#or don't! i wrote it because it needed to be out of my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scribes-of-valar · 2 days ago

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𝘉𝘰𝘺'𝘴 𝘢 𝘓𝘪𝘢𝘳

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

「 ✦ A/N ✦ 」 I don't know what has creeped into my brain, but I've started rewatching the show and I literally wrote this in a day.

✬ summary ✬ Finally taking the plunge and ruining your friendship with Clark, you go on your first date but the next day he's acting like a whole new man. Not a good one. You don't know if your relationship can recover from his cruel behavior, but he's not going to give up so easily.

For the nth time, you stand before your mirror and find yourself dissatisfied. No outfit is right, each one is too little, too much, too slutty, not slutty enough. You haven’t even started on shoes yet, you would be in the grave before you were ready for this date. Throwing yourself down on your desk chair, you start tugging the stockings down your legs.

You’re not sure why you thought tights would work during the peak of a Kansas summer, but you’re clearly not thinking much at all today. Head propped in your hand, you slump against the edge of your desk, fingers running idly over the scattered makeup on the surface. Even that hasn't gone right, your normal safeties failing you when you need them most.

Maybe this was all a sign from the universe. You and Clark have been friends since you could walk, what if this stupid date was going to ruin everything between you?

Sighing, you reach for the only framed picture in your room. It’s silly, something Martha took when you were both too busy playing to see her. You and Clark, freshly five, sit around your old purple play table, the both of you covered in glitter and rocking some of the biggest tutus you’ve ever seen. You’re yelling at him in the picture, probably telling him to put his pinky up when he drinks his tea, and he’s just grinning at you.

It’s funny how that smile never changed. Something warm unfurls and blooms in your chest the longer you look at the picture. It’s Clark, he doesn’t care what you wear or if you’ve put on makeup or not. You both loved each other long before that was ever a problem, and it’s not going to start being one now.

Sucking in a deep breath you put on the first outfit you’d picked out, a simple white sundress. You rarely get to wear it, anyway. Might as well test it out now. You check the mirror one last time just as someone knocks on your bedroom door.

Clark calls out your name on the other side, sounding hesitant. “Sorry, um,” he chuckles and you can picture the way he must be nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I got here a little early.”

You dart away from the mirror, kicking all the clothes under your bed. You slide the makeup into your desk drawer to be dealt with later. For now, you just need to make sure that he doesn’t see what a hot mess your room is.

Sucking in a deep breath, you tug the hem of your dress down and shake off your worries. This is Clark. Your Clarkie, the boy you’ve tormented since you were a toddler. There’s nothing to worry about.

“You’re always early, Clark,” you tell him with a soft smile as you open the door.

His eyes widen slightly as he looks down at you. You did purposefully pick a dress that would emphasize certain aspects of yours. The pink flush on his cheeks is entirely worth it. Your eyes are drawn to the bunch of flowers in his hand and you grin. “Are those for me?” You gush, opening your door wider for him to step inside.

“Yeah,” he holds them out to you, blue eyes stuck on yours. “I thought you might like them.” You bring them closer to your face, taking in the faint scent of the roses.

“I love them, thank you,” you find yourself unable to stop smiling as you drop the roses in a glass of water by your bed. After building up your hopes and anxieties for a week because of this date, you're struggling to calm yourself down.

Turning, you find him already looking at you with a soft smile that calms your racing heart just a bit. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while,” he tells you, taking a step closer to you. His hands find your own, pulling you into him. “Not just the date,” he amends, smile stretching wider. “Asking you out. I think our friends were getting sick of listening to me talk about you all the time.”

You laugh, “I think they were getting sick of both of us. I feel so oblivious that it took me so long to realize you felt the same way.”

He huffs, though his tone remains good-natured, “How do you think I feel?”

“Well,” you lace your fingers with his and step closer, “we’re doing it now, that’s what matters.” He ducks down and you feel your breath stutter, but he only leaves a brief kiss on your cheek, pulling back with a sheepish expression. A gentleman through and through.

You’d never thought that knowing Clark for as well and as long as you have could be a bad thing. But now, sitting in The Talon and awkwardly dipping your fries in ketchup just to have something to do, you’re starting to realize it is. Being with each other nearly every day leaves you wanting for conversation. You both are already so caught up on what’s going on in each other’s lives that you’re struggling not to just bring up the weather.

Clark groans and you startle, the noise breaking through the thick silence between you. He leans back in the booth, head resting on the edge and you find your eyes drawn to the strong muscles of his neck, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

Clearing your throat you glance away from him and push your plate away. “I didn’t want it to be like this,” Clark mutters, more to himself than you, but you hear him anyway.

“It’s, well,” you pause, struggling for the words. Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, you shake your head. “I just don’t know what to do when we’re like this,” he peeks an eye open and you gesture between the two of you.

His lips quirk up and he straightens once more. “I feel like I should be able to talk to you, same as always. But I don't know what to say, I don’t want to risk messing this up.” He trails off, glancing away from you and swallowing roughly. The same dreaded panic you’ve been feeling all week is thick in his voice.

“Clark,” you utter his name lowly, reaching your hand out across the table. He’s slow to meet your eyes. “I feel the same way. We’re being stupid because I know that nothing you could say is going to change how I feel about you.” You narrow your eyes, taking on a teasing tone, “And you better feel the same way,” you scold.

He huffs out a laugh, larger hand enveloping yours entirely and squeezing gently, “You know I do.”

You shrug, “Then we’re just being stupid, again,” you add, rolling your eyes.

His eyes light up with mischief, a smile spreading as he stands from his seat. You jump back slightly, surprised by the sudden movement. “I’ve got an idea, come on,” he holds his hand out and you take it once more.

You let out a surprised laugh as he takes off, dragging you out of the Talon behind him. “Where are we going?”

He pauses for a moment, looking over his shoulder at you. It awes you, just how handsome he is. “It’s a surprise,” he winks and tugs you closer.

“Your surprise is… the school?” You frown, taking Clark’s hand as he helps you down from the truck.

“No,” he defends, shooting you a sarcastic look as he closes the door behind you. “We’re sneaking onto the field, like we used to. Maybe a little jog down memory lane will help,” he gives you a cheesy smile and you feel like you might melt.

The sun hangs low on the horizon, its fading golden hues painting the sky in soft oranges and purples. The light catches in Clark’s hair, casting a warm halo around him. Sometimes he seems so overwhelmingly perfect that you wonder if you’ll ever be enough for him. Even when you were beginning to give up hope, he comes up with something so sweet, so thoughtful, that all you want to do is kiss him.

Swallowing down the urge, you place your hand in his and let him lead you around the side of the school. “You know, we only used to do this to mess with the football players,” you tease. “Hard to do when you’re on the team, Clarkie.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Hey, we can still tear the seams on their jerseys- just not mine.” He throws you a grin, and it sends a rush of warmth through your chest.

The familiar path behind the school is darker now, but your steps fall in sync like muscle memory. The fence around the field looms ahead, a little more daunting than normal. It’s harder to climb in your dress, but Clark gives you a boost. One so strong you nearly fly over.

Landing with a huff, you turn to glare at him as he pulls himself over with ease. “Too much torque in the thrust, Clark,” you grumble, brushing off your hands.

He chuckles, throwing an arm over your shoulders as you both step onto the field. “Come on, we should get down there before the sun’s gone.”

Dew from the grass seeps its way into the thin fabric of your shoes as you walk toward the center of the field. The bleachers stand empty, the goalposts stretch high into the deepening sky, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can take a breath.

Clark shrugs off his jacket, laying it out on the grass and motioning for you to sit. You hesitate for a moment, but then you look down at the white fabric of your dress and decide you’re okay with sacrificing Clark’s jacket.

Clark lowers himself beside you, leaning back on his palms as he gazes up at the sky. The last streaks of sunlight fade, and one by one, the stars blink to life above you. You’ve always thought the sky above Smallville was different than anywhere else. As if the stars were reaching out to you. Considering your track record with meteors, it doesn’t seem that far off.

For a while, neither of you speak. The quiet is comfortable, not at all like the stilted silence you’d felt in the diner. You’re content just being here with him, under the vast, endless sky.

Clark is the first to break the peace. He shifts beside you, drawing in a slow breath as he disrupts the silence. “I’ve,” he hesitates on the word, “cared about you for a long time,” he admits, voice low and steady. “Longer than I ever told you.”

You glance over at him and find his gaze fixed on the stars. His jaw is tense, like he’s bracing himself for you to tell him this was all one big mistake and you’re better off as friends. A smile pulls at your lips at the ridiculous thought and you reach toward the small space between you both. Placing your hand over his, he finally looks at you.

“I know things are,” he pauses, “a little weird between us right now.” He looks at your hand and flips his palm so he can lace your fingers together. “But I don’t want to lose what we have. If you’re willing to make it work, I am too.”

Your heart stutters, and for a moment all you can do is stare at him. At the boy who’s always been there, the boy who, despite everything, still makes your heart race. Your smile spreads, “Of course I’m willing,” you whisper.

His breath hitches, and then he grins, the same grin that will never fail to make you lightheaded with infatuation.

Clark was meant to be here an hour ago. You’d made plans to go to a screening of some old movies at the theater. Sitting on the steps of your front porch, head propped in your hand, you look out at the farmlands around you. He only lives a few minutes away from you, you can’t fathom why he would be so late.

You’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s not the type of guy to just leave you hanging. But there’s something humiliating about sitting out here all on your own. The wind has already fussed and ruined the hairstyle you’d so meticulously worked on. You’d already missed half of one of the movies. And the sun is beginning to set.

Part of you is begging to just go inside and give up, but you're more stubborn half won't give in. Clark isn't like this, he wouldn't do something like this without good reason.

A rumble sounds down the highway and your head perks up, crestfallen look replaced with something more hopeful. Getting to your feet, you grimace at the pins and needles tingling down your legs. Walking down the steps and getting a good look at the approaching motorcycle, your stomach plummets.

Not Clark, then, though it’s odd to see someone beside you or the Kent’s driving on this stretch of road. Your hand tightens around the hem of your tank top as the motorcycle begins to slow as it approaches your house. Heart picking up, you take a step back toward the safety of the porch.

Maybe they just need directions or maybe…

Your brain breaks for a moment as the rider pulls into your driveway.

Maybe they’re Clark.

Your jaw drops as he shoots you a smarmy grin, getting off his father’s bike and striding toward you with a swagger you’re unused to. “Hiya, sweetheart." You take a step back from him, brows furrowed.

“Clark,” you spit his name out in shock, eyes darting between him and the bike. Knowing that he’s not dying somewhere in a ditch, your anger at being left waiting surges forth. “You’re an hour late because you were busy stealing your dad’s bike?” You demand, trying to ignore just how good he looks leaning against the post of your porch in that ridiculous leather jacket.

“Sure,” he chuckles and rolls his eyes, brushing past you and heading back to the bike. “That’s why,” he snaps, like you’re slow. He straddles the bike and nods you forward. “You coming or not?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you glance between him and the front door of your house. Again, giving him the benefit of the doubt, you choose to get on the back of the bike. Maybe this is all just one big act that he’s putting on to surprise you with something at the theater.

He turns the key and you frown, “Helmet?” You ask weakly. He doesn’t respond, just laughs and peels out of your driveway. You squeal, grabbing on tight to his waist and burying your face in his back.

This isn’t an act, and this definitely isn’t Clark. But whoever he is, you just got on the back of his motorcycle like an idiot.

With every turn and rev of the bike, you prepare to feel the pavement beneath your palms. Still, as reckless and nauseating as his driving is, he manages to get you here in one piece. Though, where here is, you’re not sure.

Clark swings off the bike effortlessly, grinning over his shoulder at a group of girls walking into the building behind him. He doesn’t seem to notice, or care, about the way your hands still tremble from the ride. You’d been too busy clutching onto him for dear life to pay any attention to where you were going and you’re starting to regret it.

The building is nothing more than dirtied brick, the faded neon sign above the door advertising beer and live music. The bass thumps from inside, vibrating the gravel beneath your feet. From within, you hear jeering shouts, the telltale sounds of a crowd on the verge of chaos.

“Clark,” despite his odd behavior, you still find yourself stepping toward him and holding tight to his hand. The sheltered life of Smallville hasn’t exactly prepared you for backwoods, seedy bars. “Where are we?” You peer up at him and the glint in his eyes makes your stomach clench with trepidation.

“Oh,” he laughs, tugging you toward the entrance, “you’re gonna like this,” he swears. Despite the way you dig your heels into the dirt, he keeps pulling, giving you no choice but to follow him into the bar.

