tangled in his brown locks as he held you close by your waist.

and i should just tell you to leave, 'cause i know exactly where it leads, but i watch us go 'round and 'round each time

*six months have passed and the so-called honeymoon phase of the relationship started to die down. what you thought was a fairytale turned out to be just another average, if not worse, nightmare.

the little things have blown into intense arguments, every mistake ends up becoming a huge deal, and you desperately wanted to make it stop already, but you couldn't.

and how did that end? things go in a loop. one apologises, the other forgives, and love prevails, until another fight breaks out, and the cycle begins once more.

the couch and the bed that you have grown accustomed to have begun filling you up with memories - both good and bad. as you sat on the couch with leona, cuddling up with him, you whispered, "i love you."

"i love you too," he whispered back, and like a fool, you both believed it's you and him against the world, that you two would always stick together no matter how much the universe wanted to break you apart.

leona reached for something in his pocket and revealed a golden necklace, locking it around your neck as he spoke, "keep it." your eyes glanced at the pendant resting above your chest with a smile on your face, thanking him with a loving kiss on the cheek.

i say, 'i heard, oh that you've been out and about with some other girl' some other girl he says, 'what you heard is true, but i can't stop thinking 'bout you and i' i said, 'i've been there too a few times'

*nine months into the relationship. you'd think you were growing stronger, but in reality, it was starting to become a mess. a number of your close friends and mutual friends have been aware of your relationship, and the public has been slowly getting hints and making predictions that you two are actually dating, but neither you nor leona have confirmed it as you both wanted to stay private.

"i saw the second prince of sunset savanna with another princess!"

"no kidding! i saw him with her too."

and because of that, rumours have been spreading around that sent you worrying. doubts started to cross your mind, but you always pushed them back and told yourself, 'he would never do that. he respects me enough that he wouldn't do something so cruel.'

you were right.

"i was with her because my brother set up that meeting. it was to discuss topics related to the *mining and energy facilities of sunset savanna," spoke leona, informing you of the actual reason why he was seen with another woman. he realised it was feeding up doubts in your mind, making him frown a little and you can sense this might stir up another argument, "...did you think i was doing something else?"

"i'm sorry... it's just that i heard people talking and i assumed..." you trailed off.

"assumed that i was being unfaithful."

a stern tone was evident in leona's voice as he completed your sentence, disappointment was an expression clear as day on his face as you tried to console him, not wanting to escalate the topic further into another mentally draining argument.

"don't try to act like the victim here. people have seen you with vil and that bastard draconia, but did i say a word about it? no. because i trust you, f/n," snapped leona as he glared at you.

this statement made you upset as you glared back at him and retorted back, "i was only asking you! i did not mean to doubt you, but the way people talk about it was making it seem like you were doing something else!"

"so does your side of the story! i've heard others saying how you would openly flaunt at vil and shower him with compliments that i myself have never heard from you. i've heard others talking about how you would smile so sweetly at that bastard and comfort him when he feels down," argued leona, "but i chose to not believe them because i trust you. i trust you enough that you would never do something like that to me, and yet when you hear one rumour about me, you automatically assume i was cheating on you?"

that night went on with a fight and ended with him sleeping on that couch you both grew to love and hate, while you stayed on his bed. both had wanted nothing to do with the other for a while and opted for the so-called silent treatment.

'cause we never go out of style (we never go, we never go) we never go out of style take me home (ah) just take me home (ah) yeah, just take me home (ah) oh-oh, woah-oh, oh (out of style)

a week after the argument, you started to lose hope that your relationship will ever flourish well. you started to pack your belongings to return to your home while he was out doing business. you finished packing and carried your bag as you went downstairs, only to find him on the couch as it seemed he had returned from wherever he went.

he turned to look at you and stood up, wrapping his arms around you as he asked, "where are you going?" you didn't want to fall for it again, his arms around your waist and the sweet whispers in your ear, none of that, no matter how tempted you are. you looked up at him as you told him the truth, "i think we need a break..."

leona looked down at you as he asked, "why?" once again, you both shared your thoughts and apologised for all the wrongdoings done by each party. another chance out of several endless chances, and you found yourself retaking a break from him.

on and off. this was the best way to describe the current predicament of your relationship.

on and off. he'd drive you home and take you back to his.

on and off. you spent nights loving him and sharing your dreams with him, and you spent days arguing and crying over small mistakes and doubts.

until you never heard from him again. no text, no letters, no meet-ups. it was as if everything fell silent. there was no closure on either side.

once the flight had flown (uh-huh) with the wilt of a rose (uh-huh) i slept all alone (uh-huh) you still wouldn't go

back to the present, you eyed the golden necklace on your hand as you remembered when he gave this to you and realised he was wearing the same matching necklace. you sighed softly to yourself, placing it back on the box you found it in before settling on the bed, laying all alone with nothing but thoughts of your previous lover resurfacing again.

no matter where you are, no matter how hard you try to forget about him, reminders of your relationship with him will always resurface. you truly never felt alone with the memories haunting you every now and then.

let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later i see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor you search in every maiden's bed for somethin' greater, baby

morning weekends are generally a great time to spend with yourself, show some self-care and indulge in your hobbies while your current lover is busy with his royal duties.

does it seem like a coincidence? your ex was also a member of a royal family, and your current lover is also a member of a royal family, albeit he is in line for the throne, which adds more responsibilities.

to start your day, you decided to get some coffee in the nearby local café and possibly visit some spots you intended to go to. upon entering the café, you approached the counter and ordered your usual takeout. it was all going fine until you saw the barista brewing your coffee, he had the same shade of green eyes as he does, and a similar neutral expression that made him look so mysterious and stern.

you brushed it off, thinking that your mind is playing tricks on you again. the barista then handed you your drink and you thanked him, to which he gave you a small smug smile before returning back to work.

the same smile that you see on his face a lot.

you shook your head a little to snap out of your thoughts before walking away and leaving the café, trying your very best to think about something else and not your ex.

was it over when she laid down on your couch? was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse?

you and leona never got closure from one another, and it left you wondering if your relationship with him was really over from the moment you heard the rumours of him with that princess you talked about and how their relationship had been growing close.

or was it over the moment you entered into a relationship with malleus? the moment you start to forget about leona and spend your days with your new lover, giving him the love and care he deserves. was it really over the moment you spent your nights with your new lover and not him?

thinking you had both moved on, you found peace with malleus. you never experienced hearing him raise his voice at you or argue over little things. he would always make a point to talk about an issue, and not yell about it as he thought that would amount to nothing.

what you went through in an unhealthy relationship moulded your perspective when it comes to love. what you deemed as normal, such as apologising for the little things and fearing to speak about certain topics to not anger your partner, was always deemed as odd to malleus.

this was another case of finding the person who truly loves you, but you are too wounded from the past and it may cause toxicity to arise in your relationship if you are not careful.

your new girl is my clone and did you think i didn't see you? there were flashin' lights at least i had the decency to keep my nights out of sight

as you scrolled through your phone, you came across an article from a famous entertainment news blog talking about the second prince of sunset savanna being arranged for a political marriage with a girl who has the same shade of hair and the same eye colour as you.

was it intentional for him to be destined to marry someone who looks like you?

you tried to brush that thought. surely, now that he was rumoured to get married, it meant it really was over. everyone was talking about it, from the littlest moments of them conversing in public areas to pictures of them spending time together privately.

at least you had the decency to keep the private aspects of your romance with malleus a secret.

oh, lord, i think about jumpin' off of very tall somethings just to see you come runnin' and say the one thing i've been wanting, but no

despite telling yourself that you have moved on, you still think of your ex from time to time. thoughts of even trying to harm yourself crossed your mind, in hopes that he would come and save you.

of course, that will always just be an imagination.

'maybe if i try to jump off this building, he'll come running.'

what a dangerous thought that was, and yet you never acted upon it as you knew better than to cut your life short over someone who made you feel so many things at once - both positive and negative.

you started to wonder what went wrong.

you knew that both of you had their contributions on how the relationship got unhealthy afterwards, and yet, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly was the reason that made your fairytale of a relationship turn into one hell of a nightmare.

was it the rumoured illicit affairs?

was it the rumoured blooming romance between you and someone else?

was it your mistrust?

was it his lack of comfort?

(flashin' lights; oh, lord; oh) let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later (oh) (flashin' lights) i was hoping you'd be there and say the one thing (oh, lord) i've been wanting (oh, lord) but no

and once again, you found yourself on the same coffee shop, looking at the cup you were holding as you watched the steam from the hot coffee with a soft sigh, smiling a little to yourself in an attempt to comfort and make you forget about such thoughts.

you have moved on, have you not?

*six months and *nine months refers to the three-six-nine rule which is noted to be an informal rule that some people follow when they are in a new romantic relationship (source). *mining and energy facilities is a reference to chapter 7 part 1's update where the third years discuss where they plan to have their internships and leona mentioned he'd do something related to the mining and energy facilities of his country.

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laurajameskinney · 1 month ago

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As the number one Laura Kinny fan what do you think of her relationship with Remy vs her relationship with akihiro as her two older brother figures in her life. I think they have a really interesting contrast especially since Laura first meets Akihiro in the comic where Remy is mentoring her. Also sorry for mass rebloging your stuff.

Laura and Akihiro met twice before Collision, in the original Utopia arc (which isn't really important for their relationship other than being the first time they encounter each other), and then in the second story of the Wolverine Goes to Hell oneshot, which sets up the events of Collision.

(Road to Hell)

That being said, I actually primarily tend to interpret Remy as more of a paternal figure to Laura-- or at least, I think it's reasonable to infer that the person he considers his relationship with her to be most comparable to, in terms of what he's doing, is Logan. And the thing is, I think Logan agrees with this assessment!

(X-23 #12)

In this scene, I think "doing what I couldn't" refers to two things-- the earlier scene where Laura is dosed with trigger scent and Remy is able to bring her out of it, and then also just like. Parenting Laura in general. This also lines up with the scene from issue 10, where Remy essentially calls Logan out for his parenting in regards to Laura versus his parenting in regards to Jubilee.

(X-23 #10)

And then, later on, when Laura was in a coma for three days after the Captain Universe arc, Logan isn't the one camping out in the Baxter building to make sure she's alright-- Remy is. When Laura decides not to go to the Jean Grey School, she stays at one of Remy's safehouses.

That ended up being a lot about Remy and not very much about Akihiro, but all that is to say that I don't have much of an opinion on Remy versus Akihiro as Laura's brothers/brother-figures, because I don't think Remy is a fraternal figure to Laura.

