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zoropookie · 9 months ago

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HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter thirty-three — give it time (💋)

“I’ll admit, you made it look like a home.”

You looked around, enamored by the mutable blend of the other’s home. There was oddly a cozy charm that bled in the space, a mixture of contrasts that you wouldn’t have thought he would involve himself with.

There were soft shadows playing against the walls, promenaded by the warm and golden glow of the lamps. It was really elegant in here, yet, meticulously chosen to make you feel comfortable enough to sit down on the obviously expensive furniture.

“Didn’t know you had a…knack for interior design either.” You said hesitantly, looking at a very abstract tiny statue of a triangle on one of the shelves. Even thought you were interested, it still just felt like a painted on canvas for you. Kind of like...the idea that there can be paint on a canvas, but it doesn't make it a painting. "Learning a lot more about you everyday."

"It wasn't my idea," He sighed. "I told the interior designer 'not too many colors', and I guess she thought I was talking about completely mute."

"Feels like a sanctuary," you murmured.

Despite the dismissive words he gave you, the effort that was put into everything was clearly crafted and corroborated. You walked over to the books sitting on the coffee table, the only things out of place from the rest of the textures, reading the hard cover and smiling.

"You're really considering it?" You asked, to which Kuni turned towards you, "Taking care of the orchard outside."

He shrugged, his eyes moving back to making tea in the kitchen. "I don't have a choice. It's either me who does it, or it dies."

"That's not true, you can always pay someone to do it for you. I know there's a lot of people who may want it for themselves, it's completely healthy." You rambled, trying to see it through the long windows. "I take it that was a housewarming gift too?"

"From Furina. Came with the house, thought it'd be funny to see me struggle with something mundane."

"I heard," You grinned, not being able to keep your laugh in. "Love that for you, it's like a package deal! Did it work?"

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair at the thought. "I guess, I don't know," He started pour the tea once the pot began to steam. "I know her goal was to drive me insane. A constant reminder that no matter how far I try to distance myself from complications, they find a way to root themselves in my life."

"Hey, I wouldn't see it as that." You chuckled, the sound mixing with the soft clinking of the ceramic cups he was setting on the table. "It's probably just a way to keep you grounded after everything."

"I don't see the appeal in tending to trees."

"Maybe it's not even about that," You mused. "Maybe it's just about finding a healthy medium in your life, don't suppose you had that before, right?" You said, teasingly.

He rolled his eyes at you, a humored smile tugging at his lips. "You're one to preach about silver linings."

Your jaw dropped, a small scoff coming from your mouth. "I actually came here to truce, thank you very much. Even though you're the one who tried to run away from me — news flash, didn't work, genius. Still pissed off about that. I'm glad that Furina is looking to help you as much as she's looking to out you."

"Running away is my thing." He squinted playfully, "Like she's big help anyway. The only reason she's in on it is because she wants us to have this romance trope going on for real this time. It's stupid as fuck."

You paused at his words, feeling yourself swallow a big lump some of the tea nestled in your mouth. You shivered at the heat that washed on you, pursing your lips in thought as you let the conversation simmer. The two of you standing in a companionable silence. The trees outside rustled gently in the breeze, their leaves a vibrant contrast to the muted tones inside.

"I mean, I don't know," You paused, cringing as your fingers tightened on your cup. "I don't think it's stupid."

Kuni stiffened too, gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. There was a certain look that you've never seen before from him. You couldn't decipher his actual feelings. "I figured."

Your cheeks flushed. "Holy shit, never mind if you were expecting it already." You hissed to yourself, trying to ebb how much embarrassment was on your skin. "Look, I need to check into my hotel soon—"

"Sit down." He cut you off, assertiveness in his tone enough to get you to immediately listen, plopping back down. There was an unexpected gravity that was with him, another departure from his nonchalant attitude.

Your heart hammered rapid fire in your chest, a mix of fear and total apprehension were doing a waltz on your general disposition. The more time you were here, the more you worried about the next time you'll make an absolute fucking fool of yourself. You fidgeted with your fingers.

"What really brought you here." He asked, expectantly. "First thing you give me is a hug, and some words of affirmation. You're not here just to catch up, especially after I blew you off."

"I wanted to see you again." You admitted, the weight of your own words pressing down on you. "You owned up to it, left your part of the Internet in a spiral, and then didn't bother to talk to me after that."

He was looking at you, you sensed it. And it wasn't like you could look at him back, otherwise you were going to melt. It was different seeing him from up close, it was an original experience to you if you could name it anything.

His eyes were searching you, despite all you said, as if trying to decipher if you were being genuine. His eyes bored into you like a tiny laser burning your skin. He nodded, a sliver of understanding crossing his face. "You gave me the impression that you were done. I left it at that."

"Yeah, well, I felt like the only one who could leave it at anything was me."

Despite how sticky and tense it was again, you felt relieved that he wasn't as malicious as he was behind the screen. You were relieved that at least the worst of it was over. But it didn't didn't help the burning in your chest, the aching of the bubble in your throat. "Ei really made you do all that stuff? It's not because you really do hate me, right?"

There was no more pretending anymore, no more hiding behind false bravado or dissing each other behind screens like pussies. It was only raw honesty, vulnerable and exposed.

"(Y/N)." His expression softened, a silent dilemma clear on his face. He gathered his own courage, squaring his shoulders a bit and looking at you again. "I'm sorry."

You felt dazed, electricity in the air around you, the world officially tilted on its axis to you. "What?" You accentuated snippier than you intended.

"You were collateral. Nothing that you did deserved what happened to you. Makes sense that you did what you did, you weren't the problem." He explained, shoulders slumped again. "I was behind what I did, at the end of the day; Ei just told me to do it. I'm sorry for being part of the reason you couldn't bounce back. I know if the situation were different, I'd leave you alone."

People kept saying that to you these days, that nothing that happened was because you deserved it. Maybe you never quite got the picture until Kuni said something along the lines of it. You never thought that him apologizing to you would garner the oddest reaction out of you.

Because why was it sexy..? Stop.

"And," He sighed, grabbing your attention lightspeed again. "I would consider liking you more if this all didn't happen. You're alright."

His admission of everything was catching you off guard left and right. You had no idea what to feel with the prominent knot in your stomach. "Do you like me?" "(Y/N), I don't want to—"

"I'm alright, in your words, but do you like me?" Your tone solidified with each word slowly jutting out, assertiveness hardening your composure. "Tell me. Look at me and tell me."

The uncertainly stretched on for what was practically indefinitely. He held his breath, as did you, waiting for his response. Your heart was ruthless against you, beating against your body. He sized you up, seeking an answer for himself.

"...Yeah?" He admitted, voice barely audible as he tried to find his own words. But everything he did think of was so unlike him, out of his personal way of handling things like this. "Yeah. I do."

You blinked, both of your eye contact filling a certain, more romantic space that neither of you even thought was there before today. But the more you realized it, the more you realized that maybe the sexual tension was always there.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @littlesliceofcheese @yumejo89

@liuaneee @franaby @tiddieshakeshownu @mimi3lover @kavineyah

@kittywagun (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

#zoropookie #hhab #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you

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rubyuji · 22 days ago

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Where the Roses Bloom (Joshua Hong) ✞⋆⭒˚.⋆

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Genre: Slowburn, Angst

AU: 1950s AU

Pairing: Friar!Joshua x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Working unconventional jobs (Reader is a dancer in the red light district because she's a run away), Seungcheol is an asshole

Synopsis: A wealthy runaway seeking freedom and a devout seminarian devoted to faith find an unexpected connection in Crimson Lane, where love becomes their greatest salvation and torment. Torn between their hearts and the lives they are destined to lead, they are forced to confront sacrifice, identity, and the cost of their choices.

Note: I've been obsessed with Hilda Furacão lately and am currently watching it because the story is so intriguing, so why not publish my own take on Hilda and Malthus' story you know? Also, I'm so glad I've found the time to publish a few more works in my busy schedule because I've missed writing. I hope you guys enjoy reading! Don't forget to like + reblog as always.

W.C: 7.2k

You are the beloved daughter of a wealthy, conservative family, a fragile porcelain doll meant to adorn the halls of high society. Every word you speak is measured, every gesture rehearsed, every smile carefully crafted to maintain the illusion of perfection your family has built around you.

You have always known your place in their world—a tool to be wielded in their quest for status and legacy.

But tonight, the cracks in that porcelain threaten to shatter completely.

“You bring shame to this family!” your father’s voice thunders through the drawing room, his face flushed with fury. He paces back and forth like a predator circling its prey, while your mother sits rigidly on the velvet settee, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done? Do you understand the humiliation you’ve caused us?”

Your fiancé stands off to the side, his arms crossed and a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He says nothing, content to let your parents do the dirty work of berating you.

You can still feel the sting of his earlier words, the way he dismissed your reluctance as childishness and called you ungrateful for even questioning the life planned for you.

“Humiliation?” you finally snap, your voice trembling but strong enough to cut through the oppressive atmosphere. “The only humiliation here is being forced into a marriage with a man who sees me as nothing more than property!”

“Watch your tone!” your father bellows, slamming his hand against the mahogany table. “You will marry him, and you will do so with dignity. That is your duty to this family.”

“And what about my duty to myself?” you demand, your voice breaking. “Don’t I deserve to choose my own life? To be something more than just a pawn in your plans?”

“Enough!” your mother interjects sharply, her icy gaze locking onto yours.

“You are selfish, ungrateful, and disgraceful. Do you think anyone else would have you after this display? Your childish rebellion ends now. Tomorrow, you will apologize to your fiancé and prepare for the engagement ceremony.”

The room falls silent, the air thick with unspoken threats and unrelenting pressure. You look at each of them—your father, red-faced and seething; your mother, cold and unyielding; and your fiancé, smug and victorious. It feels as though the walls are closing in, the weight of their expectations suffocating you.

“I’d rather die than live like this,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Your father stiffens, his face twisting with rage, but you don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you turn on your heel and storm out of the room, the sound of your mother’s sharp voice calling after you fading into the background.

You run to your room, grabbing a small bag and stuffing it with essentials—money, jewelry, a coat.

The thought of staying here one more night, of bowing to their will and losing yourself completely, is unbearable. With shaking hands, you throw open the window and climb out, your heart pounding as you disappear into the cool night air.

The city is a blur as you wander, your breath visible in the chilly air. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You’ve made your choice. There’s no turning back now.

By the time you reach Crimson Lane, your feet ache, and your throat is raw from the cold.

The district looms before you like a forbidden dream—a world of sin, danger, and freedom. Smoke rises from narrow alleyways, mingling with the faint strains of music and the chatter of strangers.

You stumble, and a hand reaches out to steady you. A woman with painted lips and tired but kind eyes looks you over, taking in your disheveled appearance and the fine fabric of your coat.

“You’re not from here, are you?” she asks, her voice gentle but wary.

You shake your head, your voice faltering as you say, “I… I have nowhere else to go.”

She studies you for a moment, then gestures for you to follow her. “Come on, then. You’ll freeze out here.”

She leads you deeper into the district, where the streets glow with lantern light and the scent of spice and smoke fills the air.

The people here are rough around the edges, their laughter loud and unapologetic, but there’s a warmth to them—a sense of camaraderie that you’ve never felt in your old life.

The woman introduces herself as Lucia and takes you to La Rosa, a club that feels like the beating heart of Crimson Lane. The velvet curtains, the glittering chandeliers, the sound of laughter and music—it’s a world so far removed from the one you left behind that it feels almost dreamlike.

“You’ll be safe here,” Lucia says. “We take care of our own.”

For the first time in your life, you feel a flicker of hope. Here, you are not a disgrace or a disappointment. Here, you are free to be whoever you want to be.

Joshua steps hesitantly onto the cobblestone streets of Crimson Lane, his polished shoes carrying him into a world that seems to pulse with temptation and sin. The air is thick and heavy with the mingling scents of smoke, cheap liquor, and perfume.

Neon signs flicker above the doorways of clubs and gambling dens, casting the streets in a kaleidoscope of red and gold. Laughter and music spill out into the night, wild and unrestrained, unlike anything he’s ever known.

He grips the cross hanging from his neck, the smooth metal cool against his palm, as if to remind himself of who he is and why he’s here.

This place feels godless, a maze of excess and indulgence, yet it is precisely where he believes his mission lies. Beneath the vice, he is certain there is still humanity—still souls waiting to be saved.

Joshua’s purpose tonight is clear: to bring a young man, barely more than a boy, back to the fold. The boy has been seen frequenting La Rosa, a club infamous even in this district.

Its reputation precedes it—a place of opulence and decadence where rules are rewritten nightly. Joshua’s breath quickens as the club comes into view, its crimson façade glowing like an ember in the darkness.

The doorman eyes him with suspicion as he steps inside, but no one stops him. The moment he enters, the atmosphere changes. It’s warmer, almost stifling, and alive with sound.

The low hum of a saxophone weaves through the air, mingling with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. The scent of wine and something floral—jasmine, maybe—lingers in the room, intoxicating and overwhelming.

He scans the room, searching for the boy, but his attention is drawn to the stage. The lights dim, and the murmur of the crowd fades as a figure steps into the spotlight.

And then he sees you.

You command the stage with an effortless grace, your every movement exuding confidence and allure. The dress you wear shimmers under the soft glow of the lights, its fabric hugging your figure in a way that makes the audience hold their breath.

You are radiant, magnetic, and utterly otherworldly. But what strikes Joshua most is your voice—a sultry, melodic sound that seems to reach deep into his chest and pull something loose.

