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a-ikuoliver · 9 months ago

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you're finally being introduced to your girlfriend's friends, invited to a last minute party, any confidence melting from you when you see another girl clinging to her arm. ────no quirks

pairing: gender bend/masc lesbian bakugou x f!reader w/c: 6.7k (i need to be put down) warning/s: fauxcest (bakugou referred to as your step sister/sister), dubcon, bakugou is TOXIC, feminine/girly reader (she/her pronouns; wearing makeup; nails + a dress; long hair/out/on her face), reader referred to as a puppy (degradingly not petplay lmao), pet names (pretty + baby), emotional manipulation, cheating (on reader, implied to be with ochako but not overtly), alcohol + weed mention, reader a lillll bit of a crybaby, public/car sex, oral (r! receiving) notes: i have so many feelings about masc lesbian bkg *head in hands* um this is the most self indulgent thing i've ever written so this is my entry to @mechamedusa's self indulgence collab bc i really didn't need to make bakugou a lesbian on a power trip who treats you like a pet but who's going to stop me? NO ONE inspirations/acknowledgements: frat party playlist ; like a girl does ; soaked ; one of your girls + 10sim's art & @0301995 for always enabling me lmao

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

fidgeting with your phone, you check the address once again, about the fourth time since you'd left home, the thumping bass worming its way through the walls to the courtyard enough to confirm it was the same party your girlfriend texted you to meet her at, reassured again seeing a group of boys crowding around something, loud whooping and cheering echoing when the tall redhead at the centre of the huddle landed the small ping pong ball in the final cup across the tabletop, the victor soaking in the cheers of his friends like he was an athlete in front of a stadium filled with screaming fans. with sweaty palms, you slid your phone away, your text to katsuki still reading delivered beneath it.

your fingers don't stay still for long, falling to the hem of your new dress, the one katsuki told you to wear when she'd sent you an invite. the hem sat at your mid-thigh, a little shorter than you usually went for, the long sleeves doing little to warm you from the cool night air, the lack of coverage everywhere else making you shiver while you made your way up to the front door.

checking your phone again, seeking the familiar sound of katsuki's text tone to soothe your nerves, your eyebrows pinched together in a small frown; the screen was still free of notifications, no reply from katsuki since she'd sent you the address hours earlier. with a soft sigh, you tucked it back away, pushing the door open. the music amplified tenfold when you stepped over the threshold, the beat making the ground beneath your feet vibrate and the walls shake, the vocals hardly legible over the sounds of speakers buzzing. tentatively, you closed the door behind you, taking a step toward the heart of the music, searching each room you walked past for the familiar blonde hair, finally spotting the spikes in the den towards the back of the large share house. your heart skips a beat in your chest at the sight of her seated on an outdated, soft dark green couch tucked in the far corner, her cropped shirt riding up on her abdomen when she leaned back, the white band of her bra poking out of the bottom, her legs lazily falling open, knocking knees with the black-haired boy beside her, her other knee nearly taking out the blond seated in front of her, his legs crossed on the floor, cradling a colourful glass bong between his thighs, the boy poking her thigh with a bright yellow lighter, not interrupting his conversation with a brunette girl just to tell your girlfriend to fuck off. an excited smile split across your face seeing her, wasting no more time, you excused yourself through the crowd separating you and your girlfriend, her eyes glinting predatorily in the low light of the lamp when they met yours.

katsuki looks you up and down, a pleased smile on her lips seeing your dress, dark eyes flick back up to your face, drinking you in. she thinks you look like a nervous puppy like this, obedient, bright, excitable but apprehensive, waiting for the order to speak, girl.

you raised your arm higher to wave to her, your anxiety melting away every second longer she looked at you, more teeth on display the closer you got to her. your movements caught the attention of the two boys with her, lazy, half-lidded eyes looking you up and down as you squeezed past the final person keeping you from your lover, the blond boy the first to speak, tilting his chin up without looking away from you, "this your newest fling, baku?"

your smile falters, your heart beating unevenly against your ribcage at the analytical look coming from the black-haired boy, hadn't she told them? she invited you to introduce yourself, didn't she? katsuki's expression hadn't changed from her minute smirk, no sign of the confusion you're sure is written all over your face, the only change being a lasting glance toward the girls the blond boy passed his bong to. brown and yellow eyes alike roam your features, everything about you is exactly katsuki's type, especially the cute, naive smile on your sparkly, glossy lips.

"huh? her?" she has a bored look on her face, vermillion eyes lazily falling from your face to inspect her chipped black nails while her friends dissected you, heavy gazes watching you fidget with the sleeve of your dress. her tone didn't leave much room for you to laugh it off, to introduce yourself properly, to smack her shoulder and whine that her joke wasn't funny.

your mouth goes dry hearing her suck her teeth, her head rolling on her shoulders like this interaction was exhausting her, languidly raising her hand to gesture to the dark-haired boy, then dropping to the blond, "sero, kaminari, meet my stepsister."

your blood rushes in your ears, drowning out her introduction, surely you misheard her?

"the old woman said i had to make her feel 'part of the family'." slender fingers make quotes in the air, her dark eyes flashing with something you couldn't place, almost amusement when they meet yours again. the blond, introduced as kaminari, climbs up off the ground, untangling his lanky limbs, arms stretching high above his head, chin at his shoulder while he cracks his neck, "so we gotta play nice?" he joked.

as if looking for guidance, or permission, you glance at katsuki, her chest rising and falling steadily, her heartbeat even under her skin a stark opposite to your deranged pulse. pulled from your thoughts by a shoulder bumping against your own playfully, kaminari held your trembling hand in his, "then we better get you a welcome drink!"

with his hold on your hand, you were whisked away before you could get another word in, stumbling through the path cleared by kaminari, dragging you hot on his heels toward the kitchen. steadying yourself, you spare a look back over your shoulder to stare back at your girlfriend, confusion and embarrassment painting your expression. a wave of anxiety washes over you, uncertainty twisting in your stomach, what did she want you to do? she didn't tell her friends she was kidding, and you were unwilling to disagree with her alone with kaminari, what if her friends just laugh off your claim?

maybe they were all high and they'd forget about it all by the next time you saw them. it was a bad joke, yes, but you'd get to try again another time.

your attention snaps back to the boys ahead of you, sero bringing you back down to earth with an arm plopped over your shoulders, boyish charm oozing from him, "what do you drink, gorgeous? you don't look like a cheap beer kinda girl."

your tense shoulders relaxed ever-so-slightly at his playful teasing, manicured fingers still fussing with your sleeves while you scanned the countertop littered with liquor and premix cans, spotting a bottle of confidence-boosting clear liquid, "vodka with raspberry soda? that's what i normally have."

your voice isn't as timid as you expected when you speak, your tone even, curious, albeit soft compared to the boisterous pair. your face warms when sero salutes you, a smile creeping its way back to your lips; he grabs a cup from the top of the stack in the centre of the counter, quickly mixes your requested drink, offering it to you after swirling it under his nose, muttering about its "bouquet".

his playfulness makes you giggle, finding easy comfort with him and kaminari.

"so you're bakugou's sister?" you choke on the chilled drink, body alight with embarrassment again, you'd nearly forgotten what katsuki had said, your gaze drops to the floor when you clear your throat. stiffly, you nodded, glancing over the rim of the cup to katsuki across the room, butterflies erupting in your twisted stomach when she winked at you. you really didn't want to make it awkward, claim you'd been dating her three months, you didn't want to see her upset with you, to storm out with you asking why you'd disagree with her, why you'd embarrass her in front of her friends. looking back at the pair, you nodded again, more certain, compelled to agree with katsuki.

"step, yeah, it's a boring story, though, i promise there's not a lot to say." you laugh, gulping down the last of your drink, wetting your dry mouth before changing the topic, wanting nothing more than to forget the spike of anxiety from katsuki's introduction, "what about you guys? how'd you three meet?"

falling back into the ease and comfort of chattering with them, you listened to sero and kaminari telling you all about their meeting in high school, stories of how crass she used to be, how smart she was, how they saved a room here for her after their first year in the share house, katsuki usurping kirishima's bed after many bar crawls; the image of your drunk, grumpy girlfriend kicking out the muscular six-foot-something guy had you in fits of laughter. apprehension melted from you the more you drank and laughed with the pair, your cheeks warm and aching after being with them for only fifteen minutes, your fingers almost permanently digging into kaminari's shirt to support you between giggles.

even with tears of joy in your eyes, you couldn't resist twisting around to check on katsuki, every atom in your body wanting her to join you, to wrap her arms around your hips and show you off, craving the way she'd toy with the hem of your dress, even wishing she would pinch at the soft skin of your thighs just to feel you squirm in her arms. instead when you spun around, the first thing you saw was the brunette girl, perched on the arm of the couch closest to katsuki, her pink-haired friend taking another hit from denki's bong beside them, oblivious to her friend leaning in front of your girlfriend to point at the newest piercing in her ear, her legs draped over katsuki's lap, even her slender fingers wrapping around the brunette's ankle to keep her steady. your eyes were glued to the couple, a morbid curiosity refusing to let you even blink while katsuki's cherry eyes idly traversed her body, her dress shorter and tighter than your own, your girlfriend's gaze was trained on her plush thighs, squishing together when she adjusted herself to tip closer again, blurred pink lips brushing against your girlfriend's earlobe as she spoke.

"you alright?" kaminari asks, you're slow to tear your eyes off katsuki, finally facing your new friends again with what you hope is a composed expression, "sorry?"

the boys snickered at the pitiful look on your face, your eyes almost cartoony with how big and sad they looked, "you look like a kicked puppy."

"c'mon, i'll get jirou to play untouched, you'll feel better." again, denki was tugging on your wrist, leaving you stumbling along behind hanta's confident navigation, the pair of them clearing a path ahead of you for you to stumble through. tripping over your own leg, you caught yourself with a hand at the back of denki's bicep, giggling at your sluggish clumsiness, your quick movements quickly making you realise how tipsy you really were, forgetting your worries about katsuki the longer you drank, laughed and danced with them, hanta returning just in time to pass you another icy cup, pulling you closer to dance.

"i love this song!" shouting far louder than necessary, hanta laughed with you, singing the lyrics along with you.

naturally, with your eyes half-closed in a smile, you scanned the crowds again for katsuki, your eyes automatically locking to the couch, your heartbeat spiking when you realised she'd moved, your slow eyes zeroing in on her in the next room by the time the next song had ended. she was lounging on the carpeted floor beside the same brunette girl as earlier, swirling a non-alcoholic beer around in her hand while the girl spoke animatedly. even as denki squeezed closer to you, his chest to your back while he danced, you studied your girlfriend, the edges of her body blurred, not missing the way her eyes raked over the girl's body, resting far too long on the low neckline while other people gathered in a circle around them; your attention piqued when the girl leaned over katsuki, taking the bottle from her grip and downing the remnants of the drink before placing it on the floor in front of the blonde.

hanta spun you around, his chest now to your back, his hands resting high on your hips, pulling your body in rhythm to the music blaring through the speakers scattered around, glancing up at him, you flashed a small smile, certain it was lopsided this far into the night.

"what are they doin' in there?"

"huh?"

blinking slowly, all your movements outside of his hold in slow motion, you peered back over your shoulder to stare at katsuki again, catching her staring back at you with a wicked glint in her eye before she turned her hungry gaze on the brunette crawling over her, leaning back on one hand with an arrogant air around her, the other snaking around the girls neck to drag her into a deep kiss, the pretty girl melting into it the moment their lips met.

squeaking, you snap your head back around, your embarrassment apparent on your face when you face denki again, his curious yellow eyes trained on your mouth open in shock. the wolf-whistling in the adjacent room catching his attention, his lips tugging up into a smirk, "don't tell me you wanna play that."

hanta chuckles, bloodshot eyes shining with a mix of curiosity and judgement, what kind of step-sister were you to want to join their game, and where could he find one?

laughing nervously, you shake your head, mumbling something that has denki leaning closer, his pierced ear coming in line with your mouth, "say again?"

"i wasn't expecting to see that…" you repeat as loud as you can muster, suddenly shy once more, denki's eyebrows furrow until he looks back over again, watching the same thing you had, your girlfriend and the other girl he recognised as katsuki's ex from high school, kneeling beside her, a delicate hand tangled in blonde spikes, the other squeezing, pawing at katsuki's hip, travelling down the outside of her thigh while their lips were locked together in a kiss far more sensual than ever necessary in a game of spin the bottle.

dazed, you couldn't speak, couldn't tear your eyes away, watching the shadows cast from eyelashes stretch across katsuki's high cheekbones, edges of her lips tugging into a smile in the kiss, even as your eyes blurred at the edges. unsure if it was the alcohol or tears, you shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, to ground yourself again by focusing on hanta's hold on your hips and denki's soft shirt under your fingertips, too drunk to think straight, too drunk to think of anything but her.

inhibitions clouded, you gulp down whatever is left in your cup. determined to have a good night with katsuki, you spin back on your heel, stupidly excusing yourself to go make another drink. upside down on the sink you spot a shot glass, emblazoned with the logo of some random city you'd never been to, deciding it was good enough to pour vodka in, holding it in your hand while you scan the counter for the bottle, only finding dregs left in countless clear bottles. about to take a wobbly step back to the dancefloor, you were stopped in your tracks when you were face to face with your girlfriend again. well, your face to her back.

your throat closes seeing her on the stairs, stunned into silence watching her heavy black boots climb higher and higher up, the brunette already around the corner, all you could see of her were her fingers sliding through katsuki's belt loops, the belt hanging uselessly either side of her hands while she dragged your girlfriend closer. blinking dumbly, you catch one last glimpse of katsuki before she eagerly submits to the girl pulling her along, her frame disappearing behind the wall, and you even think you can hear a door slam and lock above you over the sound of the music.

stunned, you stand still, stuck in the same spot by the cluttered counter, staring at the landing at the top of the stairs katsuki had just disappeared behind, questioning yourself if that's even what you just saw, trying to convince yourself it wasn't, mentally counting the amount of vodka raspberries you'd had. before you could fall too far into your delusion, denki manifests beside you again, snatching a packet of chips tucked away at the top of the cupboard closest to you, "lookin' for your sister?"

your eyes are slow, your head turned toward him entirely before your eyes caught up, meeting his citrine irises, a polite smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, the rest of your smile tight. just as quickly as denki appeared, hanta did, slotting himself beside you, slinging his arm over your shoulder to offer you his cup. you eagerly accepted, taking it in two hands, finishing whatever mix of liquor was in it in one gulp.

"yeah, what's with the sad puppy dog eyes? we're not enough fun for you?" sero jokes, squeezing you closer, your face burning his skin through the fabric on his shoulder, their teasing, the alcohol and your anxiety making your face only grow warmer. you tried your hardest to laugh off their joking, to play into it, your mind clouded by the look on katsuki's face when she told her friends you were her sister, the look on her face when she watched you dance, the look she had kissing another girl, the look on her face being dragged up the stairs.

even after shaking your head, trying to jostle the invasive memories, all you could see was her face staring up from between the pretty brunette's thighs, red eyes sparkling in the moonlight cascading in through a window, dishevelled but still smug.

you're not quite sure how long has passed since you were dragged over to the couch, your eyes flicking back and forth between hanta, denki and the bottom of the staircase, occasionally distracted by their banter and body heat, your eyes drawn back to the flashing screen each time your shoulders and thighs bumped with theirs. they don't keep your attention for long, every sign of movement having your eyes snapping back to the staircase, hoping every hint of blonde was her. stuck in a loop, their jeering and impish jabs dragging your attention back to the screen long enough to see the blood red fatality light up the TV before you were again checking over your shoulder for katsuki, losing every match against one of your newfound friends before they grew bored of watching your character idle; denki whining nearly immediately when hanta takes the controller from your hands, "that's so unfair, han, i had more to smoke than you did."

with the two bickering like siblings, you gave into your compulsion once more, looking through your hair to the bottom of the stairs before watching the pairs rematch; doing a double take when at last, you spot katsuki sauntering down the wooden stairs.

her spiky hair was mussed, a tuft gathering at the centre as she pushed it off her face, her lips glittering under the lights with a sparkly pink gloss that you knew wasn't her own, the tip of her tongue smearing golden flecks over her bottom lip as her slender fingers hooked through her now empty belt loops, bringing your attention down to her dishevelled shirt and band of her boxers poking out of the top of her baggy pants. without even a second glance behind her for the brunette girl, katsuki beelines for your trio, the hem of her pants hanging over her shoes only adding to her self-assured aura, nothing like your own perfect outfit, meant to impress katsuki and her friends, emphasise your assets, now crumpled between two sets of thighs.

reaching your group, katsuki drops onto the couch beside denki, her legs taking up far more space than necessary as she squeezed between him and the arm, scarlet eyes shining as you squished further between the two, your arms pushing against your chest and pillowy thighs pressing closer together with the space getting smaller. sheepishly, you spare a glance at your girlfriend, her eyes glimmering with a strange look you can't place your finger on as you shift again, your hem rising further up your thighs the more you adjust your position, timid again around her as she lounged back on the couch, draping her arm around denki to brush her fingertips along the nape of your neck behind him.

as quickly as she touched you, you jumped forward, your cheeks burning hearing hanta's wolf whistling, busying yourself with pouring yourself one more drink, something to busy your hands as the pair began interrogating katsuki about what happened upstairs.

katsuki doesn't respond with a single word, her dishevelment, glossy smirk, and a picture she flashes them enough of an answer; her phone screen dimly displaying the cute girl she had gone upstairs with, now with her brown bob messily strewn over the pillow she laid on, fringe sticking to her forehead when she smiled up at the camera, holding up two fingers as she posed with her the top of her dress buttoned up unevenly.

you want to look closer, a morbid curiosity washing over you, simultaneously wishing katsuki would answer every question hanta and denki threw her way and wishing she had never even invited you to this party, never met her friends, never seen the look in her eyes as the girl tugged her upstairs. never met her.

you're standing before you even register your movements, stumbling a little on your feet as you stand, only just managing to steady yourself before spilling any of your drink. three pairs of eyes are trained on you, all of them curious, intrigued, denki is the only one to cringe away from you, worried you might vomit where you stood. gingerly, you spun back around to face the group, a shock of adrenaline sobering you when your glassy eyes locked on katsuki's mischievous ones.