I know a lot of people do interpret Remy as more of a brother figure to Laura, and there's obviously nothing wrong with that. We read the same comics-- it's a valid interpretation of the text. I'm not trying to say that anybody is wrong for thinking that, or else shit on anybody. It's just not the interpretation that I, personally, find most interesting.

But to at least sort of answer your question, I think Laura is probably more relaxed around Remy in a way that she isn't with Akihiro, because she doesn't feel the need to corral or keep an eye on Remy the way she does with Akihiro.

I think there's probably some small resentment towards Akihiro for that, also, because she doesn't like the fact that she can't trust him around other people. This is worsened by the fact that Akihiro, through a combination of knowing Laura very well and just being aware of what he's like as a person, definitely knows about that and depending on his mood might either play to that or call her out for it. At his worst he'd probably accuse her of trying to control him, which given their histories is very loaded.

Regardless of the specifics of how you interpret their relationships, I think Remy is much more aware that he is the adult with Laura and tries to actually act the part, whereas Akihiro has never meaningfully acted as the adult in the room with anyone, but especially not Laura. This results in Remy being an overall safer and more stable adult presence in Laura's life that she's really not getting anywhere else.

#gg og #a-pansexual-unicorn #asks #laura kinney #remy lebeau #logan wolverine #akihiro #sorry this was in my drafts for months and then i saw you in my notes again and i remembered. lol.

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honey-beann · 11 months ago

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The premise of background noise is very interesting to me, do you have anything in your wip that sets in that universe?

I do actually! I've had a wedding fic set in the same universe in progress for a while, and I have some additional plans for some extra little oneshots as well!

Here's a little blurb from the wedding fic so far:

Note: Here is a link to the spiritual predecessor to this wip, Background Noise :)

Warnings: Things get a little heated (not very much, but enough so to warrant the warning I think), fairly unedited writing ahead

A deft hand tugged you by the ankle toward the end of the bed, causing you to squeal lightly, a burst of laughter forcing its way past your lips in spite of your attempts to smother it.

"C'mon Six, no peeking before tomorrow, you promised!"

You half whined half giggled out, hearing your fiance chuckle softly from above you,

"It's not peeking if I can't see you, sweetheart, and you never said a thing about touching."

He purred, causing you to scoff, a smile still glued to your lips.

Thirty minutes of trying to sleep alone for one night and you already missed him, missed all of them.

Okay, maybe you were a little whipped.

You looked up toward where he was standing at the end of your bed, noting once again that all you could make out was his silhouette due to the subtle light peeking in from under the hotel doorway.

"You promise you can't see me?"

You asked, hearing Sixty chuckle once more as he nodded, a movement you could scarcely make out with the little light available to you.

"Promise, princess."

He said with a grin you could hear rather than see, amusement lacing his tone as his hand began to trail up from your ankle until it found your bare thigh, which he pinched gently just to hear the way you squirmed atop the mattress when he did so.

"Now can I kiss my bride to be yet, or does she need a little bit more convincing?"

He murmured from above you, bending at the waist to lean over your body, his other hand beginning to make its way upward as well.

You pouted,

"This defeats the purpose of spending the night away from each other you know, it's supposed to make you to miss me so you get extra excited when I get to the altar."

You tried to reason, though this only caused your fiance to scoff in response,

"Sweetheart, if we get any more excited when we see you tomorrow than we're already going to be, we might just combust."

Sixty teased, his lips finding your neck as you sighed and tilted your head back, allowing him better access to the soft and still unkissed skin that awaited him there.

"Even Nines?"

You breathed with a grin, referencing (not for the first time) the fact that Connor and Sixty's successor model was in fact built to withstand more than they were, though perhaps not in the emotional department you were speaking of.

Sixty laughed at that, a soft and full sound that rumbled deep in his chest and nearly made you shiver beneath him as he rubbed his nose against your collar bone, the coolness of it causing you to gasp in spite of yourself.

"Especially Nines, sweet thing." He purred, making his way upward until his lips were pressing light kisses upon your jaw, ever so careful not to leave a mark, at least for the time being.

He tended to change his mind about that whenever he began to get a bit more eager.

You felt him smirk against your skin,

"You know, princess, you never answered my question."

He murmured teasingly, and you swallowed thickly beneath him, which only served to make that smirk of his grow ever wider,

"May I now kiss my bride?"

He asked softly, laying gentle kisses upon the edges of your mouth until you finally nodded, immediately causing him to halt and let out a low chuckle beside your ear.

"Don't mind if I do."

And long before you could scoff over his (admittedly pretty witty) wedding puns, his lips were on yours, and the only thoughts going through your mind were of Sixty, his lips, and how vengeful Connor and Nines were going to be when they found out about this.

#dbh connor x reader #dbh nines x reader #dbh sixty x reader #dbh x reader #c: nines #c: connor #c: sixty #wip #wips #o: background noise #upcoming... upcumming?

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tennessoui · 11 months ago

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kit's fics year in review (2023)

it turns out i wrote a LOT this year (last year now, i guess) according to my ao3 stats, and i saw one of those recap games for another fandom floating around my dash so im absolutely gonna pilfer some of those questions for my own little review + add a few!!

how many fics did you write in 2023? it was definitely the year of the silly short fic for me -- i published a total of 6 new oneshots on ao3 along with 5 fics only on my kofi! i also added at least one chapter to 9 other fics that were already posted. and i started and completed 1 long stand alone fic this year (if you love me let it remain unnamed, clocking in at 37k)

what are you most proud of fic-writing wise in 2023? i finished foolproof, foolhardy! it took more than a year to write, from first published to last updated, but i think the lion's share of the work happened during 2023; it's sort of rare for a fic of mine to get that long (72k), so it was fun to write through all the developments. truly a cracky premise that grew legs and ran away from me, but i'm really proud of how it turned out. the last 4 chapters contain some of my best writing in my opinion and the whole story is a love letter to padawan obi-wan, who will always be my beloved lol

what is the fic you had the most fun writing? this is a tough question because i'm torn between two fics; sun, sun, sun here it comes is probably my favorite oneshot that i've ever written. it sorta incorporates everything that makes a silly little au in my mind, from miscommunication to banter to bonus babies. but then there's i pray the same, but my gods have changed, aka the democratic fic- now that's such a fun fic to write, and i'm going to get more into it this year again. it's the one where tumblr votes on what should happen next, which i absolutely enjoy - especially when people send me propaganda about which option should win....thought the amount of ties that have happened is mind-boggling lol

what is a fic you didn't expect to write? hahaha well this is easily 'a more perfect union' which has been sooo fun to write so far but also definitely has had a very short gestation period from nascent tumblr au post to 25k on ao3 lol and still one more chapter to go!!!

what fic surprised you when you were writing it? oh hands down this is 'hand me down dreams got me high in the rafters', aka the pool boy au from tumblr. the adaptation of it from tumblr au to a fic on ao3 has a crazy tone shift where the obi-wan in that fic is much, much darker than the one in the tumblr au - i really ended up leaning into the unequal power dynamics of a boss/employee relationship and exploring how unhealthy it could be while keeping it consensual -- but only because anakin would allow obi-wan to do whatever he wanted to him

what's a fic you wanted to write but didn't? my poor neglected hunger games au!! i really want to get the first chapter of that posted because i am so excited about this fic and writing it as a new big, long project -- i'm excited about the dark anakin, the differently dark obi-wan, the hunger games set in the gffa, etc etc etc

what is something you learned this year that you'll take into 2024? set is the only acceptable name for anakin to use undercover <3 we will be taking the set cinematic universe into 2024 <3

what's a project you're excited to carry into the new year? um all of my wips lol but especially time & tide and the couples counseling au - i have about half of the next chapter of t&t written, and before i got sidetracked by a more perfect union, i was on track to get that posted by christmas....obviously that did not happen lol but i'm expecting to get back to working on a few more chapter updates at the beginning of this year!

#kit to kit #obikin #i would tag people but i think im really late for this sort of review #and people probably did it a few days ago #but i would love to see any fic reviews other writers do if you use these questions!!!#pls tag me <3

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 2 years ago

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So I might be a little addicted to Larissa Weems. Seems to be more contagious than the 'rona (and certainly more enjoyable!). Another little oneshot because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Same universe as the others.

Burning For You

Larissa hadn’t been nervous knocking on your door in a long time. She had heard, however, from numerous students now, that you looked a little out of sorts upon your return from Jericho. ‘Spitting fire’ was the description that had her closing down her laptop and heading directly to your quarters. Reports of wall sconces bursting into flame and fireplaces lighting of their own accord as you passed had her speed up her pace. Raising a hand, she told herself to stop being foolish and rapped soundly on the wood.

Waiting for an answer, but getting none, she chanced turning the handle and poking her head around the door, immediately being hit by a wall of heat. Stepping into the room, she saw you sat on the chair set by the fire, staring intently at the flames.

“Hello Sweetheart,” she greeted, her voice full of forced cheer.

You whipped round to face her, pushing yourself up from the chair as you began to pace, not ready to speak quite yet. Not trusting yourself to. It wasn’t her fault, you knew, but that didn’t make it any easier to set your anger aside.

Larissa closed the door behind her but hesitated to step further into the room. She had never seen you like this. She was aware you were powerful. She had seen it with her own eyes, but not like this. “Are you all right? Did something happen in Jericho?”

You stop before the fire, the flames growing higher at your proximity. “No, nothing happened,” you hiss. “Because I walked away, like a good little girl.” So intent are you staring at the fire in front of you that you don’t see Larissa approach. You jump as she gently touches your elbow, turning to face her, seeing the concern etched on her face.

“Please tell me what happened?” she pleads. “You’re worrying me.” She had seen you before you left and your mood couldn’t have been different. You were happy, excited even, at the prospect of another trip to the bookstore. It was quite possibly your favourite place in town, and she had spent many hours watching you flit about the store, trailing your fingers over the spines as you mouthed the titles, as if testing the feel of them. She didn’t think she would ever tire of seeing the childlike excitement on your face when you found your next purchase, even if it meant she would no doubt spend the next few hours or even days in your company watching you with your head lowered between its pages.

You sigh, reaching for the hand that still hovers hesitantly by your arm. It’s not her fault, you remind yourself. You keep your eyes on your joint hands as you speak. “I went to collect those books I ordered. I was doing my usual, browsing while Felicity went to collect what I’d ordered when I overheard some guy say some not so nice things to a couple of students. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, so I told him, nicely, that his comments were inappropriate. That they were kids. Anyway, he must have recognised me from one of our dinners out in town. He, he started to make a few choice comments about Outcasts...about you.”