His heart stirs in a way it never has before, and for a moment, the weight of his faith feels distant. He forgets his mission, forgets the boy, forgets where he is. All he can do is watch as you weave your spell, your voice filling every corner of the room.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you look at him.

The moment your eyes meet his, time seems to slow. You’ve seen countless faces in your time at La Rosa, most of them predictable—men with hungry eyes and insincere smiles, women with envy or admiration etched into their expressions. But he is different.

There’s something pure in the way he looks at you, something almost reverent. His gaze doesn’t linger on your body like the others; instead, it searches your face, as if he’s trying to understand you. It unnerves you, yet you can’t look away.

Joshua’s grip on his cross tightens, a silent prayer forming on his lips as his mind races.

Who are you? How can someone so captivating, so seemingly untouchable, exist in a place like this? He feels a pang of guilt for the way his heart beats faster, but there’s something deeper, something undeniable, that draws him to you.

The song ends, and the applause erupts, breaking the spell. You step back from the spotlight, but your gaze flickers toward him once more before you disappear into the wings. Joshua stands frozen, the world around him fading into a blur.

Later that night, as the crowd thins and the music softens, Joshua lingers near the edge of the stage. He tells himself it’s to wait for the boy, to fulfill the purpose that brought him here. But his eyes keep darting toward the backstage entrance, his mind replaying the moment your eyes met his.

When you finally approach, your footsteps soft against the polished floor, he feels a jolt of panic and something else—anticipation. You stop in front of him, your head tilted in curiosity.

Up close, you’re even more stunning, but there’s something in your expression that takes him by surprise. Beneath the confidence, there’s a flicker of vulnerability, a depth that the stage lights couldn’t fully reveal.

“You don’t look like the type to spend your nights in places like this,” you say, your voice softer now, laced with intrigue.

Joshua clears his throat, his fingers brushing against the cross again. “I’m… not,” he admits, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. “I’m here for someone. A young man from my parish.”

“Ah,” you reply with a wry smile. “A shepherd in the den of wolves.”

Your words are teasing, but your tone isn’t cruel. There’s a warmth in your gaze that disarms him, even as his instincts tell him to tread carefully. “I believe there’s good here,” he says, surprising even himself with the conviction in his voice. “Even in a place like this.”

Your smile falters, just for a moment, and Joshua catches the shadow that crosses your face. “Goodness,” you murmur, almost as if testing the word. “Not many would think so.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you step closer, your presence enveloping him in a way that makes the world feel impossibly small.

“So, what’s your name, shepherd?” you ask, your eyes studying him with genuine curiosity.

“Joshua,” he answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You repeat his name, letting it roll off your tongue as if savoring its simplicity. For a moment, you forget about the performance, the crowd, the life you’ve built in La Rosa. There is something about this man, something untainted and sincere, that draws you in despite yourself.

And as you stand there, the weight of your respective worlds pressing against you, neither of you realizes how deeply your lives are about to intertwine.

The first time you and Joshua meet outside of La Rosa, it’s in the quiet corner of a small café tucked away from the chaos of Crimson Lane.

You arrive first, your coat wrapped tightly around you to ward off the chill, though you know it does little to shield you from the prying eyes of those who recognize you.

When Joshua enters, his presence shifts the room. He isn’t dressed in his cassock but in simple, clean-cut clothes that make him seem less like a devout seminarian and more like a boy trying to blend into a world he doesn’t belong to.

Still, his earnest gaze gives him away, and the way he hesitates before sitting across from you tells you he’s nervous.

“You came,” you say softly, sipping your tea to mask the flicker of relief in your voice.

“I wasn’t sure if I should,” Joshua admits, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “But I thought… maybe you needed someone to talk to.”

The words catch you off guard. Most men come to you with expectations—of entertainment, of distraction, of something shallow and fleeting. But Joshua looks at you as if he genuinely wants to understand, to know the real you beneath the performance.

“I’m not used to people wanting to just ‘talk,’” you reply, your lips curling into a small smile.

He smiles, too, and for a moment, the tension between you eases. “I’m not like most people.”

Your meetings become a routine, a secret shared only between the two of you. Sometimes you meet in quiet cafés; other times, it’s in the park just as dawn begins to break, the city still cloaked in silence.

Joshua asks you questions no one has ever dared to ask. “Do you ever miss your old life?” he asks one morning, his voice gentle but probing.

You pause, your gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun spills golden light over the rooftops. “I miss parts of it,” you admit. “The security, maybe. The certainty. But not the suffocation.”

Joshua nods, his expression thoughtful. “And now? Do you feel free?”

You turn to him, meeting his earnest gaze. “Freedom isn’t as simple as leaving behind what holds you back. It’s… complicated.”

He doesn’t push further, but the way he looks at you lingers, as if he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that’s missing too many pieces.

The conversations shift over time, becoming deeper, more intimate. Joshua talks about his faith, his calling, and the doubts that sometimes creep in despite his unwavering belief in something greater.

“I’ve always wanted to help people,” he says one evening, the two of you seated on a bench under the soft glow of a street lamp. “To give them hope, to remind them that they’re not alone. But sometimes… I wonder if I’m enough.”

“You’re more than enough,” you say, the words slipping out before you can think better of them. He looks at you, startled, and you feel a rush of heat rise to your cheeks. “I mean… you’ve already helped me, haven’t you?”

Joshua’s expression softens, and for a moment, the distance between your worlds feels smaller.

The unspoken desires between you grow harder to ignore. There are moments when your fingers brush as you walk side by side, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you.

When he speaks, his voice low and full of conviction, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to pull him closer, to feel the weight of his devotion turned entirely toward you.

For Joshua, the temptation is both exhilarating and terrifying. He tells himself that he is here to guide you, to help you see the light. But with every meeting, every shared smile, he feels the foundation of his faith tremble.

You are not the sinner he expected to find in Crimson Lane. You are complex, brave, and endlessly captivating.

In you, Joshua sees a reflection of his own humanity—the doubts he wrestles with, the longing for something more than the rigid path he has chosen. And in him, you see the purity and sincerity you thought the world had forgotten.

One night, after hours of quiet conversation and stolen glances, the silence stretches between you. The streets are unusually still, the usual hum of Crimson Lane reduced to faint murmurs and the occasional clatter of footsteps in the distance.

You’re seated on a weathered wooden bench beneath a streetlamp that flickers every so often, casting fleeting shadows across your faces. The glow illuminates Joshua’s profile, highlighting the soft curve of his jaw and the furrow in his brow that deepens when he’s lost in thought.

The air between you feels heavier tonight, charged with something unspoken, a tension that neither of you has dared to fully acknowledge.

You’re no stranger to silences, but this one feels different, as if the words trapped within it could change everything.

“Joshua,” you finally say, your voice barely audible against the stillness.

His name lingers on your tongue, familiar and strange all at once. It feels too intimate, like a secret you’re not sure you should share, yet you’ve never been able to call him anything else.

He turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with that quiet intensity that has always disarmed you. His gaze is steady, but there’s a vulnerability in it tonight, a crack in the armor of his resolve.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. Your voice trembles slightly, betraying the depth of your hesitation. “That you could… choose a life that wasn’t already decided for you?”

Joshua doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks away, his eyes following the faint outline of smoke curling from a nearby chimney. His fingers toy with the cross hanging around his neck, the movement absentminded yet telling.

“I think about it,” he says after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes, when I’m alone, I wonder what it would be like to live without all the expectations. To… to make choices just for myself.”

His confession surprises you, and you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—relief, perhaps, that even someone as steadfast as Joshua isn’t immune to doubt. “And what would you choose?” you ask, leaning closer without realizing it.

He hesitates, his gaze flickering back to you. For a moment, you see the walls he’s built around himself falter.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I think about you.”

The words hit you like a storm, sudden and all-consuming. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak. “Me?” you manage, your voice unsteady.

Joshua nods, his eyes searching yours for something—understanding, perhaps, or courage.

“I think about the way you talk about freedom, about wanting to find yourself. I’ve spent my whole life trying to give myself to something greater, to serve a purpose beyond myself. But when I’m with you… I don’t feel lost. I feel like I’m finally being seen.”

The honesty in his words is almost too much to bear. You feel your throat tighten, your chest aching with the weight of emotions you’ve tried to suppress.

“You see me, too,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Not the person I pretend to be at La Rosa, or the daughter my family wanted me to be. You see the parts of me I thought were long gone.”

The silence that follows is deafening, every breath, every heartbeat magnified. You want to reach for him, to close the small distance between you, but you’re paralyzed by the fear of what it might mean.

“Do you ever wonder if we were meant to meet?” you ask quietly, your words tentative, as if afraid to give them too much power.

Joshua’s lips curve into the faintest smile, a mixture of sorrow and something almost like hope. “All the time,” he says. “But I also wonder what it means. If this—if we—are a test or a gift.”

You don’t know how to respond. You don’t know how to tell him that the mere thought of him has become both your solace and your torment, that he’s made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

“I don’t have the answers,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. “But I know that being with you makes the world feel less heavy. And maybe that’s enough.”

Joshua reaches out then, his hand hovering between you as if he’s fighting an internal battle. Finally, he lets it rest gently on yours, the touch warm and grounding. You look up at him, startled, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Maybe it is,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

In that moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of Crimson Lane replaced by the quiet rhythm of your breathing. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe in the possibility of something more.

The change in Joshua is subtle at first, almost imperceptible to those around him. He still attends his daily prayers and still preaches sermons that touch hearts and inspire hope, but there’s a new uncertainty in his eyes, a hesitance in his voice when he speaks of his calling. His mentor at the parish, Father Miguel, notices the shift and questions him one evening.

“You seem troubled, Joshua,” Father Miguel says gently, his gaze steady but not unkind. “Is there something you wish to confess?”

Joshua hesitates, the weight of his secret relationship with you pressing heavily on his chest. He shakes his head, offering a polite smile. “No, Father. I’m just… reflecting on my work here.”

Father Miguel doesn’t push, but his concern lingers. “Remember, doubt is part of faith. But so is discernment. Pray on it, Joshua, and trust that you’ll find your way.”

Joshua nods, but the advice feels hollow. He doesn’t need to pray to know what troubles him—it’s you.

For you, the change is more visceral. The armor you’ve worn for so long, the persona you’ve carefully crafted at La Rosa, begins to crack.

Joshua’s faith and kindness, so foreign in a world that has often shown you cruelty, force you to confront truths you’ve buried.

One night, after a particularly vulnerable conversation, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror backstage at La Rosa. The vibrant makeup and glittering costumes no longer feel like a shield but a mask you’re desperate to shed.

You think of Joshua’s words, his belief that goodness exists even in the darkest places, and wonder if you could ever truly believe that about yourself.

Later, as you and Joshua sit on the steps of a quiet chapel he’s introduced you to, you let the words spill out. “I’ve spent so much of my life pretending,” you admit, your voice trembling.

“Pretending to be the perfect daughter, pretending to be strong, pretending that none of this bothers me. But with you…” You pause, struggling to find the words. “I feel like I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Joshua reaches for your hand, his touch gentle but firm. “You don’t,” he says quietly. “You never did. You’re enough just as you are, Y/N.”

His words undo you, tears slipping down your cheeks as the weight you’ve carried for so long begins to lift.

But the fragile connection you’ve built with Joshua doesn’t go unnoticed. In a world as tightly knit as Crimson Lane, whispers spread faster than wildfire.

At La Rosa, the staff begins to exchange knowing looks, their smiles laced with curiosity and judgment. Madame Maria, always watchful, pulls you aside one evening after a particularly dazzling performance.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” she says, her voice light but with an undertone of steel. Her sharp eyes bore into you, assessing every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. “Is there something—or someone—you’d like to tell me about?”

Your heart races, but you force yourself to remain composed. “I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, carefully neutral.

Maria’s smile doesn’t waver, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. “Be careful, darling,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “You may think you’re invincible, but the world outside these walls has a way of tearing people like you apart. And men like him…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“Men like him don’t belong here.” The warning lingers in the air, unspoken yet clear: your relationship with Joshua is a risk, not just for you but for him as well.

Joshua also faces his share of scrutiny. His absences and distracted demeanor don’t go unnoticed by the parish elders, who begin to question his commitment.

One evening, as he prepares to leave for another secret meeting with you, Father Miguel intercepts him at the church doors.

“Joshua,” the older priest says, his tone firm but kind, “it’s clear that something is weighing on you. You’ve always been a man of conviction, but conviction without clarity can lead you astray. Is there something you need to confess?”

Joshua hesitates, his hand tightening around the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m… just trying to help someone,” he says, the words feeling both true and insufficient.

Father Miguel’s expression hardens, though his voice remains gentle. “Sometimes, the greatest tests of faith come disguised as acts of kindness. Be sure you are not mistaking temptation for charity.”

Joshua looks away, guilt and longing warring within him.

“She’s not a temptation,” he says quietly. “She’s someone who’s lost, someone who deserves to be seen, to be valued. I can’t turn my back on her.”

Father Miguel sighs deeply, his disappointment palpable. “Then you must ask yourself, Joshua, if this is the path you truly wish to walk. Because once you choose, there may be no turning back.”

The scrutiny grows, and the walls around your relationship begin to close in. You find yourself plagued by doubts late at night, wondering if holding on to Joshua is selfish, if you are pulling him away from a life he was meant to live.

One evening, as you and Joshua sit together in the dimly lit chapel, the weight of everything finally becomes too much to bear.