"you wanna go, or somethin'?" her voice was rough, deep like it was when she spoke half asleep in the mornings at your place, shrouded in dim morning light with your fingers tangling in the shorter hair at the nape of her neck. again, you grew quiet, a heat swirling inside your stomach that didn't match the jealous upset circling your head.

your tinted lips part, but your wobbly voice stays stuck in your throat; looking back down to the dark timber floor, you nodded, glancing up at her through your eyelashes to see her bidding goodbye to the pair beside her with a boyish handshake and a slap on her back. coming to stand beside you, katsuki gestures towards her friends, an ash blonde eyebrow quirked in a silent command, speak, girl, only moving down the hallway for you to follow out when you mumble a quick goodbye, their names nearly running into one, "'snicemettingyou."

katsuki walks ahead, each confident step thumping against the flooring, her hands tucked deep into her pockets to search for her keys; you wanted desperately to reach for her hand, to loop your arm through hers and walk beside her instead of trailing behind her with wide eyes and a trembling lip. your need for her only grew as you stepped outside, the night air far cooler than the humidity, the air growing stale from too many cigs, vapes and bongs littered around the house.

"you need to stop poutin', baby." your heart swells at the pet name, desperate for a hint of affection after being denied the whole night. she's just a blurry figure ahead of you when you glance at her through your eyelashes, slowly beginning to clump together with unshed drunken tears stuck in your lash line. katsuki observes you over her shoulder, studying the way you wring your hands together, how your dress slowly rides up your thigh with every step, and how hard you're trying to blink your tears away, she especially pays attention to the way you wobble on your feet, tripping over a stray pebble at the edge of the pathway.

the blonde steadies you with a warm hand at your wrist, gently guiding you the rest of the way to her car, parked in her usual spot. finally, alone together again, katsuki was back to being the perfect girlfriend, keeping her hand firm at the small of your back, opening the back door to her car for you as the first tear broke free, sliding down your cheek, holding out her other hand to you to pull yourself into the backseat.

your eyes easily focus on your girlfriend still standing outside the car, the courtyard a mix of blurry colours and shapes, but her image clearer than ever, the shock of cold air and your tears making you feel far soberer than you did when you'd started playing video games with your newfound friends; you looked her up and down, sniffling a little when you locked eyes with her again, the dark of her pupil staring intently at you while she gets herself comfortable slotted between your legs still dangling out of her car.

you're even more focused on the scent of her pistachio caramel shampoo in the car, sucking in a deep breath of the night air to clear your mind when her hand settles at your thigh, the very tips of her painted fingers crawling under the hem of your dress. you're unsure if it's her touch or the weight of her gaze making you squirm, her fingers twitching on your plush thighs just to analyse your reaction, like you were a specimen, like she was dissecting through your brain tissue to read your thoughts.

they'd be boring, you think, everything was just an echo of her.

your bleary eyes dropped back down to your wringing hands, only watching katsuki from the corner of your eye, she looked… soft in the blurry corner of your eye, all unclear, soft planes, like you were looking at her through an unfocused camera, instead of her typical jagged, harsh spikes, even her eyes looked nearly adoring.

"what are you doin', baby? what're my friends gonna think if you keep gettin' jealous over me like that, huh?" her fingertips are so soft underneath your ear when she cradles your jaw, tracing gentle shapes while she reprimands you. her voice dropped lower, inching closer to you hidden in the dark, her mouth only a breath away from yours, pink lips could easily brush against yours if she just dipped her head, "you gotta behave around them, pretty, or they're gonna think you're some kinda pervert… you want that?"

you shake your head rapidly, your mouth opening to defend yourself, to tell her you wanted her friends to like you, you liked hanging out with them, your throat too tight to get anything more than a whine out, "oh, baby, it's alright, i know."

your chest blossoms with heat, your stomach burning like a heath set alight by her matchstick words, a single fat tear falling from your eyes to roll down your cheek, running down your neck until it was joined by another. katsuki catches your tears as they roll down your face, slowly swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, sucking her own between her teeth before closing the distance between you.

her lips pressed to yours felt euphoric, the feeling of her tongue licking the remaining salty, raspberry taste from your lips as close as you thought you'd get to heaven. katsuki deepens the kiss, parting your lips with her own, her hand on your jaw keeping you hard against her while her tongue slides against yours. the kisses between the two of you are always messy, charged, full of hot, wandering hands, sharp teeth, her raspberry-sweet tongue and a foreign-tasting lip gloss tacking your bottom lip to your chin.

you sigh into the kiss, a whiny, needy sound that you never made until her, your eyelashes tickling her face when you press your lips harder to hers, pouring every ounce of your love and affection into her through your connected lips. a perfect, manicured hand travelled up her chest to tangle in the blonde spikes at the base of her neck, an apprehensive tug at her hair tilted katsuki's head back, your kiss deepening with the practised movements; always starting slow and sensual before devolving into a mess of neediness, swollen lips, sharp teeth and insatiable tongues.

"you're the one i take home, though, aren't you?" katsuki rests her forehead against yours, her breath mixing with your heaving gasps, her deep garnet eyes flicking back and forth between your own, blown pupils staring back at her. adoration bloomed in your chest at her confession, nodding your head as much as you could against hers pressing hard to your own. you paw at the collar of her shirt, intoxicated by her proximity; her figure clouding your thoughts, the image of her towering over a brunette, smiling up at your girlfriend as you did, katsuki's hungry eyes devouring her when her head falls back and her spine arches, the girl's hands digging into the same spot on her abdomen you clung to when you came, their lips wet with each other's affection. glancing down to katsuki's clenched fist at your hip, gathering the fabric higher and higher, you cleared your mind of the girl, you were the one in her car, going home with her, you were the one katsuki was comforting, the one she'd take home and cook for, she'd have probably offered to wash your hair for you if you'd cried any longer.

"you want me?" she asks, revelling in the way you vigorously nod, 'want' nowhere near what you felt anymore, only increasingly more pathetically needy for her.

"do you want me?" you repeat her question between heaving breaths, a sweet sigh escaping you again when katsuki's lips find their place under your jaw, kissing, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin until your ankles cross behind her back and your head falls backwards with a whine. her grin is like saccharine against your skin, slender fingers topped with chipped polish trace the crease of your thigh, only pausing when she feels the heat at the peak of your thighs, "you need me to show you, pretty?"

her forefinger follows the seam down the centre of your panties, huffing out a laugh when your hips buck at her touch, your free hand finding hers under your skirt, manicured fingers gripping her wrist to guide her to your puffy clit, "huh? this is what got you so desperate?"

you don't answer her, can't answer her, your hips bucking off the cloth seats into her touch, scratching at her scalp with your nails, hoping the gentle bite of your manicure at her skin is enough to tell her you need her, need this, the comfort of her touch, her lips, her tongue, whatever it was she usually did when she made you forget how cold she was, to remind you how your heart raced beneath her.

"let me give you what you need," you're not certain you hear her entirely, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out her low voice when she drops down to one knee on the pavement outside her car, her hair looking nearly black in the dimness of the night when she disappears under your skirt; although you're certain you hear a chuckle when she snaps your cold, wet panties against your skin. katsuki sets your skin alight with every expert pinch at your trembling thighs, never giving you a chance to worry about the open courtyard her car was parked in, instead already getting you squealing and whining out her name in the sweet voice you saved just for her ears.

"katsuki–" she rewards your needy gasp of her name with an animalistic stare, her eyes bright even in the darkness watching you, her breath warming the seam of your panties, "people might see."

katsuki thinks you're like a little mouse when you whimper her name, not even trying to hide from her sharp, hawk-like gaze; a dumb field mouse, lying with your stomach exposed to her talons. her clouded eyes drop back to your drooling pussy right in front of her face, the peak of your thighs slick with what your panties couldn't catch, "i'll make it quick."

there wasn't another word whispered into the night when she finally gave you what you needed; pressing her lips to the junction between your thigh and your cunt, not even bothering to slide the panties you wore just for her down your legs, instead settling for holding it out of her way to expose your pussy to her ministrations, a sigh against your skin the only indication of your effect on her.

not wasting any more time, her tongue was at your cunt, your euphoric gasps drowning out katsuki's own moan at your taste, her tongue flat against you to taste as much of you as possible in a single wide lick to your clit. your jolt flicks a switch inside the blonde, her nose pressing so hard to your pubic bone it nearly hurts when her tongue swirls around your throbbing clit, her saliva mixing with your wetness, the mixture already starting to gather on her bottom lip, not bothering to catch the string of cum dripping from her lip to the backseat.

your grip on her hair never weakens, pulling and tugging whenever your hips rose to meet her tongue, muttering out a swear between breathless murmurs when her tongue flicks over the bunch of nerves, following your movements every time you try to escape the pleasure washing over you, simultaneously grinding onto her tongue like you needed more. you can feel her smile against your skin when she licks at the wetness dripping from your cunt, her tongue and lips sliding against your skin like a debased makeout session with your pussy.

not ignoring your clit for long, katsuki's lips drag up your skin to suck at your skin, your noises only getting louder and higher with every flick over it, your girlfriend insatiable, refusing to give in until your thighs were clamping around her skull, "uhnnn, please, 'tsuki, i need it."

you can't see her face under the skirt of your dress, but you can imagine the evil twinkle in her eye, the same ravenous shine pooling in the blood red whenever she got you begging, whenever she had you humping her face, your nails leaving parallel marks at the base of her neck.

"tell me what you need," her words run together in her desperation to get her lips wrapped back around your clit, her tongue still half hanging out of her mouth when she speaks. your mouth bobs open and closed dumbly, wracking your mind for a word other than please or katsuki.

"you know what i need–ah" you try, raising your hips again, whining again when she licks back down to your wet hole, dipping her tongue inside only enough to feel how you clenched your cunt around the muscle, "cum on my face, and i can take you home and give you everything, baby."

katsuki's voice is rough and deep and it breaks on the last syllable.

your eyes roll back in your skull at the broken pet name, your hair knotting against the cloth seats when you nod, a string of unfiltered babbling leaving your lips when her mouth closes back around your puffy clit, "please, 'ki, yeah, i-i think i'm gonna cum, i wanna cum, i need you to cum."

your long moan echoes through the car to your own ears, too blissed out to feel embarrassed at how ruined you sounded for her, too dazed to do anything but buck your hips at her groan vibrating against your soaking cunt, sticky with cum, saliva and glittery lip gloss.

your cheeks burn feeling her tug your panties back in place, fighting the urge to lock your legs around her head and shield yourself from the chill, the loss of her body pressed between your thighs making the damp spot on your panties feel even colder than it was, "c'mon, pretty, let's get you home."

the smile she flashes you when she climbs back to her feet is sweet, despite the point of her incisors shining under the moonlight making her look viscous, like a vampire ready to sweet talk her way to your jugular. you'd fall for it, you think to yourself, the girl beneath the harsh lines so sweet, sincere when you were alone with her, you'd be disarmed, too powerless to deny.

a loud holler at the back of the house reminds you where you are, your thighs snapping shut, your ears hot when katsuki laughs at your sudden bashfulness again, your hands flying to tug your skirt back down your thighs, shielding your exposed skin like she wasn't just kneeling, face to face with your drooling cunt. you finish adjusting where the hem brushes your pillowy thighs at the same time katsuki finishes brushing stray, crisp leaves from her knee with one hand, her other on yours, pulling you from the backseat, both of you as dishevelled as the other; lip gloss smeared over chins, matching tangled hair and slick thighs.

you stare at her like she hung the stars in the sky just for you when she opens the passenger door for you, deep vermillion studying the way your bottom lip tucks between your teeth at her sweetness, the way it did every time she did something like this to you, leaving you waiting on your front steps for an hour for her, whenever she cancelled a plan an hour before when she knew you'd already be getting dolled up, suggesting you both just play video games at her place instead of whatever nice date you'd planned. and yet, it ended with her lips and fingers slick with the tartness of your cum and you, staring up at her with lovesickness shining in your eyes, every time.

katsuki winks at you when she closes the passenger door with a soft thud, hardly loud enough to be heard over the party still raging nearby, the fact giving you some comfort in knowing your lover was the only one to hear your desperate whines and moans.

you track her movements around the car, unable to tear your eyes away from her sharp beauty, amplified even more so by her smile; all dangerous teeth and silver tongue on display, still watching her when she turns the key in the ignition. the engine vibrates and purrs with life, the headlights and radio flickering on with one last turn of the key in the ignition, "wanna put on our song, baby?"

reaching into the cup holder for her phone, the picture of her friends reminding you to ask her to tell her friends the truth about you, maybe tomorrow, not wanting to staunch the adoration pouring out from her. leaning close enough to smell her shampoo and perfume again, you queue your song, katsuki turning the volume knob with one hand, reaching her other arm behind your seat, shifting the car into reverse. effortlessly, she manoeuvres between the countless other cars, each of them parked wonkier and messier, most people pulling into any spare spot they could get.

excited for your and katsuki's song, you lean forward with your tongue bitten in concentration, attempting to press the small skip button beside the obsolete CD player embedded in the car, sluggishly bumping a button, the song skips back, a curse leaving your lips. still trying to press the correct button, you're oblivious to the flash of her phone screen, the illumination dim but clear, unmistakably the same contact photo your girlfriend showed off earlier lighting up the screen, only a pink heart as the contact name beneath it.

i can't wait to see you again x

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #lesbian bakugou #lesbian bakugo #lesbian bakugou katsuki #lesbian bakugo katsuki #lesbian katsuki bakugou #lesbian katsuki bakugo #livedeliciously🐐collab #「kat <3」#「mercury writes」

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Shameless

Sequel to Graceless

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: Here we are. The sequel but not the end.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

The string of the glove’s seam trails loosely from the thumb. You twist the thread, playing with it, but doing little to mend it. Even with a needle in hand, you have no whim to darn. There are many things in life that cannot be repaired no matter how you try. Occurrences which cannot be taken back.

You pull at the seam until a hole forms in it. You poke your finger through with no heed for the glove’s integrity. You detest that pair anyhow. The very same you wore… that day.

Albina lays at the foot of the bed, her head bent back over the edge as she peruses one of her novellas. Hannah and Cora disappeared ages ago and you only just heard them through the windows. They are likely causing chaos in the gardens. You hope your mother finds them and issues a reprimand for their immaturity.

The autumn thins the air as it creeps in around the window frame and you smell that discerning scent of dirt and leaves. Only a week and it feels as if the whole world has changed seasons. Your world has transformed irrevocably.

There’s a clatter and you glance over as Albina rolls onto her side. She’s always hated to be disturbed amid her stories. She huffs and falls onto her back to begin again, but the door bursts open, your two other sisters tromping through with excitement.

Albina shuts her book loudly and sighs as she sits up. You go back to your exploration of the glove, watching the thread stretch along the seam as you tug. If only that were Cora. If only you could rent her pretty hair from her pretty head. Or in the least, swat the smug grin from her lips.

You can’t even look at her. It just makes you think of him. Of how stupid you’d been. You believed his promises were meant for you but it’s only as you relive that haunting episode every night that you realise, he never proclaimed his intent for you, only alluded to a vague offer. Another mean trick.

“Lord Rogers has sent a gift,” Cora trills as she stands at the vanity, shuffling something unseen before her. Hannah stands at her side, bouncing with anticipation.

“Oh, what do you think it is?” Hannah chimes.

“Could you not unveil it in the sunroom, where there is no one reading?” Albina says as she drags herself to the edge of the bed, resting her book on her skirts.

“Could you not get your head out of those ridiculous fancies,” Cora retorts over her shoulder, “if you ever do for long enough, you might just find a husband too.”

You don’t look up. You refuse to give her the satisfaction. You haven’t missed her wandering glances, how she taunts you without even a word. She turns back to her gift and rustles beneath the thick paper.

“Oh, heavens,” she swoons and spins, “isn’t it beautiful?”

“Are those rubies?” Hannah preens.

“I think.”

“Garnet?” Albina suggests.

“No, no, surely they are rubies,” Cora insists. “Do you see?” She swirls around the room closer to you, “I must find the perfect gown to wear with this. Oh, he would fawn to see me in his ribbon, wouldn’t he, sister?”

You grip the glove tight as her figure looms over you. With your other hand, you clutch the needle, letting it jab into your palm until your eyes prick. You nod, “very beautiful.”

You stand the moment you get the words free of your dry throat. You try to smile but can only muster a strained grimace. You try to step past Cora but she moves with you.

“You’ve not even looked,” she says, “how would know how beautiful it is?”

“Cora, please.”

“No, no, have a look. It’s so elegant, isn’t it?”

You clamp your lips together. Your insides tangle painfully. Even as the tenderness leaves the bruises in your thighs, you swear they hurt just as much as the day after. You sniff.

“Please, move out of my way,” you beg.

“Oh, sister, why must you be so dour? Is that jealousy I sense?”