You unlace your fingers from hers, beginning to pace again. Larissa watched as you moved, candles lighting as you pass, the bulbs flaring brighter and buzzing as you came close.

“I wanted to burn him where he stood, or at least punch him into next week,” you growl. “But instead, I settled for telling him that unless he had something nice to say about you he shouldn’t say anything at all, especially to me.”

You turned to look at her, anger mixed with sadness on your face. “I wanted to tell him he was an fucking idiot,” you breathe. “That he was blind if he couldn’t see how fucking beautiful you are.” You can hear your voice rising but seem unable to stop yourself. “How extraordinary, how selfless you are in what give to this place. To tell him how special you make it for these kids, but I didn’t because I know how hard you work to try and maintain Nevermore’s reputation.”

You feel the tears gather in your eyes, and watch as she approaches you, her movements slow and stilted as she tries to judge whether you’re going to accept her presence. She catches your hands where you’ve been gesturing as you speak, lacing your fingers together.

“We can’t expect to change the views of narrow-minded townsfolk overnight,” she sighs. “They have always said and probably always will sadly say horrid things about the school and about me. You just have to let it go.”

“But I don’t want to,” you say, looking up to meet her gaze. “I don’t want to have to let it slide when people say things about you. You deserve to have someone stand up for you, to defend you.” In town earlier you had been proud you’d walked away, but on the drive home you’d started to berate yourself for being a coward. For not standing up for Larissa. Not defending her as she deserves to be defended against such narrow minded, cruel men.

You say nothing as she gently let go of one of your hands, bringing that same hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb stroking over your cheekbone.

“Thank you for wanting to defend me,” she says softly. “I’ve never really had someone who wants to do that for me. But thank you for also not stooping to that low life’s level and walking away.”

“If I opened my mouth, I’d still be there and I wouldn’t even be halfway through what I’d want to say,” you grumble.

She chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. She’s soft where you are still spiky. “Thank you for not incinerating that man where he stood and causing a PR disaster.”

You continue to grumble, but she cuts you off with another soft kiss.

“And thank you for coming home to me,” she adds, pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight.

It takes a moment, but the calm that always comes from being close to her finally starts to descend over you. You wrap your arms around her waist, breathing her in as you nuzzle into her chest. A small smile tugs as your lips as you feel a kiss being pressed to the top of your head.

“Do you think we can turn the heating down a little now?”

You look up, your smile turning sheepish. Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a few deep breaths to centre yourself as you gather your power back in, the flames in the fireplace dying down, no longer fuelled by your energies. “Sorry. In case you haven’t guessed by powers are rather closely linked to my emotions. And Wednesday wasn’t exactly wrong when she said I get a little defensive over you.”

“You burn for me, hmm?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “That was terrible.”

“Made you laugh though,” she grins, her smile faltering as you suddenly frown. “What?”

“I didn’t get my books,” you grumble, suddenly realising the fact you hadn’t even stopped by the desk on your way out of the store.

“Well,” she says, drawing out the word as her hands began to smooth over your curves. “Since you’re not going to be distracted by your books all night how about I amuse you some other way?”

She’s changing the subject and you know it, but who are you to say no when she’s looking at you with that devious smirk?”

“And then tomorrow,” she adds. “Since it’s Saturday, we could maybe have a late breakfast in town, hot chocolate at the weathervane and then we can pick up your books?”

At this, you grin. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader

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megmischief · 2 years ago

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Elliott x Reader - Sunset Serenity

Teen Rated - Smoochiesss

(Just a smol oneshot! Hope you all enjoy!)

The crisp sea air blew into your face, encompassing you in the salty fragrance of the ocean. The serene atmosphere almost entrances you as you wrap your arm tighter around your best friend.

"I just don't know if I can do it...what if my creation is an utter flop and I put in all of my time and effort for nout..." The auburn haired gentleman holds his hand up to his forehead, head laying on your lap. "But alas, my dear, at least I have you to tell my troubles too. I don't quite know what I would do without you."

You sigh. "Elliott. You are ever the drama queen." You laugh, moving a strand of hair behind his ear. You smile down at him, then look out to the ocean in front of you. The vastness of it made you shudder.

"You okay there?" Elliott looks up at you, concerned over your sudden movement.

Looking back down again, you cup his cheek, gently smiling. "Of course. Just looking out to the ocean just makes me realise how small we really are...on this planet...in this universe...It's all rather depressing if you ask me."

The sun begins setting around you, lighting the sky the same auburn as the man's hair before you.

"Now, now." He chides. "No need for an existential crisis. We were enjoying a beautiful sunset." Elliott sits back up, grabbing his glass of red wine and taking a delicate sip.

You lift your eyebrow, smirking. "Elliott. You were the one originally being melancholy!"

"And what of it? I'm the dramatic one here, not you. Why do you think we get on so well? You're the logical one." He erputs into a fit of laughter.

You take a sip of your lager and continue to tease him. "Don't I know it. You'd be in a permanent state of stress without me, you know." You ruffle Elliott's hair as he makes his way back down to cuddle into your lap.

"And what a great friend you are for coaching me through my struggles." Elliott smiles up at you. "However, may I thank you?"

"Hmmm..." You scratch your temple. "I wonder." You were thinking of asking him for that beer he owed you from the last time you were at the saloon. Little did you know about what was on Elliott's mind.

Elliott sits back up, looking into your eyes. He places both hands on your cheeks, gently pulling you closer. His lips touch yours, and your stomach fills with butterflies. After a few moments, Elliott pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. "Hopefully, that will suffice..."

Both of your cheeks are tinted crimson. You were taken off guard by the sudden kiss, but not in a bad way. "It's certainly a 'thank you' I could get used to." You chuckle, both looking out to the sunset once more.

#stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley #sdv #elliot sdv #stardew valley elliott #elliott stardew valley #elliott #sdv elliot x farmer #elliot stardew valley #elliott sdv #sdv elliot #sdv elliott #stardew elliott

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years ago

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Anachronisms

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot but can be read independently from the series ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Bridgerton (+ bonus prompt matching tattoos because these two were neck to neck for so long!) | Thanksgiving

Summary: Dieter’s plan to surprise you on the set of Bridgerton for Thanksgiving goes awry when he unwittingly gets cast opposite his ex-girlfriend for a steamy intimate scene - that you have to coordinate.

Warnings: Secret relationship, mention of hair for plot purposes, fighting, jealousy, swearing, dirty talk, spitting, titty fucking, safe unprotected sex, workplace sex. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Kicking off the holiday season with some Bridgerton action, which came in third place in the holiday vote! This is dedicated to the amazing @nicolethered for having supported this idea since I first mentioned it months ago. You should check out the amazing Dieter in Bridgerton costumes edits she made here. Thank you Nicole for always feeding our community with your content, you are the best ❤️

It’s 7:03 in the morning, and it’s bedlam.

The gravel crunches harshly under your winter boots as you march towards the makeup trailers, parked outside the magnificent historical manor house where the crew is filming on location this weekend. Hooped skirts, elaborately starched wigs, a pod of six pomeranians floofed to perfection and a peacock on a leash pass you by, but none turns your head, blinkered by only one thing on your mind.

The coffee in your gloved hand has long grown cold, the steaming cup having been a mere breath from your lips when the day’s call sheet was delivered to you. It had you spinning on your heels and storming out of the break room on the other side of the expansive, manicured grounds.

It’s just your luck that the most intense filming of the season is scheduled over the long Thanksgiving weekend. While you don’t expect the British production to take a break for the American holiday, you’d at least hoped that you could make it through with as few hitches as possible.

And you probably could’ve, if not for the fact that someone had crossed out the name of the male lead in one of the intimate scenes you’re coordinating on the call sheet.

Next to it, scrawled in a messy hand, is the name of the replacement at the eleventh hour -

D. Bravo.

Spotting the very same name on one of the makeup trailers, you stomp up the rickety stairs and proceed to unceremoniously kick down the door.

Considering the fact that the crew would’ve had to scramble for a decent trailer for the last-minute, big-name casting change, it’s a surprisingly comfortable space. The furniture is a notch up from bog-standard Ikea, including the currently occupied, expensive-looking leather chair at the brightly illuminated makeup station.

In a carefully choreographed movement, the said chair turns in a lazy swivel, creaking on its axles to reveal the man you haven’t seen for three weeks, and hadn’t expected to for another few.

His curls are airplane tousled, sunglasses slid halfway down his nose, and it’s clear from his bloodshot eyes that he just got off the plane.

‘What do you think you’re doing, Dieter Bravo?’

The corner of his mouth, which was ticking upwards into a grin seconds ago, freezes in uncertainty as he wilts under your glare. ‘Sur-prise?’ he trails off into a question.

It’s clearly not the welcome he’s expecting. When Netflix came knocking about the unexpected opportunity for a two-month contract on Bridgerton, you were on a flight to London that very same evening, with only grainy videos tiding you over the Atlantic-wide distance between you since.

‘Surprise?’ you scoff with a roll of your eyes. ‘Yes, it’s a fantastic surprise to find out that the actor I’ve been rehearsing with over the past week for the big scene today has been replaced by none other than you?’

Per usual, when he doesn’t get his way, the puppy eyes come out to play. ‘But sweetheart - it’s the only way I can be with you for Thanksgiving since you’re working the whole time!’

If you were any less overworked and sleep-deprived, you might have folded. But you’ve been scraping by with barely four hours every night since you arrived on set, and you snap. ‘Oh yeah? You were so desperate to be with me that you got yourself cast opposite your ex-girlfriend in one of the steamiest sex scenes of the season?’

His eyes bug out comically as he jumps out of his chair. ‘What?’

‘Yup,’ you grin sarcastically, throwing in a slow clap for maximum effect. ‘I guess I’ll spend the weekend watching you simulate hot sex with your ex, who will probably try every trick in the book to get you back. Happy fucking Thanksgiving!’

‘But - I’m your boyfriend,’ he points out with such maddening conviction that it would’ve been endearing under any other circumstances.

You’re this close to stamping your foot in frustration. ‘Yes, but no one else here knows that!’

‘We’ll tell her.’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Don’t you dare. If you do, it’ll be all over the newspapers by the end of the day, and I have no time or energy to handle that right now.’

He reaches for you, and you hate that despite your anger, your first instinct is to lean into him - to have him pull you into his arms and wrap you in his cozy cardigan. You catch yourself and shrink back, leaving him grasping at air, the regretful crease on his brow deepening. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking -’

Waving a stack of paper in his face, you cut in, ‘And you know what? Now I get to fill in this super fun, super long consent form for corporate even though you’re just in one scene I’m in charge of. To think I was getting worried that I wouldn’t have something to be thankful for this year!’