“They’re watching us,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “People are talking, and I… I can’t let them ruin you, Joshua. You’ve worked so hard for this life.”

Joshua reaches for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’re not ruining me,” he says, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“You’ve made me question things I was too afraid to question before. You’ve shown me that there’s more to faith than rules and expectations. There’s… love. Compassion. Humanity.”

“But what if I’m a mistake?” you ask, your voice breaking as tears threaten to spill. “What if loving me ruins everything you’ve built?”

Joshua’s gaze softens, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

“You’re not a mistake,” he says, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “And if loving you is wrong, then maybe everything I’ve been taught about right and wrong isn’t as simple as I thought.”

His words hang in the air, a declaration that feels both like a promise and a challenge.

As the night stretches on, the line between what is right and what is necessary blurs, leaving the two of you caught in the fragile, intoxicating space in between.

The fragile world you and Joshua have built begins to teeter as the shadows of your past and the expectations of his present loom closer.

It begins with the sudden arrival of your former fiancé, Seungcheol—a man you thought you’d left behind forever. He finds you at La Rosa one evening, standing in the crowd with a smug, self-satisfied smirk that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re performing when you see him, your practiced poise faltering ever so slightly as his face registers in the crowd. Panic coils in your chest, but you force yourself to finish the performance, smiling and bowing as though your world hasn’t just shifted on its axis.

Afterward, he waits for you in the dimly lit corridor outside your dressing room, leaning casually against the wall as though he belongs there.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Or should I say, Scarlet?”

You glare at him, your pulse racing as you step closer.

“What do you want, Seungcheol?” You hiss, his name slipping off your tongue like venom. He chuckles, his smirk widening.

“What I’ve always wanted. Control. You humiliated me, Y/N—running off like that, abandoning your family, your responsibilities, me. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal you caused?”

“I don’t care,” you snap, though your voice betrays the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t own me, Seungcheol. You never did.”

His smile hardens, his tone growing cold. “Maybe not. But I do know things about you—things the world would love to hear. And I imagine your new… friend wouldn’t fare too well if they knew he was involved with someone like you.”

The threat hits its mark, your breath hitching as dread seeps into your bones.

“Leave him out of this,” you say, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands.

Seungcheol shrugs, his eyes glinting with malice. “That’s up to you, darling. You come with me, quietly, and I’ll forget about this sordid little chapter of your life. Stay here, and I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who you are—and what you’ve done.”

Meanwhile, Joshua faces his own challenges. His growing absences and distracted demeanor have not gone unnoticed by his superiors at the parish. Father Miguel, once quietly concerned, now takes a firmer approach.

“You’ve been neglecting your duties, Joshua,” he says one evening, his tone sharper than usual. “The parish is a sacred commitment, one that requires your full devotion. I’ve given you time to reflect, but it’s clear your heart is no longer here.”

Joshua stiffens, guilt flickering across his face. “That’s not true, Father. I’ve been serving the people, just… in a different way.”

Father Miguel narrows his eyes, his voice dropping into a warning tone. “Serving them? Or serving yourself? I’ve heard the rumors, Joshua. About her. Is it true?”

Joshua hesitates, the weight of his connection to you pressing heavily on his chest.

“It’s complicated,” he finally says.

“Faith is not complicated,” Father Miguel retorts sharply. “It is a path of sacrifice and conviction. If you continue down this road, you will not only jeopardize your future in the church but also your soul.”

The tension between your two worlds becomes unbearable as Seungcheol’s threats grow bolder and Joshua’s superiors demand he sever ties with Crimson Lane entirely.

One evening, you and Joshua meet in the chapel, the only place you both feel safe enough to speak freely. The dim light of the candles flickers across Joshua’s face as he sits beside you, his expression a mixture of anguish and determination.

“He’s threatening you, isn’t he?” Joshua asks, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.

You nod, your hands trembling as you grip the edge of the pew. “He wants me to go back with him, to leave this place—and you—behind. If I don’t, he’ll ruin both of us.”

Joshua’s jaw clenches, his fists curling in his lap. “You don’t have to go with him. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“But what about you?” you ask, your voice breaking. “Your superiors are already suspicious. If Seungcheol exposes the truth, they’ll force you to leave the parish. Everything you’ve worked for will be gone.”

Joshua turns to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. “I don’t care about that,” he says firmly. “I care about you. I care about what’s right. If staying in the church means abandoning you, then maybe I’m not meant to stay.”

His words stun you into silence, your heart pounding as the gravity of his declaration sinks in. “Joshua,” you whisper, tears pooling in your eyes. “You can’t just give up everything for me. It’s not fair.”

“Fair or not, it’s the truth,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You’ve made me see things differently, Y/N. Maybe this is the test I’m supposed to face—not of my faith, but of my humanity.”

The decision weighs heavily on both of you. Seungcheol’s presence looms like a storm cloud, and Joshua’s faith is tested as he grapples with the idea of leaving behind a life he once thought was his calling.

In the quiet moments you share, there’s a sense of both urgency and tenderness, as though every touch, every word, could be your last.

Together, you must decide: will you stand against the forces threatening to tear you apart, or will you sacrifice your love to protect each other from a world that refuses to understand?

The days that follow Seungcheol’s threat and Father Miguel’s ultimatum feel like an unending storm, pulling you and Joshua in opposite directions. The quiet haven you had built together becomes fraught with tension, every meeting tinged with the unspoken knowledge that your time is running out.

You find yourself haunted by Seungcheol’s words. Every glance from a stranger feels like suspicion, every shadow a threat. At La Rosa, the staff are growing more curious, their whispers louder.

Even Madame Maria, who has always been fiercely protective of her own, seems hesitant now, her sharp gaze following you with a caution that wasn’t there before.

“Whatever you’re planning, darling,” she says one night after a show, her tone uncharacteristically soft, “be sure it’s worth the cost. Men like your Joshua—they don’t survive in places like this. And if you’re not careful, neither will you.”

Her words cut deep, but it’s the truth you already know.

Joshua, too, is unraveling. His prayers feel hollow, his faith no longer the comforting constant it once was. The parish feels foreign, its walls oppressive. Father Miguel’s disappointment lingers like a shadow, his words echoing in Joshua’s mind.

“This is your moment of truth, Joshua,” he had said during their last conversation. “You must choose. Your faith or this… distraction. You cannot serve both God and your desires.”

But how could he explain that you weren’t a distraction? That what he felt for you was not temptation but something more profound—something that made him question the very foundations of his beliefs?

Still, doubt claws at him. He wonders if loving you is selfish, if he is abandoning his calling for something fleeting. Yet every time he sees you, every time your eyes meet his, he feels that his path might lie not in the church but in the simple, devastating truth of his feelings for you.

One evening, as the tension reaches its breaking point, you meet in the chapel again, both of you weighed down by the decisions looming ahead. The air between you crackles with unspoken words, the silence heavy and suffocating.

“Joshua,” you finally say, your voice trembling, “we can’t keep doing this.”

He turns to you sharply, his expression a mix of desperation and sorrow. “Don’t say that. Don’t give up on us.”

“It’s not about giving up,” you reply, your voice cracking. “It’s about doing what’s right. Seungcheol’s not going to stop. Your superiors are already suspicious. If we keep this up, it’ll destroy us both.”

“Let it,” he says fiercely, his hands curling into fists. “I don’t care about the church, about their rules. None of it matters if I can’t be with you.”

“But I care,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “I care about what this will do to you, Joshua. You have so much good in you—so much to give. You’re meant for something greater than this. Greater than me.”

“Stop it,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Stop saying that. You’re the one who’s shown me what faith truly means. You’ve made me see the world differently, made me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. How can you say you’re not worth it?”

“Because I love you,” you cry, your voice raw and aching. “And because I love you, I can’t let you throw your life away for me.”

The words hang between you, a devastating truth neither of you can escape.

Joshua’s shoulders slump, his resolve crumbling as he looks at you, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrors your own. “So this is it?” he whispers. “After everything, we’re just… walking away?”

You nod, though it feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest. “We have to. For both our sakes.”

He takes a shuddering breath, stepping closer to you. For a moment, you think he might argue again, but instead, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though trying to memorize the feel of your touch.

“I’ll never forget you,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “No matter where I go, no matter what I do… you’ll always be with me.”

You choke back a sob, squeezing his hand one last time before pulling away. “And I’ll always carry you in my heart, Joshua. But we can’t keep holding on to something that was never ours to begin with.”

The days that follow are excruciating. Joshua resigns from his post at the parish, choosing to leave Crimson Lane entirely. He doesn’t return to the church but instead travels to another city, seeking to rebuild his faith and his purpose in the quiet solitude of helping others.

You remain at La Rosa, but everything feels different now. The lights seem dimmer, the music hollow. The mask you wear grows heavier with each passing day.

Seungcheol eventually loses interest, his threats subsiding as he realizes you’ll never return to him. But his presence leaves a scar, a reminder of the life you escaped and the one you can never fully leave behind.

Years later, you hear the whispers of Joshua. He has become a quiet figure of inspiration, dedicating his life to working with the marginalized. His name is spoken with reverence in places far from Crimson Lane, but the man who loved you remains a ghost in your memory.

For him, you remain a lingering ache, a lesson in love and loss that shaped the man he has become. And though you’ll never see him again, you carry him with you—a reminder of the man who taught you to believe in something greater, even if that belief meant letting him go.

In the end, your paths diverge, but the love you shared leaves an indelible mark—a bittersweet testament to what could have been and what was sacrificed for the sake of survival.

Epilogue:

The grand ballroom is bathed in golden light, chandeliers casting their glow over a sea of elegantly dressed guests. The hum of polite conversation mingles with the soft strains of a string quartet, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and calm.

The gala, held to raise funds for a foundation supporting marginalized communities, is a testament to second chances—a theme that seems almost poetic as you step into the room.

You’ve come far since your days at La Rosa. The years have transformed you, though the fire in your spirit remains. Now a philanthropist in your own right, you’ve built a life dedicated to helping others reclaim their dignity, much like you once reclaimed your own.

Dressed in an understated yet elegant gown, you move through the crowd with quiet confidence, exchanging pleasantries and offering kind words.

But then, as you glance across the room, you see him.

Joshua.

He stands near the edge of the ballroom, deep in conversation with an elderly patron. Time has softened his youthful features, but his presence is as commanding as ever. His tailored suit fits him impeccably, and his familiar calmness radiates outward, drawing others in with his sincerity.

Your breath catches, memories rushing back in vivid detail—the warmth of his voice, the way his hand felt in yours, the bittersweet goodbye that had shattered you both. You had imagined this moment countless times but never truly believed it would come.

Joshua turns as though sensing your gaze, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. For a moment, the noise and motion of the gala seem to fade, leaving only the two of you in a shared silence.

His eyes widen briefly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips before his expression softens into something more unreadable—nostalgia, perhaps, or quiet wonder.

You hesitate, unsure whether to approach or retreat. But then, he takes a step forward, and the decision is made for you.

“Y/N,” he says when he reaches you, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

“Joshua,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel.

The world seems to slow as you take each other in, noting the changes time has wrought and marveling at the things that remain unchanged.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, his tone warm but tinged with surprise.

You smile softly, glancing around the room. “I could say the same about you. But then again, it doesn’t surprise me. This… this is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

He chuckles lightly, the sound stirring something deep within you. “And you? What brought you here?”

You shrug, your smile turning wistful. “Purpose. A second chance. I’ve learned a lot about how much people can overcome when someone believes in them.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze filled with something like admiration. “You’ve always had that strength. Even when you didn’t see it in yourself.”

You feel your chest tighten at his words, the tenderness in his voice tugging at old wounds and forgotten hopes. “And you?” you ask quietly. “Are you happy?”

He nods, his smile reaching his eyes. “I am. Life isn’t what I thought it would be, but… it’s good. I’ve found peace in helping others. It’s fulfilling in ways I never imagined.”

You nod, feeling a bittersweet mix of pride and sadness. “I’m glad. You deserve that, Joshua.”

For a moment, silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words. There is so much you could say, so much you could ask, but you both know the answers won’t change the past—or the choices you made.

“I’ve thought about you,” he admits suddenly, his voice quiet. “Over the years. Wondered how you were, what you were doing. If you were happy.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small smile.

“I’ve thought about you too. More than I should, probably.”

His expression softens, and he takes a half-step closer, his voice dropping. “Do you regret it? Walking away?”

You take a deep breath, your eyes meeting his with a mix of honesty and pain. “I don’t regret loving you, Joshua. Not for a second. But I think we both know it couldn’t have ended any other way.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “You were right,” he says. “About everything. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

As the evening progresses, you find yourselves pulled back into the current of the gala. But even as you move among the other guests, you’re acutely aware of his presence, as though some invisible thread still connects you.

At the end of the night, you see him again, standing near the exit. He catches your eye, and this time, his smile is lighter, more peaceful. You return it, a silent acknowledgment of what you once shared—and what you’ve both become.

As you leave the gala, you carry the moment with you, a reminder that some connections endure even when paths diverge. Though you’ll never be together, the love you shared has shaped you both, leaving behind a legacy of strength, purpose, and bittersweet beauty.

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thelonestarinthesky · 12 days ago

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⁴. ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵖᵗ ²

⁺₊✦₊　　

pairing: senku x f!reader

chapter 4 of 2/2-i.senku

a/n: working on request now since the next few chapters are angst, so I'm preparing you guys

⁺₊✦₊　　

During Senku's last year in elementary school, he was getting ready to launch his third spaceship he made with Taiju and [Name]'s help.