The air changes as you step inside, it’s worse than you thought it would be. Thick with heat and smoke, it pulses with the heavy bass of a song you don’t recognize. Multicolored lights flash across the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The scent of spilled beer, sweat, and something sticky clings to the air.

Your fingers tighten around Clark’s arm as he moves forward, practically wrapping yourself around him. He weaves through the crowd like he belongs here. If you let go now, you know he wouldn’t stop, he’d just keep going, leaving you all alone in a place you want no part of.

Clark drags you to the edge of the bar and slips a crumpled twenty across the counter. Wordlessly, and without checking for IDs, the bartender slides over two beers. Clark grabs one and to your utter shock, tilts it back, downing one long gulp.

“You gonna stand there watching me,” he challenges, “or are you finally going to let loose and have some fun?”

“No, Clark, I’m not drinking. And neither should you! You’re driving us back,” you snap, eyes darting around the seedy crowd.

Settling the half-empty bottle on the counter, he smirks, “Relax. We’re here to have a good time,” his tone almost sounds like a threat. Have a good time or else…

His gaze flickers toward the dance floor and your heart sinks at the mischief in his expression. “And I know exactly how to help you loosen up.”

Again, he gives you no time to protest or even form an opinion before he grabs you and pulls you toward the center of the dance floor. You feel like a leashed dog, no choice but to obey.

The music shifts into something darker, slower, a sultry beat thrumming through the air. It charges the atmosphere of the dancers and the crowd sways, bodies pressed tightly together as they move with the rhythm.

“Clark,” you glance around at the writhing bodies and swallow thickly. “I don’t-”

“Just one dance,” he cuts you off smoothly, voice low and coaxing. His lips curl up in a gentle smile as his hands find your waist. His grip is tight but not uncomfortable as he helps move your hips into the rhythm of the song. “Trust me.”

You hesitate, but it’s easier than you thought to simply fall into the slow, lazy grind of the dance. Your body moves in sync with his, despite the apprehension tightening through you. There’s something wrong with him, that’s clear enough. This isn’t the Clark you know, this is some bold, almost predatory version of him.

One of his hands drifts up from your waist, dragging the hem of your thin tank top up slightly as his fingers brush against the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as his grip tightens, tilting your head back. You press your hands against his chest, eyes rounding in confusion.

“Clark,” you whisper his name, breathless from the proximity. “What are you-”

He cuts you off, voice rough and breath warm against your lips, “Finally taking what I want.” His head dips down, lips capturing your own. It’s not the soft, gentle first kiss you’d always imagine you would share with him. This is hard, demanding.

He’s claiming you, marking his territory as he slips his hand lower on your waist. He pulls you flush against him, hips pressing against yours. A heat slowly spreads in you, but it's overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling that this isn’t Clark.

You push against his chest and you know he lets you go, the situation still under his control. He backs off with an irritated look, eyes narrowed down at you.

Your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps as you stare up at him. “What the hell, Clark?”

“What’s your problem?” He snaps, hand flexing around your neck before dropping to his side.

“You,” you hiss, eyes narrowing. “You’re not yourself, Clark.”

His jaw tenses, fists clenching by his side as he takes a step back from you. “Why? Because I’m finally doing what I want?” His voice is sharp, it bites at the fraying edges of your patience. The music around you picks up pace and somebody slams into you from behind.

With a pained gasp, you stumble forward, rubbing the sore spot where their elbow had slammed into your ribs. Clark watches it all with a bored look. Gone is the gentle, considerate boy you’ve known your whole life. This boy before you is reckless and selfish, you don’t want anything to do with him.

His attention flickers past you and you turn to follow his gaze. A pretty blonde sways in the middle of the dance floor, hips moving gracefully as her laughter rings above the music. Without a word or a second glance, he steps around you, striding toward her with the same effortless confidence he just used on you.

Frozen by disbelief and anger, you watch as he slides a hand around her waist, murmuring something in her ear that makes her giggle. The crowd shifts again, blocking your view of the two. It’s for the better as you suck in sharp breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay.

A lump clogs your throat and you rush toward the back of the bar, hoping there might be a bathroom to hide in. You just need a second away from the sweat and noise of the dancers. You stumble through a stained door and slam it closed behind you, wiping desperately at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

After splashing cold water over your face and simply standing in there for a few minutes, you finally feel stable enough to go back outside. You’re just going to ask Clark to take you home and then you hope you never have to see him again.

But when you return to the dance floor, heart still pounding its way up your throat, you can’t find Clark. You can’t even find the blonde. He’s acting like a jackass, but there’s no way he would just leave you.

Right?

You rush outside, your stomach dropping like a stone when you see the parking lot. The motorcycle is gone.

He left you behind.

“Thank you,” your gaze stays trained on your hands, not ready to look at Lex. You feel his stare boring into the side of your head before he turns back to the road.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad you called me instead of trying to get home on your own.” He pauses, hand tightening on the steering wheel as he takes in a deep breath. “But what were you doing in a place like that?”

You slump in the passenger seat, rubbing a tired hand over your face. All you want to do is go home and wash this night away. You’re hesitant to tell him the truth, knowing he might give Clark hell for leaving you there. A part of you is still primed to protect him, but the other part, the one that was just left behind, can’t care.

“Clark,” you tell him and his head whips around so fast you’re surprised you don't hear it snap. “He was acting weird tonight. Took me there and then left with another girl.”

“Are you serious?” He demands, sounding angry on your behalf. Right now, though, you don’t have the energy for anger. “Clark wouldn’t do that.”

You suck in a deep breath and finally look at him, “The one I know wouldn’t,” you offer vaguely, ignoring his confused expression. “Honestly, I just want to get home and never talk to him again.”

Lex chuckles a little, “You don’t mean that.”

“Try me,” you snap, glaring out the window. You’re debating calling Clark’s dad and telling him that Clark took the bike. If not just for petty revenge. Just the thought of it makes you feel tired.

“I’m sure,” Lex starts, already sounding like he doesn’t believe himself, “he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for what he did.” You roll your eyes, giving him a deadpan look. His hand lifts slightly off the wheel in surrender. “There’s no excuse,” he amends.

“No, there’s not.” The car rolls to a stop and you look out the window, surprised to already be at your house. The porch light is off, your parents must already be asleep. “I really can’t thank you enough,” you tell Lex, offering him a weak but grateful smile.

He waves you off, “Forget it, I’m glad I could help. If you ever need anything else…” He trails off, leaving the offer open-ended.

You nod, opening the passenger door and stepping out. You’re just about to close it when something occurs to you. Clark always gives you a ride to school, you’re not going to have a way to get there after tonight.

“Oh,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

“What’s wrong?” Lex looks concerned and you offer him an apologetic grimace.

“I actually do need something,” you tell him, sheepish and pleading.

Clark wakes up with a fog clouding his mind, a dull pounding behind his eyes. Vague flashes of memory flicker through the haze. The sound of your upset voice, the thrum of music, and the feeling of your body pressed against his. It makes his cheeks flush with warmth, but none of it connects for him. Everything’s one frustrating blur.

But he can figure that out later, his gaze drifts toward the clock on his nightstand and his eyes widen. He leaps off the bed, nearly tripping as he gets wrapped up in his sheets. He was meant to pick you up ten minutes ago.

Clark throws on the first clothes he finds, raking a hand through his messy hair as he bolts down the stairs. His backpack is nearly left by the door as he rushes out. If he could, he’d run you to school. It would be so much faster, so much easier. But that would require explaining why he could do that, and he doesn’t think you’d appreciate him springing the truth of his abilities on you this early in the morning.

You’re not exactly a morning person.

He speeds down the road, the truck’s tires kicking up dust as he pulls into your driveway. Throwing the truck in park he doesn’t even bother cutting the engine before leaping out. Two steps at a time, he bounds up your front porch and knocks firmly on the door.

His foot taps against the wood of the porch as he checks the watch on his wrist. If you hurry, you might both be able to make it to first period on time. After a minute of silence he knocks again, but he’s greeted with the same silence.

He steps back, brows knitted together, and his gaze flickers toward the front window. He ignores the feeling of being a complete creeper as he peers through the glass. The house looks unnaturally still, none of your usual morning mess as you rush to get ready on time. The lights are off and he can’t hear anything inside.

Your parents are usually gone before you even wake up. He can’t think of anyone else who would give you a ride. Or why you would even have anyone else drive you. A strange unease coils in his stomach and another brief memory flashes through his mind. It’s not much, just a pretty blonde smiling up at him.

Jaw tightening, Clark turns back to his truck, climbing inside and heading straight for school. He’s sure everything’s fine. You probably had Chloe or Lana pick you up. Still, even with him being ten minutes late, he’s not sure how they would have gotten to your house before him.

Pulling into the parking lot he frowns, greeted first thing in the morning by Lex’s ridiculously overpriced sports car. It’s parked right in front of the entrance and he wonders what business Lex would have at the high school.

The passenger door opens and you step out, your bag slung over one shoulder. You turn to Lex, smiling as you give him a sweet wave. Clark watches it all with his shoulders tensed as something sharp and hot twists in Clark’s chest.

He watches as Lex pulls out of the parking lot, jaw clenched in irritation. He throws the truck into park and gets out, heading toward the front doors. Inside, the hallways seem more crowded than usual but he still manages to make you out almost instantly.

You’re at your locker, pulling out books as if nothing’s wrong. As if you didn’t get a ride with Lex Luthor and ditch him for seemingly no reason at all.

Clark makes a beeline for you, tightening his grip on his backpack as he stops beside your locker. “Hey,” he calls, forcing a smile. “Did I miss something? I thought I was picking you up this morning.”

You don’t even bother looking at him, eyes stubbornly pointed forward. “Guess I made other plans.”

The coldness in your voice stops him in his tracks. His stomach drops, smile faltering as you continue to pretend there’s anything more for you to grab from your locker. “Okay…” He exhales slowly. “Did something happen?”

You slam your locker shut and he jumps. Whipping around to face him, your eyes are dark with anger as you glare up at him. “Really?” You snap and his eyes widen in surprise. “This is what you’re doing, pretending you don’t remember?”

Clark blinks, thrown off by the heat in your voice. “I-”

“Forget it,” you cut him off. You shake your head, looking tired. “Just leave me alone, Clark. Seems to be something you’re good at, anyway.” You whip around, storming off down the hall and leaving him reeling. He wants to go after you but you’re already slipping into your English class and he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to talk to you in there.

He hovers in the hallway, stunned. What the hell happened last night?

His mind races, grasping at the fleeting memories. There was a bar, he’s not even sure how he found that place. He was dancing with you and then kissing you. His eyes widen at that, grimacing at the blurred memory of your rough first kiss. He’d been hoping for something a little sweeter than some backwoods bar.

He remembers you being angry at him but that’s it. There are holes and gaps that he can’t remember no matter how hard he tries. There’s only one thing that could explain the reckless behavior, the memory gaps, and the way he felt like someone else.

Red kryptonite.

His heart sinks and his head falls into his hands. He hurt you and probably scared you. You don’t even want to look at him now. Straightening up, he runs a hand through his hair and tries to think of a way to fix all of this.

He’s not sure he can, not when he can’t even remember what he’s done to you.

Admittedly, ambushing you outside of class probably wasn’t the best way to go about this. But he needed to make sure you couldn’t run from him. You walk out the door, books clutched to your chest, and head down.

Clark falls into step beside you and you briefly glance up, rolling your eyes when you realize it’s him. You pick up your pace, clearly trying to put space between the both of you. “Wait,” he calls, stepping in front of you. “One chance to explain, please.”

You stop in the middle of the hall, uncaring to the students parting around you. “Clark-”

“I don’t remember everything,” he admits, voice low and desperate as he pushes through your objection. “But I know something happened. And I need to fix this.”

Exhaling sharply, you can’t seem to meet his eye. “There’s nothing to fix.”

That can’t be true. He won’t let that be true. “Please,” he presses. “Just… one chance.”

For a moment, you hesitate, teeth pressing into your lower lip as you take a step back from him. “Fine,” you relent, sounding wholly reluctant. “We’ll talk after school.”

Relief floods through him and he finally manages a real smile for the first time all morning. “Okay,” he utters, trying not to sound surprised. “Great, I’ll drive you home, and-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Lex is giving me a ride,” he opens his mouth to protest and you shoot him a sharp look. His jaw snaps closed and he sighs. “I’ll meet you at your house later,” you tell him, leaving no room for argument.

His stomach twists as you turn and walk away. Lex, he scoffs and shakes his head. When did the two of you get close? One bad night and you’re already done with him?

The thought should fill him with anger, but it only makes his worry grow. Whatever he had done last night must have been truly awful. He hates that there’s a chance he won’t be able to fix this. But what makes it worse is knowing that it’s all his fault.