‘Baby, wait, please -’

You’re already halfway out the door, the cold winds doing little to douse your flaring temper. ‘You know what, I’m already late for my first scene. Just show up at the shoot prepared and don’t be late.’

For once, Dieter listens.

By the time you barrel into the grand library - wheezing most attractively, having sprinted full-throttle from your previous location - he’s already in full costume, nose buried in the script as a makeup artist touches him up.

And it’s not fair.

It’s not fair how good he looks in regency costume. The velvet tailcoat in midnight blue hangs from his broad shoulders, tapered at the waist, a black vest in rich brocade peeking out from underneath, unbuttoned.

It’s not fair that his thick curls and tidy moustache fit into the era seamlessly. They even let him keep his earring in - his character is a Rake with a capital R from America after all. The biggest change is his usual chunky jewellery swapped out for a gold signet ring on his pinky finger.

And if all this isn’t enough, he’s also drenched from head to toe.

It’s a shamelessly tropey scene where the Rake’s romantic interest pushes him into a fountain at the party in a fit of passion. When he emerges, soaked to the skin, cravat untied and white shirt hanging open down to his sternum, he chases her into the library and has his wicked way with her by the fireplace while the party goes on beyond the unlocked doors.

It’s not fair how he becomes the role so effortlessly, despite having just gotten off the redeye mere hours ago, no rehearsal other than a quick table read before the cameras start rolling. He’s obviously read all your notes, and he’s hitting all the cues and camera angles with almost infuriating ease.

And it’s not fair that your boyfriend’s first kiss in three weeks is with his ex.

You know it’s your fault. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Netflix must have kept the identity of his scene partner from him when he signed on. It’s cheeky, but not nefarious - up until you submitted that consent form a couple of hours ago, they didn’t know you two were dating. As far as they were concerned, it was serendipitous timing when Dieter Bravo randomly came knocking for a bit part in the upcoming season.

As it often plays out, your temper got the better of you. Now that the day has started, you won’t be able to catch even two seconds alone with him to apologise, to tell him that you love that he came to surprise you, and that you miss him so fucking much.

Instead, you’re watching him pretending to get it on with his on-screen partner with an intensity that’s taking your breath away. Damnit, does he have to be so good at every job that he takes on? Can’t he just be mediocre, just this once?

You’re so deep inside your own head that you almost don’t hear the director yell cut. He turns to you and prompts, ‘Thoughts so far?’

You’re a professional. You’ve worked with Dieter on far more intense scenes than this. But still, the words taste so bitter on your tongue you almost choke on them.

‘Listen up, guys. The top half of the frame is looking empty, there’s not enough going on above the waist,’ you speak out clearly. ‘Dieter, put your lips on her neck. Gail, you ok for him to touch your breasts?’

She winks at you, before running a finger down the hook of Dieter’s nose. ‘You know very well that I ticked anything goes in my consent form. He can do whatever he wants with these titties.’

Dieter doesn’t even look at her, instead giving you the biggest puppy eyes, a plea in his voice as he calls your name. ‘But I don’t want anything to do with them.’

Gail grins and arches beneath him, her cleavage nearly bursting out of her corset. ‘Oh please, Dee. Don’t you remember your favourite way to eat breakfast when we were together? You used to lick the peanut butter straight off my nip-’

‘Ok then!’ you interrupt in a loud panic, wanting to plug your ears before you hear anything else you regret. ‘Positions everyone!’

You’re currently breaking every single rule in the intimacy coordinator rulebook, but there’s nothing you can do to stem the hot rush of jealousy through your veins. Despite Dieter’s reluctance, his chemistry with Gail is unreal, drawing your traitorous eyes to the director’s monitor. The camera follows a droplet of water dripping off his soaked curls over his eyes and onto her clavicle, which he chases with his tongue. His coat and waistcoat have long been discarded, his smooth skin golden against hers in the firelight. There’s no denying that they’re a beautiful couple.

There’s also no denying that your nails are biting into the meat of your palms as you watch hands that you haven’t held in weeks skate over her bare legs, lips that you desperately miss drag down her neck, the familiar snap of his hips not between your thighs, but hers.

You’ve never had a problem with his other co-stars - but this? This is personal.

While promoting her memoir on Oprah two weeks ago, Gail declared that Dieter is the one that got away, promising salacious details of their relationship in her book, setting tabloids and social media on fire.

The silence on his end only fanned the flames. Not because he didn’t want to say anything, that wasn’t the issue - Rebecca had to lock him out of Instagram so he wouldn’t post anything rash - but his agency decided that any response would only help sell his ex’s book, and they will not play into her hand.

It doesn’t help that the two of you haven’t gone public. It’s not that you’ve been hiding, industry insiders who work with you both are in the know, but the press haven’t caught on yet. And while that has afforded the two of you privacy while you navigate the new relationship, it has turned out to be a double-edged sword.

A high-pitched, breathy wail shakes you from your thoughts as the scene reaches its literal climax, and Dieter’s movements stutter to a halt - with a groan that is a pale shadow of what he sounds like when you make him cum.

A possessive half-smile curls on your lips.

That is just for you.

It’s 8:37 in the evening, and it’s still bedlam.

But the day is over, and you’re alive. You somehow made it through four back-to-back intimate scenes, including one slippery (ha!) bathhouse orgy.

It’s Thanksgiving afternoon back at home now, and your phone is buzzing with messages. You flick through photos of pumpkin pies, turkeys in ovens, potatoes of all renditions. You just want a nice hot shower to wash the day off, order room service and spend the weekend making it up to Dieter - or the other way round - or both.

You’re this close to making it out of there, your finger hovering over Dieter’s number on your phone screen, when a breathless runner waylays you.

‘Costumes and hair. Now,’ she wheezes and herds you in the opposite direction of the exit.

Thanks to a bunch of extras who decided not to show up for the ball scene, you’re one of the many unfortunate backstage staff who are now standing in as background actors. You’ve been squeezed into an ill-fitted dress that’s held together by safety pins, the corset underneath biting into your ribs. The white gloves that are pulled up above your elbows are a cheap polyester that’s making your skin itch.

The balls of your feet ache from running around all day, and your neck is so stiff you can hardly turn your head, but you can’t help gawking at the set. The manor’s orangerie is illuminated in warm light, every inch of the pillars holding up the soaring glass ceiling dressed up in creeping vines and fresh, colourful blooms. A string quartet fills the airy space with lively dance music, and there’s a buzz in the air just from being in such a big set piece with so many moving pieces.

You begrudgingly admit that you’re not mad to be here. You’re actually quite happy to sip on your mocktail and be a fly on the wall while the cameras roll on the other side of the room.

But when has anything gone to plan today?

At least he has the decency to wait until you’ve polished off your drink. The second you set the empty glass down on a cocktail table, a warm hand closes around your wrist and you’re spun headfirst into a familiar broad chest.

You look up into big, brown eyes.

‘What are you doing?’ you blurt out in panic as Dieter spins you into the thick of the swaying crowd. ‘You’re not supposed to be dancing with me.’

He tugs you closer, close enough that your noses brush together. ‘I don’t give a fuck. I’ve wanted to get you alone all day. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I fucked up.’

You shake your head, fingers finding the nape of his neck. ‘No, I’m sorry. I overreacted.’

He smiles - you’ve missed the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he does - and teases, ‘I should know by now that you don’t handle surprises well.’

‘Always been too much of a control freak,’ you shoot back self-deprecatingly.

‘Just the way I like it,’ he retorts, his palms warm on the small of your back.

As Dieter glides you across the dance floor, you catch Gail glaring daggers at the two of you. You admit in a small voice, ‘It was hard seeing you with her.’

He doesn’t even spare a glance the way of his ex. Reaching up to catch your chin between his thumb and index finger, he says, ��I’m with you, sweetheart. You know that, right?’

‘I know. It’s unprofessional of me to be jealous.’

A playful growl rumbles in his chest, and you feel it when he leans into you, hot breath on the shell of your ear. ‘But I love it when you’re unprofessional, sweetheart.’

‘Dieter,’ you chide, ducking your head. ‘People are looking.’

He hums into the crook of your neck before spinning you around, back to his front. ‘Let them. My character is a rake. I’m expected to be prowling about corrupting young ladies.’

You scoff, a smile tugging at your lips. ‘I’m not that young anymore, Bravo -’

The banter comes to an abrupt halt when Dieter freezes behind you, his fingers digging into your wrists where he’s holding them. Confused, you’re about to turn around in a question when he reaches up and traces a fingertip along the sensitive skin behind your left ear, before doing the same on the other side.

Oh fuck.

You have nowhere else to look when he turns you around. ‘Sweetheart?’

You know what he’s looking at. A tiny, solid triangle tattoo behind your right ear, the outline of an identical one behind your left - carbon copies of his. You haven’t been hiding them from him per se - you just don’t wear your hair up often and the topic never came up.

Swallowing thickly, you confess, ‘When we were broken up, I went on a bit of a crazy night in Calgary with the crew. We ended up in a tattoo parlour at four in the morning, and someone dared me to get inked.’

His eyes soften. ‘And you chose to get my tattoos?’

You nod, letting the gravity of the moment linger for a second, before you joke, ‘Don’t let it get to your head, Bravo. I just really like triangles.’

He chuckles and wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Let’s get out of here. I think I need to look at your tattoos somewhere more private.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You can see them just fine here.’

Dieter smiles wolvishly. ‘Yeah, but I need to see how well you wear them when you’re naked, sweetheart.’

You know it’s petty, but you can’t help fluttering your fingers at a flabbergasted Gail as Dieter drags you across the dancefloor, his intent clear to anyone watching. He shepherds you impatiently towards the exit and into the frigid darkness.

Having caught your exchange with his ex, Dieter he tuts in mock admonishment, teeth catching the hollow of your throat as one hand drops to squeeze your ass. ‘Such unprofessional behaviour, sweetheart, marking your territory like that in front of everyone like that.’

Glancing about to make sure there are no eyes around, you shove him up against one of the supplies trailers parked outside the orangerie, cupping his half-hard erection boldly through his woollen trousers.

You grin at the way his pupils immediately blow black and wide. ‘Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet - I’m about to get a lot more unprofessional with you, Mr. Bravo.’