The [H/C] haired girl was sitting on a bench as they waited for Taiju to arrive so they could launch it. She's been looking more tired and pale these days, but she just reassured him that she was fine, saying she was just staying up late again.

She felt another cough coming when she suppressed it when Taiju's voice was heard. "Senku! [Name]! This is Yuzuriha from the Craft Club. She said she could make something small and light for the spaceship." The boy exclaimed as Yuzuriha blushed.

"Um, it's not perfect, but I made these dolls. I hope it's okay." She says, taking out four dolls that resembled the four of them.

[Name] stood up, walked over, and smiled. "They're so cute." She says to the brown-haired girl, who smiles shyly.

"Thank you, I'm glad you like them," Yuzuriha says. The two girls giggle as they smile at each other.

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

Having sleepovers was the best, sure; having Senku over sometimes was great, but [Name] wanted to experience girls' night.

Yuzuriha was blushing furiously, squealing in a pillow as [Name] teased her about Taiju.

"You two would be so cute together! The way he looks at you is cute and straight out of a novel, I wish it would happen to me soon."

Grandpa Joel was on vacation for the time being, so the girls were home alone with a maid in the kitchen.

"What about Senku?" Yuzuriha asked her friend, who blinked at this.

"Huh? What about him?" Yuzuriha frowns at this before grinning. "I see how you look at him. Do you like him?" She teased [Name] who was starting to get red, ears burning at her teasing. Oh, how the tables turned.

".....so what if I did?" [Name] says mumbling, blushing shyly. "...it's not like he's going to feel the same. Science is all he ever needs."

Yuzuriha frowns, "I'm sure he likes you." She says, trying to cheer up her friend. "Don't you notice how every time he makes something, he always shows or gives it to you last? And he always looks at you with this look, waiting to hear what you'll say."

[Name] buries her face in the pillow against her chest, thinking over her words. It was true; Senku made cotton candy for them; he gave her the last batch of the candy with that stupid grin of his as she accepted.

Tired, Yuzuriha flops down on the bed, sighing, "I'll be your bridesmaid at your wedding." She whispers as the [H/C] haired girl lays down beside her, looking at her friend with an unreadable expression. "...and I'll be yours." [Name] says after.

She's not sure if she should tell her and ruin this moment between them, talking about the boy they like and the future of weddings.

"Yuzuriha.." The older girl called out faintly; she was sure that her friend had fallen asleep when she didn't get an answer.

".....I'm—"

Words spill out of her lips as Yuzuriha sits up, pale, clearly worried, scared as she looks down at the [H/C] haired, her eyes tearing up as the bottom of her lip quivering.

The next morning, a ring is heard before, and moments later, Senku pops out from a small door that he used to get into her house more easily.

He had built a passageway for them to use so they didn't have to walk back and forth since Senku had noticed that she looked out of breath when walking to his house sometimes. It was still being tested, so only he was using it for the time being.

"Oi, why is your face puffy?" He asked, annoyed, as [Name] lay on her bed while Yuzuriha was downstairs eating breakfast.

"A secret. Girl's night." She simply said quietly.

Senku stares at her with a look before letting it go. "Anyways, get dressed; we'll be working on something incredible, so get excited." He grins, dragging her out of bed and out the door; glancing back, he notices the bags under her eyes and the tear stains.

Looking away, he lets go of her wrist before grabbing onto her hand properly.

"Come on idiot, let's get some ice for your face. My assistant can't be seen looking her worst." His words make the girl smile, even if it's small; after all, it was his way of trying to cheer her up.

"Yeah.....you're right." She says softly, her hand tightening around his ever so gently.

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

[Name] was set to start the school year of middle school with Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha. They had planned a small welcome party in the science club once she was officially allowed to go to classes with them.

During the first week of school, the tests that [Name] was focusing on were done. Once the teachers graded them, she would be set to go to her correct grade, a year ahead of her friends.

Yuzuriha was pouting sadly as they sat under the cherry tree at the park. "I was hoping that you would be in the same year as us....although it makes sense they would make you go up a year." The girl sighs as Senku and Taiju walk over and sit down beside them.

"So, how's the normal life treating you so far?" Senku asked the girl who looked up at the sky. The clouds forming shapes the sky.

She thinks for a moment, letting her thoughts come together; a breeze flows by them, making Yuzuriha shiver; Taiju quickly offers his jacket to her.

"....it's nice, I don't feel isolated as I did when I was homeschooled." [Name] mumbles loud enough for Senku to hear as his gaze softens a bit. "... before meeting you." She smiles softly.

She's just thinking about the years after meeting Senku, he got her out of her house, making friends she didn't think she would have. He even made a presentation, with Taiju and Yuzuriha's help, to present it to her father to allow her to attend school with them.

She can't help but think about how lucky she was. Just as she opens her mouth to speak again, she feels something drop around her shoulders; looking away from the sky, she looks down to see it is Senku's lab coat.

Blushing, her eyes met Senku's, and it was quiet between them, the breeze making their hair sway slightly in the wind.

'.....I'm glad I met you.' She thinks as she stares into his ruby eyes.

"....Senku...." She whispers to him as he hums softly, "....I'm working on something. Can you help me with it?"

Senku thinks for a bit, "It depends." He says.

"...It's for Grandpa Joel, I'm making him a robot to help him remember things." The girl explains.

Yuzuriha, chirps in. "Can I help too?" Taiju buts in as well. "Count me in as well!!" He shouts loudly.

"That's why you have these, huh?" Senku says, annoyed, his fingers cupping her face gently, squishing her cheeks, using his other hand to tap on the slightly visible eye bags under her eyes. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink at his touch.

"Staying up all night won't help the old man you know." He scolds her as she pouts in his hand.

"Speak for yourself," she whines as Yuzuriha giggles. Taiju glances at the brown-haired girl with a loving gaze while Senku continues to scold the girl as he pinches her cheeks.

It took them two months to finish the small robot, Yuzuriha, making tiny clothes for it before [Name] gave it to Grandpa Joel. The elder didn't want to accept it at first, but upon learning the reason....

"Grandpa Joel, it's to help you! My friends and I worked on it together so it can make your life easier." The girl explains, holding out the robot to him.

"It's built to remember your commands, work schedule, and other things." She exclaims as Senku watches from the top of the stairs, his cheek resting on the palm of his hand.

"Thank you, I'll use it wisely. Tell your friends I really appreciate this." Hugging the older man, the [H/C] haired girl knows that he's gotten older; she's noticed that he forgets things easily now and suggested that he stay home and not worry about her going to school now with her friends.

Later that night, lying in bed, she's staring at the ceiling before the small door that connects a passageway to Senku's house opens slightly.

Sitting up, she sees Senku crawl out.

"Senku?" She calls out quietly. He's been coming over more often ever since Byakuya started his astronaut training program a year ago.

"Scoot over." The green and white-haired boy says. Moving a bit to the side, she watches as he flops down.

"....sleepover again?" She asked him as he nodded, closing his eyes; sometimes she thinks that he gets lonely at his house since Byakuya is out late on nights like this, so Senku comes over without a word.

"Your dad isn't home?"

His silence answers her question as she sighs quietly, lying down beside him. Her eyes stared at him before closing her eyes, "It's okay; I like it when you sleep over."

Senku looks over at her, her face inches away from his. He's awfully quiet, not his usual self tonight; his eyes meet her [E/C] as she stares back at him.

He can see how they shimmer in the moonlight; even when the room is dark, they are looking at him like he is the only one in the world. This moment feels too peaceful. He's not sure what to say.

"...I really am glad I met you, Senku; even if you're down bad for science, I like that about you." She grins at him before getting sleepy. Falling asleep, Senku looks away, his ear turning bright red as his heart beats rapidly. He swears that it could wake up [Name] with how loud it was.

Deciding to go to sleep as well, he closes his eyes before opening one eye to peek over at [Name]; seeing that she is fast asleep, he hesitantly reaches over and intertwines their pinkies together before falling asleep beside her.

masterlist taglist- @frootloopscos @itsnotsh1v4n1 @lovingyeet @kazuubaby @awwwia @foulbreadpaenut @verysanebsdfan

#thelonestarinthesky #dr stone senku #dr stone #dr stone x reader #ishigami senku #senku #senku x reader #senku x y/n #x reader #2/2 i.senku series #drst x reader

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agoldenblackbird · 3 months ago

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i'm gonna be a ranty bitch for a minute.

tbh i'm turned off even reading new buddie fic despite being a multishipper and have unfollowed a bunch of buddie accounts because i'm sick of the smug attitudes. one ask that i am otherwise not going to publish or respond to ended with 'sorry you don't understand media literacy bestie :)' fuck off. listen INFANT, i have been writing fanfic and original fic AND watching, reading and analyzing queer media since before you were born, i understand how character and story development works, and i know the difference between 'storyline i personally disliked' and 'bad writing.' this was BOTH, and it also was marketed to us as 'carefully crafted bi rep' and 'queer love story that is not about a bunch of pain and conflict FOR ONCE' so we have every right to be upset at the bait-and-switch.

the fact that i'm seeing the same exact posts - 'bt bones buddie CANON' that i saw three seasons ago after the bucktaylor breakup, or every time they thought buck and taylor MIGHT break up - says something. the fact that so many fans seem genuinely convinced (STILL!) that buddie is inevitable because there have been so many 'signs,' and then they rattle off a convoluted theory that would make the most hardcore taylor swift stan say 'wow, that's a bit of a reach,' honestly weirded me out a little when i first joined the 911 fandom. i have never been in a fandom where so many fans are insistent that their ship will be - not might be or could be, but WILL be - canon. i am skeptical both from past experience with other shows mishandling queer storylines or ship-baiting, and tim minnear's proven track record with this one of not really knowing what to do with buck's LI's. but i didn't want to yuck anybody's yum, so i let them have their theories and squee in peace, and unfollowed or blocked certain tags if i was seeing too much of it and getting annoyed. it's too out there for me, but i'm glad they're having fun!

yet they can't give us the same courtesy. they deride us as delusional for thinking that a canon pairing that was presented to us both in promo and the show itself as different and important (eg the bobby approval convo and 'buck getting off the hamster wheel') might last, and we're stupid to have ever liked tommy or lou or be disappointed at how the breakup was written, and if we point out the biphobia it's just sour grapes.

the bucktommy breakup is not the first time 911 has started out strong with an interesting storyline and fumbled it in the 4th quarter either because the writers got bored or in the name of needless drama/a 'gotcha' sudden twist. amir & bobby, eddie's fight club arc, the sperm donor SL, hen vs councilwoman ortiz, whatever the hell is going on with harry, the whole mess with shannon/kim, just to name a few. and especially the past couple of seasons, for me since 6b, the pacing has been off. they seem to have too much happening at once and many of the storylines don't have enough room to breathe to be narratively satisfying, or they get resolved in ways that feel lackluster.

if the toxic buddie stans who have been attacking lou on sm and sending death threats (wtf!) actually get what they want, which i admit is possible, but it's certainly not guaranteed….i don't know why they think the writers won't fumble that just as badly. it's not going to happen precisely the way they want it to because it is impossible to please everybody, that's what fanfic is for. but at this point i have zero faith that it would even be well done at all, and zero trust in the writers not to just sabotage or regress a character for funsies, and that's an excellent reason to stop watching the show. in most of my other fandoms i regard canon as a jumping-off point or a blurry outline at best, and i can have just as much fun in the 911 sandbox without any further input from canon at all, once i'm less angry.

#911 #911 8x06 #tevan #bucktommy #birdie rants #birdie stuff

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the-sin-hole · 1 month ago

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fold 'em

stanxreader, 3.2k words NSFW 18+ it's smut baby!!!

fem!reader, vaginal oral + penetrative sex, a little anal stimulation and a couple spanks

+++

Your fourth old fashioned tastes even better than the first three. Or, wait. Is this number five?

You decide you don’t care as you sip it down. You look at your cards- a shitty hand. You’re glad you’re not playing with real money. You’d be broke eight rounds ago. You look up at Stan, sitting on the other side of the table in the living room, brow furrowed at his cards, his own fourth (or fifth) old fashioned already half-drunk in his other hand.

“I’m all in!” You announce confidently. Stan looks up at you through that furrowed brow of his. A flash of heat bolts through you. Even drunk, his gaze does something to you. After a second of weighing your decision, he puts on a cocky grin and says,

“You know that ain’t the best strategy, right? You can’t go all in every time and expect that to work as a bluff.”

You scoff. “I’m playing mind games over here, Stan. You don’t even know my long con.”

“Well, keep playin’ whatever games you’ve got, because I'm having a great time winning over here. I’m all in too. Aaaaaaand-”

He plops his hand on the table. How the fuck did he get three aces?

“Read ‘em and weep!”

You toss your assortment of twos, fives, and eights on the table, unbothered. He chuckles as he pulls the Stan bucks and monopoly money you’ve been using as barter to his side of the table.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Pines,” you say, sipping from your beverage. The alcohol has you loose and warm, almost sweating under the flannel you’re wearing.

“If I’d known you were such an easy date I woulda invited you weeks ago,” he says, smirk on his face. That flash of heat finds you again. Date, huh? Well, getting drunk with your boss after work and playing a no-stakes game of poker isn’t a date in the classic sense. But you’re not mad about it being considered one now.

Your sloppy drunk tongue speaks before you can even attempt crafting a witty response.

“Oh, you didn’t know? I’m a total slut,” you say facetiously. He blinks for a second, then laughs.