Clark’s in his room when he hears you pull up to the house. He doesn’t waste any time as he heads down the stairs. “What happened to ‘I never want to see him again?’” Clark has no shame as he listens to your conversation. He doesn’t appreciate how comfortable Lex sounds teasing you.

“Yeah, well,” your voice loses its muffled edge as you open the passenger door. “I deserve an explanation.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Lex tells you as Clark opens his front door. Rolling his eyes, Clark jogs down the steps of his porch, heading toward you both. You turn over your shoulder, smile falling as you nod your head in greeting.

Clark’s waited forever to finally tell you how he really feels about you. Years of pining all led to that one moment where you told him that you feel the same way. He’d finally gotten a chance with you, to be with you like he always wanted. He’s not going to let last night ruin everything.

“Thanks, Lex,” you mutter, closing the passenger door and marching toward Clark. Lex lingers for a moment and Clark sends him a stiff smile and wave. Lex returns it with a smirk before driving off.

“So,” arms crossed across your chest, you glance up at him with barely veiled apprehension. “Are we going inside?”

Clark glances back at his house and shakes his head. He holds his hand out to you and you give him a wary glare. “Please,” he asks, and after a moment you place your hand in his. He smiles and leads you to the barn.

Call it nostalgia, call it desperation but whatever compelled you to actually hear Clark out can go bite it. He abandoned you at a club in a town you hadn’t even heard of. To go be with another girl, no less. You shouldn’t have even stopped to listen to him in the hallway. It’s a lack of self-respect, really.

But there was something in his eyes that compelled you to stay. Last night, he’d been a stranger wearing Clark’s face. This morning, you saw the earnest sincerity you always do when you look into those pretty blue eyes of his. Giving in was an inevitability.

Walking the familiar path to the barn you’re struck with a feeling almost like grief. Whatever could have bloomed between you and Clark feels like sand falling through your fingers. Unless he’s about to open those doors and reveal an evil twin, you’re not sure you could ever forgive him.

Clark glances over his shoulder at you, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He throws the doors of the barn open and you roll your eyes at the dramatics. You slip past him and head inside, stopping short once you see what he’s done.

Fairy lights dangle above the loft, illuminating what looks like a poorly built blanket fort. Christmas lights he clearly stole from his mom are hung haphazardly from the rafters. You can see the effort he put into making the barn feel special, even if the execution is lacking.

It’s the nostalgia of it all that makes you smile. Summer’s spent camping out in the barn, hidden away under blanket forts, and trying to scare each other with your bad ghost stories. It’s a time capsule of your childhood. And you know what he’s trying to do, how he’s trying to soften the hard edges of your resentment. You hate that it’s beginning to work.

Clark heads up to the loft first, glancing over his shoulder and motioning for you to follow. You sigh, face blank as you work to keep up the cool exterior you feel slowly melting away. He offers his hand as you reach the top, and after a beat of hesitation, you reluctantly take it.

Clark pulls you forward and keeps your hand in his as he leads you to sit down across from him. Sinking back into the plush pillows and blankets you prop your head in your hand, watching him with a bored expression. Sucking in a deep breath, he rubs his hands along the surface of his jeans, avoiding your eyes for a moment.

“I didn’t want our first kiss to be in some bar.” He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck before finally meeting your eyes. “I didn’t want our first anything to be there. I wanted it to be somewhere like this, somewhere that actually meant something to us.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. Then he leans closer, reaching across the space between you, his fingers curling around yours again. The warmth of his palm is comforting, even if you don’t let him see that. “I don’t want to lose my best friend. I don’t want to lose you, you have to believe me. What happened last night, it wasn’t me.”

Your expression hardens and you yank your hand from his, putting distance between you. Clark’s face flickers with hurt, but you ignore it. “Why should I believe anything you say, Clark? What happened last night was an eye-opener. Clearly, we’re better off just being friends.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, looking like you’ve just punched him in the gut. “You don’t mean that,” he murmurs.

“Don’t I?”

Clark drops his head into his hands, fingers threading through his hair. His shoulders curl inward, and for a long while, he doesn’t speak. The silence between you stretches, thick with unspoken words.

Maybe it would be better for you to just leave. Some space might do both of you good, and help you come to terms with the truth of it all.

This was never going to work.

Clark exhales slowly, then straightens, blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “Alright,” he nods, some internal battle going on that you’re not privy to. “Stand by the window.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. “What?”

“Do it,” he tells you, tone firm, and you find yourself struggling for a reason not to listen. Finally, with a reluctant huff, you get up and go stand by the window.

The golden fields stretch before you bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The wheat sways gently in the evening breeze. Utterly boring and un-fascinating.

You roll your eyes, “Clark, I swear-”

A distant whistle cuts through the air. You whip around, expecting to see Clark behind you and instead find the loft empty. Your stomach tightens and you turn back to the window. A flicker of movement catches your attention, “What the…”

You press against the window, squinting at the field below. That’s when you see him. A very small Clark waves from the middle of the wheat, far too distant for how quickly he got there. Your breath catches and you find yourself waving back without thinking.

There’s no possible way he crossed all that in under thirty seconds.

But he’s not satisfied with just an impressive show of speed. Clark disappears and then reappears right below the barn window. Only, he’s not alone.

Above his head, with terrifying ease, he’s holding a goddamn tractor. Your heart slams against your ribs. “Clark!” You shout, terrified this little stunt of his is going to end with him sandwiched into the dirt. He sets it down casually, as if it weighs nothing.

A gust of wind pushes your hair forward and you turn sharply. Clark stands behind you now, cheeks flushed, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “What the hell was that?” You demand, eyes darting between him and the tractor outside.

“It’s what I wanted to tell you. What I’ve always wanted to tell you,” he concedes, his smile faltering slightly, his voice tinged with something vulnerable.

Still stunned, you sink onto the couch as he begins to explain. About the crash landing. About his powers. How he’s different.

Your best friend- your almost-boyfriend, is an alien.

Of all the things racing through your mind, only one question comes to mind. “Why have you never told me?” You don’t ask him if he was from Jupiter or Mars, or if he’s got a secret eye hidden somewhere. You just want to know why he didn’t think he could trust you.

Clark hesitates. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore. That you’d see me as some freak.”

You snort, “You’re an idiot is what you are.”

His head snaps up, blinking at you in surprise. “Clark, why would I ever care about what planet you’re from?” You shake your head, a smile creeping onto your lips as you shift forward, kneeling in front of him. Your hands find his, squeezing slightly. Then, hesitantly, you reach up, cupping his cheek. A smile spreads across your face as he leans into the touch. “I care about you, not about what rocket you crash-landed in.”

“More of a pod,” he corrects and you shoot him a sharp look that makes him laugh. He sobers quickly, smile fading, “I understand if you can’t forgive me for last night.”

“Well,” you muse, tilting your head. “It wasn’t really you, right? It was that krypto- karo-”

“Kryptonite,” he grins a little at the way you stumble over the word. “And, yes, it was. I would never purposefully hurt you, but it’s not an excuse.”

“It’s actually the only acceptable excuse,” you tell him, rolling your eyes playfully. “That or evil twin.” Clark’s eyes widen slightly and you narrow yours. “Do you actually have an evil twin?” You shake your head, “Never mind, we’ll talk about that later.”

You glance up at the twinkling lights strung above, the warm glow making the loft feel impossibly soft, impossibly safe. “Clark?” You ask and he hums, already looking at you when you glance back at him. “We can always try that first kiss again.”

His smile, soft and sweet, mirrors your own. As you lean in, his arms circle your waist, pulling you gently into him. Your fingers thread through the soft tresses of his hair as his lips brush against yours, soft, lingering, right.

This. This is what you knew it would feel like. This is home and safety, everything good in your life. You smile against Clark’s lips knowing that no matter what evil twins or toxic rocks come at you, you’ll face it together.

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inkedinshadows · 2 days ago

Note

For the requests: "I would certainly take all night" with Eris, please. I would be forever indebted to you. Can be smut or not, write it however you want! :)

Held in Firelight

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

A/N: Hi! No need to be indebted, don't worry! I just hope you'll like this bc I really liked this idea but I wrote it after six hours of class so it might not be my best work. I also don't know how to label it because it's a bit fluffy with a tiny sprinkle of angst and allusions to smutty bits? Idk idk I really like it tho

Warnings: arranged marriage, cheating (but the parties involved are aware so idk)

Word count: 1k

“I think he has a new lover.”

Your words cut through the comfortable silence that had settled over the sitting room. Eris raised a brow, but you continued to stir the wine in your glass, your eyes fixed on the swirling red liquid.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling embers in the fireplace. Eventually, he asked, “What makes you think that?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “He spent every night out this week. He doesn't do that if he's just sleeping around. He still comes home.”

Eris hummed, as if contemplating your answer.

These were your favorite moments—when Eris didn’t have court duties to attend to and could spend hours talking and drinking with you. It was your favorite way to ease the stress and tension of the life you had been forced into.

“He was out even two nights ago?”

You looked up at him. The firelight flickered on the side of his face, turning his hair into molten copper. You felt a sudden urge to reach across the couch and run your fingers through it.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“It was your birthday,” he stated simply.

“So?”

He looked startled. “You really don’t care that he forgot?”

You sighed, setting your glass down. “Eris, he hasn't remembered my birthday in years.”

He didn’t reply, but his jaw clenched. You couldn’t tell if the flames in his eyes were just a reflection of the fire or if it was that simmering power of his.

With another sigh, you pressed on. “Let’s say he remembers,” you said. “Then what? You really believe he would spend the whole night with me, taking his sweet time to make me feel cherished, at least on my birthday?” You shook your head, the mere thought making you scoff. “No, I prefer it this way. He doesn't care about me, I don't care about him, and there's no point in pretending we do.”

Eris remained silent, his gaze fixed on the fireplace, his fingers clutching the stem of his glass so tightly you thought it might break. You knew he cared about you, that he hated your situation as much as you did, but even he couldn’t change it. Maybe once he became High Lord he’d banish arranged marriages and spare others from this fate, but it was too late for you.

Picking up your glass again, you tucked your legs beneath you and settled back against the pillows. You took a sip of wine, hoping that its rich taste might offer an excuse to change the topic, but you came up empty. You’d already commented on the flavor when he opened the bottle.

“I would certainly take all night.”

His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, but when you turned to look at him, he was still facing away from you.

“What?” you blurted out. Surely, you had heard that wrong.

Finally, his eyes met yours, determined and unflinching. “I would take all night with you,” he repeated, “I would cherish you. And not just on your birthday.”

Your breath hitched. There had been a few lingering touches, a brush of fingers, words whispered after one too many glasses of wine. But never like this—so plain and blatant, so unguarded.

“Don't say that,” you murmured.

“Why not?” His eyes bore into you, pinning you in place. There was no escape—not that you wanted one. “We both want it.”

He was right. There was no arguing with that. Yet you still shook your head. “Eris, we can't.”

He moved closer. You didn’t resist when he took your glass and set it on the small table alongside his. An empty bottle stood next to an unopened one.

“Why not?” he asked again, his voice gentler now. “Just because you’re married? How many other females has he been with?”

Countless.

Maybe Eris was right about that too. Maybe you didn’t owe loyalty to a husband you had never wanted—a husband who had never been loyal to you. If he could have all the females he wanted, then maybe you could have the one male you wanted. The one person who always understood you, who never judged or mistreated you.

“When was the last time someone made you feel cherished?” Eris’s hand covered yours, his slender fingers intertwining with your own, squeezing once. “Made you feel good?”

You had never thought about your marriage in those terms. You had never wanted that union in the first place, so you had clung to the small things. Time away from your husband was good. You hadn’t shared a bed in a long time, and your conversations were awkward and stiff enough that the thought of intimacy hadn't crossed your mind in years. And you’d told yourself that was good enough.

But deep down, it had never really felt good.

Eris was still looking at you, his expression soft and understanding. As if he could see your every thought.

You looked away, unable to stomach it. “I don't know,” you finally whispered.

“Let me be that person.” He reached out, gently tilting your chin. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your eyes met again, and your resolve wavered. Then he brushed his thumb over your lips and spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“Let me love you.”

That word.

Love.

Your husband had never uttered it to you, nor had you to him. But hearing it from Eris… you knew he didn't mean just now—a stolen moment to carry in your heart. And that realization was the final push you needed.

You didn't know who moved first. One moment you were staring into each other's eyes. The next, your lips met.

He tasted like a wish come true after years of waiting.

You were done longing and yearning in secret, done pretending you didn't know what you truly wanted.