Dieter has you pinned between two fake antique cabinets, stacked on top of a low table that you’re sitting on the edge of. His jacket and waistcoat are on the floor behind him, shirt unravelled and unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest - just the way he likes it - the billowy sleeves pushed up the crease of his elbows. His pants are halfway down his thighs, his hard cock bobbing as he kisses you desperately, greedy hands grabbing at anything he can reach.

The fact that you’ve been apart for three long weeks is slowly seeping in. ‘Touch me, Dieter, please,’ you breathe as he latches wetly onto your pulse point.

His curls fall over his eyes as he hovers above you. ‘Shit, your tits look amazing, sweetheart.’

You laugh. ‘Trust me, yours would too in this fucking corset.’

He grins, trailing wet kisses over the slopes of your breasts. ‘Can I fuck them, baby?’

Your chest constricts in desire and your lips part wantonly. ‘What?’

‘Wanna fuck your tits, sweetheart,’ he repeats, his teeth flashing white in the dim as he mouths at the skin under your chin. You shudder when he pushes his thumb into the gap of your artificially lifted cleavage. ‘Please?’

You nod, and before you know it, the front of your dress has been pulled down, the sound of fabric tearing making you gasp. ‘Dieter!’

‘Sorry,’ he murmurs in a clearly unapologetic tone as he leans down to run his tongue along the neckline of the corset you’re wearing, before yanking that down too. The fabric catching under your bust pushes everything up and Dieter moans at the sight you make. ‘Fuck, look at you, sweetheart. Look at those gorgeous tits, all for me.’

You plant your hands on the table, instinctively leaning forward, arms against your sides to press your tits together. With hooded eyes, you watch as Dieter bends over -

And dribbles spit all over your tits.

You whine at the unexpected wetness. ‘Dieter, what, oh my god -’

Your frantic cries go straight to his head, and he shoves two fingers into your mouth, drunk on lust. Grabbing the base of his hard cock with his other hand, he carefully drags the weeping head over the slippery spittle, slicking up his length, before easing himself into the channel between your tits. ‘Oh fuck. Fuck, sweetheart, squeezing me so tight -’

A moan caught in your throat, you suck hard on his fingers in your mouth as he begins to fuck your tits in earnest. ‘Missed you so much, baby. Did you miss my cock? Miss having it deep inside you?’

You gag around his fingers when he pushes them in too far down, brushing the back of your throat, but you chase after them when he tries to retreat, wanting him inside you, anywhere in you. His free hand spans the width of your breasts, pushing them together, eyes darkening at the way your soft curves give pliantly at his movements. Dieter groans at the snug fit and fucks you faster, the pink, swollen head of his cock - drooling with sticky precum - peeking out from between your cleavage between thrusts, and his breath stutters in a telltale sign.

Pulling your mouth off his digits with a wet pop, you warn, ‘We can’t make a mess, Dieter.’

‘Who says I’ll make a mess?’ he asks, almost in a challenge.

‘You always do.’

His hips slow, languidly sliding between your tits as he grins. ‘Not if you let me come inside you and you keep your legs closed like a good girl afterwards.’

Your eyes squeeze shut as you let his filthy words wash over you. ‘Dieter - yes, please -’

Impatient hands spin you around and boost you up onto the table so that you’re kneeling on the hard surface, legs folded underneath you. The satin of your dress is slippery, and he bunches it up and around your waist with a frustrated growl before pulling your soaked panties down your thighs, leaving them tangled around your knees.

Dieter kisses the side of your neck, fingers sliding gently between your thighs. ‘But are you ready for me, sweetheart? I haven’t even touched you yet.’

Reaching backwards blindly, you find his throbbing cock and line it up at your entrance. ‘It’s ok, I want to feel you stretch me open. Please, please fuck me -’

At your pleading words, Dieter drapes his broad frame over you, bracketing your smaller body with his as he presses slowly into you, weeks of pent-up frustration finding its home. He bites down where your neck meets your shoulder, listening intently as your tight folds part slickly for him. ‘Sweetheart. Missed you so fucking much. Missed this pussy, always so wet for me. Always.’

Your head spins at the way his cock fills you up from this angle - you’re so full of him, you whine, ‘Move, Dieter, I want you to fuck me hard.’

Neither of you will last - it’s been too long and you’re both too on edge. His hands are gripping the insides of your thighs tightly as he pounds into you recklessly, no rhythm to speak of. The table bangs against the metal side of the trailer, making a ruckus, but you don’t hear it over his harsh breathing in your ears and the desperate noises he’s coaxing from you.

Dieter’s pulling you back onto his cock, hitting so deep inside you that you’re blindsided by the orgasm that’s happening before your head catches on. ‘Dieter - I’m cumming, oh fuck, fuck -’

You’re still lost in your high when he twists his fingers into your hair, the sting grounding you to the moment as he pins the loose strands against the back of your head. You know that his eyes are on your tattoos - smaller, hidden from sight, but no less real - just like the ones branded into the skin on the insides of his forearms.

His hips start to falter as he tugs you against his chest, lips nipping at his markings on you. ‘You’re mine, sweetheart - you hear me?’

You whimper as he grabs your tits roughly while he hurtles head first towards his breaking point. You babble incoherently, ‘Yours, baby - come inside me, mark me with your cum -’

With a howl, Dieter breaks, and you feel him spill deep and hot inside you before his knees give out, knocking you hard into the table. You pant, watching your breath mist in the cold air as his tongue runs reverent circles over your tattoos. You look down at where his matching triangles press against your skin, his strong arms tight around your waist, his beard tickling your nape as he moves to kiss your shoulder.

Turning around, you smear a sloppy kiss against his lips, a sex-addled chuckle rippling through your sated body as you meet his lazy gaze. ‘Happy Thanksgiving, Dieter.’

‘Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart,’ he mumbles, burying his face in your neck, his heartbeat an irregular tattoo of its own against your back. ‘I hope you’ve worked up an appetite.’

You hum contently. ‘I could eat. Why?’

‘I might have ordered a turkey to be delivered to our hotel room tonight.’

You swat at him in reprimand before he grabs your hands and pins them to your sides easily. ‘A whole turkey? For the two of us? I told you, you should never be allowed to do the ordering!’

He grins, clearly happy at having gotten a rise out of you. ‘Okay, fine - they don’t actually have turkey on the room service menu. I ordered a chicken and asked them to cook it till it’s dry and tough so we can pretend it’s turkey.’

With an exasperated shake of your head, you sigh, ‘You’re such an imbecile, Dieter Bravo.’

He beams with pride. ‘Only for you, sweetheart.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this smutty interlude! I've always wanted to write a titty fucking scene and it has to be Dieter 🫠 Ngl, I was quite anxious going into the holiday fics, but I'm happy to report that these two still live rent-free in my head. Thank you for reading, as always, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated!

While I'm not American, happy Thanksgiving to those who do celebrate it!

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the lovely dividers as always.

#it’s consent season #dieter bravo oneshot #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #queue

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canarias-stuff · 29 days ago

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About Coffees and Blind Dates (Todoroki Shouto X Fem! Midoriya Izuku) -Oneshot

Summary:

“Midoriya, have you ever considered that chemtrails might not be what they seem?" The barista arched an eyebrow. "Chemtrails? You mean the condensation trails left by airplanes?" He nodded. “My date said that's what the government wants you to believe. She said that the trails are actually chemical agents being dispersed to control our minds." “What?!” Green eyes widened in surprise. “Chemical agents to control our minds?! Where did this idea…you know, never mind.” ... Or a story where Uraraka sets Todoroki on blind dates, but his perfect person is the small green haired barista who works in a hidden coffee shop called Plus Ultra Coffees. (Todoroki Shouto X Fem!Midoriya Izuku)

P.S: Story is cross posted at Ao3 and Fanfiction.net under the name "Mistsukis2"

Link Ao3

Link Fanfction.net

“Hey, Todoroki-kun?”

“Yes, Uraraka?”

“Are you dating someone?”

He looked at her carefully, trying to find the best way to answer that question.

“Are you…trying to cheat on Iida with me?”

“WHAT?!” The brunette yelled scandalized. “What the hell Todoroki-kun?! Of course not! Jesus Christ!”

“So why the question?” Todoroki asked, putting down his chopsticks to stare at his friend.

“I can think of a million reasons why I would ask you this question, but of course, you chose the ridiculous one!” Uraraka facepalmed, but decided to go straight to the point before the half white and half red haired man started to think too hard about her question. “Are you against blind dates?”

The man blinked.

“What?”

“I never saw you involved with someone…romantically I mean. So I was wondering if you would be interested in going to one.” The woman explained. “Also, I have a friend that keeps asking me for help to go on a date with you.”

Mismatched eyes pondered for a moment. He was a 19 years old college student, his whole life he kept studying because his ass of a father wanted him to attend Tokyo University, just like him. At least he was far from home now, and free to do whatever he wanted. Shouto never had time to hang out with friends or romance before, so why not go on a blind date?

“Okay.” He finally answered. “I’ll go.”

“Good!” Uraraka downed her soda and slammed the can on the table. “I will text you the time and place!”

…

"Iced mint mocha for Shouto!" The green-haired woman's voice rang out as she placed the drink delicately at the far end of the counter.

"Thanks Midoriya." The drink owner said, sipping the iced coffee.

Nestled just two blocks away from the university entrance, Plus Ultra Coffees was a cozy haven that remained hidden from most people's sight. Shouto was a regular there, going there for a peaceful place to relax, and for the delicious coffee that the part timer barista, Midoriya Izuku, makes.

Breaking the silence, Midoriya initiated a conversation as her eyes met Shouto's. "So, what's with the extra three blonde espresso shots? I thought the exams were over…I finished mine two weeks ago."

“...I stayed awake until late…so I need my coffee stronger if I want to survive the morning classes.” The man admitted.

"Still working on a project, then?"

“I wish it was a project…” Todoroki sighed.

Curiosity welled up within Midoriya, the dejected tone made Izuku’s curiosity pick more, but at the same time, feel pity for her regular customer and friend.

“Wanna talk about it?” The girl asked.

“Have you ever gone on a blind date?” Came the question, and it wasn’t what the barista expected.

“Come again?” Izuku said surprised.

“Uraraka, a friend of mine, convinced me that it was a good idea to go on a blind date.”

“...that is…good…” The green haired woman muttered less energetic. “Did you have fun?”

“It depends on your definition of fun.” Shouto answered, the annoyance clearly in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Midoriya, have you ever considered that chemtrails might not be what they seem?"

The barista arched an eyebrow.

"Chemtrails? You mean the condensation trails left by airplanes?"

He nodded.

“My date said that's what the government wants you to believe. She said that the trails are actually chemical agents being dispersed to control our minds."