“Thanks for the heads up. I ain’t a prude, but if I catch you in the storage closet with any of my customers you’re fired.”

“I might be a slut, but I have standards!” You respond with a dramatically offended air. “Most of the guys that run through here couldn’t give me what I need anyways. I need someone with a lot of stamina, if you know what i mean.”

“Oh? You hard to please?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” you say, suddenly flustered at the direction you steered this conversation in, but your drunken tongue pays no mind. “I can’t even tell you the last time someone was able to get me to, uh. The finish line, so to speak.”

“Sounds like you’ve just had a buncha slackers,” he says, tone light and joking, but his eyes are glinting in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster. “A real man knows how to make it work no matter what he’s workin’ with.”

This is completely inappropriate. You’re in your boss’ house, alone, drunk. You’ve only known each other for a few months. Sure, you’ve been nursing a crush on him, but you definitely should not make this conversation even more sexual than it already is. That would be weird, right?

Your rational mind stands no chance against your now-empowered baser instincts.

“Are you saying you’re a real man?” You ask, tilting your head down and to the side far more flirtatiously than your rational mind would have liked.

“You tell me, sweetheart.”

You let out a giggle. “So you’re saying, on the record, you think you could get me to finish?

“That’s not what I’m sayin’” -he responds in a lower tone, and it makes your spine tingle- “I know I could.”

You actually blush at that.

“That’s a big promise you’re making,” you say through the ever-increasing heat in your body.

“Wanna bet on it?”

The question is said simply, casually. You chew on your lip as you study him. He’s still smiling like he’s joking, but the underlying seriousness has only increased.

“Sure, I’ll bet,” you start slowly. “But I’m not going all in up top this time. I’m gonna play this a little closer to the chest. And how are we gonna make this work, anyways? We’re not about to play strip poker, are we?”

“How ‘bout we do this truth or dare style. Whoever wins each hand gets a question or a command.”

You grin through a bitten bottom lip. Your heart is starting to pound. “That works for me.”

Stan takes the cards, deals again. You grab your hand- shit again, just like all the other hands you’ve had tonight. A jack, a nine, two threes, a king. Only one matching suit. You toss the king and jack into the discard pile, then place your threes on the table. He’s got a straight, beating your paltry pair. He smiles, and you can’t help but mirror it. “Alright, what am I doing?”

“How ‘bout you take a seat over here,” he says, patting his right thigh. Your heart thumps. This is more than you’d expect he’d start with. You stand, make your way around the table, trying to keep your pounding heart calm.

“Well this isn’t fair. You’re gonna see all my cards,” you tease as a cover for your nerves.

“I just won’t look, promise.”

You sit on his thigh side saddle. He wraps an arm around your waist and twists your torso, making your legs splay on either side of his thigh, straddling it, before leaning forward to grab the deck and shuffle. He hands you your cards face down, and you hide your hand by turning to your right, holding it close to your torso and out of his line of sight.

Shit again. You slap a pair of fives on the table. He places a four of a kind on top. His voice, deep, coming from behind you sends a twinge down your spine.

“Take that shirt off.”

“I didn’t think we were playing strip poker,” you say, nervous and excited as you reach up and start undoing buttons.

“I could tell you were gettin’ hot. I’m just doin’ you a favor.”

You take the shirt off and toss it to the floor, leaving you bare except for the thin bra underneath. The exposure sends a throb through you.

He deals again. Better, this time. You present a flush of spades. He puts down a straight flush.

“Take off those shorts, too.”

Your heart is beating wildly. You stand just enough to remove them. As soon as they hit the floor his hand grabs your waist and guides you back down to his thigh. You’re fighting back arousal now that just one thin piece of cloth separates your groin from his leg, but your attempt at repression just makes it all the more potent.

Again he shuffles, deals, plays his hand. Again you’re given jack and shit. He wins, and you can hear the slight smile in his voice as he says,

“Start moving those hips.”

You straighten a bit as a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine at the command.

“W-what do you- I-I mean are you sure you-”

He puts his right hand on your right hip. He guides you to thrust slightly back and forth on his thigh, grinding yourself against it. You swallow whimpers at the blunt stimulation. After a few seconds of guided thrusting you pick up the pace yourself. But his hand doesn’t leave you.

Your mind is starting to get fuzzy with arousal. You’re trying hard to keep focused, but your throbbing is giving you trouble.

Stan shuffles and deals again, one handed this time so he can keep the other on your hip. It feels like it takes hours before you get your dealt hand. And wouldn’t you know it... It’s shit again. You can’t help the excitement that runs through you as you lose.

“Take off those underwear.”

Your thighs clench slightly around his at the command. Your heart feels like it could pound out of your chest with nerves and exhilaration. You don’t argue, sitting up from his leg just enough to slide them down your hips, thighs, and letting them drop to the floor with your shorts. You sit back down almost tenderly.

Stan grabs your hip again, but this time pulls you back against him so your ass is against his hips, your back flush with his torso. You arch your back slightly, arousal intensified by the sudden proximity. He leans into your ear.

“I didn’t tell ya to stop moving.”

You shudder as his deep, low voice runs through you. You get back to it, writhing onto his upper thigh, against his upper body. His left hand gathers all the cards to he can shuffle and deal once again. As it does, his right hand moves from your hip, dipping down, easily finding your clit. A sharp “Mmmph!” escapes your throat as his finger rubs against it, almost casually so as his other hand works the cards. Stan takes his sweet time shuffling the deck while you writhe against him.

He deals your hand, and you can barely keep the cards upright with your overwhelming arousal. Your hand is shit yet again, but you couldn’t care less about that right now. You toss three random cards onto the table, no match for his royal flush.

“Sit on the table.”

You don’t want to leave, his fingers on your clit feeling too good, but the thought of what could be next propels you forward. You stumble up on weak knees and take your spot, jumping up on the sturdy hardwood table. You’re soaking wet and quivering with want as you watch him rise from his chair and come to stand in front of you.

He places a hand on your chest and gently pushes you back. You let him guide you. He reclines you enough that you place your elbows on table to prop you up. Satisfied with your position he places his left hand next to you on the table, leaning over you. His other hand wastes no time. He slowly, almost tenderly pushes two large fingers inside of your soaked pussy. The sudden penetration sends a veritable shock wave through your body. Your back arches and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the high moan that escapes you. Stan pulls his fingers back, the walls of your cunt tightening around them, and you pant under your hand. He reaches up and takes hold of your wrist, pinning it to the table.

“Let me hear ya, sweetheart. How else am I supposed to know what’s workin’?”

He lets go of your wrist and quickly thrusts the same two fingers inside you, quicker, harder. You let your moan go unhindered, sharp and loud. He laughs low in his throat.

“Sounds like it’s workin’.”

He starts thrusting his fingers steadily, not too fast, just slow enough to make you want more. You don’t hold back any of the increasingly-desperate moans that leave you. You can feel Stan’s gaze eating up every part of you as you squirm and pant on the table beneath him.

“Y’know, when you said you had trouble finishing, I thought you meant real trouble. But it’s obvious from how soaked your pussy is… this ain’t gonna be a problem.”

“B-but I’m not even close-“ you pant between moans. It’s not a lie; despite how aroused you are and how good the stimulation feels, you aren’t close to an orgasm yet.

“Trust me, sugar,” Stan says and removes his fingers, lifting them up to his face, licking your wetness from them without breaking eye contact. He swiftly kneels down in front of your pussy. He grabs the undersides of your thighs, pushes them up and open to expose your dripping cunt. He passes over your clit with his tongue in one long slow stroke, making your legs quiver as he goes, eliciting breathless moans. He pulls back.

“It ain’t gonna be a problem.”

He goes again in one slow stroke. And again. And again. And again. The tender monotony is driving you insane. Your face is red hot with arousal. You try to clench your thighs on either side of his head so you can get more stimulation, but his firm grasp keeps your legs open. You squirm, weakly try to rock your hips, but his glacial pace continues. After minutes on minutes on minutes you’re throbbing almost painfully. You can’t help it: you start pleading.

“S-Stan- hah- please- hah- I need more-“

He ignores your pleas, but you can feel him make a noise low in his throat. You try harder.

“G-god Stan- hah- you’re making me fucking insane- hah- I don’t know how much longer I can take this-“

Another low hum, more like a growl in his throat. Your pussy aches with the desire for penetration. Your voice grows more desperate.

“Please, please, I want more-“

He groans against your cunt and you, swollen, hypersensitive, can feel it. You moan with him. Finally he pulls back and looks up at you. You’re panting hard, sweating, desperation evident in your heavy lidded gaze.

“I dunno if you’re ready, sugar. You close?”

You’re certainly closer than you were before… but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to finish. Though at this point you’re so desperate for penetration you’ll say anything.

“Yes,” you say quickly. Too quickly. He raises an eyebrow. He roughly runs his thumb over your swollen clit.

“Nngh!” You let out between clenched teeth, and your legs twitch involuntarily.

“You bein' honest?”

You take a second to respond, debating whether or not to lie once more. He does it again.

“Nngh-no! I-I don’t think so! God, I just want you to fuck me!” You say loud, pleading, the throbbing in your pussy almost unbearable.

“Atta girl,” he says, and stands. “Honesty is the best policy y’know.”

He pulls your hips to his at the edge of the table. He grinds against you, and you can feel his cock pressing against his zipper, bulging against your cunt.

He gives you no rest. His thumb once again finds your clit, now working in steady circles. You roll your hips against him as you gasp and moan, trying to entice him to pull his cock out and fuck you. But he’s playing the long game. His thumb circling your clit is steady as he leans forward and starts placing kisses on your neck. The kisses slowly evolve from gentle pecks against your skin to licks, then to sucking and finally small bites, trailing all the way from your jaw to your breasts. Your moans are getting lower, deeper as the stimulation ever increases. His mouth finds your breast and his tongue flicks against your nipple. You’re so stimulated your hips buck at the contact.

Suddenly, as if that was his cue, he stands upright again. You feel less drunk from the alcohol than the prolonged intense state of arousal he’s kept you in. You’re finally starting to feel like you’re getting close. You look up at him and tremble while you wait for what’s next.

“Flip over, sugar.”

It’s a bit of a struggle, getting your feet back down to the floor without your knees buckling under you, but you manage it. When they meet the floor you’re right up against Stan, your naked flesh against his partly undone suit. Your eyes meet for a few seconds before you do as you’re told and turn, placing your hips against the table and bending over the table. You don’t bend fully, not at first. You just lean forward and place your hands on the table. But Stan quickly rectifies this. He gently pushes against your back so you press yourself fully against the hardwood. Once you're fully submitted, he presses your hips against your ass. His other hand grabs the underside of your right thigh and lifts it up, placing your knee on the table, exposing yourself to him once again.

You hear the sound of a zipper being opened, and you’re so excited you feel like you could pass out then and there.

But he doesn’t give it to you, not yet. He instead just presses the length of his cock against your soaked cunt and rocks his hips slightly. You can’t exactly tell how big he is, but you can tell he’s thick.

“Oh fuck Stan, please, I- Augh!”

As you beg he pulls back just enough to position himself and slip the head of his cock inside you. A fresh wave of heat rolls through you at the penetration. He rolls his hips, not entering you fully, just his head tantalizingly stimulating the edge of your cunt. You’re about to start begging again when his left hand spanks your ass and you yelp, pushing yourself a little more onto his cock, and he reacts by running that same hand up your back, your neck, tangling itself in your hair and holding you down firmly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself sweetheart,” he says and spanks you again with his other hand. Your body tries to buck like it did before but Stan’s grip keeps you in place.

“We’re almost there,” he nearly growls, the words low in his throat.

His right hand gropes your ass before traveling inward. It brushes over your asshole, then presses slightly, before working in a small circle like he did to your clit just a minute before. He resumes rolling his hips, letting himself delve an inch deeper into you as he does. You try so, so hard to move yourself back up into him, but his grasp won’t let you. After a minute more, the thumb against your asshole slips inside. You let out another loud moan at the meager penetration, every sensation now heightened after all this time. Finally, you say it, and it’s true:

“P-please Stan… I’m close-”

The weak desperation in your voice makes it obvious, and that’s all Stan needs. Before you can utter another syllable he slams his hips into you. You nearly howl at the overwhelming sensation. He’s definitely bigger than you expected, and you feel almost impaled on his cock. Before you can recover he pulls back and thrusts again, just as hard, and then again, and again, and again, and the combined sensation of his thumb in your ass and his giant cock ruthlessly pounding against your G spot is finally enough. Your moans get higher and higher before you start choking on them, only able to make small stutters as the orgasm finally hits you, rolls through you like a hot violent wave. Your body moves of it own accord as your muscles tense and your nerves alight. Your mind is utterly blank for dozens of blissful seconds as you come down, your cunt twitching around his fat cock as he restrains his pounding to slow, almost tender thrusts.

“Atta girl,” he says again, and somehow, despite the intense orgasm you just had, you feel a tiny throb of arousal when he does. He doesn’t remove his thumb or stop his careful thrusting, but keeps the gentle momentum as you speak between gasps.

“I’ve never been- so happy to have- such shit luck at poker.”

He chuckles.

“Oh, sweetheart, that had nothin’ to do with luck. I was counting cards the whole time.”

You raise your head up from the table and look over your shoulder at Stan.

“What?!”

“Yeah, sorry sugar.” He thrusts a little harder, making you press your forehead against the table as his cock wracks your sensitive cunt. “You never stood a chance.”

Another throb.

"Oh yeah?"