And as Eris loved you in front of the fireplace, you finally felt good. You felt cherished. And he took all night to make sure of it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra fic #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #one shot #fluff #fanfiction #drabble #requested

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 2 days ago

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chasing city lights

chapter 11 - flatline

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

after your day with rafe yesterday, the girls had so many questions and you told them everything, down to the song he wrote for you. what you didn't expect however, was that the song was going to be released in a few days time.

"i genuinely can't believe this," sarah started, "i mean him opening up to you? the commincation? the song? where is rafe and what have you done with him." she giggled.

"no y/n i don't think you understand the extent of this. like we've all been friends with rafe for a good 6 years, and i have never seen a girl have this affect on him before."

"guys stop you're making me think i'm some kind of miracle." you laughed with them.

"that's because you are a miracle." cleo joined in.

"so do you think you'll become official soon...?" sarah questioned.

"i don't know, the fans already think we are." you stated.

"the fans are fucking crazy. you'll get used to that i promise. when me and pope started dating everyone went bonkers over it." cleo reassured you.

"i guess so, it's okay i don't mind it, it's just getting used to seeing my face whenever i open twitter." you said. "whatever, we've got a flight to catch." you all finished your last minute packing and made your way into the car that was waiting for you outside the hotel.

part of you was sad to be leaving the state you had made so many memories in, but you knew heading back to new york all together was just the beginning for this new chapter for you and rafe.

once you made it to the airport, you found the rest of the boys who had left earlier as they all entered 'dad mode' and were getting stressed, john b to blame for that.

"finally you're here!" john b began as he saw you walk through the door.

"yeah thought we were gonna have to leave without you." pope said sarcastically.

"enough. we're here now aren't we?" cleo said rhetorically.

"yes ma'am" jj joined in, everyone was in agreement that cleo was the boss of the group.

you made your way to say hi to topper, who was slowly starting to become his usual self again, you assumed him and rafe had a conversation to try and clear the air.

but you eventually made it to rafe, who looked like his was patiently waiting his turn to get your attention, "hey you" he said.

"hey" you replied with a slight blush, "i didn't know you were actually going to release the song." you rushed out.

a look of concern took over him, "do you mind?" he asked worriedly.

"no! no i'm happy" you started, "but the fans are a little crazy."

"yeah i know they are and i should've warned you about that, but the best ones mean no harm and all you can try and do is ignore them." he replied.

"hard to ignore them when they're commenting on everything i post." you quietly said.

"i can say something if it really bothers you, okay?" he softly reached out to give your hand a squeeze.

"okay" you smiled at him, always putting you at ease.

"ok love birds pack it in," jj hollered "i don't think this plane is going to wait for us."

"whatever dude" rafe grinned, "ready?" he turned to you.

"ready."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: sorry guys i made this chapter a lot more smau, just as i had the idea to do the thread (which took me ages LAWD) and also wanted to get the song mentioned ! 5 points to anyone who knows the actual song and band🙈

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @popou61

#outer banks #obxsmau #boyfriend rafe #rafe cameron x reader #obx #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe obx #chasing city lights #smau

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theocddiaries · 2 days ago

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[The Mean Bean is packed. Sonic walks in and takes a seat at the counter to talk to Shadow, who is handing out coffee cupcakes.] Sonic: Hey, quite the success. Shadow: Yes. I didn’t think people would like them this much. Sonic: I’m so glad to see you this happy and knowing you’re making a fortune doing something you enjoy. Shadow: Hm? Sonic: …You’re not getting paid more? Shadow: No? Should I? Sonic: Of course you should, Shadow! The recipe is yours, you came up with it and bake the cupcakes! Shadow: Oh, well… how was I supposed to know that for doing extra work in my free time I should be paid more? Sonic: … Shadow: Although, now that I say it out loud, it makes sense, because I’m spending all my money on butter and eggs. Sonic: Wait, you’re paying for the ingredients by yourself too??? Shadow: …Yeah? Did I do that wrong, too?? Sonic: Look, Shads, stop spending time with Knuckles. We were hoping he’d pick up some smarts, but in the end, he just passed on the dumb. You need to ask Stone and Eggman for a raise right now. Shadow: You think? Wouldn’t that be taking advantage? Sonic: Oh, come on! Shadow: I mean, maybe they’re not making that much money. Stone [rushes over]: Shadow, I’m heading to the bank to deposit the money because the register won’t close! [pats his head]: Oh, my little chef and savior! [leaves the café] Sonic [raises an eyebrow at Shadow] Shadow: …I think you’re right. You know what? I’m going to talk to Ivo and tell him to give me a raise. And now, since they think they're so smart, you’re taking this whole tray for free. [hands it over] Sonic: But I was about to go for a run-- Shadow: I said you’re taking it! Sonic [grabs it]: Okay, okay, okay. [leaves the café with the tray] [Robotnik comes out of the storage room. Shadow immediately follows him.] Shadow: Ivo. Ivo! Robotnik: Whaaaaaaaaaat. Shadow: Look, I’ve been thinking. Since I came up with the cupcakes, I bake them, and I brought them here in the first place, but you and Mr. Stone are the ones making bank, I think it’d be fair to give me a raise. Robotnik: No. Shadow: Thank—What?! Robotnik: And don’t start whining, we all have problems here. I’ve spent the whole morning going from bank to bank trying to figure out where to put all this cash. It’s a tough choice, you know? Shadow: Well, I’ll make it easy for you. From now on, I’m going to do what my contract says: be a waiter. Robotnik: Oh yeah??? Well, look what I do with your stupid cupcakes. [grabs two cupcakes, smashes them on the floor, then stomps on them in a little dance]: There! Now clean this up, waiter! Shadow [grunts and goes for the mop] Robotnik: Who do you think you are?! You think the café is gonna go empty because of you? Get off your high horse! Brayden: Dr. Robotnik, we’re out of coffee cupcakes. Robotnik: Well, no more coffee cupcakes then, big deal! [People start leaving the café.] Robotnik: Huh…? No, no, wait! Don't leave! …Crap, when Stone gets back, he’s going to kill me… Brayden, we need to make the cupcakes ourselves. You wrote down the recipe, right??? Brayden: No, since it was Shadow’s recipe, I let him handle it. Robotnik: …Okay. No problem. Give me the recipe book. [Brayden hands it over, and Robotnik starts smacking himself in the forehead with it.] Robotnik: Dang me, dang me and dang me!!!!!!!

#incorrect quotes #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic movie shadow #sonic movie universe #scu #sonic wachowski #dr robotnik #dr eggman #eggman #ivo robotnik #agent stone #stobotnik #mean bean

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cherryblossms · 2 days ago

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garam was quick to tilt his screen away when angel asked what was so gross, not because he didn't want angel to see the picture he'd gotten but because he didn't want him to see what he wrote in response. he didn't want angel thinking garam was rushing things by the use of the word 'boyfriend' in a sentence. it was a response he tended to give to anybody who made a pass at him online, he had a boyfriend and was very committed to him, regardless of his current relationship status. "oh, you know. some people think it's entirely necessary to send me pictures of their poor excuse of a penis." he was so casual with how he spoke, as if it were something to happen all the time but it wasn't. it's happened to him numerous times over the ten or so years he's been making gaming and streaming his livelihood but it was never often enough for it to bother him. maybe that was because he didn't really look at the the dms people would send him, especially not after his following became significant. while it seemed more common for men to approach him with this avenue, he did have a small handful of women that would send him pictures of various body parts. but he tended to ignore those more, if he chose to open the message to begin with. when angel questioned him, all he did was shrug his shoulders the best he could laying on his stomach before he rolled over and pushed himself to the edge of the bed. "not always," he shook his head, "i don't open a lot of dms that i get, i only really look at them when i'm bored or have nothing else to do." which honestly didn't happen to him very often, he almost always seemed to be busy whether it was streaming, filming, or editing his videos or tending to axel's needs. waiting for angel seemed like the perfect time to look through a few, it was just one of those unfortunate occasion that he actually opened a message containing an image. when angel said he was ready, garam stood up and finally got a good look of the other man. almost immediately, a smile formed and he walked over to angel. "you look really good, almost too good to let you leave." he teased, a hand lifting to boop angel's nose, his hand catching on angel's after dropping it to tug angel along with him as he began walking. "you also have no reason to be jealous. you look way better than any of the guys who send me icky pictures. also, the ice cream thing, we can just bring it back here. i know it's really early, it just sounds good. the strawberries and whipped cream are for something else entirely." he only glanced back to angel once, harboring a sort of mischievous smile before looking forward again, still guiding the man to the front door. "can you drive? i know axel will be able to recognize my car, it'd just be better to leave it here and have him think i haven't gone out anywhere." that is, if he hadn't already gone to work. garam knew it was highly unlikely that he'd miss even just a hour of work to stalk him but he still didn't want to risk it.

Angel could hear Garam's voice floating through the bathroom door as he finished washing up, a smile tugging at Angel’s lips despite himself. The domesticity of it all – him sprawled on his bed, casually suggesting ice cream while he got ready – felt almost surreal after everything that had happened last night. "Ice cream at..." he glanced at his watch, "ten in the morning?" Angel called back, running a hand through his damp hair. The mirror was still foggy from the shower, but he could make out the marks on his neck that hadn't been there yesterday. Garam’s laugh echoed from the bedroom, followed by another disgusted groan that made him curious. Angel wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, leaning against the frame to find Garam lying on his stomach, feet kicked up behind him like a teenager at a sleepover. The sight was endearing – this man who'd shown up at his door last night looking like a storm had swept through his life, was now comfortable enough to make himself at home. "What's so gross?" The raven-haired man asked, padding over to his dresser. Deciding to match the blue trim on the other’s vest he grabbed a turtleneck neck the same blue. With a dark pair of jeans. The morning light streamed through Angel’s window catching the water droplets still clinging to his shoulders, and he heard a slight intake of breath. It was strange how quickly things could change. Yesterday they had been just friends, and now... well, Garam was lying in his bed, scrolling through his phone and planning our day like he belonged there. Maybe he did. "Do you always get random dick pics in your DMs?" He asked, amusement coloring his tone as Angel turned to face him, clean shirt in hand. "Or am I going to have to get jealous?" The taller man teased pulling the turtleneck on and soon followed the rest of his clothes. His hair dripped wet as he pulled it back, a loose strand falling into his line of vision. “I’m ready when you are”

#threads #thread: garam #thread: garam & angel #ang3lmoans

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kazbrekkerfast · 2 days ago

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what instrument I think F1 drivers would play + reasons (from a cellist who is objectively correct)

(if you disagree that's fine please share your opinions I really want to know them)

Get ready cuz this is a LONG post. I also mostly stuck to the 2024 grid cuz I couldn't be bothered with much more

also please note that I wrote this whilst exhausted and avoiding practicing so if it has any spelling/grammar mistakes, you didn't see anything

1. Max Verstappen: percussion

ok so max is to me a percussionist through and through but also seems like the type of percussionist who learnt how to play the violin as a kid and hated it, so became a drummer instead. definitely plays the marimba like his life depends on it. also becuase I have a thing for them so ye 🥰 (I do however love a good fanfic where he's like a super competitive violin/piano player even if I can't really see him play them)

2. Charles Leclerc: piano

so he obviously already plays piano which suits him sm so I'm going to keep that because he has the correct vibes and everything for piano, but more on the late classical onwards stuff than the earlier music (I NEED to hear him play Debussy like omfg please)

3. Carlos Sainz: conductor

ok here me out but I can't see him playing in an orchestra BUT he would definitely conduct, and could probably play a string instrument/piano quite well but like it wouldn't be his passion if you get what I mean (I also feel like he'd be quite strict as a conductor but get super good performances out of the orchestra)

4. Daniel Riccardo: trombone (+bass trombone)

ok he's the reason I'm making this list because OMFG THIS MAN IS A BRASS PLAYER like defo lower brass too but I can't really see tuba player from him so trombone. he's also the kind of brass player to be stupidly good at percussion too so ye that too. also get this man in a big band. please.

5. Lando Norris: violin

ok so lando is always giving main character energy and like there's not much more main character than a violin, and also I can very much see him being a more romantic/lyrical player (he just has them vibes idk). HOWEVER broski has a MASSIVE hand span so he has to play piano cuz he can deffo reach them 10ths let's be real

6. Oscar Piastri: oboe (+french horn)

ok HEAR ME OUT!!!! tell me you can't see this guy play an oboe. I think he has the right sized face for it idk that sounds strange but I can see it please believe me 😭😭. Also french horn cuz it's my fave instrument except my own and I think he'd serve playing it idk

7. Lewis Hamilton: cello

I'm biased. he has the vibes. (not really but idc). also probably sings (he already does but shh). Definitely not a baroque player and probably plays more Dvorak era stuff (the things I'd do to see him play Brahms E minor) but this is all because I am spectacularly biased and want to see my fave drivers play my instrument. also producer vibes but that's unrelated.