“No,” you snarl. Jealousy. Oh, something much deeper, something agonizing. “I said move.”

“Move? Well, it looks like I am the first to wear a title so it is me who should be issuing the orders, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Cor, you are not duchess yet,” Albina reproaches, “let her pass.”

The heat rises up your back and crawls onto your neck. You feel like you’re suffocating. You feel like the walls are closer together, as if the world is hewn in fire. It is all burning down around you.

“She is being a sour little brat about it, Al,” Cora snaps, “it isn’t fair of her to ruin my engagement. I don’t know where she ever got the idea that Lord Rogers had any mind for h–”

You don’t think. You need to get out of here. You shove Cora out of your way and stomp past her as she gasps. You drop the glove as the needle sinks further into your palm. You sweep out of the door and hurry down the corridor. You hear her, whining pitifully as you flee.

“She shoved me! She–”

“Oh, you did goad her,” Albina’s quiet scolding follows you to the stairs, “put that ribbon away, you’ll only ruin it.”

Ruin…

The word clings to you as you barrel down the stairs, as if running from your own shame and anger. You love your sister, you would never wish anything horrid on her, but you can’t help that small whisper in your mind that suggests that Lord Rogers may just treat her as cruelly as he has done you.

💙

The autumn continues its slow advance, nipping in the air and at the foliage alike. You smell the crispness as it wafts through the open window of the carriage, cooling the cluster of bodies within. Your father rides with the driver, guffawing loudly with the clop of hooves. Your mother fans herself as she needles away with her relentless critique.

…Albina, push your shoulders back; Hannah, keep your lips shut tight, you don’t need horseflies wandering in; You, fix your bonnet, it is dipping at the front; Oh, Cora, isn’t that a lovely ribbon…

You try not to mope. The more you do, the more pleasure Cora takes in her victory. You will forget it, you will go on as you’ve ever done. Dejected. You fold one hand around the other, your palm tender from the bite of the needle still wrought into your flesh.

You look up as the carriage slows. The lush green of the promenade tinges with edges of russet and patches of goldenrod. Lords and ladies stroll along the brickwork walkway, skirts swishing around languid steps, arms hooked in one another, others perched upon benches or huddled around the grand fountain at the center.

Your father climbs down as the driver unlatches the door. Your mother emerges first, her fan clapping shut sharply and knocking against the frame. Cora is second, then Albina, Hannah, and yourself. You come out behind them and feel your height all the more. You hunch and grip your wrist tight.

“Do not slouch,” your mother looks back and raps your arm with her fan, “no lord wants to walk alongside a hobbling giant.”

“Yes, mother,” you correct yourself and let your vision drift off into a vacant blur.

“Ladies,” a familiar timbre approaches with a pair of footsteps, “you’ve arrived.”

You refuse to look at Lord Rogers as he stands just along your peripheral. He greets your mother with a cordial bow of his head and shakes your father’s hand. At last, he addresses his betrothed as she wiggles in her skirts and nearly squeaks.

“Lord Rogers,” she drawls, “I wore the rubies.”

“Beautiful,” he praises, “my lady, might I request a stroll upon the promenade?”

“Aye, you may,” your father answers, volunteering himself as escort.

“Sir,” Rogers accepts elegantly and offers his arm to Cora, “and perhaps a few more daughters might care to join us?”

“They will remain with me,” your mother insists, “we would like to see the roses.”

You wait until they’ve departed to dare a peek at them. Lord Rogers struts away confidently with his arm through Cora’s. Your father trails them with his brass-tipped cane. Your ribs rack as if they might collapse in on themselves.

“Come girls, the autumn will wilt away the roses,” your mother declares, “let us make our rounds, perhaps we might have two engagements this season, hm?”

You linger behind the others. You keep your head down as you watch the toes of your boots poke out from beneath your skirts with each step. Your led by the hem of your sisters ahead of you.

As you approach the hoop of rose bushes, there is an unexpected furor. Voices trill and flutter, a booming laugh that rolls like thunder. You raise your eyes and see a blond head above a cluster of hats. You don't recognise the lord amid the clan of amused men.

"How rowdy," your mother remarks in her curmudgeon way.

She ignores the pluck of glee for the thorny tangles. Hannah and Albina give longing looks to the uproar but dutifully accompany your mother to the hedges. The eldest of your quartet pets the paling pink petals and grieves the browning at the edges.

The dullness of that moment feels like a promise. This is how life will always be for someone like you. You will never know excitement, you will only ever be a witness, a scrap of collateral left to squander.

You pretend to admire the greenery. The colours are faded and worn. Just like everything since that night. As you are.

You smell the leaves and the pollen and you're taken back to that moonlit moment. The cool air on your skin, the friction of his figure, his weight trapping you on the stone.

The leaves mesh together in a tapestry of swirling hues. You quickly dab your eyes before your tears can spill over. Those bouts come suddenly and dry up just as soon. You cannot let it take you here.

An emptiness enshrines you and you peer over to find yourself all alone. Your sisters and your mother have left you, forgotten you. Not such an unexpected plight but painful nonetheless. You turn in search of them and nearly collide with another.

You press yourself to the bushes behind you and swallow a gasp, creaking out an apology.

"Apologies, my lord, I did not see you–"

"Lady," the man greets with a courteous dip of his chin, looking down at you. Down! He is even taller than you.

The same lord with the blond hair who had a crowd raucous. You do not know him. He is rather older than any courtly debut.

"You mustn't catch yourself," he reaches around you delicately and untangles a fold of your skirt from the thorny vines, "it is too fine a dress to tarnish."

"Thank you, sir, it seems I am a bit obtuse at the moment," you force a smile.

He is very handsome. He eyes a brighter shade than even Lord Rogers and his hair even more golden. That comparison urges you back to the ground. You are still you and you cannot be so foolish as to let yourself believe contrary ever again.

"Might I–"

"I spy–"

You speak at the same time and both correct yourself. You defer and touch your lips in embarrassment, "apologies, once more, I keep treading on your toes."

"I have tough toes," he japes, "I meant to ask if I might have your name."

"Oh, yes, sir," you give him your name, "I admit I am ignorant of your own identity."

"Ah, yes, I have come from far," he grins, "Lord Thor Odinson, of Asgard."

"Asgard, why that is very far," you comment, "well, sir, it was a delight to meet you. Welcome to our homeland."

"A privilege," he returns, "if I might be so forward, as I am a stranger to this land, I would extend to you an invitation to dinner as I acquaint myself with your country. Would that be too improper?"

"Sir," you flutter your fingers at your side as you stand awkwardly before him, "I would needs ask my father."

"Yes, certainly you would, as you are unwed," he says as if untwining a riddle, "I do hope you will be permitted."

"My lord," you bow your head, "my mother…"

You look past him to your mother's fan as she beckons to you with it. Lord Odinson steps aside and extends his arm in gallant dismissal. You shift to move past him.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Allow me to thank you, lady, for entertaining my tedious conversation," he counters and you quickly flit away.

You near your mother as your other sisters crowd her. She is jibbering behind her fan, "...an ambassador," she says and snaps together the folds, "I hope you did not spoil our welcome."

"Mother?" You look at her in confusion, your cheek hot and tingling still.

"With that Lord, he did invite us to a dinner," she explains, "it would be very important for your father."

You shake your head. You don't argue. Ah, but the invitation was extended to all. Are you so foolish to think otherwise? You must shield yourself in the harsh lesson you've been taught. You are not and can never be special.

💙

The night of Lord Odinson's dinner arrives. You wear a gown of black patterned with deep green vines. Plain attire in contrast to Cora's shining scarlet silk, Alvina's buoyant blue bodice, and Hannah's deep rose sleeves. You add a simple beaded ribbon around your head, and a string of pearls around your neck.

"Dour," your mother remarks as she emerges in a tangerine satin, "ah, Cora, my darling, you look splendid. And to think, now that your engagement is public, you will be a pretty ornament on Lord Rogers' arm."

"Mother," she preens, averting her eyes in feigned modesty.

You clutch your reticule tight and glance over as you hear the approach of hooves. It is Lord Rogers' coach. The vehicle bustles towards the gates, open in expectation of him, and you look away. You can hardly bear the sight of red paint that decorates the doors.

His driver slows and breaks in the dirt. He greets your father as ever, gallant and proper. You put your teeth over your lower lip and peek up, catching the glint of Rogers' sapphire irises. His cheek dimples as his brows twitch. You swiftly rescind your gaze, favouring the dust on your slippers to him. He is as handsome as ever but to you, he is a vile cad. A demon clothed in cravat and vest.

He helps your mother first into the coach, then Cora, Hannah, Alvina, and finally yourself. He extends his gloved hand to you and you stare at his palm with disgust. You put your hand in his and step up into the vehicle. He squeezes before he lets go, a subtle tug on your skirt as you duck inside.

You sit on the bench between Albina and Hannah. You play with the strap of your reticule, focusing on it as you coil it like a snake. You only need to survive the journey to lord's manor. You've survived worse, and all at his hand.

💙

The manor is called The Nine Pillars, a rather strange name for a house, but referenced by the columns set into the stone walls. Each is topped with the facsimile of a different beast's head; a lion, a boar, a bear, a wolf, a falcon, a stallion, a bull, a viper, and an elephant. You lean over Albina to take it in, only to be nudged back to the middle.

You sigh and trail the part from the court. Attendants await your arrival at the broad steps of the manor house, the style much unlike that of the other courtly homes. The peak of the house resembles a warship overturned and the walls are without the typical white wash. It is very antiquated yet refined.

You enter the glowing hall, the glass lamps hung from the walls lit in an illuminating speckle. Voices carry from the drawing room where other guests gather and the bustle of the house staff flutters around the corridors and clamours from the kitchen. Your stole is taken by a groom and you nod in acknowledgement at his diligence. Your stomach swirls nervously.

The drawing room is a cluster of swishing skirts, flapping fans, and waggling coat tails. Your mother and father greet another older couple as your sisters disperse; Cora to show off her betrothed, Albina to whisper to Maria about her novels, and Hannah to gossip about the newest debuts. You find yourself lost before the sea of elegant figures.

You wade towards them, weaving between the bodies, looking around for any sense of welcome. Those who do see you, turn away quickly, as others pretend not to notice your towering form. You will find a place on the wall as you ever do.

"Lady," a deep voice calls but you don't bother to hear it. It cannot possibly be directed at you. It calls again, several times, before pronouncing your name. You spin to face Lord Odinson before you can retreat to your setinel against the wallpaper.

"My Lord," you greet him, "pardon me, there is much going on, I mustn't have heard you calling."

"Ah, but forgive me, it is rather uncouth to be shouting," he stops before you, "my mother always said I did blow in like a storm."

"Oh," you nod politely. You're not used to someone looking you in the eye, not without having to awkwardly contort your posture.

"She would like you, very much, I think."

"Why would you think that, my lord? You hardly know me."

"But I see you, a strong woman, built like a valkyrie. You are resilient and might I so forwardly say, resplendent."

"Sir?" You peer around, looking for an audience, for someone in collusion taking amusement from his false interest. It is always a trick.

"Again, I am the tempest, I cannot be subtle, not with a lady so stunning. Awe-inspiring. If I am the storm, you must be the sky," he remarks boldly.

You face him, a frown.

"Lady, it is a compliment," his face turns sober, "I hope I didn't overstep--"

"It is a joke. Who do you make laugh? For who am I the farce tonight?"

"Joke? Not at all. Never," he glances around the room. He is quiet as he takes in those around him. As he sees their elusive eyes and cold shoulders. "They cannot see what is right in front of them. A goddess--"

"No," you nearly sob, "no. I am not goddess." You bow your head, as you hear that same word from enough, a memory; Athena. "No sir," you put your chin up defiantly, "I will not be fooled by you."

"Fooled, my lady--"

"Excuse me," you shuffle away from him, "I need air..."

"Lady," he calls again but you elude him, delving into the crowd, marching away with head and shoulders down.

As you near the door, you hear a familiar laugh. You look to find Lord Rogers with Cora on his arm, his golden hair shining, her locks perfectly spiraled and set. He tilts his head towards her, "I call her my Athena," he says loudly, as if he knows you are listening, "for I worship her."

His eyes flick up and meet yours. You recoil and spin on your heel. Scalded, you flee into the hall and huddle into an alcove. No one would notice if you stayed out here all night.

💙

You sit among the guests at the table. The women chatter as the men speak in low voices about their business or some writ tabled in session that morning. You do neither as you're isolated in the fervor. As sherry and wine flows generously, you partake only of lemon water and loneliness.

You peer down the table and find yourself drawn to a pair of eyes. Lord Odinson. Where you expect tension or disappointment, you find only an amiable smile. He is almost dreamy as he watches you. You turn in your seat and look at Albina next to you, she's bent so far toward Hannah in her whispering that he likely cannot even see you.

You keep your gaze on the table. You will not encourage him. Lord Rogers taught you caution, he taught you your worth and not to think yourself above it. You feel suddenly sick, as if you could spew onto the table.

There is the clink of glass and someone clears their throat. The buzz around you hushes and all turn to the head of the table. You look over reluctantly. It is Lord Odinson, the host, about to make his toast. He stands, a crystal glass in hand.

"Welcome and thank you all for attending. You've all made me feel rather at home," he raises his glass and the guests mirror him. You lift yours a few seconds too late. He sets down the flute and continues, "and while you've all ingratiated me so kindly, I hope you might tolerate a little piece of my homeland."

He pauses and gestures to someone you can't see. A servant comes forward, holding a wooden box carved with symbols you don't recognise. Runes, perhaps.

"In my faith, there are the Valkyrie. They are the embodiment of female power and prestige and thus they are the keeper of our culture, of our ways. They are fertile and beautiful. So it is that each season, one lady is crowned as Valkyrie. I understand that I've come late but I am honoured to spend the season here, in your society. Thus, tonight has been more than a dinner..."

He stops as the servant opens the box. He takes out a crown of daisies wrought in gold and silver. He presents it to the room with a smile.

Cora leans forward as her eyes round in greed and the other women sit up, admiring the piece of jewelry and peeking at each other. You don't move, you stare at the wall and wait. You wonder who it will be. Maybe Cora or Maybelle and her doe eyes.

There is another lull, swollen with anticipation and intrigue. Lord Odinson gives a soft chuckle before he declares his valkyrie. No one speaks, none says a word. You blink. He speaks again.

You feel a nudge on your elbow as Albina leans towards you and whispers, "it's you."

You glance at her, then along the table. Cora's eyes are narrowed at you and Lord Rogers looks like he's chewing his own tongue. You turn your attention to Lord Odinson, trapped in surprise and disbelief.

"Yes, lady, please, come and claim your crown."

You grasp the arms of the chair and push it out as you rise. You walk stiffly, keenly aware of those watching you. You stride down the long table and near Lord Odinson. He faces you and hovers the crown over your head. You bow and he lowers it on, wiggling it to be sure it's firmly in place.

"It is I who shoulder defer to you, sweet lady," he lowers himself to a knee and bows his head, "our valkyrie."

The silence looms. You refuse to look back. You feel the stare, the disapproval, and disappointment. There's a clap and you flinch. Then another, and slowly the applause build.

Lord Odinson stands again and takes your hand, placing a kiss on your fingers. You meet his eyes, so intense you could melt.

"As I said," he keeps his timbre low, "it was not a joke."

💙

"Can I see it?" Albina asks as you go to set the crown on the narrow table.

"Oh, certainly," you turn to her. You're still burning with excitement. It's only one night, it doesn't mean anything, but it is a good night.

You hand her the crown and she takes it, admiring the craftwork with aw and showing it to Hannah as she nears. She places it on her head and rocks her shoulders.

"I am the valkyrie," she japes.

"No, I am the valkyrie," Hannah snatches the crown and dawns it.

"You are both children," Cora sneers as she shoves her ribbon of rubies into her jewelry box, "please, that lord is only here to pander to our king on his family's behalf. Nothing else."

"You're only jealous," Hannah rebukes.

"Am not," Cora stomps up and swipes the crown of daisies, "what would I need with a meaningless thing like this. Queen of what? The chimera? You don't even know what a valkyrie is."

"Nor do you," Hannah retorts.

"I do," Albina asserts, "they are an army of female warriors who lead the dead--"

"I do not give a fig," Cora flings the crown so it hits the bedframe and bounces off, "we don't believe in them here. That man is a fool."

"Oh, I saw you fawning over him, Cor," Albina goads, "don't lie. Rogers himself looked concerned."

"Fawning? Don't be silly."

You don't say a word as you go to fetch the crown from where it's fallen. You notice that one of the petals is bent out of shape. Oh, no.

"It's fine. She's right, it's just a silly crown."

"You all need to grow up," Cora insists, "as a woman soon to be married, I can see now how juvenile you lot are."

"Not married yet," Hannah snaps, "sooner the better if it means you're off."

"Charming, Hannah, I wonder why you've not had a proposal yet?"

Hannah waves her off with her hand and goes to Albina, "I'm tired. Help me out of my dress."

You turn away and set the crown on top of your own jewelry box. You take your time undoing the ribbon on your head and unclasping your pearls. You peel off your gloves and as you face the bed, you see Cora's hot glare.

"You'll see. That Lord Odinson will leave you behind and next season, you'll be on your way to a convent."

You swallow down her bitter words. Deep down, you don't doubt it. She is likely right but less than clairvoyant. You know better than any what your fate will be.

💙

You watch from the window as Cora walks in the gardens with Lord Rogers. Albina is in bed, moaning and rubbing her pelvis, as Hannah is downstairs with your mother stitching at her frame. The winds of autumn rattle the window frame and you back away, nervous to be caught observing.