You gather up all your remaining strength and prop yourself up on your elbows, brush the hair out of your face, and turn back over your shoulder to Stan once more.

“Bet you can’t do it again.”

#this was supposed to be 1.5k words at most. lord help me and my damnable verbosity this is why i disappear for months on end #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #smut #happy stanuary everybody #sinposts #sinwrites

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kekaki-cupcakes · 1 year ago

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Hiiii! How are you hanging?

Warning: periods? Not sure if it’s a warning. If it is or it makes you uncomfortable I am so so sorry it was not my intention

Could you write for Leo Valdez being his s/o’s biggest simp and like acting as heater and heating pad especially when she’s on her period and building her lots of gadgets for basically anything he thinks she may need?

Feel free to skip this obviously!

Sorry again and have a lovely day!

Bye! (Ps I have reade your Nike one for about 20 times now and it still is so fun and amazing! ‘Cant wait for the Hypnos one!)

I'm working on so much rn so this is just a short head canon list that sort of derailed but it was so cute to write. I'm glad you liked the Nike one, and the Hypnos fic was just posted I hope you find it <3

And period talk doesn't make me uncomfortable don't worry I'm fine with writing lots of that kind of stuff I just have like, limits with smut and age gap kind of stuff [I'm also a minor]

This header just gave me like, hot water bottle cover vibes and matched the rest of it too, hope you enjoy!

Hotboy/Hotpack---Leo V x gn reader on their period

»»————-　★　————-««

-No but like he’s literally perfect for the job

-Who else is better at laying down as a weighted blanket and heating himself up to perfect temperature and then just literally fiddling with rubix cubes while you use him as a hot water bottle

-He’d be so happy to as well, like it was the best job in the world [which it is to him, he gets cuddles as well as being a good boyfriend. It’s a win win]. Even if you didn’t ask, he’d catch you microwaving a wheat pack while you take painkillers in the camp kitchen and sneak up behind you and hug you. Or maybe he’d lay across the counter dramatically,

-‘mi amor are you replacing me? Why would you do this? I love you, and now there's other guys in your life!’

-‘it’s literally a hot water bottle’

-‘No! I must win you back!...Come on let’s go make out-’

-Then he’d take the hot water bottle away and smother you in kisses [if you felt like it] and drag you back to your cabin. He’d bring your favorite snacks and steal Pipers Ipad, the one with the hello kitty stickers, and you’d watch movies to pass the time.

-He’s the type to try those different rubbing points on your stomach to help with cramps [gods his hands are so fine, but that’s besides the point] and even if they didn’t work you’d get a massage out of it <3

-So we’ve all agreed Leo is the little spoon, right?

-He’d act so tough and macho, spooning you to heat up his hands on your stomach but then you rolled over in your sleep once and woke up to him grinning his head off while you hugged him

-Of course you figured it out and now you’re the big spoon because he’s just so small and cuddly, like a teddy bear [even if he’s a bit boney] and when you get cramps it works even better. He’s like a life sized heat pack pressed against you, and he always holds you hands as well because he’s just like that :D

-He has the softest curly hair when it isn’t covered in sawdust and grease, and when he lays his head on your chest or that little spot between your neck and your shoulder you could just run your hands through it. Or maybe put little plaits in it. He’d love that. Touch is definitely his love language, once he realizes he does deserve it, as well as gifts and acts of service.

-Gifts and acts of service is a subconscious thing for him that he doesn’t even realize he does and likes until he spots the shelf next to your bed filled with all the little things he’s made. Gold or silver jewelry [he quickly figured out which one was favorite through trial and error you didn’t even notice], little metal flowers he’d welded with his fingers, which were literally made with love. There’d be things like lollies and packets of gum he’d realized you liked and promptly bought when he went out, fairy lights he’d made in the shape of hearts, candles with your favorite scents he’d made from when Hazel had a wax-y crafts phase, and more.

-If you ever gave him something in return, he’d probably cry

-But he knows you love him and he definitely knows he loves you [as well as the rest of CHB lol]

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #leovaldez #Leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #Leo valdez x gender neutral reader #reader on their period #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #but no y/n dw #lol

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theinquisitxor · 18 days ago

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January 2025 Reading Wrap Up

I read 10 books in January, which is a very high number for me right now, but January always tends to be the month were I read the most books. I was super happy with what I read this month, and I enjoyed a lot of 5 star reads, but there were a few disappointments.

1.A Dark and Drowning Tide by Allison Saft, 3/5 stars. This was my first book of the year, and a bit of a let-down. I've read Saft's other books and liked them all, but this one was an outlier. I liked the folklore and magic, but didn't care much for the characters and themes.

2.Spindle's End by Robin McKinley, 4/5 stars. I want to read everything McKinley's written, and this was the next one I picked up. I loved the magic and worldbuilding, as well as the changes she made from the classic or disney story. I loved the focus on friendship and family love as well.

3.The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World by Robin Wall Kimmerer. This is a new essay published by Kimmerer which I listened to on audio. Another thought provoking and necessary essay about how we live and interact with the world.

4.Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant, 5/5 stars. This was my Random TBR pick for the month, and this book had been on my tbr since 2020. I had such a good time reading this sci-fi horror, and I did not want to put this down. I enjoyed the deep sea horror, our ensemble cast, and the plausibly mad biology.

5. A Little Princess by Francis Hodgson Burnett, 4/5 stars. This was my other Random TBR pick for the month, and has been on my tbr since 2018. This was a classic I never read growing up, but I was glad to read it as an adult. I didn't love this as much as The Secret Garden, but I can see why it's so beloved.

6.Buried Deep and Other Stories by Naomi Novik, 5/5 stars. I don't typically gravitate towards short story collections, but I'm so glad I picked this up. This was a mix of short stories from her publishes series, plus original works. The sneak peak at her newest project was a treat, I recommend picking this up if you are interested!

7.Lady Macbeth by Ava Reid, 2/5 stars. This was another disappointment, but one I can't say I didn't see coming. I've liked all of Reid's other works, but this was not good. I do think Reid is a talented writer, and the writing is very strong, but the rest of this is just not good. Bad portrayal of the middle ages, xenophobic of scotland, butchered the characters from the original. :(

8.The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door by HG Parry, 5/5 stars. A new favorite, and HG Parry keeps getting better and better. This is a dark academia magic school book about faeries, portals, 1920s England, classism, friendship, and trying to fix things. I loved this book from start to finish, and it's my favorite I read this month.

9. Melmoth by Sarah Perry, 3/5 stars. An interesting little gothic (horror-ish) novel set primarily in Prague. This was much more gothic and dark than I was anticipating, with a bit of a speculative twist. I can't say I enjoyed this book a whole lot, but rather appreciated the writing, the story, and craft of it.

10. Forging Silver into Stars by Brigid Kemmerer, 5/5 stars. A reread that I enjoyed just as much as the first time in 2022. This is one of the few YA series I'm still reading and loving, and I can't wait to pick up the second book which just released at the end of the month. I've been waiting years for it, and can finally see what happens next!

Overall, very strong month and a good way to start the new year! I hope the rest of my year stays as strong, and I'm hoping to pick up a new series to start in February!

#reading wrap up #January 2025 reading wrap up #fantasy books #a dark and drowning tide #allison saft #robin mckinley #spindles end #robin wall kimmerer #into the drowning deep #mira grant #naomi novik #lady macbeth #ava reid #the scholar and the last faerie door #HG Parry #melmoth #Sarah perry #forging silver into stars #brigid kemmerer

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 7 months ago

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You've Got Some Nerve Trying to Buy Me

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Silvio: "Alright then, let's see what you all have brought."

At Silvio's command, the gathered merchants eagerly began to showcase the items they had brought.

Merchant 1: "This is a rare crystal said to exist only in a few places on the continent."

Merchant 2: "This is a golden cup crafted over the course of a year by a master goldsmith known as the Arm of God."

Merchant 3: "This is the fur of a beast that inhabits only limited areas in the north."

Merchant 4: "This painting is said to be the final work of a legendary artist."

With the opportunity to buy Silvio's favor for his birthday, the merchants display their carefully selected items one after another.

(I've never seen these things before.)

(You could buy an entire country with this stuff.)

Silvio: "You're the last one."

(.........)

All the eyes in the hall turned towards me.

I had prepared myself, but my legs still trembled with nervousness.

Silvio: "This all started because you wished for something in exchange for my birthday."

Silvio: "Let's see what the one who started it all has brought."

Emma: "Sure."

(It's gonna be okay. He gave me a hint last night.)

(As the fiancée of the continent's top merchant, I can't afford to lose.)

Emma: "I've prepared the thing you want the most."

I spoke clearly and presented the item.

Merchant 1: "What's that piece of paper?"

Merchant 2: "What is this woman thinking?"

As murmurs spread through the crowd, Silvio silently took the letter and read it.

After a while,

Silvio: "Geez..."

He carefully folded the letter he had just finished reading and let out a big sigh.

Silvio: "As frustrating as it is, this is what I want the most right now."

(----!)

Merchants: "What!?"

Silvio: "As promised, I'll let you buy me."

Emma: "Thank you, Prince Silvio!"

(Phew, it worked!)

Merchant 1: "What's going on? Is that some kind of contract?"

Merchant 2: "What kind of deal did that woman make?"

The hall buzzed with surprise at the unexpected turn of events.

As I felt the gazes of awe and even fear directed at me, Silvio quietly hid his blushing face with his hand.

The next day,

Having successfully won his birthday at the auction, I stayed at the villa.

From the moment we woke up, I spent a dreamlike day with him, from baking a cake to having fun at the beach.

As the sky began to change color, he and I sat side by side on the sandy beach, leisurely watching the sunset.

(We really were together all day from morning till now.)

The pleasant evening breeze cooled my skin, warmed by the wine.

Wearing the dress I'd prepared for today, with my hair tied back, the sea breeze felt even more refreshing than usual.

(I didn't think I'd end up relaxing with him on his birthday.)

(It feels like I received a gift, even though it's his birthday.)

Silvio: "Using the time you won to watch the sunset, you've really started to indulge in some real luxuries."

Emma: "I'm the fiancée of the richest man on the continent, after all."

Silvio: "No argument there."

Silvio: "Still, I didn't expect you to sneak in pretending to be a merchant."

Emma: "Were you surprised?"

Silvio: "Yeah. You really are a woman who never goes along with my plans."

(I was worried about how things would turn out, but I'm glad we could celebrate his birthday like this.)

Silvio: "To be honest, my plans were getting a bit off track, so your proposal was a godsend."

(Plans?)

(Carlo seemed to be hiding something too. I wonder if there was a reason he stayed cooped up in the villa.)

(The merchants seemed to have gathered for the birthday celebration, but...)

(That reminds me.)

------------Flashback-----------

Merchant 2: "You're right. We would also like to celebrate on the day if permitted."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(The way he said that sounds like they weren't allowed to celebrate on the actual day.)

(Even though I won the auction, he really gave me his entire day free.)

(Could it be...?)

Emma: "Were you staying in the villa because you were keeping your entire birthday free?"

Silvio: "..........."

He silently turned away and sipped from his glass.

Emma: "Prince Silvio."

Silvio: "I just didn't feel like dealing with the usual hassle of merchants swarming around me."

(Sure, being celebrated by various people on your birthday could be hectic, but spending an entire week cooped up in the villa was way harder.)

(He went to such lengths to make time for me.)

Silvio: "You didn't need to take such a big risk and write such an embarrassing letter, you know?"

Silvio: "I had my birthday free all along. Tough luck for you."

Emma: "It's mean to call it embarrassing!"

Emma: "You were blushing and getting all red-faced too!"

Silvio: "I was not!"

Emma: "You were!"

Silvio: "Do you have any idea how I felt having to read that letter in front of everyone?"

Silvio: "You took the opportunity to write all sorts of lovesick nonsense."

(He's right. I might have gotten a bit carried away.)

The letter was filled with my heartfelt love for him.

"I, Emma, can make Silvio enjoy, and feel loved on his birthday more than anyone else."

I wrote that I could provide something invaluable that money could never buy.

Emma: "I thought it had to be something significant to win you over."

Silvio: "What I wanted wasn't a letter."

(Yeah. What Silvio wants the most isn't a rare item or a letter—it's me.)

(That night, he came to tell me that.)

Emma: "Thank you."

I leaned against him, letting the slight intoxication take over.

Emma: "I love that about you."

Silvio: "What's that? I didn't catch that. What do you love about me?"

He pulled me closer, his eyes challenging me as they locked onto mine.

(Wait, did I say that out loud!?)

Emma: "Uh, well, I love how you do so much for me and how you love me."

Silvio: "Anything else?"

I realized he was playing with the strap of my dress, making my heart race even more.

Emma: "Everything I wrote in that letter!"

Silvio: "A letter isn't enough. Say it straight to my face like you do when you're being cheeky."

(..........)

He grabbed my chin and made me face him.

(I'm blushing.)

(Is this how he felt when he read my letter?)

Emma: "You're a tyrant, stubborn, and a mean demon."

Silvio: "Hey."

Emma: "But you always take care of me and love me."

Emma: "Every time you do something for me, I get so happy I can hardly contain myself."

Emma: "I love how you always think of me."

Emma: "Thank you for letting me celebrate this special day of yours."

Silvio: ".........."

Silvio: "You're blushing too."

Emma: "Of course I am. Saying something like this face-to-face is... mmph."

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, and his tongue traced my lower lip.

The lingering scent of alcohol mingled with the kiss, making my head swim.