8. George Russell: flute

ok so personally most male flute players I know are complete dickheads BUT I think George is the exception like he just seems quite flutey (also he kinda gives classical era piano player but that may be me being silly) but bro definitely doesn't like syncopated rhythms like let's be real if it's off the beat my guy would be completely lost. he does seem like the type to be able to read ledger lines tho

9. Yuki Tsunoda: percussion

I think he's another percussionist tbh but more cymbals and timps than tuned percussion. I don't have much more to say about Yuki because he's just cymbals in my head lmao

10. Pierre Gasly: euphonium

right. he gives wind because he's french BUT he probably is euf cuz like I can very much picture him playing it and also I can very much see him giggling at the back of a brass band or some shit with Yuki (yukierre nation what's good) so I've put him as a euf cuz why not

11. Esteban Ocon: clarinet

another biased opinion but I can see it like he just is a clarient I think. I think it's probs just the fact he's tall but like the stereotype of people looking like their instruments is real so he (he does give cellist a bit too but that may also just be because he's tall)

12. Fernando Alonso: trumpet

right this was a very tough one BUT he holds all the chaos and menace of a trumpet player (especially when he was younger), and I think it suits him quite well. he does give lower brass a bit but I think he has more trumpet vibes than lower brass so ye

13. Lance Stroll: clarinet

ok rich boi obviously would have been taught the violin and I think he'd be pretty good at it tbh BUT he gives clarient vibes so fucking hard like especially bass clarinet, cuz he's different like that

14. Nico Hulkeberg and Kevin Magnussen: trumpet

right. these two are together for a reason. these two are the two trumpet players in an orchestra who sit there yapping for half the rehearsal, play the 4 bars they have in a piece and then are done for the day. don't say you can't see it. you can.

15. Alex Albon: guitar

this one is quite specific but he gives like classical and jazz guitar vibes in a very specific way. also woodwind. idk he contains multitudes and I think we should celebrate that. maybe flute? I can see that. (I'm losing the plot here wtf even is an instrument)

16. Logan Sargent: viola

PLEASE DONT COME FOR ME I SAY THIS IN A GOOD WAY!!! he really has strings vibes to me but definitely is not violinist at all, therefore I think he'd be a good viola player. I'm sorry we all need one somewhere 😭. HOWEVER as he is American I will say get this man on the cheer squad and like idk have him throw people in the air while the marching band does it's thing I can see him doing that

17. Sergio Perez: french horn

sorry he's so far down I had actually no clue what instrument he has the vibes for at all. BUT I made up my mind, and I think he gives french horn vibes. don't ask me why I don't know it just is there

18. Valterri Bottas: tuba

HE TUBAS MORE THAN ANYONE HAS EVER TUBAD BEFORE also probs plays percussion on the side but in the sense that they didn't have enough one day so he volunteered to play for fun. I almost put him as a double bass but he really doesn't have strings vibes at all so I moved him to tuba

19. Zhou Guanyu: piano

this is going to sound weird af but don't take it that way but holy shit this guy's fingers are LONG like I think he could probs do a 9th or 10th easily (I'm so jealous) and I feel like he has piano vibes. also a bit stringy but also not idk I feel like he'd own a harp but not play it often so ye

20. Franco Colapinto: violin (?)

idk him that well and he has very similar vibes to lando (this may be due to the edits I have CONSUMED over the last few months) so ye I think he could be violin, maybe like leader of the 2nds kinda thing for the fun of it

21. Liam Lawson: guitar and drum kit

ok. this is a copout cuz he already does and posts things of him playing but like he just is guitar like that is what he is in my mind. also he gives the vibe of that one guitarist who decided to learn drums but hasn't got the coordination quite right yet so isn't great at keeping time but thinks he's great anyways (I love him really)

ANYWAYS IM DONE THANKYOU IF YOUVE GOT THIS FAR I WISH YOU ALL THE LOVE AND HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD

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fall0utmind · 1 day ago

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hi, i used a translator when i wrote this text, so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me 🙏we probably have one brain for the whole fandom, because i'm also hatching an idea with an a/b/o au in my head.my main idea was similar to yours with all the pain and illness, but in addition to the main focus on the relationship between vale and marc, i also wanted to write about marc's pack.his pack, consisting of young boys with whom he trains and cares for. for example, dani holgado, is definitely an alpha. looks at marc as an example, as someone to look up to. david alonso, i don't know, most likely also an alpha (for the sake of the plot lol). fermin aldeguer could be a beta. and of course maximo quiles, marc's protégé, omega. a hot-tempered boy looking at david with loving eyes.(all the boys look at him with such tenderness) I think they fit your idea perfectly.Marc, who is not a member of any packs except for the family one and is only the unofficial head of the pack of these boys. They are like his children to him.In the 2025 season, when all his guys are either in moto2 or moto3, they need his support, help and advice (they need to be held in the evenings after falls or when they are on the verge of a rut/heat) (this is in addition to his own season) and he has no time to think about his inner omega.I think this would be so different from the relationship between Vale and his academies, where the alpha of the pack is support in the media, a firm hand on the shoulder and distraction from all problems through entertainment.And Marc is soft with everyone, a support for them (he does not run away from problems, but solves them). the boys always know that they can come to him: he can listen to them or understand without words, teach them to stand up for themselves, give advice on how to take a certain turn on the track or what to choose as the first gift for courtship (or from what angle to look at the alpha))well, here is the true omega of the pack.another scene before his eyes - the day before the public loss of consciousness. maybe this is maximo, before the third race on the calendar on saturday - his first moto3 race because he just turned 17 the other day. he lies close to marc in his camper, burying his face close to the neck of the older omega. in his arms he feels like he is on the clouds, sometimes he does not finish some sentences, but marc understands everything and answers him with a laugh. perhaps before this grand prix, the boys gathered in their little pack and, he does not know for how many times, discussed that marc does not smell of anything. nothing at all. they asked alex a long time ago, but he never answered them.and max awkwardly asks about it, when before that he had been mumbling about David and his unique overtakes in his first year in moto2 for about 7 minutes non-stop, feeling how Marc relaxed. and literally three seconds later he regrets it, when Marc's breathing rhythm gets out of whack and how his shoulders tense under his grip. but the man only grabs the kid tighter and tells in general terms what happened between him and Vale, choosing only soft expressions, without hatred, sadness or pity.and the next day after the victory he faints. imagine Maximo's face lolin any case, thank you for your creativity and for your brain. not only is every word of yours read in one breath, you are also a very nice person. thank you ❤️

Hi, firstly, I'm so in awe of everyone on this app when English isn't their first language. You all make me feel so stupid 😂😂 so never apologise for that.

Secondly, what a lovely message!!!

Omg!!! Im so excited?? We all have a million a/b/o ideas and it's fantastic!!! I love that for us!

Wow! I never even considered that, it's so good??? The idea of Marc having this little gaggle of boys (borderline men) following him around like ducklings because he's like the main/pack omega (and he should be for the whole paddock) - i love it. I think there's so much room to work with in that dynamic. Like you said, the way the boys look up to him, how they need to be looked after when they've fallen or when they're about to enter heat/rut cycles. And marc is 100% being a mother hen. He doesn't even realise that he's doing it half the time? Like sitting with all the boys over lunch, giving advice, talking to them after a bad race, squished onto the motorhone sofas.

In one way, it's healing for his omega. But another is ruining him. Because it's suppressing so much that he isn't actually bonded to these kids, not on a biological level. He doesn't scent with them, etc, because he doesn't do it with ANYONE. (Post reconcilliation, he does. And they become his pups basically). These kids are clinging onto him and it hurts so bad because he doesn't actually have that connection with them 💔💔

Omg, and yes, the idea of Marc, an omega, by definition, being head of a pack. He is the one they always come to for advice, direction, and love. I especially love the comparisons to the VR46 pack. I think it would be really different. I think a. It is not a true 'pack' because of Marc's issues (although they act like one, and the boys desperately want it to be one, but don't want to push marc, just sometimes pile into his motorhome and lie on Marc's bed, confused about why there's no nest; leaving their clothes in Marc's space, he secretly hoards them for comfort).

The boys asking marc what happened omg 💔😭 marc telling them, but only the bare bones as he knows they look up to Vale and he doesn't want to ruin that, also he doesn't want to hurt/scare them because he's FINE, damn it. And then how they react when marc gets sick, can you imagine the fear? The anger they have at Valentino, but they feel so powerless because they're young and in lower leagues and UGH. God I love this idea so much. Love the dynamic, its very cute.

Thank you so much for the ask and for the kind words!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

#motogp #marc marquez #rosquez #motogp rpf #my fics #valentino rossi #marcs little gang of pups #abo sick fic

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amie-777 · 1 day ago

Text

continuation of this

MDNI

TW: none (please tell me if there is), terrible attempt at accents

A food container is shoved in front of you. "Yer favorite." "Thank you." You watch them whilst eating.

Everyone except Johnny, you've stared at him plenty you know how he looks.

The dim light from the hallway shines onto their faces. Occasionally it blinks out of service, before turning on again. You turn down at the warm food container, it has been a few days since you ate this much.

Only their proportions are visible. On your left, the man with the gentle warm hand sits, a bear of a man. He has a beard, big nose and small eyes. He gives you a small smile when you stare, one you return. There is food in his beard, but you don't comment on it.

On your right is the one that has his thigh pressed against yours. Only by that you determine the sheer size of him. He is hunched in his chair, one that has a pillow on top of it, does he have back pain?

Opposite of you is someone particularly interesting. Not because of how the light makes him more attractive fascinating, but because of how he sits. Someone with an elegant face structure. Lips poised and eating upright, like he had disciplinary lessons as a kid.

"Ea' dove." The man on your right, with his pointer he pushes the container near you. You only nod, and shove more food in your mouth. Whilst watching Johnny. He is hunched, shovelling the food in his open mouth. Someone that wasn't used to having his own plate

You eat slow, with a lowered head, but all four of them in your vision.

Like you're a gazelle drinking at a waterhole with lions around.

After you and everyone else is done with eating John slides a small folder in front of you. "We want to offer you something." You figured so you nod.

"We need someone to do our customs, it's a timey job to wait around without papers." You nod again. Eyes cast on the folder. "I need you up here, swee'heart." He smiles gently, with his big hand he reaches to touch your temple again. That makes your eyes flick to his once more. Don't get lost.

"It's a job contract. To work at our firm. But don't feel pressured, you don't want it don't take it." He assures. You don't really feel assured.

The giant on your right reaches a hand and opens the contract. His big pointer presses right above the sign line. "You sign here and you get the job."

Clever girl you are. Reading the contract. Each and every line. Kyle thinks and his eyes flick to every one of his lovers. Kyle musters a smile at Simons agitated look. Impatient bastard he has to fuck it out of him tonight.

"okay..I'm in." You reach out your hand after you've signed your name. "Names John, that's Kyle and Simon." A warm, beefy hand elopes yours. "And me." You chuckle. A surprise to all of them, even yourself. "I know you, Johnny." He preens at that.

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

This is not edited at all. I wrote this down and just posted it. I wanted to post something but I have a lot on my plate.

So hugs to everyone and have a good rest of your day or night <33

#kyle gaz garrick #john price #johnny mactavish #simon riley #poly!141 #x reader #johnny x reader #kyle x you #john x you #simon x you #tf 141 x you #tf 141 x reader #kyle x reader #john x reader #simon x reader #soap x reader

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ttalgi · 5 hours ago

Text

missent letters pt.2

wanderer x gn! reader

part 1 || part 2

tags/cw: academic rivals to lovers, some cursing, mc is: a Vahumana student in the Akademiya, roommates with Alhaitham and Kaveh, and a pyro vision holder.

a/n: I finally finished the book a year later (lol) which made me want to make a part 2! Also, please don't mind any ooc or wrong plot details...it's been a while since I've actually played genshin.

wc: 2.1k

“It would do your remaining few brain cells some good to stop banging your head against the table. Plus this table was expensive. I can’t have the wood scratched already.”

You stop mid head bang to send Alhaitham an incredulous look. “Please!” you plead. “Have some sympathy for me at least once in your life. My life is over.” You slump your body across the living room bench.

Without missing a beat, he replies, ”I let you live here, don’t I?” Alhaitham turns to Kaveh with a raised eyebrow, “Care to fill me in on their latest tantrum?”

“It’s not a tantrum—!”

“Long story short, they asked me to send out some envelopes for them because of their busy schedule, so I told them to leave whatever they needed sent on top of their desk. Among the envelopes was one for Hat Guy, which apparently they didn’t want me to deliver.” He takes another bite of the shawarma wrap that Alhaitham brought home for dinner.