You sit on the mattress and lean back against the pillow. Albina curls up on her side and faces you. You offer your hand and she latches on, squeezing. Her cramps have struck and she's already stained several shifts. Her blood has her in agony.

You don't mind keeping her company. Your own was due a week ago. You know because you've not stopped counting the days since... since Lord Rogers' proposal.

"I should hate to miss the promenade..." she mourns.

"You shouldn't miss very much," you assure her.

"Yes, but it will be cold soon. Too cold and it will snow and I will hate to go," she utters, "will you go?"

"Perhaps," you answer.

"And walk with Lord Odinson again?"

"If he wishes."

"I am certain he does. He is very friendly. Last night, when he told us of his families stronghold. About the mountains and the crossing rivers..."

"He has many stories," you agree, "and he tells them well."

"Oh, he does. He tells them for you."

"Pardon?" You nearly laugh.

"Sister, don't act clueless. He gave you his crown--"

"It was only a game."

"I do not think he plays."

"Why..."

"He always finds us on the promenade, doesn't he?"

"He is polite."

"Oh, you are stubborn."

You puff but don't argue further. She's wrong but she can't realise she is. She doesn't know what's happened, how you know for certain that he has no true intentions. That he cannot be any different than Lord Rogers.

💙

The hedges along the promenade are thinning. The roses have wilted away and the greenery curls and recedes. You wear a pair of lambskin gloves and an unlined cloak. It isn’t cold enough yet for fur.

As he does most days, Lord Rogers approaches to greet your family. Your mother and father bow to him briefly and bid their best before strolling off to meet with their peers. The betrothed couple will lead the way, as you walk behind with Hannah. Albina remains abed at home, her presence sorely missed as Hannah yawns and makes faces at the duke and his engaged.

You resist the urge to look around, to search for the man who crowned you valkyrie, the same who appeared at your side nearly every day. You restrained yourself from depending on his presence, from longing for it. He is a fleeting acquaintance, destined to return to Asgard one day. You shouldn't think so much of him.

“I wish we could have a summer wedding,” Lord Rogers declares, his voice raised loud enough for you to hear.

“But, my lord, that is so far away,” Cora protests, “so long as we wed before the snows, I will be content.”

“You, content. I am not mistaken, I know the sort of wife I’ve chosen,” he chides, “you only relish in that you might wear velvet.”

“Not at all my lord. I relish that I should marry you,” she preens, her arm hooked in his firmly.

You stare at the linking of their bodies. You remember the way he held you down, the way he cooed and coaxed, how he so softly coerced you. You should fear for your own sister, yet their misconceptions may be mutual.

“My ladies,” Lord Odinson’s voice precedes him and he steps up beside you, “and my lord. You are ashen, does the cold not agree with you?”

Lord Rogers glances over his shoulder, an edge in his jaw, “I handle it finely.”

You don’t mention he was only just longing for the summer. It isn’t any of your concern and you don’t very much care. Or you try not to.

“In Asgard, the winters, ah, they are splendid,” Odinson begins vibrantly, “there are days when the snow builds walls on its own and the next, they blow over to rippling oceans of frost. Endless and powdery.”

“Oh, we do not get so much snow here,” Hannah comments, “I don’t think I would survive such winters.”

You nod, listening intently as you picture the swirling snow and white dunes. It reminds you of a fairytale or a scene from one of Albina’s novels. Otherworldly and fantastical. Something entirely new and wonderful, but terrifying.

“And you, my valkyrie, would you face the blizzards?” Odinson challenges.

You hum thoughtfully. You know he is looking at you but you are too shy, too wary to return his gaze.

“I suppose with the proper cloak and a thick pair of boots, I might make it through, sir.”

“A coach and a horse, and any lady would say the same,” Rogers scoffs back at you, “girls hardly know the truth in matters of spirit. They can be overly presumptuous upon their own abilities.”

Odinson pushes his jacket back, hooking his finger in the pocket of his vest, “women are strong in ways men can never be. They carry lives, they bear the burden of the world, they maintain a grace lost on most men.”

“And the demure to the strength of men, to the wisdom they can never possess,” Rogers snaps back, laughing cruelly, “it is in the vows they take, is it not?”

“Only the strongest man can see the strength of women,” Odinson dismisses calmly, “my own mother keeps a pack of snow wolves. She goes out in the winter storms and reins her own sleigh. All while my father sits warm before his hearth. Her victories are not his losses.”

“Sounds rather quaint, Lord Odinson,” Rogers clucks, “your country strikes me as lacking civility.”

“Uncivil is a boring way of saying lively, and I promise, my home is much and more,” Odinson affirms, “but I think that fate has a way of placing us all where we belong, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rogers is quiet for a moment, his steps heavy as he strides on. He turns his head, his eye flicking between Odinson and yourself. He snorts and turns forward again.

“We must all take as we earn, accept what we do and do not get,” he says tritely, speaking animatedly with his hand in the air, “more often than not, we have only ourselves to thank… or blame.”

As cryptic as his words are, they are plain to you. That night with him was not unearned. Your foolishness bought your destruction. You must now live out your sentence of watching him walk arm in arm with another woman, your sister, everyday. You must accept that what he took can never be reclaimed.

💙

You sit in the garden, wrapped in a shawl as autumn breezes around the table. Your mother has a fur on her shoulders and your sisters chatter their teeth as they sip their tea. You rub your hands together, your gloves doing little against the crisp air. You suspect the days of dining without are close to done.

As you watch a leaf drift down from a branch, the hinges whine, and your father emerges from within. He gives an emphatic shiver as he claps his hands together. He seems rather pleases as he has his shoulders pushed back and his hat on a tilt.

"Daughters, my lovely wife, it is a beautiful day, is it not?"

You wonder at his uncharacteristic glee. Your father is ever practical and serious, on all matters. More so, he confounds as through the mutter of responses, he looks to you. You nod and agree with his sentiment softly.

"My daughter, my eldest, you... have a visitor."

You blink and withhold a grimace. He hates when you make faces. You force a smile and your voice crackles as you muster your voice.

"A visitor, father?"

"He is inside, he cannot have his tea alone," he says as if you should know who he alludes to.

You stand as Cora rolls her eyes, "who could be here for her?"

You notice how Albina and Hannah share a look. You cannot determine whether it is at your expense or Cora's.

"Daughter," your father drawls, "do not be sour that your betrothed eludes you."

"He does not--"

"So be happy for your sister and enjoy your tea."

She huffs and reaches for her cup. You step around her chair and approach your father. He smiles and as you near, he puts his hands on your arms. He is smiling. Genuinely.

"He has my blessing, of course, I will need accompany you to maintain propriety," he speaks quietly, "come."

You dip your chin down and meekly follow him inside. A servant pulls the door closed behind you. Your steps echo down the corridor as your father leads you to the sunroom. As you enter, there is some rustling and a subtle creak.

You peek up to find Lord Odinson standing with a hand on his vest. He bows to you and your father. You stop in the archway.

Your father proceeds, unaffected, and sits in the cushioned chair nearest the fireplace. He slaps his thighs as he splays his legs and grunts.

"Well, then, get on with it," your father grumbles.

Lord Odinson straightens his posture and gulps. He reaches up and toys with his cravat, the starch fabric already askew. He smiles, his cheeks reddening. He sways and looks between your father and yourself.

"I thought it very difficult to put this in ink but now I am here, I find the same is true of words," he says, laughing at his own joke, "so, lady, I trust this isn't very surprising to you. I've made my intentions clear and I've made your father a proposal, which he has graciously approved. Thus I put to you the question..." he twists his cravat, stops himself, then grips his jacket lapel, "would I be a fair husband to you? Er, or rather, would you... would you... honour me as a wife?"

The air stills and the chill that trailed you in dissipates. You blink dumbly and let your mouth fall open. You glance at your father. You understand his happiness now and yet you cannot believe it.

Your stomach churns and you clamp your mouth shut. The silence turns unbearable. You notice how Lord Odinson's cheek spasms and his complexion drains.

"Yes, sir, I... suppose... rather, I would..." you feel as if you're choking, "is it true? A marriage?"

"You wouldn't have to leave your homeland forever. I have some months ahead of me and my holdings here. We could visit--"

"Yes, yes, I will marry you," you murmur.

You hold your breath. Waiting. For one of them to break. For a peel of laughter between them. For it all to be another trick.

"Glory," Odinson exclaims as he proffers his hand, "shall we sit for tea, then, my valkyrie?"

You nod, unable to speak for fear of croaking. It is real. This man is real but you worry, his attention may yet prove false.

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queenofbaws · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I hope you are feeling better Queenie!! For the writers ask may I ask numbers 7,8,17 and 39? Thank you!!

ahhh, thank you!!! 🥰 i'm hangin' in there, haha! i hope you don't mind i shifted the order of these juuust a little, for reasons that will probably be obvious, hehe.

weird writing asks for weird writers!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

honestly, for all i complain about it when the words aren't coming out right (or, more often, fast enough for my liking, lmfao), my deepest joy about writing is.........most of it, actually. for me, writing is like......a puzzle. you have to put the right words together, the right sentences together, the right ideas and concepts and images together, and if you can do that, you can make something gorgeous, or terrifying, or hilarious, or tearjerking, or any combination therein!

i love getting to sit down to a project and think "huh, how am i going to tackle this one?" and i love imagining how people will respond to it, and i love lying in bed at night or standing in the shower and suddenly screaming because something makes sense where it didn't before!!! writing is just my happy place, and whenever you guys see me bemoaning it, i hope you know it's (mostly) me being a dramatic clown ;P

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

god, time for cliché hour again, but...you guys 🥹 hahaha, seriously, whenever i get super stuck on a project or i just start hating my own writing - something that happens more often than i'd like to admit, lmao - knowing that out there, there are people who have taken time out of their day to sit down and read the words i put down just...idk man, it does something to the ol' heart. whenever i start feeling really down on myself, i pop over to ao3 and poke through my saved inbox messages, and without fail, that always puts a little fire back under my butt ;)

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

oh, without action, no question. dialogue is my JAM, and while i'm sure it'd be hard to get around my impulse to always have people shrugging and smirking, shrugging and smirking, that's all anyone ever does, shrug and smirk, i think i could PROBABLY make something work...lights get knocked out and it's two characters trying to escape a room in the dark? laura and max stuck in their itty bitty cells trying to scheme their way out? a long-distance phone call being spied on by a third party??? oh the possibilities are endless, and, i'm sure, full of ellipses!

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

i'm lying down on the ground right now you don't even know. ooooooooooooh if you want some additional info about like wringing blood from a stone (i'm gonna be trying real hard not to spoil anything), it's under the cut akldsjfaklsdjf

so. as is the case with every longfic i endeavor upon, i've. i've gotten in too deep with my personal headcanons for the hackett fam lmfao. some of this is going to end up in the fic itself, some of it won't, but god. help me. i didn't intend to go THIS deep into the summer camp family aklsdjfklasjdkfjdf

i keep telling myself that one of these days i'm going to try and sit down to make a big, nice edit of the whole family, but then i chicken out and don't do it, but playing off the character intro cards/descriptions from the quarry, here are the descriptors i've personally been using for the whole racket:

KAYLEE: Athletic, considerate, lonely, defiant CALEB: Brooding, responsible, sensitive, creative BOBBY: Absent-minded, impulsive, obedient, excitable CHRIS: Charismatic, people-pleasing, emotional, paternal TRAVIS: High-strung, suspicious, insecure, defensive JACK: Superstitious, reclusive, sentimental, cunning CONSTANCE: Assertive, capable, obstinate, manipulative JEDEDIAH: Old-fashioned, stern, proud, aloof

they make such a pretty (and well-adjusted) picture when they're all together like that, huh? ;P

when i do character studies like this, usually i end up falling into rabbit hole after rabbit hole of backstories, and this is...this is absolutely no different - i don't think i'll ever sit down and write the whole thing out, but i do, for example, have the story of jed and constance's whole deal figured out in my head. i'm going to touch on it SO briefly in the fic itself, but god it's. it's all there. i have rough backgrounds for jed's siblings (that we don't see in the hackett family tree in-game, no, but boy howdy i have reasons for THAT too asdklfjlsdf), i just sort of.............as with any family, there's a whole story that obviously comes BEFORE the story we're seeing right now, the story that explains how everyone got to be The Way They Are, but there aren't werewolves in that one, it's just like. bad parenting. and child negligence. and alcohol. so it's staying in my brainbox where it belongs, but rest assured IT EXISTS.

i cannot for the life of me think of a way to present any of this clearly and in an organized manner, so...here are just some pieces-parts about the worldstate the fic takes place in, which may appear in the story itself aaaaaaand which might not!

the events of until dawn are canon - except, of course, jack and josh dying, lmao

the events of house of ashes are canon - sole survivor jason

the events of the devil in me are/will be canon - the shoeshine killer is a known entity

the fiddlers' visits to hackett's quarry always took place in the early spring/late fall and usually coincided with, let's say, parties going missing in the general area of the pines

...except the one time they visited at the height of summer in 1993 ;)c

amelia hackett (aka that grant girl) died from complications giving birth to kaylee

all twelve of the harbinger motel's guest rooms are color-coded according to the series of totems jack has placed inside for "protection:" fortune - white, guidance - yellow, loss - brown, danger - red; there's only one "death" or "black" room, and it's jack's personal quarters in back of the check-in area

none of the hunting trophies hanging in the harbinger are actual hunting trophies...except the jackalope. all the other skulls are wood carvings jack has made himself, finished to look like bone

growing up, chris only ever worked at the camp and bobby only ever worked at the scrapyard, but travis bounced around, working at the warrens' farm and the one (1) video rental place north kill had before winding up with the police, meaning, ironically, he's the sibling who worked the least for the family

all three hackett brothers played football in high school - to varying degrees of success

as used to be common, there is a family burial plot out in hackett woods somewhere, where many - but not all - of jed's relatives have been laid to rest

...kaylee and caleb still have not found it, but they TRY

jed says none of them will find it until it's time to bury him back there

travis has explained at least 47 times in the past two years that people don't get buried in their backyards anymore, that's not how it works, dad

jed insists that's exactly how it works, so help him god

bobby is so fucking good at shadow puppets. he's just. he's really, really fucking good at shadow puppets you guys

at the risk of continuing to ramble for five business days, i'll leave it there for now but aklsdjfldsjaf thank you for giving me the opportunity to barf behind the scenes stuff out onto a page XD

#torahime #asks

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yahargulian · 1 year ago

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im gonna send you a bunch of these fic asks xgxbdhnxjs SOOO 7, 27, 41, 43, 58, go!

Catch me kicking my feet excitedly hehe here we go!!

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

"Satisfied that, for the moment at least, they were in no immediate danger, Leon let his stance loosen just a touch, the hand hovering over his pistol falling away to his side. He took a deep, steadying breath. That was his first mistake. Because the thing that this line of work never prepares you for – never could prepare anyone for, really – is the visceral nature of shit like this. Sure, logically it makes sense that if flesh burns, you’d be able to hear it, smell it. And, it also makes sense that such an experience would be... unpleasant. But they had just melted a body – a very large body at that – in molten metal. Unpleasant didn’t quite cut it. " This is also the last thing I wrote for any of my wips! This is one of the two fics I'm actively (slowly) working on - the other one being the key fic, which I've posted a snippet of before - and I'm so excited for them both honestly. This one in particular I'm trying to make like.. As Visceral As Possible. Just go absolutely ham asgjkdhasg it's gonna be fun!

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

I'm trying to figure out how best to word this, but like.. Structuring sentences and things to help get the Vibe across. I've always typed exactly like I talk, even in messages, so I'm always like. Kind of thinking about how to best express myself using not just the words, but also the way the words are gonna be read and, hence, interpreted. Or, well, that's what I think anyway ashgkjadsjg tho I got told recently that I have a distinct voice when it comes to how I type and that it's present in my writing too, so hopefully I'm doing something right! (And I'm still not over it like.. I have a writing voice? Me? For realsies?)

41. Who’s your favourite character you’ve written?

Leon! And maybe I'm biased, because he is literally just. One of my favourite characters ever, I love him. And also maybe this is influenced by the fact that I hadn't actively written much for a good year or two until I fell into RE fandom all of three months ago. But anyway, I love to burrow my way into his head and poke around and see how he works and take stock of all the emotions and vibes, and then absolutely put him through the wringer ahdjkgahjgsdj It's an expression of love, promise! But a very close second would be Wanderer from Genshin Impact - and for pretty much the same reasons. His whole situation is way, way more complicated than Leon's, but he fascinates me in the same way. There's a lot to consider with them both. A lot of 'what if's and regret and guilt. Trying to do some good for the world. Both stories of a young, bright-eyed and naïve guy who gets thrown into a situation way beyond his control, and comes out of it as one of the only survivors. A situation that kills a part of him.. I think I have a type.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

Soulmates and time loop fic - and these both come to mind immediately because I'm planning to do them both in one go sometime soon! Yippee! I really want to finish a sex pollen fic. Or just anything in that specific kind of trope. I have one wip (in a document titled 'eeby deeby') that's sitting at like 4,000 words and has been for two years now and one day. One day! I will finish it adshgjkh And, not a trope, but I want to write something that's just a little unhinged. Just in general really, not even in a specific circumstance. Sometimes the best way to fully express an emotion in writing is to take it to an extreme, I think

58. Do you have a favourite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

"Through Azar’s hand, the path of Sumeru’s future was cut in cursive." Now like. I am kinda happy with just this as a line, but the context for it is what makes it my favourite. Because this is a wip (that I really need to finish for a friend omg) where one guy kinda gets off to this guy having really good handwriting? There's more to it than that, but something about having this line in this fic - which I wrote based on a joke that got out of hand - just brings me so much joy ahdgjkhgd

#thank u so so much for the ask aaaaaa #talking about writing is making me wanna write ahgjdhas #success!#santonali #answered

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essayofthoughts · 2 years ago

Note

🦋🕯️💌 for the emoji ask game!