Emma: "Ah…"

He pulled away, and a soft sigh escaped me.

Silvio: "Hah, this is the most fulfilling birthday I've ever had."

Silvio: "You think so too, right?"

His provocative gaze made my rationality crumble, and the loneliness I'd been storing for a week surfaced.

Emma: "Prince Silvio, let's go back to our room."

Emma: "It's getting dark, and the wind is picking up."

Silvio: "Is that the only reason?"

Emma: "Yes."

Silvio: "You're a terrible liar."

Emma: "......."

His fingers, which had been playing with my dress strap, now traced up my shoulder to my neck.

Silvio: "This whole day is yours."

Silvio: "If you want to go to our room, I'll make it happen."

Silvio: "After all, you still haven't paid the full amount for the day you bought."

We returned to the villa, and I gave him the one thing he wanted most—myself.

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Part 3 ╎ Part 4

#ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen prince #ikepri #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #cybird #otome

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nerdieforpedro · 7 months ago

Note

I love how you write and it makes me so glad you are here.

can I ask what inspired you to start?

signed - a maybe inspired future fic writer

This is such a wonderful ask! 🥰

I'm glad you enjoy my writing. I have ideas and I write them is my short answer and explains nothing I realize.

The long answer:

I've written fanfic before, off and on for maybe the last 10-15 years. Very different fandoms. Started out with anime, dabbled a bit in Yaoi then transitioned to Marvel and now I'm firmly planted in the Pedro Pascal, Oscar Issac, Benny Miller triangle of hotness.

Fanfic for me is an expression of a story, show, movie, video game or pice of media that I enjoyed so much, I just had to make something. I can't draw, no mixing of hot tracks or beats, I've just started dabbling in photo editing this year and am a beginner at that. It's all purely fun for me. I enjoy it and it's fun to share with other people who create and are like, "Hey! You like that? I like it too. Let me see yours and I'll show you mine. Where'd you get the idea for that?" And then hilarious conversations leap from there.

What inspired me to start specifically in the Pedro Pascal fanfic world was The Mandalorian. It was the first time I realized, "that's the man I've seen before!" And then realized I've seen Pedro Pascal in many of my favorite shows, (The Mentalist was watched for the sake of completion. After season 6 and the first episode of season 7, there wasn't a real reason to continue other than spending time with my mom. She's fine, when I tell people that they think she's passed on but the woman is still lifting 50 lbs mulch bags in her mid seventies. She more than fine.) I then became fixated on this man, reset the password on my AO3 account and found Pedro Pascal character fanfics. I was then led back to Tumblr which before I was on years ago for anime and read fics by @secretelephanttattoo ( I shall always sing about Headshots. It inspired the first fic I posted on Tumblr and is just so damn cute. El is also just a sweetheart.) and @morallyinept whose Tendrils fic only deepened my brain rot for that tall beskar bucket, she's also a dear friend who's made me laugh, cry in a good way, inspired me and very time I turn around she's crafting something new. Fics, banners, self-care, doodles, smut, databases, and all sorts of Pedro interviews and dialogue. Because I'm a fangirl of them both and many others actually, I keep 👀 on them.

What keeps me going is the fandom overall and that despite, recent tribulations let's say politely, we're all still here. Geeking out over a goofy, handsome, I know he gives the best hugs, actor who loves what he does and has been working at it for years and it's finally paying off.

I've met wonderful friends and moots who reach out, give me encouragement, tell me I do well (I'm starting to listen to them I swear. I'm not good at taking compliments in person so it's even worse online FYI.

So I hope this answers your ask and I do encourage you to write that weird, funny, smutty, cute, sweet, dark, twisty, angsty fic that you want to write. I do hope whoever you are, you tag me in it so I can read it. 🤭

Special love to the following and if I left anyone off, I'm sorry. It's after work, I rubbed my eyes, wipes my glasses because I got them wet while writing this and it was a lot:

@maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @for-a-longlongtime @i-own-loki @undercoverpena @connectioneverywhere

@soft-girl-musings @perotovar @julesonrecord @lotusbxtch @604to647

@yorksgirl @pedroshotwifey @fhatbhabiee @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @bitchwitch1981

@jessthebaker @avastrasposts @inept-the-magnificent @lady-bess @grogusmum

@schnarfer @boliv-jenta @iamskyereads @iamasaddie @chaithetics

@tinytinymenace @yourcoolauntie @alltheglitterandtheroar @musings-of-a-rose @rhoorl

@trulybetty @laurfilijames @wannab-urs @legendary-pink-dot @din-cognito

@sin-djarin @beefrobeefcal @spacecowboyhotch

#Nerdie's ask box #A kind anon #and I wrote way too much #tagged everyone I could think of off hand #it's really long #but it's fine I think?

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chaotic-starlight24 · 8 months ago

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Ponyboy Curtis General Headcanons

Alrighty! Glad so many of you like the Dallas headcanons! Darry is next after Ponyboy then I will probably do another vote :)

Warnings: Spoilers for the book

I did literal scientific research just to figure out some of this stuff :,) I didn't have to but I still did

He is always thinking of the worst case scenario. Not always, but if he’s left alone long enough he’s decided that Darry got hit with a meteor and Soda probably drowned in motor oil.

He was really gullible as a young kid, like one time Dally convinced him that he (Dally) was a vampire. But then he debunks what he learns pretty quickly. “I’ve never seen you drink blood, you don’t really have “fangs”, and you really like garlic bread!” “OK kid, ya got me.”

For being so young, he hurts his neck and back a lot. He sleeps a little weird, BAM neck pain! He sits upside down, POW his back aches. He sleeps in a soldier position and doesn’t move unless Soda moves him. He also always needs support for his back, usually sitting with his back to the wall or laying down. (Same though)

As we know, this little man smokes a lot more than just about everyone in the gang combined. Which is already extremely worrying on its own, but also really surprising that he manages to be a good track runner. I might ask some of my track runner friends later for info on how they breathe when running. But let’s just say he really enjoys running but also manages to end up wheezing at the end of every practice. He has to take like a 30 minute break after practice just to breathe normally. The coach just assumes he has asthma and probably hints that he needs to get checked out.

To add a little more to the whole track runner thing, he doesn’t say track AND FIELD. Which means he is doing the track portion and therefore a whole lot of running. I’m still researching the science behind it on what type of running he could manage though. Long distance takes shorter breaths through your nose and enhances your stamina. Sprinters run for shorter amounts of time and need deeper breathing at a quick pace. So he would most likely be a long distance runner. *EDIT* I checked with my track runner friends, I'm correct he would be a long distance runner

Ponyboy is (most likely) left-handed in the movie. And I’m going to take that and run with it. Most items with handles are made for right-handed people. So I feel like Darry or Soda have several times heard a BANG and a small ow afterwards, walked into the kitchen and Pony has once again hit himself in the head with the fridge door. Scissors are also hard to use for him. He never liked arts and crafts.

He had imaginary friends as a kid. An entire cast of them to be exact. A part of him wanted more friends that weren’t just his brothers’ friends. He wanted to be less of a little brother and more of an equal if you know what I mean. He still has those feelings nowadays but he is more thankful for the gang.

He does have some friends at school but he’s more of the “third friend” than anything. So he spends a lot of time at school doing work, reading, or staring into space. The track guys and him are good company to each other but don’t really hang out at any other times. But Pony appreciates them nonetheless.

He writes a lot of notes in the most random places. Like random ideas he gets he just grabs a piece of napkin and scribbles it down. But then it gets left behind and taken out of context. Like Darry once found a piece of paper on a kitchen chair that just said “The ceiling tile shatters and hits him.”

He has a really contagious smile. Like he starts grinning the rest of the gang can't help but start smiling too.

After Johnny and Dally’s death, he started to see people in more of a gray scale instead of just black and white. He realized there is more to a person than meets the eye. He can still be a little hater but he is a bit nicer about people.

Him and Cherry started running into each other every so often and will ramble about the most random things, then just walk away like they didn’t just say some analogy between books and people.

He would eventually become a writer of books and own a library. He ends up offering free reading and writing classes for the kids like Dally and Johnny who never had/have the chance to finish school. He calls it “The C&W Program '' saying it stands for Creation and Wisdom program if you ask but the real name is Cade&Winston.

He still goes swimming even after the incident but he doesn’t ever go underwater.

His favorite books that he constantly rereads are Great Expectations, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Pickwick Papers. But he also just likes most books.

(The girl he mentions at the beginning that called him a hood) I feel like she was a middle class teen similar in age to Pony named Esther. She hangs out with the soc girls more. She actually felt bad about calling him a hood since it just kind of rolled out of her mouth and apologized later on. It greatly surprised Pony and they ended up becoming really good friends. (Possibly starting a relationship later but that is up to you)

He never stops smoking all the way but after a wake-up call from the gang he starts smoking a lot less.

He learned how to read before he even started school. He just loved it and all of the worlds that are created through writing. The funny thing is, no one can figure out who taught him in the first place! Mr. and Mrs. Curtis just guessed he got a hold of some of Darry’s books or something. But Soda was actually the one to teach him. Soda is not in any way an extremely good student. But he is good at explaining things. So a really young Pony saw him reading the comics and asked how he knew what it was saying. Soda taught him the basic words in the comics and Pony went off and grabbed one of the novels from the family’s shelves. He then proceeded to teach himself how to sound each word out and then ask Soda what it meant. Soda was really happy when Pony got a hang of it very quickly. After a couple years, Darry noticed some notes in his books and took a close look at what it was saying. They were annotations IN CURSIVE. He didn’t write them, Soda never picks up bigger books, and their parents have their own books. Eventually Darry caught Pony doing it and was like “WHAT THE HECK??? YOU’RE A LITERAL 3RD GRADER???”

One time he had to do a presentation in 5th grade about the life of a famous person important to them. People got extra credit if they dressed up like their person and he was extremely embarrassed because he was the only one to do so. He dressed up as Paul Newman. (This legit happened to me though, it was so cringey)

He has naturally wavy hair but he uses so much grease it looks stick straight. It’s also so greased that his hair is actually shiny.

Him and Steve start getting closer post canon as Pony gets older. Mainly because Steve sees him less as an annoyance and the gang is overall a lot closer together.

If Johnny had survived ( I have a whole explanation that I will share later) Pony would help him out all the time. Johnny may be wheel-chair bound but Pony includes him in whatever he can. He is always there for Johnny since Johnny ends up with so many problems. (Johnny would probably be adopted by a couple who lost their child and have the dedication to take care of him) With spinal cord injuries usually comes respiratory issues, pressure sores, etc. He would help Johnny through the 5 stages of grief (many people who lose limbs or lose an ability do this) and help him set up a routine on how to get through everyday things.

He ends up being a middle ground between Sodapop and Darry when he grows up. Like height and build wise.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #johnny cade #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #the outsiders headcanon #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders 1983 #ponyboy curtis headcanons #ponyboy michael curtis #starlight's writing #original content

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inkabelledesigns · 1 year ago

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Belladonna Nightshade - Halloween Dark Fairy

Base Doll: G3 Twyla from Monster High Clothing Pattern: Dollightful's Asymmetrical Dress (read to the end, I have notes about this)

Happy Halloween everyone! Since becoming a doll customizer, my Halloween dolls are usually related to my favorite indie horror game, Bendy and the Ink Machine. However, seeing as I've completed two Bendy dolls already this year, I felt it was time to give myself a break and try something a bit different. My friends over in DollyAnna's Discord server wanted to do a collaboration, so we decided to all make some Dark Fairies for Halloween!

Belladonna Nightshade is a mischievous fae that loves to play tricks and tempt mortals. That said, she's easily bribed with a sweet treat or two, and will usually let you be if you have a little candy or pastry to give her. I haven't decided what I want to do with her yet in terms of a story, but there is a part of me that would love to have her in my Equinox story.

When you consider the fact that most of my other Halloween dolls are black and yellow, it's no surprise she ended up super colorful. XD Would you believe this is my first doll with rainbow hair? Yeah neither did I, but she is! Part of my style is having really colorful and vibrant dolls, it surprises a lot of people that I've never done a rainbow before, but honestly? I'm glad to have finally tackled one! I'm also glad to have worked with another G3. Twyla is very near and dear to my heart, and I was so psyched to work with her mold! You can't see it in any of these photos, but I used glow in the dark varnish on her eyes and neon markings, so that her eyes still glow like the original. I will say, this doll has a lot more acrylic paint than my others, just by the nature of I don't have any pencils in neon colors. It was nice to get the practice in, I feel more confident than I did before in my brush skills. It was also nice to have a doll with dark scleras for a change! I haven't done that since I made Dreamer, it's surprisingly fun to draw on!

I was inspired by a LOT of different things with this one, and I went back and forth on my concepts a lot. Black light skeleton make-up, butterflies, fairies with non-traditional wings, candy, jesters, these were all sources of inspiration, and I think most obviously of all, Dollightful herself. This wasn't intentional, but I ended up using a doll of one of her favorite characters, with a lot of saturated colors which we know she loves, and even her dress pattern! I've been wanting to make this garment for ages, and finally I had a reason to try it!

So those of you who know how this pattern works are probably asking "Kat, how did you make this fit a G3? This dress is supposed to fit a G1 Monster High doll!" Believe it or not, Requiem Arts has a method for easily adjusting G1 patterns to fit G3 bodies. It's as simple as scaling a pattern up to 104% and printing it that way. It's meant for her garments, but I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work for other doll patterns. So I tried it with Katherine's dress, and I'm happy to say it worked out just fine! I think I probably should have adjusted a bit more on the skirt though. This outfit is essentially two pieces, and the skirt with all the ruffles is a little tight around the booty, it could have used a little more sizing up. So if you own this pattern and want to try this yourself, do keep that in mind!