Kaveh turns to look at your defeated form. “If you didn’t mean to send Hat Guy the letters, why were they mixed up with the other envelopes in the first place? What’s the big deal about those letters anyway?” he asks while chewing.

You perk up your head to look at him. “Huh? You didn’t read them?” you ask.

“You see, unlike some”—he sends Alhaitham a pointed look—”people, I have basic human decency.”

“Again, I let you guys live here—”

“Basically, everytime I feel anger or annoyance towards him, I just vent about it on paper pretending that he’s the recipient. Then I just stuff everything in the same envelope because it’s easy storage that way.”

“Wait!” Kaveh interrupts. “Just how many letters have you written about him? That envelope was like an inch thick. It even cost me extra postage!”

“...What can I say? I have lots of vendettas against him,” you shrug.

Alhaitham interposes, “I don’t think I understand. What’s the big deal? So what if you told him exactly how you feel about him? I didn’t take you for being a people pleaser.”

“This is why people think you’re such a machine at times, Alhaitham!” Kaveh throws his arms up in frustration. “Some people actually care about how they present themselves to others.”

“Actually!” You interject before another one of their infamous arguments breaks out full throttle. “Alhaitham’s kind of right. I did write exactly how I feel about him, and that’s the thing. I wrote everything that I felt about him..” you trail off.

Kaveh lets out a dramatic gasp. “No way! You finally confessed your feelings for him in those letters?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it confessing. I just talked about how I think his eyes are kinda dreamy despite being cold at times and that he has a really pretty face and that”—you almost give yourself whiplash turning in his direction—”Wait, finally? What do you mean finally? There’s no way you could have known about my minuscule crush on Hat Guy!”

“Anyone with eyes and ears could tell that you have some romantic attraction towards him,” Kaveh sighs while shaking his head before gesturing to Alhaitham. “Even this guy is aware of it.”

“You two do know that I’m not socially inept, correct?”

Deciding to ignore Alhaitham, you slump back against the bench. “I’m doomed.”

You pop up with an idea. “Wait! Do you guys think Tighnari needs any more forest rangers? I can take a break until this whole thing tides over and just help him over at Avidya Forest—”

Alhaitham quenched your wishful thinking. “Knowing how substandard you are with your vision, you’d accidentally set the forest on fire.”

You stumble back as if an arrow pierced through your body. You mumble out, “Must you always humble me.” You turn to Kaveh with hopeful eyes.

“I thought I'd never say this, but I agree with Alhaitham. You trying to help Tighnari in the forest would do more harm than good. Plus, you'd end up a victim to his lectures again. Remember that one time you—”

Feeling your body riddling with piercing wounds, you slump against the bench once more. “Yeah, I’m doomed.”

It's been five days since Kaveh accidentally sent out the envelope meant for Hat Guy and you aren’t sure how much longer you have until the letters would be in his possession. Unless they already were...

If you were blessed by the Archons, then maybe the envelope was lost or better yet damaged beyond repair in delivery, but alas, you know better. The mail system in Sumeru City is known for its attentiveness, especially since many important Akademiya-based deliveries are sent and received daily.

You haven't seen Hat Guy around much these days, especially considering the fact that you’ve been actively avoiding him. Mandatory lectures that you both share? You now sit close to the exit, far from him. The library that you guys are known to basically reside in? You begged Alhaitham to let you study in his office instead, promising that you’d do his portion of the house chores for the next two weeks.

Deciding to go home early out of your own volition (Alhaitham kicked you out because of an important meeting), you carefully tread the halls of the Akademiya making sure to peek around each corner before continuing. As you start to believe that you're finally in the clear, you hear someone behind you clearing their throat. Taking a look down at the shadows decorating the floor, you see the silhouette of the man that you have been avoiding for your own peace of mind.

"How much longer are you going to rat around the Akademiya for? It's not like you can avoid me forever, you know."

Feeling offended by his choice of words, you abruptly turn around to tell him off; however, the sudden close proximity of your faces has you taking a step back. If you hadn’t been paying attention to his face, you would have thought that he was unaffected by the action, but the slight widening of his eyes before returning back to normal has you knowing otherwise.

You give Hat Guy a pointed glare. Wanting to defend yourself against his statement, you open your mouth to retaliate but the sight of the familiar envelope in his hand causes you to simply shut your mouth and grimace instead.

As he notices your actions, Hat Guy lets an annoying smirk grace his face. "Come on, say what you were going to say. We both know that you have a lot to say to me," he says while lazily waving the envelope around.

To try and play this in your favor, you start to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘avoiding you’. Also, what’s with the envelope? Never seen it before in my life.”

Hat Guy raises a brow. “What’s with this sudden stupid, chill guy persona? Anyways, it seems like you need a reminder. Not surprising considering our perspective rankings,” he subtly gloats.

“You little—”

”Let's see,”—he opens up the envelope and starts to smooth out the bottommost letter—”Maybe reading some of these letters will help jog your memory.” He makes a grand gesture of pretending to clear his throat before reading, and you can’t help but to cover your face with your hands to try and protect yourself from the upcoming embarrassing retelling.

“Again! Again, you received a higher score on an assigned research essay. It’s only been 2 months and 11 days since you’ve been enrolled into the Vahumana Darshan, so how is it that you’re the apparent “All-Knowing” about Time-Sensitive Commodities? Who do you think you are? The new Sumeru archon of wisdom? Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be disrespecting our Lesser Lord Kusanali by comparing you to her—” he pauses and his eyes hurriedly shift to gauge your reaction. If anything, he should be thankful. If you hadn’t been so focused on not looking at him, you would have seen the crease in his brows mid-reading.

Hat Guy recomposes himself before continuing to read. “For Archon's sake. What’s more frustrating is your subtle boasting towards me. How could such a shitty personality even emit from a pretty face like yours? Though, I’ll begrudgingly admit that I actually look forward to these interactions that I have with you.”

“ST—!”

A coy smirk fills his face. “Oh? Why so embarrassed? Do you know these letters after all?”

“N-no…I was just clearing my throat.” At this point, you curse your pride for not being able to halt this interaction.

“Stubborn as always.”

This time he picks out a letter from the top of the stack..

“It's completely and utterly unfair how your resting face looks so serene. Why must you always be in the library at the same time as I? Your stupidly, bewitching face only serves as a major distraction, like how could I not stare! It's like your face was personally carved by a god. Also, how the hell do you make a simple fountain pen look so good? The way that your slender fingers grip the—”

“OK, that’s enough! Stop with the reciting! I admit it!” You feel your face heat up from embarrassment and your pyro vision only makes everything feel hotter. You raise your hands in frustration. “It was a whole mixup! Those letters weren’t even meant to be sent to you.” You dial back your volume towards the end.

He pointedly sighs. “Well that much I figured out. There’s no chance in Teyvat where you of all people would willingly subject themself to this. So, what are you going to do about it now?” he asks while crossing his arms.

It hurts to admit, but you felt stupid at this very second. “What do you mean?”

He tskd. “Do I need to explain every little thing to you? You’re ranked right below me, so I know that you’re not stupid. Are you going to own up to your letters and finally confess? Or are you going to just cowardly dismiss this like you’ve been doing?”

“CONFESS?” You almost give yourself whiplash from how fast you check to see if anyone’s heard you. You repeat yourself in a whispering tone. “Confess?”

“You talk about ‘looking forwards’ to our interactions, staring at my ‘bewitching face’ and ‘slender fingers’ and you think it’s absurd that I bring up confessing? Or would it be easier for you if I confess first?”

Without thinking you blurt out, “There’s no way that you actually like me back.”

“Do you ever see me bothering to interact with anyone as much as I do with you? I even surprised myself when I started to catch feelings for your stubborn self.”

You try to shake off the nerves before staring into his eyes. “Hat Guy, I like—”

“Wanderer.”

"What?"

"Call me Wanderer instead; it rolls off the tongue easier than Hat Guy. It’s a nickname that the traveler gave me. Hat Guy is a silly name that happened to stick around the Akademiya.”

“Lots of names you have there, huh?” you tease.

He lets out a sound that’s the mix between a chuckle and a scoff. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, Wanderer. I like you. So…will you go out with me?”

“Obviously.” (Your eye roll at his matter-of-fact tone is instinctual) “I wouldn’t waste my time with anybody else. Anyways, let’s get out of here. You were on your way home before I caught you, weren't you?”

Your lips start to raise into a smile. “You’re going to walk me home?”

“Noo, I’m saying this so I can just go off on my own—”

“Oh, shut it. Let’s get out of here.”

As the both of you guys stroll out of the Akademiya, your hand closest to Wanderer suddenly can’t stop twitching every so often. Your head fills with thought pertaining to your new found relationship.

‘Is it too early to be holding hands?…Maybe hand holding is too PDA for him on open streets—’

A cold hand suddenly embracing yours breaks you out of your stupor. You turn to Wanderer, clearly surprised by the action. Starting to feel embarrassed, you try to pry your hand out of his clutch, only for him to tighten his grip. “W-What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” He pivots his head to the opposite side, hoping that you won’t catch his ears turning slightly pink. “Your thoughts are so loud that even Mondstadt can hear them,” he scoffs. “Just lead the way.”

You start to walk with a slight pep in your step. “As you say!”

bonus scene?:

“Hey, can I give you a nickname too? Or is it too soon..”

He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“XxAssMaster69xX”

He lets out the biggest sigh. “Not you too.”

“Jokes, jokes—” you pause. “Wait, me too?”

He continues to walk forwards without you.

“Me too?! Hello???”

#ttalgi writes #genshin #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader

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love-toxin · 1 day ago

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I know, I know, I knoooowwww its been months since you wrote for yandere/babytrapper Charles Xavier but I can't get him off my mind. Pleaseeeeeee, Miss Ellie, tell me what he would be like after he's successfully babytrapped you/how he would act as a father

meoooww I've been looking for a reason to write about charles again hehe <33

I can imagine he'd be tough to shake off, even after you're free of the pregnancy. Charles is smart enough to know you need to be taken care of in a multitude of ways to ensure the baby's health, but he's almost too smart because he regulates everything from the food you eat to the times you go to sleep. He's neurotic; he doesn't want his efforts to go to waste, he doesn't want you to get hurt, and he especially doesn't want his little one succumbing to anything terrible before he has a chance to meet them.

As a result of his powers, which he may allow to flourish more often once you're pregnant, he also dives into research about when babies develop their brains and when conscious thought may come into play, because he wants to see if he can hear his child's voice before they even come out of the womb. Those thoughts of fear or even anger towards him for pressuring you into it don't go unnoticed, however--he has to address those, but his way of doing it isn't exactly...healthy. He mostly spends the pregnancy slowly gaslighting you into believing you wanted it all along. Charles will plant seeds of doubt in your head wherever he can, even to the point of claiming that he couldn't stop hearing you think about having babies with him, and that he took that drastic step because he just thought you were too shy to say it out loud. That you couldn't bear to ask him because you just didn't know how much he wanted it as well. If he has to create thoughts that you think are yours to help convince you, he'll even go that far.

Whether you fall for it or not, the baby's coming either way. When she arrives, a head full of your hair and Charles' baby blues staring up at you, it's hard not to fall in love with your sweet little daughter. Charlie is absolutely mesmerized when he holds her for the first time, his trembling almost too much for him to keep her steady in his arms at first. It's obvious with one look that she's going to be daddy's little princess, and that he's going to spoil her like no little girl has ever been spoiled before.

If he hasn't wrestled you into a marriage by then, the baby is a great way for him to squeeze himself into your life for good. "Our girl needs both her parents, we have to try for her" he feeds you whatever he can think of to get you to say yes, and when you do, the only thing he relents on is whether to have a big wedding or a small one. If it were wholly up to him, he'd throw a massive party and invite everyone he knows to bear witness to your union, but if you want something small or to just sign the papers he'll take what he can get. At the very least, he'll get a nice cake.

But afterwards? When you fall into the routine of parenthood and navigate the turmoil of caring for a newborn baby? Charlie may get less pushy, but he's just as sickeningly intimate as he's always been. He feeds your daughter and changes her without complaint, and takes care of any chores or parts of the routine that you need done without being asked. It's tough not to feel something for him if you haven't before when he looks after the two of you so lovingly, and acts every part of the doting father and caring husband flawlessly. No amount of sleepless nights, colic, or failed soothing could dissuade him from still treating you as gently as a butterfly. No amount of frustration or sleep deprivation could make him take out his anger on you, not when you're the mother of his beautiful child.