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

Not really insecure about anything these days? I've posted a truly absurd amount of fic and my previous fandoms include Harry Potter (TERF author can go rot) and MCU (... character roundabouts abound and the tonky stans refuse to admit it) so ... fandoms don't scare me much, I'm liberal with the block and delete buttons and I'm pretty confident in my own writing ability and general standing as a fanfic author.

I think the only thing I tend to worry about is my tags? I always either miss something, or tag something in a slightly weird way there's probably something better for. If you ever notice a fic of mine that could do with either tag pruning or an additional tag - please do let me know. I once managed to forget to add Whump to a fics tags and only remembered when a commenter mentioned it, I promise, I will not be mad.

🕯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you’re not a social person/experience social anxiety?

See, I am Bad At People. I had very few friends going up and whether or not I have any neurodivergency (unknown, not unlikely, Dad almost definitely is, but I also have trauma from bullying and a shitty ex to complicate matters) I don't always socialise so good. I tend to observe social interactions and write them well, but outside of my close friends I get very antsy about interacting with new people.

This is why, generally, I stay in my own lane on tumblr; I'll post my metas and analysis here or in response to asks and only occasionally add them to other posts - and then posts by either people I know or, for whatever reason, feel comfortable enough to add to. I used to be a lot more fighty but frankly that intersects with my social shit badly and I am trying to keep to things which spark joy, even if people being wrong on the internet regularly makes me want to fight them.

Anyway. Comments are also easy because like - an awful lot of people don't respond to your comments? And it's a massive load off my anxious back to know I can just leave a comment and probably won't get any response. And then, if there is a response, it's often delightful because I wasn't expecting it and it's to a comment I probably put way too much thought into which means there's often something fun to discuss. Likewise - I love when people comment on my work with clearly thought out considerations and I know, from my own experiences, that many don't expect a reply and it'll be a nice surprise for them.

And, like I said - I'm trying to keep to things which spark joy. Spreading that joy in fandom is one such. World sucks enough - lets not add to it.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

So uh.

I reblogged a meta from @exhaustedwerewolf a lil while back and it's because of that meta that Kash is now eating my brain apparently? I have gained a new blorbo. I will be resuming my other WIPs soonish - the intense rush of writing has definitely tapered off some - but uh. Now I have 2(.5) new WIPs, centring on Kash and Zahra.

Oops?

Look I just really like poking at characters and their trauma and Kash and Zahra are both fun and drastically different examples.

Anyway so uh.

From what we hear of Kash's backstory, that boy was raised in a cult? I'm so glad I've listened to the Gangster Capitalism series on Liberty University and read/watched/listened as much as I have to stuff about cults and cult-like entities and abuse within those structures because uh.

Boy has some shit to pick through!

(It's extremely engaging.)

#fic things #writing things #fandom things #renegadessys #ask game #ask

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windydrawallday · 17 days ago

Text

This is a nice way to poke around peeps, batty buddy! Thanks for leaving this open to grab (I hope what I'm doing in replying like this is fine)

Alright, let's unpack:

Currently, I'm working on 6 sequential artworks for my usual rarepair because I have a month without doing something for them and since the past year I have this thing dated to be posted on 11/11 (tomorrow).

Tho, a few hours ago I finished setting up a cardboard box to be my new photoshoot lightbox... tho I will need to delay the testing of it because I discovered my trusty lightbulb lamp broke u_u

This was quite a sunny weekend! Today the sun was so strong it helped to dry clothes and of course, the glue and painting I applied to the cardboard box I mentioned before x) So, it was a productive weekend with what I can manage in my current creative energy.

You already know what project and why I'm excited about it coff ISAID-

I doubt you want to know how many WIPs I put off for years. LMAOOO, there are too many to count, but if I need to pick one, it's making a Meet the Artist sort of presentation (I have the sketch, but I haven't inked it… since February orz).

My color scheme to go is usually the Magenta/Cyan/Yellow combo, LOL, but I like to pick other colors from this palette!

Show finished recently: Batman Animated Season 01! It is one of my oldest visual inspos, with the clear sharp grimdark + art deco mix that characterizes the cast and mature themes it shows. Show started recently: Scooby Doo Mystery Inc; I'm taking so many screenshots because the backgrounds with those grunge textures and abandoned feel is hella rad!

Comfort characters: I've been with the same rascals you know for three years right now. Four? LOL It's difficult for me to get attached this hard and for a long time to fictional characters. Though I can't call him a comfort character, I enjoyed the Penguin on Batman Animated! There was an EP where they let him show such an awkward and gentlemanly side that I just WANTED TO SQUISH HIM.

Books read: AFTER THREE YEARS I FINISHED KING'S DANSE MACABREEEEE. I saved lots and lots of QUOTES I will be citing and using in my work for decades to come MUHAHAHA coff I want to start reading NEXT YEAR Frankenstein: I left it half there idk why so, I will need to start over. It's for the better.

Someone that inspires me… Y O U The end

Re-reading/Rewatching: in my bookcase, I always have The Little Prince and Lovecraft Anthologies (quite the contrast, eh?). Now if we go very personal-intimate: Neverending Story will always be absolutely groundbreaking to me, it really deserves its in-book title of "the book of all books". In the movie department, I'll never get tired of Scooby Doo's animated movies between 1990-2000s, the animation and storytelling were top! In a memory stick, I have tho Treasure Planet and Atlantis: Los Empire for similar reasons.

About the rewatch/re-reading effects mmm I think it affects me but to certain games: movies and series are unilateral in interaction, with games the interaction depends on you and I admit even if I like a game with all my might… there's always a level or part of the story I loathe to do again orz

Collecting wise: I never was into it until robot hell tackled me and it made me brave to spend and be more versed in buying this or that figures and toys was quite an experience. Out of that… I print official artworks and plaster them in collages around my journal, that counts? xDU I don't live in a place where merch is easy to get. And yes I draw fanart so technically I printed my own merch too skdfhskjdhf

Laughing is a rare thing from me daily I'll refrain from replying because *explodes*

I personally see my art better as stickers and postcards in format… I never designed art for t-shirts and such… or even tattoos idk, I feel a tad uncomfortable in general to take my art in such bold ways? Something rare because I worked before doing logotypes and such mmmm

I'm stupidly multifacetic x'D From drawing traditionally and digitally with inks, watercolors, and acrylics to then sculpting with clay, and cold porcelain to then designing maquettes for packaging (I'm learning to use the cutting plotter) without counting baby steps knowledge on game coding… I would LOVE to sew my own plush toys but %D I don't have that level of patience… same with SCULPTING IN 3D??? Idk, that's witchcraft to me!

… Too many hobbies you can guess from what I said before this point HAHAHA Aside from character design and goofy worldbuilding mmm Board game design? Big dream of mine.

Something new I learned: using the cutting machine!!! Was like going back to my Illustrator era roots sdkfjhsdjf On a personal level… I turned back to my witchy side and created my first magic servitor, my first spell on the 31 of October and I'm excited to try more things during rituals!

I think I have enough of this year? Even if at times I feel like it won me over… it wasn't so bad. But I need to take action in setting more habits I left aside like walking more frequently and respecting my sleep schedule (I slipped bad so many times in the year, I think that's why I'm feeling so sleepy lately).

That's all I think! I hope you find it educative entertaining haha

Thanks once more for the opportunity x)

To bring a bit more social into social media…

Tell me what you’re working on!!

How’s you’re weekend going?

Do you have any projects or plans you’re excited for?

What’s one thing you feel like you need to work on but keep putting it off? (could be a wip or practice with drawing backgrounds, house hold chores ect.)

Do you have a color / color scheme you are obsessing over right now?

Have you watched any shows/movies you really fell in love with?

What is your favorite comfort character right now??

Have you read any good books lately? What cute characters in there made you laugh or smile?

Who is someone that inspires you?

What is a show / movie / book that is so precious to you that you keep reading it over and over again?

Can you reread / rewatch a beloved thing over and over or does that bug you?

Do you like to collect merch from favorite shows, or are your favorites so obscure you have to make your own??

What’s one thing you’ve seen online recently that has made you laugh?

Do you enjoy making your work / pieces into wearable art? (making merch ect.)

Do you like to do artistic things? ( Draw, write, music, sewing, jewelry, scultping, crafts)

What hobbies do you have?

Have you learned anything new this year?

If you could learn one new thing this year what would it be?

#windy replies #know me better

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rosesakura · 3 years ago

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For the ask game: 2, 9, 12, 14! :D

you kind soul <3 thank you for your curiosity! it's all under the cut because I **ramble~**

2. Talk about a favourite comment you received.

I feel like I'm flexing or something but HOW can I choose one??

on new moon, old promises, someone asked if one of the lines was mine or Shakespeare's and I lost my mind over that

on safe under the stars, someone told me that they experienced an abusive relationship and that my story was something they won't forget

someone told me that I made them love Iwaizumi as a character and DaiSuga as a ship

someone told me that my stories is what pushed them to get an account

in terms of Unravel, chapters 15 and the last chapter have some wonderful comments that I have cried over

and in terms you, Julie, my favourite comment from you is the one on Unravel from chapter 8, not only because of the kind things you said, but because that is the comment where you asked if you could send me a message! I was always excited to read your comments and was even more excited to learn you maybe wanted to be friends :D

9. What inspired you to write your first fic?

my first fic ever I wrote because it was a rare pair that didn't have much content, and because I read them all, I felt I wanted to make some content for them

in terms of Haikyuu!! I wrote my first fic because I wanted to be involved in the fandom and because I desperately wanted some protective Iwaizumi content lol so I wrote it for myself and then decided to post it

12. What is your favourite theme/subject matter/trope/ship to write about? Why?

Hurt/comfort, nightmares, literal sleeping together, and war/fantasy AUs are my favourite to write I think. I like characters interacting on such a vulnerable level and the comfort they can find in each other.

My favourite ships to write (from Haikyuu!!) are IwaOi and DaiSuga. I find their dynamics the easiest to get into and feel more comfortable with them. I love KuroKen and BokuAka but I struggle getting them right sometimes. I really want to try writing Tanaka/Kiyoko sometime soon!

14. Share a snippet

Iwaizumi was a whole new challenge.

Oikawa was destructive on purpose, treating everything like a wall that he should not only jump over, but absolutely crash through and reduce to a pile of dust. And he couldn’t stop. It was with calculated moves that he aimed his shots and they hit the target perfectly every time.

Sometimes, he was afraid he hit too much. He poked and prodded and teased and flirted too much and, one of these days, Iwaizumi’s patience would be the thing that breaks, shattered beyond repair by his careless hands.

It was his biggest fear. Possibly the worst thing he could imagine happening was Iwaizumi turning away from him. He’d like to say his biggest fear was letting himself be careless enough to hurt Iwaizumi but Oikawa was selfish. He wasn’t afraid of hurting Iwaizumi because Iwa-chan was strong and even Oikawa wasn’t powerful enough to break him. But he could push him away, and the thought of Iwaizumi being more than arms reach away from him tore at his heart with a monster's claw.

But he didn’t. Iwa merely cracked in the most beautiful way, the slow upturn of his lips when he thought nobody else was looking, when he thought Oikawa couldn’t tell.

Oh, but he could.

I agonized over which wip to share with you and I chose one you probably werne't interested in LOL God I've had this fic half written for everrrr and it literally is just a weird poetry thing about iwaoi's relationship xD

#you wanted me to talk about writing?#I talked about writing #the comment one was really hard #and now i think i put too many #apologies on that #julie #i love you #lovely asks from lovely people #cat answers!

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reluctant-mandalore · 4 years ago

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🎃Mandoctober🎃Day 15: Jetpack

In all your time of traveling with the Mandalorian, you’ve never actually seen him use his jetpack. After some pestering, he decides to show you him using the device and it doesn’t turn out how either of you expected it to.

Warnings: fluff, a dash of angst, mild injury? (nothing really mentioned but its implied), not beta read

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (meant to be romantic, but could be read as close friends)

Word count: 1,389

a/n: so this originally started out as a wip in my folders called ‘din go woosh’ and I never thought I’d ever post it. But here we are! I thought it fit this Mandoctober theme quite well, so I hope you enjoy!

After seeing many of the other Mandalorians at the convert using their own jetpacks, Din Djarin began to desperately crave having his own. He thought they looked useful, and admittedly thought they seemed to be fun. That’s why he was ecstatic to finally have one in his possession when the time had come.

When he got his own jetpack, he had found himself finding almost any excuse to use it. Needed to go to the market? Jetpack. Have to climb a mountain? Jetpack. The kid wanted to have some fun? Jetpack. The answer to any of the problems he faced would dwindle down to a solution somehow using his new jetpack. His craze for the Jetpack did eventually die down though, and by the time he had met you, he only seemed to use it when he felt that it was necessary.

The one day after putting the child down for a nap, you watched as the Mandalorian rummaged around in a crate located down in the hull. The blinding light reflecting off of the jetpack secured on his back caught your eye, and you had found yourself staring at the device. In your short time with him, you had always seen him wearing the jetpack, but you hadn’t actually seen him use it even once. When asked, he insisted that he did so quite frequently, but at this point you found yourself doubting his claim.

“I’ve never seen you use it.” you had said out of the blue, poking the side of the device with an eyebrow raised, “Does it even work?”

“Of course!” He scuffed while pulling away from the crate, crossing his arms as he stared at you with his famous glare, “Why wouldn’t it work?”

A hum had left you at his reply, not being too overly worried with the glare he was throwing your way, as you were used to it by now after all the time you had spent with him. It still wouldn’t stop you from circling around him with a teasing smile plastered to your cheeks, “Show me then.”

Din had stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing in surprise from your sudden challenge. He had then squared his shoulders, closing the distance between the two of you so that he was only a hair away. The sudden closeness had caused your heart to thud louder, and made a small ripple of heat wash over your skin. You weren’t prepared for him to get so close to you so quickly, and it left you feeling a bit uneasy as you locked your gaze with his.

“Let’s go outside.”

A cheeky grin had spread wide on your face from his words, and the sight of it made the man before you huff again. He turned, and you followed him down the ramp to the outdoors, a cheery tune leaving you with each step taken.

Excitement filled you from the thought of finally being able to see him using the jetpack first hand and you watched him set up impatiently. He had done a small stretch of his back muscles, allowing for his shoulders to loosen as he prepared himself for take off. The need to impress you, even just a little bit, nibbling at his mind as he did.

Finally the moment came, and he glanced towards you as he pressed the button that would send him flying into the sky. Only this time when he had pressed it, absolutely nothing had occurred. The Mandalorian’s feet had remained firmly on the ground—the device on his back letting out a small puff of smoke—before seemingly dying on the spot.

A long awkward pause had followed, no words said between the two of you, as your gazes slowly locked with each other. The Mandalorian cleared his throat, before pulling the device off his back to give it a look over. His annoyance with the whole occurrence was clear as he went to see what was wrong and work on trying to fix the jetpack.

“I used it just the other day,” He said while fiddling with the jetpack awkwardly, an irritated sigh leaving him. “I don’t understand why it’s not working.”

Leaning over to look at the malfunctioning jetpack, your brows furrowed at watching his steadily increasing frustrations with it, “Are you sure you know how to use it properly?”

“Of course I do!”

“Really? Doesn’t look that way.” You had grinned, teasing him in an attempt to hopefully ease some of his frustration, but the glare he threw over his shoulder at you quickly made the smile fall from your face.

A loud click had sounded from the device, making the Mandalorian perk up at the sound of it, “Hey I think I got it-”

As if on queue, Din was thrown back by the jetpack into the side of the Razor Crest. The sound of him hitting the ship making a loud clang due to his beskar colliding with the metal side. His body had slid down the surface, frozen with shock due to the sudden impact he had just experienced with the ship.

The sight was the most terrifying thing you had seen in a long time—not expecting to bear witness to one of the fiercest warriors in the Galaxy flung like a rag doll. Dread had instantly pooled in your chest, with your heart instantly shattering at the sight of your companion now slumped against the ship.

“Din!” You had practically screamed, panic flowing through you while running over to his side. “Are you ok?”

He had coughed and nodded, sitting up properly with your help supporting him, “Y-Yeah… I’m fine.”

“Can you stand?”

His only reply this time was a nod, the embarrassment he felt keeping him from speaking again, an unseen blush settling on his skin. He let out a groan when you helped pull him up, allowing for his weight to be supported by your own tense grip. He had stumbled slightly into you as he got to his feet, and in return you had steadied him with your body, letting him lean against you as he grabbed his bearing again.

After he had managed to ground himself, you had hugged him tightly, your voice wavering as you spoke, “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Mando had stiffened at the hug before relaxing and returning your embrace. He held you for a long moment, your body shaking in his arms from your nerves still going into overdrive because of the whole experience. Tears had even begun to form at the corners of your eyes, and one of his hands came to brush the salty drops from your cheeks as they fell.

“I’m fine, I’ve suffered through worse.” He said again, trying to lighten the mood as he rubbed soothing circled onto you back. This gesture from him had only made you nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck though, sniffles leaving you as he continued to try and comfort you. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

Pulling back you looked up at him and smiled softly, “Din you don’t need to apologize, I was just surprised and worried, that’s all.”