Do let me know what you think! I had so much fun working on Belladonna, she's so vibrant and fun, I wanna try more fairies like her someday. I also need to try using props more. I got these pumpkins and hay bales on sale, and it was fun using them to craft a little temporary set for photos.

#dollblr #doll customization #doll repaint #ooak doll #halloween doll #doll custom #custom doll #monster high g3 #monster high g3 twyla #monster high custom #monster high g3 custom #monster high repaint #doll photos #doll photoshoot #doll photography #ooak #monster high ooak #longpost

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year ago

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Day 3 -

SE Franken Stein x Reader - Winter Proposal

Summary: Stein thanks you for staying by his side during the spread of Madness by offering to stay by your side permanently.

Warnings: Fluff, grammatical errors, mentions of poor mental health

Your body shuddered, trudging through ankle-deep snow, alone in the woods. Stein had invited you to his residence for what he called a 'test grading date'. He'd add that word to the back of anything he knew you'd be reluctant to take him up on. He knew how you felt for him, and he knew exactly how to get his way. You knew as well as he did, that in reality, he just wanted you to grade his class' tests in his stead, in exchange for coffee and company.

"Glad you could make it," he smiled warmly, standing in front of his home, about fifty feet away from you.

"Oh, stuff it, Stein," you huffed, stomping towards him. "You know it's like zero degrees out here? And you're making me walk in the snow, you should be ashamed!"

"It's actually fifteen degrees," he corrected with a chuckle. "But, really. Thank you for coming all this way."

"Yeah, yeah," you dismissed, now close to passing him by on the way to the door. "Let's get inside before I freeze to death."

To your surprise, Stein caught you by the wrist, pulling you back. "Not so fast," He skillfully spun you back to him, pulling you closer. "Did you really think I'd make you walk all the way here just to grade papers?"

"Well, yeah..." you swallowed, trying to conceal a blush. "That's totally something you would do."

"Maybe the old me, but I've changed," he replied, a content smile playing on his lips. "For the better, I hope."

"Yeah," you scoffed, rolling your eyes a bit. "I'm sure you feel loads better now that you're not being poisoned."

"I'm serious," he said sternly. "I feel like a new person, and it's all thanks to you."

You could no longer hide your red cheeks as more and more blood rushed to your face. "S-Stein, what are you talking about?"

Cold hands sunk down to the small of your back, pinning you against him as olive eyes bore into you. "Even at my worst, you were there," he praised, tilting his head to the side. "You never gave up on me, no matter how dangerous loving me became. You worked tirelessly to help me, with no reward. I can't thank you enough for that."

Kind, encouraging words from Stein were few and far between, so you'd never gotten accustomed to hearing them, and needless to say, it filled your tummy with butterflies. "T-That's what friends do, right? You'd do the same for me."

"You're not just my friend, (Y/N), you're my biggest support. And...if you'd have me, even after all the times I took your love for granted, I'd like to make you my wife..." From the corner of your eye, you could see him reach into his coat pocket and fish something out. "I can't offer you diamonds or precious metals, but hopefully this," he confessed, raising a hand-crafted steel ring. "Would be enough, for now, at least."

"Oh, Stein..." you breathed, totally speechless. "D-Did you make this yourself?"

"I did," he laughed. "Which is why it looks the way that it does, I'm a doctor, not a jeweler. It's made from repourosed surgical steel, so it's body safe, at least."

You couldn't help but giggle as tears streamed down your face. Looking it over, you could tell it was made terribly, beads of weld speckling it and the silhouette misshapen, but it looked just like Stein did- patched together.

"Should I take your laughter as a no?" he chuckled cooly, still holding you.

You jumped against him in response, needing to be infinitely closer. "Of course, I'll marry you, Franken!" you sobbed, nuzzling his throat. "And the ring is beautiful, I love it."

"That's a relief," he smiled gently, hugging you tightly. "I was almost nervous there."

"I could never reject you, Stein, you know that."

"I do," he agreed, before cracking a grin. "Now, Mrs. Stein, would you do the honor of grading my kids' tests while I make some coffee?"

Taglist:

@usopps-devotee

#soul eater #professor stein #professor stein x reader #dr stein soul eater #dr stein #dr stein x reader #soul eater x reader #franken stien #franken stein x reader #lemon's 25 days of christmas #christmas event #soul eater fanfic

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atxxokirina · 1 year ago

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Pain Reliever (18+ MDNI) —

Lo'ak x Fem Na'vi reader

—𓆉

Plot: You've been working as a tent healer for nearly six months. The role had it's pros and cons, but nonetheless, you loved your job. Crafting remedies, tending to injuries- anything that was related to being there for your people, you enjoyed. Once Lo'ak comes in with a specific ache in his shoulders, you decide to help him out, and be his pain reliever

Contains: Massage gone sexual, almost caught, doggy style, Lo'ak calling reader "mama", creampie, & Lo'ak making reader use their words. Let me know if I missed anything ;)

Na'vi key/Translation: Fpomtokx - health (physical) Tewng - loincloth

It was just before eclipse. Some time after the war party had returned. Not many were injured, and the most you had to deal with was a small gash on one of the warrior's legs. As you're packing your supplies into your pouch, you're interrupted by the tall, blue figure in front of you. You look up, tilting your head with a sideways smile.

"Hi, Lo'ak." You say in a sarcastic tone, shoving a tube of lotion into the bag. "Don't get too excited," he laughs, kneeling down in front of you.

"Do you need something? If not, I'm heading home." You sighed. Standing from your position, peering down at him. "Yeah, uhm," he spoke, diagonally rubbing his shoulder blade. "I have this pain in my back, think you can help me?" He stands with you now. "I wish you'd seen me sooner." You sigh with an eye roll as he smiles at your response.

"Alright, come on." You pat the cot. "Just lay down, I'll get to you in a second." He nods, strutting over to your cot as he plops down. "Thanks, mama." Your ear twitches at the name. "U-Uh huh. No problem.." You bend over to your pouch, searching your fpomtokx oil.

You knew him calling you 'mama' probably meant nothing, but the way he said it almost made you fall to your knees. As you pull out the closed tube of oil, you make your way back over to him.

"How long has it been hurting?" You ask, dotting the liquid into your palm. Lo'ak smiles warmly as you walk over, laying down as ordered. "Maybe a day or two? But it's nothing too bad. I'm still mostly fine." He lets out a tiny sound of relief once you apply the ointment to his skin. "That feels great.." Lo'ak groans quietly.

"That's good," you clear your throat, pushing into his lower collarbone. Closely watching as he closes his eyes. You carefully listen in on his low moans, keeping an eye on the way he bites his lips. It sounds like music when it's from him. You can feel butterflies forming in your stomach, and a small pool of wetness fill your tewng. "It really helps when someone else does it." He mumbles, still in a trance.

"Yeah? Well I'm glad I could help." You smile, pressing one last time onto his shoulders before you cap the tube. Lo'ak sat up after you finished. His dark auburn eyes focused on yours.

And, fuck, he is so hot like this. His entire body oiled up, and tender.. words cannot describe how badly you wanted him in this moment.

And if the Great Mother gave you a chance, you'd suck his di-

"Everything okay?" Lo'ak tilts his head to your view, pulling you from your deep thoughts. "Y-Yes, everything's fine. Sorry," You apologize, tripping over your words. "If the pain returns, please come see me again. I'll do my best to help you." You nod.

"Mhm. Yes ma'am." Lo'ak replies. His voice raspy and husk, almost throwing you in another daydream. Just as you turn around, you feel a large set of hands pull you back. You yelp in surprise, feeling your ass press against Lo'ak's hard on. You can hear his soft chuckles. He's loving your reactions.

Lo'ak stood from his seat, pressing into you more, and his bulge is more prominent with your pussy now. Without a word, he starts to kiss your lower back, slowly caressing your skin and holding onto your waist. He whispers into your neck before gently biting your it. "Mmm.. Don't go just yet."

You almost gave in to his advances as your eyes flutter closed, until you remembered where you were.

"Lo'ak, what if someone walks in.." You quietly speak before he claws into your pelvic bone, forcing your ass to press into his dick. "Shit, mama.. you think I give a fuck about that?" He groans, dry humping you now. You feel a fire bubbling inside of you, mixed with butterflies and the pulsation of your cunt. He pulls the front of his loincloth down, his cock springing out and lightly tapping your back.

Lo'ak continues to grind his cock against you as he begins untying your loincloth. "Feel me, baby?" He huffs, desire growing by the second. Eventually, he gets your loincloth off. Pulling one last string as it instantly falls to your feet.

You let out a full moan as you felt his warm cock against your ass. He holds your waist with one hand while fisting his cock with the other, teasing your slick slit. "Uh.." You quietly mewl, leaning your head back into his shoulders. Lo'ak smirks at your submissiveness. "Mhm, that's right." Your core parts are heating up with arousal. It's useless to resist now.

You start to buck back onto his cock, sliding back and forth as he held it in place. "Oh, fuck yeah.. That's it, mama. Keep that pussy on me." Lo'ak moans. His hold on your waist only becoming more firm. You whine in response as you get completely lost in the feeling.

His mushroom-like head is prodding against your clit, pushing an addicting feeling with each tiny thrust. "Tell me what you want." He demands, swiftly moving the hand that was on your waist to your mound, ghosting his fingers over it. "Ah- I-I want you, please." You whimper.

"Mmh.." He inches his cock into you, gently parting your lips as the tip slides in. He stops once his head is submerged inside of you. "C'mon, you can do better than that. Beg harder." He demands. "Please, please, Lo'ak. Just fuck me.. I want it so bad, I need it. Make me feel good, please.." You continuously beg, and it's simply music to his ears.

"That's better." He affirms before shoving his full length inside of you. You squeal as he uses your hips as leverage, panting with each thrust. Lo'ak's motion doesn't stop, he's fucking you like his life depends on it.

"This little pussy feels so fucking good around me." He grunts with a sharp exhale, throwing down one smack to the right side of your ass. You cry out, followed by a moan. "Look at the way it bounces back for me, shit.." He chuckled.

"P-Pleaseee, Lo'ak. Don't stop!" You cried another beg. "Ah..haah!- nghhh!" The quick rythm he's obtained causes your sweet spot to coil up, you gasp and mewl at every chance you get as his cock knocks the wind out of you. "You love this dick, don't you?" He hums, slowing down and grinding his hips up into your cunt.

"M-Mhmm!" You respond, completly drunk off of him. "Nah, say you love it. I wanna hear you, mama." His thrusts come to a halt, making you whine. "No, no.. Why did you stop?" You try to fuck yourself back onto him, but he holds you in place, leaning down to your ears.

"Say it."

His voice was deep. A type of deep you couldn't resist, even if you tried. "I love your dick, Lo'ak. Ah! I love it so much. Please, keep fucking me." You whimpered. It seemed to be enough because just at that, he goes right back to pounding you into oblivion. You mewl and screw your eyes shut, practically screaming for him as his cock twitches against you, closed in by your walls. "You're gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that. Hmhng, fuck.."

You convulse. Trying your best to follow his pace as your climax approaches. "I'm gonna cum too! Oh fuck, fuck!" Lo'ak dug his nails into you, his low groans only helping your cum build up inside. "Fuck, baby. I'm c-cumming inside you.. Cum with me!" He threw his head down, pelvis hitting your ass while his warm seed filled your womb.

"Take all this cum, take it all for me, baby."

You whine as your natural liquids mix with each other, hearing it gush and seep out of you as his pulls out. "Fuck.." You sigh, immediately laying down as your legs tremble. He leant against the cot, looking down at you, his breath also absent.

"Y/n," Lo'ak starts. "I know you're tired but, we can't rest here." You mumble nonsense, far too fucked out to care about what he's saying. As he's fitting his tewng back on, he reaches down to grab your arms. "Come on, you can sleep at my—"

"Hello? Y/n? Have you seen my brother?"

All laziness jumps out of you once you hear Neteyam at your door. You shoot a concerned look toward Lo'ak as you heart pumps. He shakes his head at you, mouthing the words, "No"

You're internally freaking out. If you could ever magically disappear, now would be the time.

"Y/n, are you there? Can I come in?" Neteyam knocks again.

"No! No, he's not here." You hurriedly respond.

"Oh, well do you know where he might be?"

You look over at Lo'ak again for an answer. He shook his head. "No, Neteyam. Sorry." You gulp. "I'll let you know if I see him." You add on, a nervous laugh escaping you.

"Ah, alright. I'll see you later then." Neteyam speaks through the door one last time before hearing his footsteps fade away.

— 𓆉

A/N: hi guys, I know I've been dead for the past couple of weeks 😭 I was on somewhat of a hiatus. I've been sooo overwhelmed with all of the requests I'd gotten, (which is so stupid of me because I literally asked for them 🤨) but anyways, I'm back! And I'll be working on the requests I have currently, as well as the other fics I personally have been writing. Feel free to send requests ofc, but just know it might take me a while to write them. I love you all sm, MWAH 💙

taglist: @pandorxxx @sweethoneycn @neytirishottie @sullybrotherslover @tsireyafilms @teyamsgrl @encephalitis-on-sundays @sassypain @neon-groves @rosyjn @hidingfrommanda @whore-for-hawks @ele-sme @lowryv @teyamsatan

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