That's not taking into account his jealousy, however, because that still runs rampant. Hank is close enough that he trusts him, but seeing Logan or Erik or anyone else around will slowly turn him mad. No, they can't pick up the baby, and no, you don't need any help or offers to babysit--that's what you have a husband for. There's always a threat looming of Charles trying to impregnate you again after a run-in with any male colleagues or friends, he just gets so possessive and moody and it's disgusting how good he is when he's in that state. Add to the fact that you probably have some reservations around intimacy now that your body has gone through so many changes, and it'll be a shock if after those six weeks passes he hasn't accidentally knocked you up again within the year. In fact, he might just try to; after all, keeping you busy with a couple of kids isn't a bad strategy to keep the men away from you, and he's got plenty of rooms to fill in the mansion for every member of his growing family. He's shown you he can be a good father to your child--give him the chance, and he'll prove he can be the perfect family man with the right motivation.

#charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #x men #x men days of future past #yandere x men #ellie writes

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toniwritesshifts · 2 days ago

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The Night We Met Pt.1

First FanFic if there's anything that should fix or work on please tell me I need the criticism

Damian Wayne x Fem reader

This is based off of my DCU DR... if you don't believe in shifting keep it to yourself cause I could careless I wrote this for fun. Reader is based off of me cause I love me. Reader, Damian and most of the people they interact with are in the 10th grade unless said other wise.

CW: slow burn like REALLY slow, swearing, reader has ADHD because I have ADHD, Split POV?

"Today is going to be a great day."

You stare at your reflection in your dorm bathroom mirror, leaning onto the sink to inspect your face. No glaringly red pimples—well, except for that one. Without hesitation, you pop it.

"I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it," you complain to yourself, grabbing a pimple patch and slapping it on.

With an approving nod to yourself, you back away, rush out of the bathroom, and immediately trip over a pile of clothes. You barely catch yourself before face-planting.

"Shit ok, note to self put these away before they actually kill me."

You shake it off, grab your backpack and cheer bag, and speed out of your dorm, locking the door behind you. As you make your way to the school building, you slip one AirPod into your ear and adjust your bags.

"Good morning!" you chirp, greeting every person you pass.

"You're late," a voice says the moment you reach the school stairs.

You scoff. "Nope, I’m right on time, actually."

Alex, one of your best friends since you transferred in the middle of ninth grade, rolls her eyes. The rest of your crew—Mia, Terra (yes, that Terra, the one who’s supposed to be dead), and Brinley—are already there, chatting about their schedules. After a few minutes of catching up, you all head inside to drop off your stuff before class starts. The last thing you need is to be late—especially since detention means suspension from the cheer squad.

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

Damian Wayne hated school.

It was inefficient, mind-numbingly dull, and filled with people he had zero interest in interacting with... well that's what he told his father. But here he was black backpack strapped tightly on, security lock in place (only he and Alfred knew the combination), wearing the standard Gotham Public uniform in blue, white, and black. In his hands, a single sheet of paper listed his dorm and locker number, along with his class schedule on the back.

After several frustrating minutes, he finally located his locker. Right next to the bathroom.

"This is disgustingly unacceptable."

He scowled, reluctantly opening it and arranging his belongings inside. He grabbed his massive binder capable of holding twelve six-subject notebooks along with his sketchbook and pencil case.

BANG!

A locker slammed shut next to him, the noise so sudden and aggressive that Damian whipped around, fully prepared to fight.

Instead, he found himself face-to-face with you.

"Are you new here?" you asked casually, balancing an absurd number of things—an oversized laptop that clearly wasn’t for schoolwork, a bag stuffed with library books, and a tiny, overstuffed backpack that was one bad tug away from falling apart.

But the thing that really made him frown?

That obnoxiously colorful pencil case sitting on top of your stack.

He scowled on instinct. You were chaotic. Loud. Distracting. He already disliked you.

"We have the same classes!" You say looking at his schedule over his shoulder "Cool. I'll show you around come on," already walking off without waiting for a response.

Damian blinked. Is she just assuming I'm going to follow her?

A part of him wanted to ignore you. Another part, the one that always sought information and efficiency, decided it was the most logical course of action. With an irritated sigh, he shut his locker and followed.

You lead him through the hallways, weaving through students while Damian silently trails behind.

“This is the cafeteria. The food is actually pretty good for a public school, but oh my goodness, whatever you do DO NOT try the mystery meat unless you wanna meet God early.”

Damian barely listens. He’s too distracted by the fact that ‘mystery meat’ even exists in a place meant for education and the absurd number of people who stop to talk to you.

Everywhere you go, someone waves says hi, or stops to chat. People throw out gossip, random compliments, and even inside jokes.

You know everyone.

It’s exhausting just watching you socialize.

Damian, used to go unnoticed unless he wanted to be seen, and he found it deeply irritating. He didn't like unnecessary attention. He didn't like small talk. And he definitely didn't like how effortlessly you commanded every room you walked into.

As you continue to weave through the crowded room, students keep stopping you some to say hi, some to ask questions, and a few just to gossip for the hell of it. Damian watches, mildly horrified, as you effortlessly jump from conversation to conversation.

"Anywho," you continue, not missing a beat, "the library is on the third floor, but I swear its haunted, so if you hear whispering, just keep it moving."

Damian raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

You stop and turn to look at him with the most offended look you could possibly muster. "Says the guy who has classes with me, meaning he takes Advanced Mythology AND Paranormal Studies. Boom."

He opens his mouth to argue but then immediately shuts it.

"Touche," he says after clicking his tongue in annoyance.

You grin before turning on your heels to continue the rapid tour. Makeing sure that the tour ends right outside of your first-hour class.

By the time the first bell rings, Damian has already learned several things: You are absurdly social, you have way too much energy for one person, you talk with your hands, aggressively. (He nearly got smacked twice already, you are completely, utterly, and unapologetically YOU.

And for reasons he can’t quite explain yet,

But, it doesn't annoy him as much as he thought it would.

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

it took me 2 days to write this mainly because I was crocheting and working on my script buuuuut I'll try to make the next parts in about the same time span unless I get grounded 😶

#Spotify #damian wayne x reader #fanfic #damian al ghul #damian wayne #batman #reality shifting #shifting #first fic #dc shifting #dc fanfic #batfam x reader

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rebel-wrath · 3 days ago

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Voice, POV, and tense

I saw a definition of narrative voice that stated voice is the description and character thoughts and actions. Basically, everything not dialogue, which is Character Voice.

I disagree. Those things are narration. Narative Voice is the decisions writers make that influence narration. For a lot of writers, those decisions are only tense and point-of-view.

POV

OMNISCIENT

Newbie writers are often warned not to use the omniscient viewpoint. Reasons are often not given. The reasons are simple.

It is hard to use right

It's often used wrong

Because of the sheer volume of new writers getting it wrong, a lot of places give this advice. I think giving advice on how to do it right would be much more beneficial, so that's what I'm going to do.

What is the omniscient viewpoint?

It is a 3rd person viewpoint. It is different from the 3rd person limited POV that is currently the most common in fiction because the limited viewpoint is restricted to one character per scene. A lot of people think the omniscient viewpoint is invested in several characters, but this is a common misconception.

This viewpoint is, instead, in the head of a God-like being. This being floats over the scene. It can enter the heads of any character in the scene. It has vast benefits over all the other viewpoints, but it has weaknesses, too.

The key to the successful use of this God-view is knowing it's strengths and weaknesses.

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it fall, does it make a sound?

Who knows?

If you want to write about a tree falling when no one is around, or if you want to write about the formation of a wormhole leading to another universe, or the inner workings of a vast steampunk machine, or indeed anywhere that there is no character (and thus, no possible POV to be your camera) you can use omniscient.

This is one of the strengths of the omniscient viewpoint; use it when there is no one else around.

Limited Omniscient

This one is less a god-like being, and more a camera. It doesn't go in anyone's head, it just records what it sees.

It is commonly used in the Mystery Prologue. If you've read a mystery, you'll know what I'm talking about. The murder scene that the detective later has to solve. You have the killer, and the victim. You can't tell the scene from the victim's point-of-view, unless you're happy with him becoming a ghost halfway through. You can't tell the story from the murderer's point-of-view, either. You need him to remain anonymous (otherwise it isn't much of a mystery).

Limited omniscient viewpoint is the common answer. Of course, not all mysteries have a prologue. Dresden Files spring to mind as one (series) that doesn't.

Old Style

When writing about steampunk, some writers like to write in a Victorian manner. Personally, I don't (my readers aren't Victorians, after all) but if you do, remember that they primarily wrote in omniscient. See Jane Austen for examples of the Old Style.

Little Did he Know...

...he'd be dead by morning. This is a type of writing where the narrator reveals things the character can't possibly know. This is done to great effect in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, where he reveals things that are to come. When they actually come to pass, however, they are revealed to be totally different than expected.

Pratchetterian

Okay, so I don't know what else to call this. Terry Pratchett has his own omniscient style where jokes are a large (and awesome) part of the narration. I don't advise you to try and copy it, but if you can, go for it. There are any number of horror writers, epic fantasy writers, etc. There's only one Terry Pratchett, though if you loved his work, check out my Noun of Noun and Adjective.

So, how do we use omniscient?

There are tricks to using omniscient properly.

Don't go into someone's head unless you have to. Action scenes and descriptive passages are better told from the God POV.

When you do go into someone's head, don't go in too deep. A light brushing of surface thoughts should suffice. If you go in deep, it is harder to come back out.

If you reveal the future (a la Lemony Snicket) be aware that constantly revealing what is coming will leach away tension.

If you change characters too quickly, it is head-hopping. Head-hopping is baaad! However, you can slowly change characters as long as you don't go deep, and you signpost the change.

Omniscient tells more than it shows, and telling is baaad, too. Except for all the times it's not.

It is the most impersonal viewpoint, and can make it harder for the readers to care about the characters.

3RD PERSON

Third person point-of-view focuses on one person, though it can change character with scene or chapter breaks. It refers to the character by name or 3rd person pronoun. Benefits of a 3rd person narrator include

can switch between characters

can reveal information to readers before it is revealed to protagonist

it's easier to write than omniscient, harder to get wrong, and easier to spot errors

more empathic than omniscient

But it is limited in that you are stuck with a single viewpoint.

1ST PERSON

First person point-of-view feels like it is becoming the most common in YA. The narration is by the character that is focused on. First person pronouns are used. Benefits of a 1st person narrator include

gets deep inside characters head

allows personality to permeate every aspect of story

much more empathetic

MIXED STYLES

Some writers mix it up, maybe with an omniscient prologue and then a story in 3rd or 1st, or mix it with some chapters in 3rd and some in 1st. If doing this, keep it consistent within scenes or chapters and only switch when there are breaks in the story.

2ND PERSON

Uses second person pronouns, so the reader is the character. Rare, difficult to pull off, and usually considered avant-garde or experimental.

TENSE

PAST

The most common tense used in stories, it relates the events as if they have already happened.

PRESENT

Also common, it relates events as if they are happening now. Personally, I hate reading first person, so I'm not doing pro's and con's or explaining that the obviously much better past tense is best, because I'm biased.

FUTURE

Rare and experimental, it relates events that haven't happened yet as if they will.

#writeblr #writing #writing advice #writing tips #writer help #pov #omniscient pov #third person #1st person pov #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writer #rebel wrath tips

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harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 8 hours ago

Note

Okay so somehow I've got like three WIPs going of various people getting these two slabs of dork back together. So this is turning into a shared effort by Josh Russo and Orville Peck (Orville does not appear in this, his music does). But here's a bit that I wrote when I was on my lunch:

When he's done getting dressed, he goes downstairs and sees that Josh is eating a spoonful of raw cookie dough and tapping at his phone.

“I don't want to hear it, I know the risks,” Josh says before Buck can speak. He looks up at Buck and makes a face. “God, you look like every guy I used to hook up with in college who would pretend I didn't exist after.”

Buck smooths his hands over the shirt and shrugs. “I'd have talked to you after.”

“That an offer?”

“No,” Buck says with an apologetic shrug. “I don't think I really want to hook up with anyone right now.”

Josh tosses the spoon in the sink. “Yeah, but you can't chain yourself to an oven for the rest of your life. So let's go. I give you full permission to ditch me for a hookup, which is big of me.”

“Thanks?” Buck toys with the mask before putting it on. “How do I look?”

“Devastatingly handsome,” Josh says with a sigh. “Come on, you fucking disaster.”

There's an Uber downstairs already waiting for them, and Buck texts Maddie to find out if she put Josh up to this.

Maddie

Uhhh NO because otherwise I would be there, too.

Have fun ♥️

“So this is just because of the scones?” he asks, and Josh turns his head slowly to stare at him.