“What?!” Green eyes widened in surprise. “Chemical agents to control our minds?! Where did this idea…you know, never mind.”

“I do like to discuss conspiracy theories, but…I don’t know…that was weird and too extreme…even for me.”

The girl snorted, amused by Todoroki’s honesty.

“But…it's good that you had something in common with your date.” Izuku commented. “At least you don’t run out of topics of conversation.”

“I would never run out of topics if someone wanted to have a discussion about Shinomiya Aoi being All Might’s secret child.” Shouto mentioned, moving away from the counter and walking straight to the door. If he didn’t leave now, he would be late for the first class.

“Oh! Come on!” Midoriya shouted nonconformist. “The last manga’s chapter already showed how Aoi got his quirk from All Might!”

“Show me the evidence.” Mismatched eyes were full of amusement as he opened the door to get out.

“Read the manga and stop just watching the anime!” The green haired barista replied.

The door closed and Shouto left the coffee shop, iced mint mocha in hands and a smile on his lips.

…

“I really thought that you two would be a good pair!” Uraraka defended herself once they saw each other at lunch. “I mean, you both like conspiracy theories!”

“Just one thing in common doesn’t mean that they are a match…” Iida commented, feeling a little bit bad for his friend since his own girlfriend was trying to play matchmaker.

“Yeah, you are right.” The brunette agreed, then turned to Todoroki, grinning. “That’s why you should go on another blind date.”

“Why?” Shouto asked, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Because it’s going to be fun!”

“What is your definition of fun?” He retorted with another question, trying his best to keep a smile in check as he remembered a similar conversation with the green haired barista.

“It’s not exactly my definition of fun, but hers…” Uraraka trilled off.

“Who is ‘her’?”

“Your second blind date!”

“Oh god…” Iida sighed, prying for the gods to look out for Todoroki.”

…

When the doorbell jingled that monday, and through it entered Todoroki Shouto looking like the defeat in person, Izuku knew that the order for coffee would be a little different again.

“Iced mint mocha…” He started. “...decaf…”

“Decaf?” Izuku sounded horrified. “I am a barista, but decaf isn’t coffee, Todoroki-kun.”

“I really need coffee, but I can’t have more adrenaline running through my blood, so fake coffee is it.” Shouto answered, paying for his coffee and walking to the end of the counter.

He looked drained, Midoriya noticed while starting to make the coffee, but it didn’t look like he was tired of something linked with the university. Maybe problems with his family? Or maybe…

Izuku frowned, not really liking the place where her thoughts were going. She finished the coffee without noticing.

“Are you okay?” The barista asked, giving him the decaf iced mint mocha. “You look…”

“Dead?” Shouto completed.

“I was about to say ‘worn out’, but it fits too.”

“Worn out sounds less deadly.” Todoroki’s lips curved up in a small smile. “Not as much as my second blind date.”

“You went to…a second blind date?” Izuku asked wary, hands gripping around the mint syrup that she used on Todoroki’s drink.

“It looked more like torture than a date.” The half white and half red haired man answered. “Maybe a hostage situation?”

Midoriya blinked a few times.

“A hosta-what?!”

“I think my friend's boyfriend was being held hostage by my second date partner, and Uraraka sent me there as an exchange for her boyfriend.” He continued, sipping on his coffee unaware of Izuku's baffled expression. “Or was it some kind of attempt of assassination? I mean blindfolded bungee jumping followed by skydiving could only mean that someone is trying to kill you, right?”

“Todor-”

“Is Uraraka trying to kill me?”

“To-”

“Should I go to the police and report tha-...why are you taking my coffee, Midoriya?”

The woman threw the coffee on the bin and looked seriously at the college student.

“Todoroki-kun, I know that your iced mocha is decaf, but maybe you are still with a lot of adrenaline running on your blood, so for today let’s just go with chamomile tea, okay?”

“...Okay.”

…

“I didn’t try to kill you!” Ochako cried, hands on her hips. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“I think I picked the idea while I was free falling in the sky during my second blind date.” Shouto answered, frowning.

“Okay, I should have warned you about her…radical tendencies.” The woman finally conceded.

“Radical tendencies or assassination attempts?” Todoroki commented.

“It’s called radical sports, Todoroki-kun.” Uraraka rolled her eyes. “But anyway, people say that the third time's the charm, right?”

“Can’t you just let him find someone by himself, Ochako?” Iida asked, trying to save his friend.

“Oh, what can go wrong?”

…

“Oh, that’s rare.” Midoriya commented as soon as Todoroki entered the coffee shop. “You never come here at lunchtime.”

“I am trying to hide from Uraraka.” He said. Tired or worn out weren’t enough to describe how he was feeling now. “I can’t go on another blind date or I will end dead or in jail.”

“Let me guess…you went to a third blind date.”

“Uraraka said the third time's the charm.”

“Well…it depends on the situation, but usually it is?” The barista was trying, she swore that she was trying to be supportive, even if it kind of hurts a little bit. “Was it so bad?”

“In the start no.” Shouto answered honestly. “But then the food came and she turned into a self-proclaimed food critic who spends the entire time critiquing every aspect of a meal, from the presentation to the taste.”

Woah! Izuku thought, surprised and amused that the usually stoic Todoroki of all people said so much in only one breath. “Did she said something about the food you ordered?”

And this time mismatched eyes glared at her, well, not exactly at her, or Izuku thought so, Shouto was probably remembering something about his date.

“Soba…” He muttered.

“Soba?” The green haired girl repeated. “What does it have to do with soba?”

“She said that soba is horrible and that I should get some kind of hot noodles!” And now, Shouto sounded really offended. “I like ramen and udon, but my favorite is soba! I like cold food, that’s why I like iced mint mocha!”

Green eyes stared at the man venting his frustrations about the blind date, and Izuku was really feeling bad for Todoroki now. Being forced on dates with girls that were the opposite of him…

Izuku sighed. It would (probably) hurt later, but the barista knew that it was time for someone to tell Shouto something about dates.

“You know Todoroki-kun…” She started, a small smile on her lips while getting a cup for cold drinks. “I remember you telling me about how you grew up, and that you didn’t really have time to make friends or date.”

She pressed a few buttons on the espresso machine, the dark liquid pouring at the bottom of the cup.

“But you know…you don’t need to hurry. Blind dates are fun in their own way, but usually things come naturally, you will get to know someone, talk, share your likes and dislikes, and hear them out.” Izuku said while adding the mocha and mint syrup. “It’s similar to friendship but with some…advantages?”

The blush spread on her cheeks, but Todoroki was silent, the only sound inside the shop was the other clients' laughter and conversations.

“The point is, your friend probably has the best intentions when sending you on a blind date, but you can tell them if you are not feeling comfortable anymore, and that you want to do things at your own pace.”

Izuku extended Shouto a cup.

His name was on it, followed by a smiling face and a “cheer up” message.

“Iced mint mocha for Shouto.” The girl smiled. “It’s on me today.”

Todoroki laughed and accepted the drink.

“Thanks.” He said, taking a gulp of the drink. Just like he liked it.

“But don’t get used.” She warned.

“Don’t worry.” Shouto stared at the drink and then at Midoriya, who arched an eyebrow.

“What? Something wrong with the drink?”

He went on three dates, three disastrous dates in the last two weeks with people that he didn’t even know, so why not, going on another one with a person that he cherished?

“What time do you get off, Midoriya?” He asked.

“Hum?” The green haired woman looked puzzled, but did look at her phone’s screen. “Well, in 15 minutes, why?”

“Would you go on a lunch date with me?”

Even her ears got red this time, and Todoroki could only describe Midoriya as ‘cute’ now.

“Wi-with me?!” She stuttered.

Really cute.

“Yes, with you.” Shouto smiled. “I am tired of blind dates.”

“To-Todoroki-kun! When I said you…”

“I know what you meant, Midoriya.” He interrupted the barista. “That’s why I am asking you on a date, something that I should have done before this blind date madness started. So what do you say?”

Those viridian eyes stared at him for a few moments, and Shouto really thought that she would refuse, but then, a beautiful smile adorned her lips, and the reply came.

“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you, Todoroki-kun.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! FINALLY!” Someone shouted from the room behind the counter, scaring the barista and the client.

An ash blond man, followed by a pink haired woman came into view, and Todoroki recognized them as Bakugou Katsuki and Ashido Mina, Midoriya’s co-workers and friends, who always disappeared when he entered the shop.

“Kacchan, stop!” Midoriya cried, embarrassed.

“Shut up Deku!” He rebutted. “Be glad that he asked you out today, because if he didn’t I would ban him from the coffee shop for being a slowpoke! How can someone be so fucking dense?!"

“I can’t believe that it took him three bad blind dates to finally realize that he should have just asked you out from the start.” Mina signed, shaking her head in disappointment. Todoroki blinked. Were they hearing everything about his dates?

“Oh my god, please stop guys!”

“Anyway!” Katsuki shouted, pushing the green haired woman. “Just leave, I can’t hear more of this fucking drama or see you pinning after the half and half bastard anymore!”

“Half and half…” Todoroki muttered while Ashido was pushing him outside the store.

“AND DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE COMING BACK UNTIL YOU DO THE BASTARD!” Bakugou yelled, the few people walking around snickered at the (uncalled for) comment.

“Have fun!” The pink haired woman waved before the angry blond slammed the door close.

“...do the…” Midoriya cutted herself, face red with a horrified expression. “Oh my god, oh my god! Please Todoroki-kun, pretend that you didn’t hear a word of what Kacchan said, please!”

“I…don’t really mind, Midoriya…but I would like to go on a date with you first before you do me.” Shouto added, if he was serious or not, Izuku didn’t really know.

“I’m gonna die.” She said covering her face with her hands.

“I promise that I will not take you to skydive or bungee jump…unless you want…?.”

One. Two. Three.

And then, Izuku laughed at the comment.

“Just lunch is fine!” She said between a laugh and another. “Unless you really liked the experience?”

“No, don’t.”

“So lunch it is. Soba?”

Shouto smiled.

“Soba.”

He took her hand and started walking away from Plus Ultra Coffees. For the first time in two weeks he thought that this date would be fine.

#ao3 #fanfic #romance #fluffy #humor #fluff and humor #tododeku #todoroki shouto #female!deku #midoriya izuku #iced mint coffee for Todoroki #Barista Izuku #Blind dates go wrong #But Uraraka is really trying to help #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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tricksterlatte · 10 months ago

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Akeshu Holiday Heist Special WIP

This was going to be a oneshot sequel to my completed Persona 5 Akechi/Joker fanfic, Chase the Joker, set nearly one year after the ending. While I still have a few oneshots set in their future planned, this one's entire concept was changed, and the fic was scrapped. Since I had fun writing their banter, I'm going to post the WIP here anyways. You can read underneath the cut! As it's incomplete, there is no concrete ending to this segment at this time.