The Mandalorian had hummed again at your reply, giving you another rub along your back, as you finally began to feel more calmed from your shock. His gaze had briefly gone from yours, to looking down at the smoking pack laying near both your feet. Seeing the Jetpack in its current state made him sigh, and he pulled back from you to pick it up while muttering bitterly to himself.

“You know... I think your jetpack may need to be fixed.” You said, a teasing smile once again finding itself onto your features.

“You think?” He chuckled at your words, motioning his head towards the ramp leading back into the ship. “Come on, let’s head back in. I think we’ve had enough of the jetpack for today.”

The two of you had headed back inside the Razor Crest after his words. The Mandalorian and you bickering amongst each other about how to fix the jetpack the whole way back—smiles both high on your cheeks. Although the two of you didn’t know exactly why the device wasn’t working, it was safe to say that you wouldn’t be seeing the Mandalorian using his jetpack anytime soon.

---

Tags:

@a-seeker-of-imagination @starrywatermelon @remmyswritings @ah-callie @karnita-mexicana @readsalot73

#the mandalorian #mandoctober #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #gender neutral reader #could be romantic or platonic #din x reader #din #mando #mando x reader #fluff #dash of angst #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #not beta read

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tracybirds · 3 years ago

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I can officially switch the status of Being Known from “stuck” to “WIP” again :) It’s been over a year since the last update for various reasons but I’m very excited to go back to this one and provide a new chapter!

For those new to the story, this was prompted by @kenzie-running-free in March 2020 and slightly got out of hand 😅 I’ve never stopped thinking about it and I bit the bullet and deleted the entirety of Chapter Four a few days ago and let myself rewrite it from scratch.... and it WORKED!!! (use technique with caution... scariest thing I’ve ever done.....)

Anyway...

A ‘what-if’ story based on “The Man From TB5” where the Hood recognized John in the scene when he makes himself known (instead of John stuttering).... and then he gets kidnapped :)

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

-----------

Darkness bled into John’s line of vision and he scrubbed desperately at his aching eyes. Time collapsed around him as he worked, the abruptly extinguished bulb the only hint of night. And every new day seemed to bring new weariness as he jolted awake by the sudden onslaught of light which interrupted the deepest part of sleep.

Just another tactic to keep him from gathering his wits together.

This morning, if it was morning, the brightly burning bulb was coupled with the scraping sound of a breakfast tray being shoved through the small slot that had been crudely and hastily carved in the door after he’d lain in wait and brought the tray down over one of the guard’s head. He’d left the man stunned on the floor and made it all the way to the end of the corridor before another guard had grabbed him from behind and thrown him bodily back into the room.

He’d woken to security footage of a fire ravaging a building, his own family on screen.

“They’re not looking for you,” sneered the Hood as he swept from the room.

No guards came in anymore.

Two days later, he’d been savagely poked in the eye when he’d tried to look through the new slot that had been hastily added to his door.

He spent hours every day, searching for a way to send out a message, or even create another receiver. Any link to the outside world would do. But it soon became apparent that the Hood had done one thing right in giving him access to an isolated system, keeping the holomonitor he’d been provided with separate even from his own devices.

One thing right among many.

John peered at the screen with his good eye, wincing at the torn skin that pulled over bruised muscle. His head spun as he stared at the endless commands, trying to replicate the spark of life no-one had ever found before EOS.

Not even him.

And that was the rub of it all.

John didn’t know, not after all his time studying EOS and her abilities, just how she’d been born of code and logical absolutes. How she could grow and change and evaluate her own mind in a way that not only seemed human, but was unquestionably so.

He glanced at the clock he’d created from scratch, counting the oscillations in the electrical current and spitting back a digital time at him. This ‘morning’ truly did correspond with the morning, and that meant the Hood would be paying him a visit for an update.

He wasn’t sure how much more time he could stall for until things got truly desperate.

How much time he had until he had to conclude that he was truly on his own.

* * *

“Scott, the floor’s unstable there!”

“I know what I’m doing, Alan.”

“Yes, but I have the numbers,” Alan replied, his voice cracking as he spoke. He spun the holo in his hands, checking and double checking the analysis that was running under his fingertips.

“Then the numbers are wrong.”

“They can’t be!”

“Alan,” said Scott, patiently. “I need you to check the parameters over again. I’m seeing two trapped vehicles, with no sign of ground stress, both much larger than me and more importantly containing passengers. I need to get them out of there.”

“Yes, but hang on–”

“There’s no time!”

Alan watched in horror as his big brother barrelled forwards. He crouched low as he ran, grabbing at nearby pylons for support. The ground heaved beneath his feet, but still Scott moved forwards steady and sure. Always with his eyes on the scared little boy in the back seat and a gentle smile on his face.

An alert ticked over into the red.

“Jump, Scott!” he yelled, watching the model floor cave in a split second before a real sinkhole opened beneath Scott’s feet.

“Alan, what’s happening up there?” came Virgil’s urgent voice, bound for home with Gordon from their own rescue.

Alan flipped the channel, realising in his hurry he’d accidentally broadcast his message to everyone.

“He’s fine,” he said, eyes still wide as he watched Scott shakily stand on the other side of the chasm. “The floor went.”

“What?”

“He’s fine, he’s fine!”

“Didn’t you run the simulation?”

“I did,” said Alan, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “He wouldn’t listen.”

Silence fell over the space station.

“Hey Alan, can you pilot Thunderbird One over to us? Got my hands full here.”

Scott’s voice rang out loud and clear. Five clear thermal images were standing around him, including one in his arms.

Alan fumbled for the call button.

“F.A.B. Scott.”

“I’ll talk to him, Alan,” said Virgil. His eyes were focused beyond him, but Alan could read the quiet fury beneath the clear focus on his own piloting.

“I can’t do it, Virgil,” whispered Alan. “I must have done something wrong, there must have been something he could see that I couldn’t.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” interrupted Virgil.

“He never would have done this to…”

Alan’s voice failed him.

Twenty-two thousand miles below, Virgil choked back his own distress. Gordon was chewing at his lip, staring anxiously at Alan. He leaned forward so he was in view of the holo.

“Hey, Allie,” he said. “John’s gonna be okay. And he’ll be giving Scott hell for ignoring the modelling like that soon enough.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Absolutely, I do,” said Gordon, cracking a grin. “No way, John would let Scott get away with that crap. Not even if he had to haunt him for the rest of his life in ghostly fury to do it.”

“Is he wrapping up now?” asked Virgil, eyes still pinched.

Alan looked down at the display.

“Yeah, he’s on his way home.”

“Right. EOS?”

“Virgil?” Her quiet voice was sullen and more than a little distracted.

“Got room in your processors for another task?”

EOS’s lights flashed suddenly, and Alan’s blood ran cold at the sight. Three weeks he’d been stationed on board Thunderbird Five and he still found himself walking on eggshells around EOS. Her frustration at turning up nothing in the holonet that could lead them closer to John morphed quickly from long, silent sulks to short outbursts of flying bagels and spinning gravity rings. He’d never forgotten the sight of John floating limply like a rag doll that had been torn apart one too many times by a playful, thoughtless, destructive child.

An angry EOS felt too close to losing his brother for good.

“Will it help, John?”

“It’ll keep his brother alive, and that will make it more likely for us to find him.”

“What can I do?”

“Lock Scott out of his controls, Order TB2-5711FR. Make sure Alan gets to Tracy Island before him. Redirect all calls to local authorities in the first instance, follow Protocol 24.”

“I’m not leaving,” argued Alan. “Don’t pull me from duty, I can do better.”

“No arguments.”

Alan wilted, knowing he had no choice but to follow Virgil’s instructions.

“This is done, Virgil,” said EOS, blankly.

“Thank you, EOS,” said Virgil, his manner still stiff and terse. He shifted his gaze from the open ocean in front of him to Alan, his expression softening. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Alan. If Scott takes his life into his own hands, that’s not on you. But we can’t have him in the field like that, cutting corners to get back to finding John. So, we need you down here in his place.”

“You can’t pull Scott,” said Alan, his eyes wide. “What would… well, what would Scott say?”

“We’re doing him a favour,” remarked Gordon with a sarcastic twist of his lips that made a mockery of his usual grin. “He wants to find John, we all do, but if he’s willing to risk lives and rescues to do it then he should put his energy into searching and we shouldn’t stop him.”

Alan swallowed, his eyes filling with tears that he angrily swiped away.

“Does he think we’re not looking just as hard?” he asked. “We haven’t forgotten him. Have we?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alan,” said Virgil, firmly. “John would have our heads before we put the possibility of finding him above the certainty of ignoring people who need our help.”

“So, we keep going out there,” agreed Gordon. “And when, when Allie, Kayo and Lady P and Parker find something, and they will, we’ll be right there without a moment to lose.”

“I just don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten him.”

“John’s too smart for that,” said Gordon. “Promise you, Allie.”

* * *

He’d worked it out. Every time he did something to anger the Hood, innocent people paid for it in blood. There was no point in harming him directly, not when what the Hood wanted was inside his mind, ripe for extraction. But his heart and spirit could be broken, as a video feed periodically forced itself over his work to make him watch. Earthquakes, landslides, tidal waves, anything that would get International Rescue on the scene and off his scent.

Senseless destruction and despair epidemic across the world because he couldn’t make an AI fast enough.

But senseless destruction that he could use.

There was no doubt in his mind that his family knew the natural disasters were anything but, he could see it in the determined fury in Scott’s face, in the tense draw of Virgil’s shoulders, in the sardonic mockery in Gordon’s smile as he quietly pocketed yet another piece of equipment.

He didn’t see Alan, and he thought of his baby brother up in space often. None of his brothers had any real idea of the full extent of his contribution, no matter how grateful they were for his guidance, and he hated to know Alan would be forced into that knowledge.

He also suspected that when Alan did spill the beans, he’d find his own rotations scrutinised with a lot more care.

Still, the limited glimpses of his brothers did nothing to discourage him, and he found himself contemplating a plan of escape well into the long, cold nights.

He needed more information.

He needed access to an external holonet connection. And the only way he’d get near one was with a working AI.

Or something that could pass for a few minutes as one.

#john tracy #alan tracy #all the bros are there but these are our main perspectives today #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i need to update ao3 again don't i.....

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beyondxmeasure · 4 years ago

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[Snippet Sunday] I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours...

A teaser from my upcoming fic for the @onedirectionbigbang, and a friendly invitation to share one of your works in progress or anything else you might want to show off to the world.

I’m always excited to read more from you, share the love and make new friends. As usual, no pressure to play. My inbox is always open. Come say hi! ֎ ALSO! if you’re seeing this come across your dash and you haven’t been told today... You’re amazing! You’re beautiful! You’re special! You’re worth it! What you’re doing matters! Shine your light for the world to see! xxx ♥☮♥ -Cy

Written by @cyantific

Subscribe here for updates.

»» Mature/Explicit «« »» Harry/Louis «« »» Memory Loss «« »» L♥vers>Friends>L♥vers «« »» 75K+ WIP ««

Louis wakes, feeling a dip in the mattress by his feet, and reaches instinctively across the empty side of the bed where Harry should be. He lifts his head up enough to see Harry at his feet, fisting his hair as he speaks in a soft, muffled panic into his phone.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks. “Is that what he actually said, or is that what you’re saying?” His voice raised in question.

Louis wipes a hand across his face and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles to himself, scrolling through the notifications. Missed calls from Richard, Harry and Will at Modest, two from Simon and three from Jane with a handful of texts and emails from all of them in varying degrees of concern or urgency, first wondering if they’ve fallen off the face of the earth and then eventually if they had a death wish… ‘just call Simon back already or we’re all dead!’. He can tell by the way he’s speaking that Harry is probably on the phone with his manager, Jane, but he mouths to him the question, anyway. Harry nods in silent confirmation, which gives Louis the tiniest bit of relief. She’s the only one with a shred of compassion amongst the lot of them, and she quite fancies Harry. They’ll have to milk that for all it’s worth right now.

“Well, of course not!” Harry argues. “I know that, Jane.” He pauses, listening. “I kn-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, scrunches his face, tilting his head back, and groans to himself. “Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm,” he nods. “But we have been patient, Jane. And we’ve done everything his way,” Harry maintains. “It’s been long enough. We can’t do it anymore,” Harry squeezes Louis’ foot as he slips him a small smile out of solidarity. Louis smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re pulled out of their soft moment so fast it was as if it never even happened at all. “Yeah, he’s here. Okay, yeah. I will. Yeah, mm-hmm,” Harry gulps. “We’ll be there.” Harry hangs up, throws his phone down on the bed and falls backwards in a dramatic huff into the space between Louis’ legs with a loud groan. He immediately traps Harry, wrapping his legs around him and Harry shimmies backwards, coming to rest with his head in the crook of Louis’ thigh. He holds tight to the limbs surrounding him as he nuzzles into Louis.

“This isn’t good, babe,” Harry murmurs into his warm skin in between soft kisses, rubbing soothingly into his calves.

“I know, love,” Louis whispers, carding his fingers softly through Harry’s curls. “I know.” They lay there in stunned silence, wrapped around each other, afraid to make a move. “But it’s not like we didn’t know this was coming, Haz. Right? He was never going to let us just stroll out of that closet peacefully with his blessing, was he?”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry concedes. “It’s just... out there now. It’s real.”

“Can’t put it back in the box.”

“Or the closet?” Harry jokes.

“Har-har-har,” Louis mocks, twisting Harry’s nipple playfully as he pokes him in his most ticklish spot just below the dark ink of the laurels on his hip, “always so cheeky,” He says, nipping into his tender flesh.

»»»»»»»»֎««««««««

Not sure who’s already posted, been tagged, does or doesn’t have WIP’s in the works and all that good stuff so as always...re-blog/share if you want to play, ignore if you don’t! And consider yourself tagged if you see this and want to play. No presh…

@mercurial-madhouse @zanniscaramouche @hadestyles @allwaswell16 @theisolatedlily @daffodilsforlou @tomlinvelvetfics @solvetheminourdreams @tommobrave @makethebestofwhatyouget @onlyfinewalls @louandhazaf @senshine @reallyfxckingpretty @scrunchyharry @dinosaursmate @vintageumbroshirt @kingsofeverything @bearmustard @twopoppies @haztobegood @hazzabeeforlou @2tiedships2 @beanno28 @becomeawendybird @adidassquad @larryyouknow @sadaveniren @ficsyoumayhavemissed @larryfic-recs

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scarlettwitcher · 5 years ago

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Daddy

Summary: Geralt allows Y/n to call him a nickname she hears and soon faces the consequences for it.

Characters: Geralt, Reader, Jaskier

Word Count: 3,161

Warnings: fluff, tinsy bit of angst, mentions of abuse, sexual frustration(?), implied smut, this is basically just a crack fic, dom!Geralt, and daddy!geralt

Author’s Note: So this was a head cannon I shared with my girl @queenxxxsupreme and let’s just say I got her hooked on this imagine. I hope you guys like this, it really was just for fun. Also, send my girl some love for being the amazing beta she is. Love ya babe! I have a few WIPs that I won’t be able to release until next week because I have a wedding tomorrow and plans all day sunday so I hope y’all accept this in the meantime. Tag lists are open as are requests! As always, thank you for reading and feedback is always welcome!

You shivered under the Witcher’s touch, the first kind feeling you’ve had in years, as he tried to comfort you after finding you alone in the forest. The vampire that caught you when you were young was sadistic to say the least. He really didn’t need you for your blood but you were his drug. Years passed after he snatched you away from your home but you lost count after the first year. The vampire trained you, turning you into his submissive blood bag. By the time you turned eighteen, you knew nothing of the outside world other than the vampire that had you under lock and key.

It seemed like fate finally wanted to intervene when the vampire left you alone at his cabin. He left the dark home to get some supplies in town and left you alone. You took the risk to finally free yourself of your binds and run free from the prison you had lived in. You really didn’t get far before running into a very tall, and intimidating man which you found really odd considering you were in the middle of a forest. He had white hair and golden eyes that watched you with caution, almost as if you’d attack him at any moment. You began to fear for your life and you could only assume the man in front of you could tell by the way he slowly raised his hands in surrender towards you. Something about this man made you trust him just a bit as he got closer and grunted a greeting. “Are you alright miss?”

“I-I’m okay… I think.”

“Are you lost?”

“Not really… W-where am I?”

“You’re outside of Cintra.” You could only nod quietly as you looked around at the quiet forest. You really had no idea where you were. You suddenly felt a bit self-conscious under the strange man’s gaze, knowing you were covered in dirt and your clothes were torn, and dirty. You stood there awkwardly before clearing your throat.

“Could you help me…..please? I just escaped the man that had me captive and I need some help.” Geralt took a deep breath as his eyes wandered around all of the trees he was surrounded with. He grunted, nodding once, as he helped you climb on his horse, holding the reins as he walked down a path. And that was the start of the wonderful adventure the two of you would embark for a few years.

After Geralt found you in the woods, he took you in, cared for you. Within the first night, he helped you bathe since you were really weak and very malnourished. When Geralt saw your skin for the first time, he couldn’t help the surprise and concern that flooded his features. Your skin was sickly pale from never being in the sun. Your skin clung to your bones and you were covered with scars from head to toe. Most were whip scars while some were burns and others claw marks. After that first night, Geralt swore to himself to always protect you. He never knew why he felt such an intense need to care for you but he didn’t really want to think about it.

After the first year of traveling with the Witcher, you were healthy. Your skin was glowing and you had gained enough meat on your bones, making you a plump little thing that most men couldn’t keep their eyes off: including Geralt. He never knew when his feelings grew stronger, when he started to love you. He never let it show, never wanting to risk his enemies using you against him and you stayed your oblivious self.