“No, Buck, this is not ‘just because of the scones,’” he says, an eerie calm to his voice. “It's also because of the cookies, cakes, pies, tarts, biscuits, pastas, loaves, bread, and pastries that have appeared in the break room at my job almost every single day for weeks. I have gained four pounds, it would've been more, but I've had to start going to the gym a lot. So I am going to get you laid or at least get you to stop using flour as a coping mechanism. Why couldn't you just start doing K or doomscroll TikTok like everyone else?”

Buck ignores the steadily rising eyebrows of the Uber driver in the rearview mirror. “I—I just miss talking to him. But he doesn't want me to, or he'd be here.”

“Not how that works, but we'll get there,” Josh says, patting his knee. “I need alcohol first. And a bear to squeeze after.”

“You're into bears?”

Josh shrugs. “I'm into everything. Aren't you?”

Buck considers it for a moment. “I haven't really thought about it.”

“Jesus chr—at least tell me you've been watching porn,” Josh whines, and Buck shrugs. “For fuck’s sake. I will tip you double if you get us to this club in the next five minutes.”

I just saw your tag on the Orville Peck post and when I tell you I've had this in mind for like three weeks:

Buck goes out to a club during some kind of Heroes & Villains night or something, wears a domino mask, and people keep double-taking when they see him. He asks "What the hell is going on?" and Josh says "Oh, they think you're Orville Peck. I heard that otter debating with his friend earlier." And Buck asks "Who's Orville Peck?" and Josh's jaw drops and he saves Orville on Buck's Apple Music/Spotify so he can listen later. Buck goes home, starts listening while he gets ready for bed, ends up laying on his bed in a puddle of tears staring at his ceiling while Let Me Drown plays from his phone by his head, and he feels like his heart's cracked open and he rolls over and finally texts Tommy, even though it's almost 2 AM and they broke up three months ago.

And Tommy calls him, because it's 1:57 AM on a Saturday and his ex just texted him "I think you're my last" and he thinks the worst, and instead it's a tipsy, sad Buck that answers with "Who else is it supposed to be?" and Tommy says "Someone deserving" and Buck asks "Don't I get to decide that?" and Tommy gets quiet and asks if he's at home and Buck says yes, and Tommy shows up at his door twenty-three minutes later and when Buck answers the door, Tommy hears Rhinestone Cowboy playing for some reason and sees Buck's face and realizes he's made a huge mistake and broken his soulmate's heart.

Will I ever write this? I don't know, man, but I had to get this out somewhere.

and once again i think (out loud this time), orville peck makes everything better!!

i love all of this, the music choices, rhinestone cowboy is a fucking banger and i really do need this so pls, my friend, for me??? *pout to rival buck's (impossible but i'll try)*

#bucktommy #josh russo #my wip

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danieyells · 8 months ago

Text

"Lulu~!" Taiga called out cheerily as the doors to the VIP room were pulled closed behind him. Romeo glared up over the corner of one of his security laptops at the sudden intrusion, but he couldn't truly be angry at his underlings for letting Taiga in without question. No matter their factions, Taiga was Captain at the end of the day and they all listened to him. Except Romeo, of course.

"What is it now." He returned his eyes to the Eyes In The Sky on his screen, carefully monitoring the cameras for any foul play. Despite that he was paying close attention to everything happening, somehow what Taiga said next was a surprise.

"Ran out of cash again!" The boss laughed, throwing himself carelessly onto the couch nearest Romeo, as he snapped his head towards him with fury in his eyes. Taiga only grinned in response. "Gimme some more money and I'll pay you back, eeeh, before tomorrow morning!"

"Are you serious, you BTH!?" How Taiga's luck worked never really crossed Romeo's mind--he assumed it was part of his stigma or his pact--but he knew he was being honest about getting the money back to him eventually as Taiga always wound up with more than enough. It didn't make his frivolity regarding wealth any less annoying however. "How did you lose all of it!?"

"Gyahaha! If you keep yelling like that, your pretty voice's gonna get all raspy, Lulu!" As if paranoid, Romeo reached for the drink on the table. "You've been watching the cameras, you shouldn't have to ask me how I lost. That's just how gambling is. You win some you lose some."

"Why should I give you more money if you're just going to lose it all!?"

"Because you know I'll make it all back." He wasn't wrong. He always paid back what he owed, usually with interest Romeo hadn't even asked for. Taiga put his arms behind his head and made himself comfortable, watching Romeo try and bring some semblance of calm to himself before he started getting wrinkles. "You know I don't lose in the long run."

"And what happens when you don't." Romeo sounded tired. He returned his attention to the cameras, not wanting to be distracted. "What happens when someday you lose it all and I'm not there to give you more?"

Taiga rolled over, resting his cheek on his hand. His eyes never left Romeo's face. "All you've gotta do to make money in this world is get your hands a little dirty."

His sharp grin widened as Romeo cringed. "I'd prefer not to have to get dirty at all."

Taiga reached a hand out towards Romeo's scrunched brow, to which Romeo leaned far out of his reach, judging his filthy hand. "That's what you've got me for, Lulu." He took his hand back and smiled at him. It was almost gentle, as sweet a smile as someone as vicious as Taiga could manage.

"I'm here so your pretty hands can stay pretty and clean." Taiga crossed his arms under his chin, resting them on the armrest. "I made you a casino so people would hand you everything they've got for a chance at fortune, and so you could see people who judged you feel just as bad as you did when you lost everything. You've got me so you'll never lose everything again, not for long."

". . .and why do you do all of that?" Why do all of that for someone he fights and terrorizes and hurts and hasn't gotten along with for months, if not a year? Why do all of this, saying it's for him, then give him more problems? Taiga's sweet smile turned toothy again. It was still a little sweet even with the row of fangs in his mouth.

"I do all this so someday I come home--to my own place, not to this place--" Taiga scooched closer to Romeo, draping his arms over the arm of the couch to loll comfortably. Romeo glanced at him to make sure he wouldn't try and touch him again before returning his gaze to the EITS. "I come home, a mess of blood and shreds of someone else's life. And you look up and tell me to stop tracking blood on your floor."

Romeo blinked and looked back at his grinning captain. ". . .why am I there?"

"And I drop a stack of cash in front of you and you stop being mad for long enough to say 'good job, BTH. Your dinner's in the kitchen BTW.'"

"This little story of yours sounds one trip to Mortkranken away from me being KU."

". . .'Knocked up?'" Taiga cackled after giving the acronym a thought. "Gyahaha! I mean if that's all it takes to get you to sleep with me, we could go to Mortkranken right now and take the rest of the week off!"

"It's Sunday."

"It'll be a long week." Taiga rolled over again, and Romeo snapped at him for putting his shoes on the couch. He was ignored, as always. "You wouldn't be the one cooking, by the way. You pay people to cook and clean. With the money I give you."

"And the Institute?"

"Eh. Jin calls me if he needs something or someone dead. Sometimes I still help out because anomalies taste better than just about anything else I can eat."

"And what's the timeline for this little prediction of yours? If that WNP is in charge it must be a ways off."

"Not sure yet. Just making my plans for the future." The ideal future. One he won't want to abandon. It won't be this one, he's pretty sure. But it's nice to think about.

"And what exactly am I doing in this future?"

"Whatever you want, Lulu!"

"And you think I want to spend the rest of my life with you!?"

"I think you'll want the sure thing. And you and I both know I can be the sure thing. And I don't think anyone else will be able to afford," Taiga rubs his fingers together to emphasize the monetary meaning, "to give you the life you want without asking for anything in return."

Romeo watched Taiga silently, trying to banish a blush from his face. Taiga watched the EITS, occasionally criticizing the choices of customers, the behavior of dealers, and the casino overall, insisting Romeo make changes he knew he wasn't listening to.

The distant thought of returning to a carefree and wealthy life like in his youth, the only payment he had to make being that he would see Taiga every day, didn't sound bad at all. The only bad part(aside from that he would ultimately be relying on Taiga of course) was that it sounded like Taiga imagined him staying home all day.

He didn't particularly want to work hard--he would happily lean into the brand influencer lifestyle, or perhaps become a socialite and do nothing but attend parties and events(the thought of attending an Institute event and matching fake smiles with Jin for photos crossed his mind making his eye twitch--perhaps not that)--but he couldn't imagine himself not getting restless after a while.

Perhaps he would find a creative outlet--get into fashion design maybe--or. . . .

He imagined himself doing what he does now. An unassuming front business hiding illegal activities. Perhaps he wouldn't have to handle the more sensitive things himself, in such an ideal world--Taiga would give him trustworthy people who would dirty their hands at his command--but the ones with debts would grovel at his feet and be at his mercy nonetheless.

The thought of losing everything again crashed the rising high of this shared daydream.

". . .There are no sure things." He finally sighed, trying to get a grip on what he'd missed on the cameras while zoned out. "Least of all with money. And gambling."

"Yeah, yeah." Taiga agreed, of course. Anyone in their line of work would have to know how fragile wealth and power were. "But do you really think I won't be able to make back what I'm asking for? C'mon, help your boss out~!"

"You already lost everything I gave you!" Taiga laughed and admitted that was true. Nonetheless, Romeo pulled his wallet out of his pocket and fetched a decent amount of yen to offer to him. "Your interest is double the total. Per day!"

"I'll give you triple by tomorrow afternoon!" Taiga cheered, hopping up and snatching Romeo's whole wallet and heading out the doors before he could do more than aim his rifle at him in protest. "Thanks, Lulu~!"

"YOU BTH, GET BACK HERE--!" Romeo yelled after him, slamming a fist into the table and starting to rise. He grit his teeth, hearing Taiga laugh through the slammed VIP room doors, but didn't want to abandon the cameras in case there was more trouble than Taiga out there. Tucking the intended loan away in his pocket, he watched Taiga exchange a large amount of his money for chips and make his way to a table and put a stack down and play. He cursed his name and resumed security, occasionally glancing at wherever he caught Taiga's red head, counting the chips as they increased with every win.

By the time it was time for him to take a break(watching screens all day would do terrible things to his eyes, for one thing) and a certain 'BB' had arrived to keep an eye on the cameras for him, Taiga had made enough to pay him back. His luck was the only somewhat reliable part of him.

He kept playing anyway, perhaps set on that triple repayment. Taiga didn't think of money as strictly as Romeo did--he made it, he threw it away, if he lost it the biggest problem was hearing Romeo complain, not having no money. Romeo envied that lackadaisical mindset. Once upon a time he felt similarly--money was something to be spent, and he would always have it.

Taiga had no problem getting money one way or another, even if Romeo wasn't fond of his methods.

If not for Darkwick he'd likely never have to borrow a cent from Romeo.

Taiga's little fantasy crossed his mind again, the idea that he was the closest to a 'sure thing' Romeo could safely get. Of a life as cushy and privileged as he could want, his only payment that he would have to deal with Taiga for the rest of Taiga's life(because he most certainly would outlive that buffoon.) Essentially the sugar baby of a yakuza.

Well, sugars didn't usually live with and care for the houses of their benefactors.

He'd jokingly called the imaginary future version of himself a housewife, but that was the closest thing he could imagine between them in such a scenario.

That Taiga would be his Blundering Thoughtless Husband.

He slammed his hand in frustration against the bar, cursing Taiga's name and finishing his drink before demanding the laughing Rui make him another.

"It really is good to hear about you guys spending time together again, though!" Rui chimed, sliding Romeo his spritz. He hadn't told him the whole story though, just that Taiga had taken his wallet but he had enough to pay. "It's like all's right in the world when you two are together, y'know? You were together when we all got here, so it doesn't feel right having you apart!"

Somehow that only made him feel more embarrassed. Him being with Taiga being right.

It had always felt right.

Taiga had also proved right about his gambling, passing Romeo his wallet and several stacks of ¥10,000 notes when the vice captain returned to Sinostra a little tipsy, before making his way to the depths of the ship where his own room was, complaining to one of his guards about being hungry again.

Romeo counted it once he'd returned to his own room. Exactly what had been in his wallet times three.

A shower and a lengthy bedtime beauty routine later, and Romeo lied in bed, drifting off after a long day.

He hated it when Taiga was right.

But he hoped Taiga might be somewhat right about a better future.

#taiga hoshibami #romeo lucci #romeo scorpius lucci #taiga/romeo #danie yells writing #danie yells at tokyo debunker #i had a stupid little thought at work #it seems like taiga does a lot for romeo if you read it a certain way #got the permit to own a casino and gave him control over it. offers to kill people for him to make him money.#it's not the first time i had that thought but i ended up imagining taiga telling romeo he does all of this stuff for him #it's not a very coherent fic lmao #but hey enjoy it anyway maybe!#or don't! i wrote it because it needed to be out of my head #i have so many other things i need to write and respond to hahahaha

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