Sometimes, life could feel just like a Christmas movie. One could find the true meaning of holiday cheer amidst the chaos, no matter who they are or where they came from. It was a special time of year, and whether people celebrated or not, sometimes beautiful magic happened.

Joyful moments could be shared underneath the tree as families discover the true meaning of the holiday season, whether related to Santa Clause, the meaning of life, or Kentucky Fried Chicken. True love could be discovered underneath the mistletoe, all while some coworker’s annoying as hell kids at the office Christmas party went ooh or help me or perhaps ew, gross much? On occasion, the stars aligned just right each December, and picturesque moments captured in the mind’s eye forever would feel just like the more diverse Hallmark movies. All three of them, if you were being generous.

It was at these times one must remember Die Hard was also a Christmas movie…which was the evidence Akira needed to utilize for their current situation, no matter how Goro denied it, all while they drove towards some rich bastard’s Christmas bash on a hellbent mission.

Car rides anywhere were enjoyable as long as they were with each other, and in the end that was all Akira could ask for. As Goro rambled on and on about cultural variations of the holiday, and how supposedly none of them involved homicide, Akira just held back laughter while applying the reddest lipstick known to man. He hadn’t ever worn a cocktail dress before today, but no one could deny he looked incredible. He was dressed to the nines in luscious red, a silky wig, and enough makeup that not even his own parents would recognize him, and yet it wasn’t technically for a date. What a homophobic shame dealt to him by the gods themselves.

…Okay, his parents hadn’t seen him in years, and the last time had been Goro punching his father in the face. It was better stated that not even his cat would recognize him, but Akira didn’t want to think about that either. So instead he just bickered with the man he loved.

“Honey, listen,” Akira countered, after Goro ranted for the entire length of some bubbly kpop song about being merry and happy. “I know you pride yourself on being right about everything, and I support you unconditionally, but have you ever considered you’re totally wrong about literally everything? We are living out a Christmas movie right now. I’m right.”

“Stating I’m wrong without providing actual evidence as to why again, Akira?” Goro said with an eye roll, though his rolling eyes struggled to stay focused on the road when Akira’s dress kinda showed his upper thigh. “You would not have lasted one week in a university setting’s debate team, and it shows.”

“Hey, neither of us went to college, on account of me being a sexy criminal superstar and you being sexy and also super dead. At least I read dozens of books on mythology and cultural figures when we still had the Nav,” Akira said right back. “I’m a master debater–”

“I swear if you say ‘and also a masturbator,’ I’m hitting the brakes at mach speed.”

“I mean no, I don’t need to do that when we’re in the same room twenty-four hours a day. Wow, you have such a dirty mind, did you know that?”

Goro finally stared not at the road nor Akira’s legs, but a secret third thing–his smug, stupid face, so he could shoot Akira the nastiest of glares. “Quite the talk from someone who made a kidnapping roleplay joke months after literally being kidnapped.”

Okay, that had been one time. And they were not talking about it. Not if Akira could help it. He finished applying the last of his makeup and examined himself in the mirror. If looks could kill, Akira wouldn’t need a knife tonight. Tragically, he still needed a knife, but at least he was pretty.

“I never joked about that again, give me and my coping mechanisms some credit. Anyways, enough talk about my abduction. Ever heard of Krampus? He’s like the Mementos Grim Reaper used to be, except real, and festive, and I’m pretty sure he murdered children. How’s that for Christmas cheer?”

“I appreciate the sentiment behind a morally dubious Christmas special, but…Krampus aside, the holiday genre as a whole is ill-suited for activities such as murder, once we put aside frequently debated titles. There is a reason films such as Die Hard and American Psycho are commonly dismissed from a place among happy-go-lucky Christmas movies, and that’s due to them only portraying the holiday as background noise in favor of an action plot. It’s only a timestamp when all is considered, nothing more.”

God, Goro was so pretentious. No wonder Akira was in love with him. Here they were, driving towards some multimillionaire’s holiday party with a heist in mind and also assassination if push came to shove, and yet Goro was blasting some American artist’s holiday music on the Jokermobile speakers and discussing American fucking Psycho versus the concept of Christmas cheer. If he wasn’t wearing nondescript black clothing and gun holsters, Akira would blame the irritated snarl gracing Goro’s face on this Michael Buble person singing some no homo anthem about his buddy Santa.

Akira just giggled in his best falsetto, preparing himself for whatever crossdressing shenanigans he had to pull for their mission tonight, and flipped his wig over his shoulder. Brief little moments of domestic bliss were nice after everything, even if most people wouldn’t get it.

“Okay, ignore the murder then. We’re still living in a real life romcom whether you think my jokes are funny or not, since my entire life is a joke.” Another unimpressed squint as Goro kept his eyes on the road. The self-deprecation didn’t hit like it used to for either of them. Damn their efforts to rebuild Akira’s self-esteem. Those efforts were getting in the way of dark humor! “It’s December 24th, we’re on our way to crash a Christmas party, and we are romantic and comedic. We even took that don we now our gay apparel song to heart, come on!”

Goro snorted, ever the long-suffering, disgruntled man in the face of whatever the fuck Akira was doing. “That can be said for your outfit tonight, but I don’t recall a black turtleneck ever winning one of those ridiculous ugly Christmas sweater contests.”

“No, see, you’re just dressed like the gay goth cousin who sits at the kids’ table during family gatherings because he hates his homophobic relatives.” Akira knew this because he had once been the gay goth cousin who sat at kids’ tables during their rare family gatherings because he hated his homophobic relatives.

Goro looked from Akira, to the road, to their GPS. His brow furrowed and he bit his lip once he saw how little time was left until their arrival. The plan had been for Goro to park the car and follow behind closely, and Akira would do the actual infiltration with a fake identity and a fake adoration for being surrounded by the rich and pompous. The flashy getup was excessive, in Goro’s opinion, but plenty of Shido’s affiliates, and therefore Goro’s whether he liked them or not, were occupying this little gala. Of the two of them, Akira was less likely to be recognized, especially when dressed like this.

That didn’t mean Goro was fond of the idea whatsoever, but that was only one stressor among the many weighing them down tonight. As Goro parked the car, Akira finalized his appearances one more time, double-checking his heels were just short and thick enough that he could still run in them, and that not a hair looked out of place.

He only became aware of his nervous expression when Goro turned off the radio. Turning to face his partner in crime, he saw anxiety reflected back at him, and Akira gulped down a lump in his throat. “Hey,” Akira said, reaching over to grab Goro’s hand as it held the steering wheel in a vice grip. “I know this time of year is stressful for everyone, but I’m going to be okay–”

“Are you okay, though?” Goro cut him off, flexing his fingers before letting go of the wheel. He squeezed his eyelids shut and visibly fought to unclench his jaw. “You’ve spent the entire car ride cracking ridiculous jokes and making up your own lyrics to every damn orchestra cover that played on the radio, but if you’re trying to hide how nervous you are, you’re not doing a great job. I thought we talked about this.”

Akira winced. Keeping secrets hadn’t been his goal at all, but he couldn’t blame Goro for that train of thought. Old habits die hard, whether trauma was involved or otherwise. He flopped back against the headrest, shifting their hands so their fingers intertwined. Even with gloved hands, the grip grounded both of them. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I just know if I think too much about the worst case scenarios, I won’t be able to focus on anything else. I’m worried about you too, though. What’s wrong? Is it about splitting up?”

The telltale twitch of Goro’s hand was all the answer Akira needed. He stayed silent and gave Goro a moment to find his words, taking in his harrowed expression as Goro’s thumb brushed across the various scars all over Akira’s hand. Goro had always wielded words masterfully on television and even in battle, whether they were honeyed vinegar or vulgar curses, but words conveying his innermost feelings still didn’t come easily. Akira wasn’t good at sharing his burdens purposefully either just yet, but they were trying.

They were both getting better about trust and honesty, but sometimes Akira worried parts of them would always be trapped in the past, terrified of losing one another, or maybe in some long-lost Palace there was Goro, kneeling on some bloody floor or panicking in a hotel room, or there was Akira, trapped in a diner or tied to a chair in that hellish basement or crawling across frozen earth in a desperate rush because he couldn’t let him die, not here, not again–

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Akechi’s voice broke Akira out of the spiral before it could properly start. Suddenly Akechi’s head gently bumped into the side of Akira’s, and his thumb rubbed circles against Akira’s knuckles. Right. It was December, in the present day, almost a full year after three no good, very bad days. They were alive. They were okay. “I’ll admit I’m not fond of splitting up. I…I can’t lose you again.” Okay, so maybe Akira wasn’t the only one spiraling over that possibility. “If you no longer wanted to mingle with Shido’s trash, I would gladly take our little getaway car and drive wherever you wish–”

“Nope, I’m still going,” Akira butted in. He wasn’t offended by Akechi’s offer, but he didn’t want to back down now, and he knew Akechi didn’t either. He could do this. It wasn’t like he had to kill a million people, all he had to do was break into some big wig’s computer with a flash drive and then get the hell out of there. Hopefully no one paid attention to him, once they got over the dress and heels. “I have a dagger and I’m not afraid to use it, and I have my earpiece just in case. You have a sword and multiple guns and an actual sniper rifle. Give the both of us some credit! I killed a god three Christmases ago. A little breaking and entering is what the kids call small potatoes.”

Akechi said nothing, but at the rate he was stressing, he would fracture every bone in Akira’s hand, induce heart murmurs faster than you could say four Five Hour Energy shots, and go bald by age twenty-three. Refusing to let the man who was essentially his husband lose all his hair, Akira indulged in their old favorite vice: deflecting and changing the subject. “Also, this isn’t the getaway car. Stop besmirching the good name of our dearly beloved Jokermobile–”

“It’s not a good name at all, Akira,” said Akechi as he forced himself to relax. He didn’t buy the facade, but Akira wasn’t trying to fool him. They both just needed to calm down before they did anything reckless…even if a heist was also reckless. “Your habit of naming inanimate objects is getting out of hand. This isn’t the Jokermobile, it’s a black 2016 Toyota Highlander, and you only named it that because you wanted to make rear-ending jokes.”

Well, it was a good thing they had only been rear-ended by an actual car once, then. Akira took full responsibility for that one, it was his fault for trying to drive with a broken leg. Pour one out for the fire hydrant, the greatest victim of that hit-and-run besides Akira’s psyche. “And yet you never thought of a better name. Checkmate.”