“Geralt, please, can we stop at the next town for the night? I’m quite tired.” You whined quietly as you tugged on his pants as you walked next to him riding Roach. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, his lip quirking up slightly as he watched you pout up at him. You were very innocent but you knew that you could always win the Witcher over with your puppy eyes and soft pout.

“But we’ve only been walking for a few hours, princess.” You huffed at the nickname, knowing he was trying to get a rise out of you.

“Come on, Ger, it’s been a few days. Please?” You pouted harder, making the widest puppy dog eyes you could muster at him. Geralt chuckled as he saw you. He couldn’t help the feeling that was blooming inside of him, making him feel warm as he watched you. What he would give to just have you every which way he wanted you.

“Okay, okay, well stop tonight.” You jumped gleefully as Geralt chuckled quietly. After walking for a few more hours, you encountered a rather large town. While Geralt stopped at a stable to leave Roach, you got rooms for the night. You watched Geralt make his way to the Tavern and knew to join him there when you were done. Once you had the room keys, you made your way to the tavern, passing the town’s brothel.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see him. He was gorgeous. Might even be Daddy.” Your brows furrowed as you heard some of the women speak.

“The Witcher is your daddy now?“

“That hair, that body, and that ass. He could murder me and all I would say is, ‘thank you daddy.’” The girls laughed as they looked at the girl who was speaking with incredulous looks. You wondered if the Witcher had a new title along with all the other names he gained over the years. The girls noticed you walking by and hushed their conversation. You made your way to the tavern walking in, finding your companion at the table in the back. You quickly made your way over, dropping in the seat next to him, like you always did, as you grabbed his cup, taking a sip from the ale. Geralt watched you amused. You could never finish a full mug of Ale and would rather steal sips from Geralt’s, which he never minded.

“Thanks for taking care of me all this time."

Geralt knew you always felt like a burden and while he knew you weren’t, he couldn’t say it. He could see you wouldn’t believe it. So instead, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him for a side hug. You personally knew Geralt did not like public affection but when you needed it, he would give in just a little. That was your reassurance enough. Geralt took the mug of ale from you, taking a large sip as you smiled softly. "Thanks daddy."

It took you a second to realize what happened as the Witcher beside you was coughing loudly. You looked at the table covered in ale and realized he had spit it all out and was now choking. You watched him with worry as he kept coughing, trying to compose himself. The rest of the tavern had gone silent to watch Geralt choke. Finally, after what felt like eternity, his cough had calmed down. He took a sip of what was left of the drink to calm his throat. He looked at you bewildered as you watched him with concern.

"A-are you okay?"

"Where did you learn that word?” You looked at him confused, wondering why he was asking you that.

“I-i was walking past the brothel and a few girls called you daddy. I thought it was a nickname like White wolf… ” You started to feel embarrassed for using the word and you looked down at the table. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used it.” Geralt watched you intensely as he tried to figure out what to do. He wouldn’t deny the blood that rushed to his cock the moment you said the title. Why it turned him on was beyond him but the words coming from your lips would have him coming undone. He didn’t like how you felt ashamed and he sighed, giving in just a bit.

“Don’t apologize dove. It’s.. okay. I don’t mind it, just took me by surprise.” Your head whipped up and a large smile painted your features as you jumped up into his arms, hugging him tightly. You licked your lips and whispered.

“I’m glad you’re okay with it, daddy.” With that, you let go and moved to leave the tavern, leaving Geralt’s room key on the table as you sauntered off towards your own room, ready to sleep the night off. Geralt watched you dumbfounded as he opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t. He was fucked.

A few months had passed since that night and you both continued on your travels. In one town that you stopped, you met a healer who was willing to teach you her tricks while you were in town. Geralt had a contract that would take at least a month. You were more than happy to learn how to patch up the big idiot you traveled with. One night you learned how to heal a deep wound with a simple spell and you were too excited, you wanted to tell Geralt. The moment he walked into your shared room, you pounced.

“Daddy! Daddy! Guess what I learned today?” Geralt closed his eyes tightly as he took a second to will his feelings way. He knew if he didn’t, he’d jump you and fuck you into the floor until you were both covered in splinters. You noticed the way Geralt stiffened and moved closer poking his chest. His eyes snapped open, watching you with an intensity that had you bouncing on your heels. “I-i learned a spell today!"

"Daddy, look at this dress. It’s so beautiful.”

“I found these flowers near the river. I thought you’d like them daddy."

"You’re so brave, daddy. You saved them."

"Daaadddy please."

Geralt seemed grumpier and grumpier every day. Geralt should’ve known this was a bad idea. He was mad for letting himself think with his dick and not his head. You had stopped at a town for the night, since you were exhausted. Walking into a tavern for the night, you heard soft strumming and you would’ve recognized the voice everywhere.

"Jask!” The Bard turned swiftly on his heels as he saw you and smiled widely.

“Ah, is that the precious Y/n I see?” You giggled as you ran over hugging him tightly as you rested your head on his chest. “And the White Wolf! Tell me, darling, how you’ve managed to stay with him so long."

"Jask, I can’t give away my secrets.” Jaskier laughed and nodded towards a table as you sat beside him, talking up a storm, telling him everything you had learned and all of the adventures you and Geralt had while the Witcher only watched the two of you amused.

“So, of course, daddy walks into the tent, soaked in blood, getting everything else covered in blood and he-”

“Daddy?” Jaskier looked taken aback as his eyes drifted between you and Geralt but as his eyes remained on Geralt far longer than you, a smirk creeped on his features as he laughed. “Are you two-”

“No.” Geralt’s thick voice penetrated the air for the first time that night.

“Oh, Jask! It’s one of his nicknames. He said it was okay for me to use it.”

“One of his nicknames you say? Who used it darling?"

"Some woman at a brothel.” Jaskier couldn’t contain his laughter as he smiled smugly at Geralt who was looking at everything except the Bard. The color in his cheeks draining a big. Jaskier could’ve sworn he even looked nervous.

“Well, darling, you be you. Isn’t that right,” Jaskier looked at Geralt with an evil glint in his eyes as he licked his lips. “Daddy?” Geralt’s eyes snapped up to Jaskier, glaring at the Bard. He was about to speak when he heard you softly yawn beside Jaskier. You stood and bid your good nights to the men as you made your way to the room you had booked for the night. Geralt decided to join you, knowing he didn’t want to be alone with Jaskier even for a second. Jaskier knew he had to join the two of you on your travels and decided to spend the night in your room, knowing he could sleep in your bed with you comfortably. Soon the night passed, and after the break of dawn you were on the road again.

After a week on the road, Geralt heard of a possible contract and you all made way towards the town. Since it was a good few days of travel, the three of you took camp in the forest. You had bought a new dress and had worn it that day. You were in your tent having difficulty taking it off. “Daddy, can you help me?”

Geralt looked up from where he was sitting, staring at your tent. Jaskier couldn’t help himself as he watched Geralt almost leap at your voice. “Yeah daddy, go help her."

"Shut up bard.”

“Awe daddy don’t be rude.” Geralt growled at him as he made his way to your tent. He entered and looked at your back. You were holding your hair up with one hand as your other one was trying to reach for the ties on the back of your dress.

“Hey daddy, can you help me untie this?” Geralt took a deep breath as he walked towards you, looking over you like a giant tree. He reached towards the dress cautiously, letting his fingers skim over the material before slowly undoing the ties, your skin exposing more and more after every tie. The last tie ended at your lower back, just over your hips. You hummed softly as he helped you. “Thank you daddy.”

Geralt swallowed thickly as he felt himself harden, just like every time he did when he heard you use the name on him. Truth was, he absolutely adored the way you called him daddy, and he’d often go to sleep with dreams of being buried deep inside of you as you moaned the title in his ear, telling him to go harder. Geralt, too lost in his thoughts, didn’t realize he had dragged his fingers down your soft skin, relishing on the way you felt. He felt the goosebumps that littered your skin and that broke him from his lust clouded dreams. He pulled his hand back like you had burned him and disappeared from your tent in the next second. You didn’t have a chance to turn and look at him before he was gone. You couldn’t deny that you loved the way he touched your skin. You couldn’t deny the recent feelings you had for the older man and the way he made you have butterflies in your stomach.

Jaskier watched as Geralt left your tent in haste and strummed his lute. “Didn’t go well daddy?"

"Jaskier, I will beat you.”

“Oh no daddy. Don’t hurt me.” Geralt walked off, needing to cool down, feeling all of his pent up emotions at the tip of his tongue and cock. He was so sexually frustrated and he could only accept the fact that you were the only one who could satisfy him. He pounded his way through brothels but nothing could quite get him like you did. Your voice, your touch, the name. The stupid name.

After settling the next night into the town with the contract, Geralt disappeared, deciding that taking his frustrations on the monster was better. The monster was no match for the pent up, sexually frustrated Witcher, going down within the minute.

“You know, I feel like I should tell you. ‘Daddy’ isn’t one of Geralt’s names.”

“What do you mean?” You looked up from the plate of food you were inhaling at the tavern you had stopped at to eat.

“It’s not like White Wolf. It’s more of a pet name of sorts. Like when you sleep with someone. If they like it, you use it. In this case, daddy is quite kink- darling you okay?” Jaskier watched as the blood drained from your face at his confession. You had been using a sex pet name for almost a year. Jaskier could only figure out what was going through your head as he chuckled to himself. “If he didn’t have any feelings towards you, he wouldn’t have let you use it.” You nodded quietly in understanding. You had to find out. You stood up abruptly making your way to the inn you were staying at. You didn’t know what you were going to say or even do. You just knew you had to see him.

Barging into his room, Geralt stood with his back to you, shirtless. You licked your lips and willed your thoughts away as he only turned his head to look at you. He turned fully and watched as you stood there, looking pale and bewildered. “Dove?”

“Why do you let me call you daddy?” Geralt took a second and sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor before grunting quietly. He moved to sit on the bed as he motioned you towards him. You slowly moved in between his legs as you watched him. Even sitting he was taller than you. He grabbed your wrist pulling you into him, almost close to straddling him at this point. He cupped your cheek making you watch him.

“Because I like the way you say it. I like the way it makes me feel."

"But.. I- but.. "

"I’m sorry if you feel tricked.”

“It’s not that.. It’s just, well the other day in the market, I wanted to thank the salesman for an apple he gave me and when I used the name on him, his wife threw an apple at m-” Before you could finish, Geralt growled lowly from his chest as he stopped and stood, gripping your arms tightly but not enough to hurt you as he towered over you.

“You will not use that name with anyone else, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes daddy.”

“Good girl.” Geralt sat back down, pulling you with him, keeping you between his legs as he cupped your chin, making you look at him. “Love, I’ve tried holding back. You’re too pure for a man like me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. But you make me selfish. You make me crave like I’ve never before.” He leaned in his dragging his nose against your neck as you shuddered softly under his touch. He pressed a soft kiss against your neck as you shivered. “Say you do too.”

“Daddy… I’ve been yours since the day I met you.” It was like a the hold that contained Geralt’s need snapped, and everything came flooding in. He pulled you into his hold before throwing you on the bed, crawling over you, filling all of your senses that was him.

“Good, because you belong to daddy, baby girl.”

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @supersassyprobablysad @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling @dancingalone21 @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @lovebodymindstuff @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @chook007 @akshi8278 @evansrogerskitten @bringmesomepie56 @brooklymw @persephonehemingway

The Witcher Tags: @alwayshave-faith @ayamenimthiriel @queenxxxsupreme @stretchkingblog97 @secretsthathauntus @sinnamon-bunn @aubageddon91 @strangerliaa @dressed-up-heartbreak @ex-templarsthot @laneygthememequeen @givemebooksorgivemedeath @afterthenightprevails @l-km07 @msgeorgiarae @uncoolcloudyhead @moderapoppins @augustwalking @yokaimoon @thatshellfiredean @riviawitch3r @sxmmylee @hookedinto-stories @theatreandtea-blog @nellaphine

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avian-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Alice & Avi in Pelican Town

Me and my sisters play as our OCs in Stardew Valley so here are some snippets of their time in Pelican Town! It’s in a different style than most of my WIPs, so please tell me what you think~ :)

Words: 1,239

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Alice laid on the twin bed all by her lonesome in her darkened bedroom, curled up in the thin blanket with her face buried in the mattress. Hidden from the cruel, hideous world that took her grandpa from her. One that refused to even give its empty condolences; one that went on without the last stable presence in her life; one that didn’t give a damn her world was shattered once again. The same one that already took her parents and most of her siblings away.

Her fingers dug into the fabric until the quilt started to form jagged bruises in their design. Quickly letting up her hold but not letting go of her lifeline: brown and pink squares stitched together lovingly just days before passing. A sniffle escaped her throat and she snuggled deeper into her cloth abyss.

A knock at the door interrupted her lamenting, opening without invitation to enter. Her brother kept his distance though she knew could practically hear his hands clenching and unclenching, wanting to hug her. “How are you feeling?”

Silence. The only answer he’d gotten for days. When they got the call. When they were at the funeral home. When they visited the grave every week for the past month. Bits and pieces of dialogue that just turned into no speaking at all at some point.

Avi sighed and held up an envelope. “How about this?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she poked the very top of her head out. Just enough as an acknowledgement of her brother’s proposition. He smiled and opened the letter, scanning it thoroughly several times before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Read it.”

Multiple seconds went by, but Alice finally slowly rolled down the blanket to take the letter then snapped it back into place over her head. She read the letter under the safety of her deflated fort while Avi waited patiently.

After a long time, even after reading and rereading the fateful letter, she emerged from her swaddle and sat slumped over on the bed. “Are we going?” she asked.

He expressed visible relief at hearing her voice and she sucked in a teary breath. “I don’t think we really have a choice. Do you want to stay here?”

Alice leaned back to the window hanging above her head. The tops of the city buildings blocked the view of the open air sky that she dearly missed. Loud noises of hustling and bustling beneath the apartment created a tent of mayhem that just irked her the wrong way.

It wasn’t like that always in her life. She and Avi had lived in a house by a lake at one point. With Alex and Laurence. A beautiful one with a basement just for the two of them. With a dock and large yard and space between them and the rest of town. Before they had to move. Before everything happened.

Now they only had each other left. And a home they had to share with tens of other people. People that didn’t care about them.

Her quietness was answer enough and Avi tapped her head. “That settles it then. Pack your bags when you’re ready and I’ll call the town. Make sure there’s a bus line that gets that deep into the valley.”

His hand gently fell off her head and Alice caught it in time to give it a quick squeeze before letting go. So fast, anyone else in the room would’ve missed it, but that’s fine. It was their thing, not anyone else’s. Not like there was anyone else ever there to witness the siblings’ strangeness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

“I’m living there.”

“What?” Avi followed her pointing finger to the house near what used to be their grandpa’s home. It was around the same size, just in a different style that somehow both matched and didn’t fit the rest of the farm aesthetic. “Why?”

Alice shrugged in a way that she hoped was nonchalantly. “I want to live on my own. At least somewhat.”

Avi narrowed his eyes at the building. It wasn’t overgrown and was missing the spare logs for the fireplace jutting out from the roof. But it was pretty to Alice and that’s all that mattered. “Looks too unstable to live in.”

“Like this crappy house is much better.”

“Hey! Watch your language.” A breeze blew past and he tightened his jacket around his shoulders. “At least sleep in the house with me tonight so I can look at it tonight. Make sure it’s livable for you.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she knew he would fight her step of the way if she disagreed and she just wanted to get started. “Fine. So what are we doing?” she asked, kicking over a stray stone.

Avi handed over his parsnip seeds to her. “Mayor said something about a woman who sells cows, chickens, stuff like that over in the forest. I’ll talk to the carpenter tomorrow about building a coop and barn.”

“Can you even take care of animals?”

Avi shrugged. “Animatronics, living animals. Similar things.” He ruffled her hair and she ducked from his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just pay attention to the crops and we’ll be fine.”

She groaned and lightly stomped her foot like the child she definitely wasn’t. “I don’t want to work with the crops. Why can’t I do something more exciting like...fishing or something?”

“Since when is fishing more exciting than the food we need to grow and sell?”

“Since I decided I hate farming.”

“We’ve been here twenty minutes, you’ll grow to like it. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be monsters around here for you to fight.”

Alice crossed her arms. “I see one right now,” she grumbled but relented. She tossed her hoe in the air, catching it on its way down effortlessly, and smacked it into the ground in one fell swoop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dance festival was a somber occasion for Alice. She didn’t know anyone well enough to ask them to dance and she didn’t feel anywhere near confident enough to ask if she and Avi could dance something they don’t know with the others in front of everyone.

So she and her brother stood in the shadows, back in the corner of the forest, while everyone got ready. Beautiful girls in beautiful dresses, handsome guys in somewhat ugly jumpsuits. She didn’t know how she felt about potentially wearing the dress but the yearning to be part of the ceremony was easy enough to ignore.

Alice knew she had a vague memory. Of standing on her father’s shoes while he danced them around the room. Step by step around the furniture, across the wooden floor. Before being handed off to each of her siblings who flew her off her feet. All while her mother played their favorite songs on her slightly burnt fiddle.

The music began to play, barging into her happy thoughts and dwindling them down to their bare austere manner. The memory turned sour and the warm atmosphere surrounding her felt like a tease.

Silently, she took Avi’s hands and he helped her onto his boots. As the younger people of the valley danced out in the open, the two siblings danced to their own little tune hummed under her breath. A few villagers who took notice simply smiled and turned their attention back to the larger spectacle, leaving them be.