“You’re insufferable,” Akechi sighed.

“I think you meant irresistible, honey,” said Akira.

“Oh, pardon me. I meant to say you’re irritating and irresponsible. My mistake.”

Goro didn’t give Akira time to reply before he unbuckled his seatbelt and inspected his holsters. “Do you have the flashdrive ready to go?” Akira reached into a side pocket of his dress and showed Goro the flash drive, shoving it back inside once Goro nodded. “And your dagger?” He flipped his skirt completely to the side, exposing lacy black underwear on top of the dagger strapped to the thigh lacking a dress slit. Goro forcibly ignored that and interrogated him again like the bastard cop he once pretended to be. “And your earpiece?”

Wow, not even a verbal reaction to his underwear of choice? Bummer. Akira rolled his eyes and gently swept the wig away. Barely visible inside his ear was the earpiece, but it was in place just as planned. Smiling and hoping the red lipstick wouldn’t smudge onto his teeth, he flashed Goro a thumbs up. “Yes, Goro, I’ll hear your illustrious voice loud and clear. What about yours?”

“I put mine on before we left. I came prepared, unlike you.”

“It’s not a competition, Goro.”

“Akira, we turn everything into a competition whether we like it or not.”

God, could Goro stop making good points tonight? He was beating Akira in the argument category of the Rivalry Olympics. Fucker. Conceding for now, Akira pouted as Goro let go of his hand to climb into the back. “Do we have any of those canned coffees left?” he asked while Goro inspected his ammunition.

“I grabbed extra at the 777 earlier, along with some other beverages,” Goro replied, briefly ignoring his mission prep in favor of caffeinating the idiotic love of his life. As Goro reached into their cooler, he continued, “Some are black, some have cream or sugar. How do you want your coffee tonight, my dear Joker?”

“Black like my soul, Crow,” Akira replied, fondly recalling his dear pal Satanael on the anniversary of a god’s death. Goro gave him a long, hard look, then hurled a bottle of milk at Akira’s face. Naturally, Akira caught it with all the proficiency in the universe. Then he hurled it right back at Goro, who snatched it from the air without even looking. Well, if Satanael wasn’t allowed, then Arsene better be. “Fine. Something with French roast, also like my soul.”

#persona 5 #akeshu #shuake #p5 #goro akechi #akira kurusu #tricksterlatte writes #chase the joker #my stuff #I have two other oneshots planned regarding this heist and then this holiday for them. but.#Akechi overexplaining American Psycho to Akira who just thinks he's ridiculous while also being head over heels. it had to be shared #i had to.#this will not make much sense without the original fic btw so if you like this. go read it! look in my pinned

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fandomohana · 2 years ago

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Mental Storms {A 1986 WBTY Fic}

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader, Eddie Munson x Plus Size Henderson Sister Reader

Rating: Mature for mild nudity, and talk of mental health.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Reader is in a dark place mentally, and calls on Eddie for comfort.

Author’s Note: So my mental health is in the toilet, and last night I wrote what I needed.

This fic is a oneshot based in the 1986 Will Be Their Year, universe. It’s set after graduation, but can be read as a stand alone. Reader is 18. This is incredibly self indulgent, as the whole series is, if I’m being honest. I think that’s all. I’m tagging my series list, cause it’s all in the same world. Interact if you’d like, my mental health could use the boost, but I doubt this will go very far. Onto the oneshot.

Second Author's Note: The shows and movies are actually some of my favorites, I'm an '89 baby, and the fries part is exactly what was going on last night, while I wrote this.

Eddie Munson Masterlist

The sound of bells rattled through the trailer, penetrating the sleeping form sprawled across the mattress. Bleary brown eyes began to blink open, registering the sound of the phone sitting on the table by the bed. Reaching over, a ringed hand shuffles across the top of the table, pushing off notebooks, and a few empty beer cans, before finding purchase on the phone, a quick, “Shit.” coming from the prone form.

Eddie pulled the receiver off the cradle, bringing the phone to his ear, letting out a groggy, “Hello?” He glanced at the clock, he had been asleep an hour, dressed in the baggy sweat pants he had thrown on after his shower.

“Eds?” It was a quiet voice, a voice he knew like his own, and she sounded broken, on the verge of tears.

All sleep was forgotten as he bolted up in bed, panic making his heart drum against his chest. “Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s getting dark again, Eddie...” Came her soft reply, voice starting to crack.

Eddie knew immediately what was happening, and what she needed. He was up in a shot, phone wedged between his shoulder, and head, as he began dressing.

“Your place or mine?” Came his calm response, they had been through this a few times by now.

“Yours, I don’t want to have to explain to my mom.” She sounded so small, scared, his heart was breaking for her.

Eddie was already pulling his jacket on, and cramming his feet into his Reeboks, not bothering to untie them, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He responded, grabbing his keys before launching out the door.

The van roared to life, dirt and small bits of gravel flying out from beneath the tires, as Eddie peeled out of the trailer park. Cramming her mix tape into the player, he raced toward the Henderson house, toward his Princess.

--------------------

At least once a week, Eddie and Y/N’s schedules led to what they called, heavy days. These days were marked with long hours at work for the pair, and extra schoolwork for Y/N. They were days that the couple had decided to not see one another, long hours, hectic schedules, it was easier to simply take the night off.

But Eddie knew what she meant when she told him it was getting dark, his Princess struggled with depression, and anxiety. When the darkness rolled in, if they were apart, she would call Eddie, and the two would either stay in her room, or go to the trailer; somewhere safe for her, where he could take care of her.

As the van wound its way up the driveway, headlights illuminated a figure on the porch, perched on the edge of the patio couch. Throwing the van into park, and racing out the door, Eddie made his way up to the porch, walking over to Y/N, who looked up at his approach.

She looked so tired, her beautiful eyes were full of pain, and unshed tears. Eddie squatted down in front of her, taking her soft hands in his, and looking into her eyes as he asks calmly, “Did you tell Dustin?”

Her mother wasn’t home, he knew that, she had gone out for a night with some neighborhood friends, but they still needed Dustin to cover for her absence. No sooner had the question left his lips, before Dustin appeared in the doorway, “I’ve got her covered, I’ll tell Mom she went to stay with Robin.”

“Thanks, man.” Turning back to Y/N, Eddie asked if she was ready, and when she nodded, he took her hands again, and helped her to her feet.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Eddie pulled Y/N closer to his side, running his fingers up and down her arm, trying to soothe her loud mind. He opened her door, helping her into the seat as Somebody to Love drifted from the speakers, before closing the door again.

Once he was situated behind the wheel, he gently asked, “Did anything happen?” He knew that sometimes the depression would simply come from the ether, like a sudden summer storm. When she shook her head no, he continued again, “The usual?” She nodded slowly. “Okay baby, I got you.” Reaching across, he took her hand once more, running his thumb slowly over her knuckles.

--------------------

One trip through the drive through of Burger King, an obscene amount of fries, and a large classic Coke later, the van made its way back through the trailer park, before parking in his usual spot.

Jumping out of the van once again, Eddie jogged to Y/N’s door, helping her out before he wrapped her into his side once more, despite the short trip to the door. When the pair reached the trailer, refusing to let her go, Eddie gripped the bag between his teeth, using his newly free hand to open the door, and guide her inside.

Y/N toed off her shoes, while Eddie sloughed off his jacket, placing the food on the small kitchen counter. He walked over to his princess, running his hands up and down her arms, “Living room, or bedroom?” He always kept questions short during these episodes.

“Bedroom.” Y/N croaks out.

Without another word, his hands slip from her arms, one hand taking hers, as he guided her through the short hall, into his bedroom. Eddie begins making her a small nest of blankets, and pillows. He had invested in more blankets and pillows shortly after they had started dating, learning quickly that she loved to nest, especially during these mental storms.

With the bed prepared, he helps her into the nest, giving her a reassuring squeeze, before leaving to fetch their food. When Eddie came back, he had his arms full, several video tapes, the food, and drinks for the pair.

He made sure Y/N was situated first, setting her drink down, and placing the bag of food in front of her. “What’re we watching, beautiful? I’ve got...” He tosses the pile of tapes onto the bed, and began rattling off titles, “Halloween, Rosemary’s Baby, Carrie, Night of the Living Dead...I’ve got some recorded episodes of The Golden Girls, Alf, oh, and some episodes of Unsolved Mysteries.”

Eddie had begun this collection after her first storm, he would gather her favorite movies, and record her favorite tv shows, as part of a kit of sorts, that he had put together for these situations.

“Halloween?” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“Anything you want.” He places a soft kiss to her forehead, before moving to the small tv and VCR they had both invested in, for his bedroom.

Turning back after setting up the movie, he noticed her jeans, and the blouse she had worn to work. He crossed the room again, digging in the drawer he kept her “boyfriend clothes” as she called them. Clothes that Eddie wore, and kept for her, that would fit her plush frame. Finding a worn Hellfire t-shirt, and pair of sweat pants, he returns to her side, placing the clothes on the bed.

“Do you want to change?” She nodded silently. “Arms up, pretty girl.”

He gathered the hem of her shirt in his hands, slowly dragging the fabric up, and over her head. Tossing her shirt to the floor, making a note to fold it later. Reaching behind her, he unhooks her bra, and brings the straps down her shoulders. His hands worked quickly, bringing the soft t-shirt over her head, and down her torso before the cool air of the trailer could make her shiver.

Eddie helps her stand, pulling her jeans down her legs, and placing her hands on his shoulders for stability, while he removed each foot from the pant legs. He reaches behind him, grabbing the sweat pants, and began guiding her feet into the holes, before pulling them up around her waist, and helping her back into her nest.

He changed back into his own discarded sweat pants, folded her clothes, and set them on the desk before climbing into bed. He hits play, and the opening credits for Halloween begin to scroll across the screen. Eddie doled out the food between the two of them, before leaning back, and wrapping her into his side, her head resting on his chest as she begins to eat slowly.

Eddie feeds himself with one hand, while the other runs up and down her arm, and brushing a kiss against her temple, speaking softly, “I love you, Y/N. I’m glad you felt safe calling me. I know you probably hesitated cause it’s one of our heavy days, but I’m proud of you. You can always call me, I’ll always be there to get you, no matter what your brain tells you. You’re my badass warrior, baby.”

“I love you too, Eds.” Comes the soft reply from under his chin.

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. No matter how often she told him she loved him, it felt like the first time, and his heart would skip a beat.

--------------------

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