#writeblr #stardew valley #ocs #writers on tumblr

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anki-of-beleriand · 4 years ago

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And, okay, this is the second part and still don't know what am doing exactly but, hope you like it @aduialel thank you for the idea!

ThranduilxReader - sort of

GlorfindelxReader friendship

Modern Reader, mentions of Elrond and Celebrian

Here is the first part, if you wanna give it a chance

The wine is quite delicious; you are always quite surprise at how it slides down your tongue leaving behind a fruity taste. You are not used to this kind of beverages, but you have learnt to love them in the last couple of months you have been trapped in this strange, yet so familiar world.

Your companion says something and you have to shake your head to go back to the conversation. He looks highly amused by your distraction; you wince because you know he will tease you mercilessly once you have gone back to his place. You should have never said anything about this party, or the particular elf that have caught your attention.

“I think, my lady, that you are highly distracted.” Glorfindel says and you roll your eyes, then he places a hand on your shoulder and leans in whispering in your ear. “And the reason of your distraction is coming over.”

You tense because really one encounter was enough for a day. You can sense the tension on your shoulders, that empty pit on your abdomen and the fluttering of butterflies in your heart as he approaches. He is not alone, he comes with Elrond and another elf, his eyes are completely focused on you though his face seems to be a mask of pure indifference those eyes burn with emotion.

“Ah, Glorfindel, fancy seeing you here.” He says and Elrond shoots him an exasperate stare while Celebrian merely rolls her eyes.

Glorfindel arches a single eyebrow bowing his head, “Thranduil, it has been quite some time, how have you been?”

“I’ve been doing fantastic, though Elrond here was wondering quite a few things and we thought you and your companion can help us clarify.”

Now it is Elrond the only looking completely flabbergasted at this declaration, you hide your smile behind your goblet because this is really strange but funny at the same time. When you arrived in this strange world you never entertain the idea of getting to know the characters that have been filling your dreamless nights, or the stories you have been working on. You think briefly on all your WIPs back home and shake your head knowing they will forever be in that status.

Someone pokes you on the side and you notice you have been staring at Thranduil more than you should, and they have stop talking at some point. You can feel your cheeks warming up in embarrassment, but it is your eyes and your smile the ones that betray this.

“Right, I…wasn’t paying attention. What was it?” You try to sound sheepish and apologetic but Thranduil doesn’t seem to be impressed by this.

“Lord Thranduil was asking for your name.” Glorfindel sounds completely and utterly amused and you shoot him a stare that says you will kill him later. Or try to.

You turn to Thranduil who is waiting for an answer, Elrond and Celebrian both decide to not be part of this though they stay watching the interaction with growing amusement on their part. You smile politely an introduce yourself, the name that escapes your mouth is the one Glorfindel bestowed upon you on your first meeting when he saved you from a certain dead as soon as you arrived to Middle Earth.

Thranduil arches an eyebrow as if contemplating the veracity of what you just say, and as he does this you also take a closer look. He is ageless though there is something youthful in him, perhaps it is his clear eyes that show no pain nor any sadness or coldness, this is a time before Sauron breaks havoc so you know nothing beyond the Fall of Doriath has happened. He is still young, and perhaps happy. There is no wife as of yet, and he is vain and extrovert though right now, for some unknown reason, he looks highly offended though the conversation soon moves to different topics.

You can seem to stop your eyes from wandering back to Thranduil and he seems to be under the same kind of predicament. Though you can’t help but think his reasons are different to yours, your little crush really have you wanting nothing more that touch that silky hair of his or to see those eyes and that beautiful smile he seems to wear only behind a mask of sarcasm and arrogance.

“It seems you are easily distracted,” his voice is deep taint with amusement and his blue eyes gleam as they look down on you, “is my presence uncomfortable to you?”

You narrow your eyes, for the very first time noticing you two are alone. Glorfindel has been dragged away by Echtelion and Elrond is back on the dance floor with Celebrian. Your eyes go back to Thranduil who seems to wear a smirk and wait for an answer.

“No, of course not.” You answer trying to keep your cool, but really he is suddenly far too close to you. “But, I do get distract easily it’s just….I’m not used to all of this.”

You wave your hand around and Thranduil seems to contemplate you for a moment, he turns to the room and then his eyes are back on you.

“You mean celebrations? Or, elves in general?” He asks with a single eyebrow lift and you shift uncomfortable for a moment, no one knows you real origins. No one but Glorfindel and Echtelion, you are not overly excited to share it with anyone else because they don’t need to know.

You turn to Thranduil and your heart speeds up when his eyes settle on you, he really has such beautiful eyes. You shake your head and shrug.

“I’m not pretty good at social gatherings.”

“Whatever not?” Thranduil replies genuinely surprised. “They are the best to spend a tiresome day fill with routine.”

“I prefer to read, or just to hang around with my closest friends.” You want to tell him you also prefer to hear music or watch movies but…

Thranduil then tilts his head, “Friends? It was quite shocking to see Glorfindel it is such a friend, I did not know he mingle with mortals.”

You tense turning to Thranduil furrowing your brows, “why not?”

Thranduil seems genuinely surprise by the question, he gives you a quick glance pursing his lips.

“Why would one of the Eldar mingle with a mortal? It is but a brief blink of an eye to us, to create attachments seems foolish.” He says as if this was a universal law, his words hurt you deeply but they also infuriate you.

“What a stupid thing to say.”

“Excuse me?” He turns to you rather shocked that someone seems to say something like that to him.

“I said that’s a pretty stupid and ignorant thing to say.” You retort looking at him who was now lancing at you with narrow eyes. “Why would you deny yourself a friendship for such an stupid reason? You are not invincible, and you can also die by fading or sword, so you stop having friend or lovers because of it?”

“Lovers?” He says the word with a strange glint in his eyes, there is something you are missing in this conversation but now Thranduil is back with a fire in his eyes as he tries to intimidate you with his height and stare. “It takes too much effort to try and build a relationship with someone who is to die and whither with time, it simply has not sense.”

Your hand tightens around the cup of wine, your really are quite offended by those words mainly because in your head you though this conversation would go differently. Perhaps, you imagine yourself getting to know Thranduil and befriend him and maybe, just maybe, getting a kiss or two; really all the fanfics you read fill your head with impossible dreams. Now, he is just an arse, and you want to hit him for such harsh words.

“How petty of you, Lord Thranduil.” You said with all the animosity you could muster. “Either way, my friendship with Glorfindel is none of your business and thank the heavens you are not to decide this, nor I am interested in forging a friendship with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” He looks downright offended, and now you are completely certain no one has spoken to him in such a manner.

“Yes! A complete brute, insensitive, idiot.” You take a deep breath shaking your head, “now, if you excuse me, I think my friend is calling for me.”

Thranduil is left alone, shocked and completely outrage at such treatment. No one and you really mean no one has ever dared to treat him in such a disrespectful way. He sets to follow you and you don’t realize it until his hand wraps around your arm turning you around mid-stride.

“Apologize.” He demands and you can help but laugh.

“Really? Whatever for?”

“Your rudeness for starters, you should not speak in such a disrespectful way to a lord.” He says as a way of explanation, you snort taking his hand in yours to disentangle it from your arm.

“Right, let’s get something straight, I don’t apologize to my mum, whatever makes you think I will apologize to you, lord or not?”

He seems annoyed; his eyebrows are knit together as if he is looking for an explanation. You purse your lips looking away before speaking.

“But don’t worry Lord Thranduil, you will not see this rude girl ever again, so you won’t have to deal with my rudeness anymore.”

“Why?” He asks and you stop death on your tracks.

“What?”

“Why I won’t see you anymore?” He asks surprising himself, his blue eyes glaze over for a moment before the settle on you with decision.

You gape, because that’s strange thing to ask but, then you shake your head and step back.

“Because, we won’t see each other again?” You kind of ask, kind of answer not really knowing what to say.

He seems to pounder over this straighten himself up, “And, why not?”

Again, he seems surprise at his own question and boldness, you are just confuse because, really? What the hell?

“Uh, you don’t deal well with me being honest?”

“Rude, you were being rude.”

“I was being honest, that it came out rude because I call you an idiot is of no consequence to me.” You reply stepping back a little. “And, we won’t see each other again, because I do no fancy having to see or talk with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” He asks offended all over again, and this time around you look rather amused.

“Yes, someone like you.” You reply taking another step back, he seems to pierce you with his eyes before asking.

“What do you mean someone like me?” He asks and, just because you can and you’re still mad you answer.

“An idiot.”

He is left there with a strange expression on his face and, while you do not know it, he is already working on a way to see you again.

Only because it is Thranduil the one who should always have the last word.

#ThranduilxReader #first time doing this #be kind to me #writing #GlorfindelxReader

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fleetingpieces · 4 years ago

Text

Everything we were

I know I probably shouldn’t do this cause I’ve only just started posting my neighbour fic, but this is the first Wolfstar fic I’ve ever written and I’ve been thinking about sharing it for months now, soo...here goes nothing I guess

This is a Marauder era fic, it’s a long WIP, but I’m VERY excited about it, I would love to know what you guys think!

Tagging @asthmaticpansexual in case you’re up for the ride this is going to be :D As always, thanks for reading ❤️

Chapter 1

The room was completely dark when Remus Lupin suddenly woke up. He hated waking up in the middle of the night, it brought back memories he would certainly like to forget. The faint red light coming from the alarm clock on his desk casted faint shadows, which was the only reason why he could vaguely make out the shapes in his empty room. He breathed out slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

There’s no one there, everything is fine.

He repeated that a few times like a mantra before glancing at the time, that read 10.30 pm in glowing numbers. There was only one hour and a half left of his eleventh birthday.

The feeling of disappointment was mild. He had already cried about it to his mum before he had gone to bed, and his dad had prepared him for this possibility for years, so he told himself he had been stupid for waiting for that letter anyway. That morning, when he had woken up to both his parents wishing him a happy birthday, he had tried very hard not to show them how much he was looking forward to checking the mail. But the day had come and gone, and no owls had visited their old cottage. Remus didn’t know much about it, but he was sure if he had been accepted at Hogwarts, he would have received word of it already.

It wasn’t that he really wanted to go to that school. He had already resigned himself to staying at home, given his special circumstances. Anyway, he didn’t need it ‘cause he was home-schooled. His dad had done his best to teach him everything he could about magic, without giving him too many details about his own time at Hogwarts, as it would be too painful. His mum had also taught him a few of the usual muggle subjects. They had been very patient and comforting when he turned five, and they had to explain why he wouldn’t be able to go to any school, wizarding or muggle. They had promised they would do anything to make him feel like he wasn’t missing out on anything.

“My love, we know you would prefer to meet other kids your age, but I promise you we will love you enough to compensate for everything.” His mother had cradled him in her lap, stroking his hair while saying those words with a sad smile on her face. Hope and Lyall had kept that promise, doting on him without restraints.

And Remus was very happy. He told himself he didn’t need more than this, both his parents loved him deeply and gave him everything they could, even with their limited resources. Not that Remus asked for much, he knew the family’s situation and the only thing he needed was company.

So no, Remus didn’t need a stupid letter.

He turned around in bed, preparing himself to sleep again, when he heard the voices. His ears perked up, curiosity getting the better of him, and he pressed his lips trying to listen. His mum and dad’s hushed voices drifted up, but there was another one he didn’t recognize. Remus frowned. Why was there someone at their house at this hour?

Slowly, the small boy crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a tiny fraction. It sounded like they were in the living room downstairs, but he still couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. As quietly as he could, he padded bare footed down the stairs, stopping just before the entrance to the room, where a warm fire was blazing.

“How do you know about it Dumbledore?”

Remus held his breath in surprise at the tone in his Dad’s voice. There was anger in it, but also something else, something Remus had only heard from his father on the first days after That Night. Fear. Cold, crippling fear that brought back memories of blood, pain and despair. Remus shook his head to get rid of them.

“Lyall, my old friend, please do not worry.” The stranger’s voice was old, wise and soothing. “I can assure you I have no intention of giving you any trouble at all.”

“But how do you know?! We were so careful, we tried to–”

“I am aware.” The old man interrupted. “Like I said, please don’t worry. As you may know, with the way things are going, I have decided to set a few spies of my own in place. One of them was watching over Greyback.”

Remus heard his parents’ sharp intake of breath, and a small, fearful sob that wobbled out of his Mum. They were quiet for a few seconds, the air in the room seemed to shift and still, forcing Remus to fight the urge to burst in and ask what they were talking about.

“Indeed,” the stranger continued as if answering something Remus’ parents couldn’t say out loud. “He was boasting about what he did and my spy picked up on it. The secret is safe, we will do our best so that no one else finds out. But I thought it would be better to come in personally to deliver this.”

There was a sound of rustling paper and another sob from Hope, this time a surprised one. Silence fell again for a few minutes and Remus was just about to peek around the corner when his dad spoke again.

“Dumbledore…This is more than we could ever hope for…but I am not sure this is the safest path for my son.”

Remus jumped at the last word, a small gasp escaping his lips. Why were they talking about him? There was a beat of stillness in the room as he covered his mouth to remain quiet. He waited until the conversation resumed again before risking a look around the corner, barely half of his face timidly poking out. His parents were sitting together, their backs facing Remus, and in front of them was the most eccentric wizard Remus had ever seen in his short life. He was wearing dark purple robes with golden stars and moons, and a matching hat. White hair and beard went past his shoulders, merging together, almost hiding the knowing smile on his face. He directed that smile at Remus as soon as he had appeared, looking at him straight through his half-moon spectacles with a twinkle in his eyes, making the young boy jump again.

“Well, I am fairly certain Remus would like to have a say in this.”

Hope and Lyall spun around as Remus stood awkwardly at the door, fiddling with his hands and looking sheepish. His mum got up at once, coming to put her hands on his cheeks.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing down here? You should be sleeping.” She stroked his hair gently.

“I heard voices…” he said, before looking up at the old wizard. “Who is that?”

The man called Dumbledore stood up, coming over to shake his hand. “Happy birthday, Remus. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.” Remus’ eyes widened, and his heart started beating so fast it felt like a drum inside his little body. “I take it by your expression that you’ve heard of Hogwarts?”

Remus nodded cautiously. “Not much really…but it’s the school where kids learn everything about magic.”

It sounded like a question, and with his words Lyall seemed to come to life again, as he stood up as well. “Now wait a second, Dumbledore. We still haven’t decided anything, you can’t just go to my son and–”

“Lyall, please.” Hope’s voice was soft, but it made his dad stop in his tracks. “Maybe we should listen to what he has to say. We’ve always believed Remus wouldn’t be able to go to school, but if there’s even a slight chance…” Her voice cracked, eyes lined with silver. “I want him to have a normal childhood.”

Lyall looked like he wanted to argue, but he also couldn’t deny Hope something they’d both wanted so much but had deemed impossible. He nodded, defeated. Dumbledore beamed at the boy, gesturing to the seating area.

“Would you fancy a game of gobstones?”

Remus was taken aback but he nodded, dropping gingerly to the floor in front of Dumbledore’s armchair as the old man sat down again. He wasn’t an expert on people but he was weary, the old bloke was just weird. Could this all be a prank? No, his parents wouldn’t allow something so cruel. He eyed every move the man made as he waved his wand to produce a set of stones between them.

“Your mother was just telling me you are very good at studying?”

Remus shrugged, flipping his first stone. “I wouldn’t know…But I like reading. There’s not much else for me to do in the house. Oh, I also like helping Mum when she is cooking.” He looked up at Hope, who smiled affectionately at him. Dumbledore chuckled, before asking casually.

“And how would you feel about coming to study at Hogwarts?”

Remus’ heart doubled in time again. Could this be real? He hadn’t dared believe it until that moment. He thought he’d lost his last hope today about going to wizarding school and all that it implied. Meeting other boys, making friends. He could imagine himself with a wand like the one his dad used, the same one that he sometimes held between his fingers when no one was looking. He could see himself surrounded by kids, learning all sorts of tricks, turning beetles into buttons, making things hover in the air.

Remus didn’t realize how much he was smiling until his cheeks started hurting. He couldn’t believe he would actually be able to do it! All his life, he knew he was different, that he couldn’t be around other people, that...

His mind came to an abrupt halt. He couldn’t let his thoughts go further than that. He felt himself deflate, shoulders slouching and eyes going down to his lap, because surely Dumbledore didn’t know what he really was. He had read, behind his parents backs, a few of the books about dark creatures that his dad had brought home in hopes to find a cure for him. These books were not very nice when depicting him, leaving no doubts as to what wizards thought of his kind. He’d understood long ago that he wasn’t allowed to go to school not only because he was dangerous, but also because everyone would hate him.

“I can’t.” He didn’t miss how miserable his own voice sounded, “I’m not like the other kids. I’m dangerous.”

“Forgive me if I offend you, Mr Lupin, but you don’t look very dangerous to me,” said Dumbledore, smiling kindly at him.

Remus looked angrily to the side when he felt the tears prickling his eyes. He had been so good at not expecting more than what he knew he could have. He had convinced himself time and time again that this was enough, his parents’ love was enough.

It had taken all but one question for him to realize how much he wanted everything he wasn’t allowed to wish for. And it had taken all but a few seconds to destroy that hope, and now he was aching all over. There was no taking that longing back now. He wanted to learn how to make cakes out of thin air for his Mum, he wanted to learn how to defend himself. He didn't want to be helpless ever again, not after That Night. He wanted it. He really wanted to go. His voice sounded strained and desperate when he spoke next.

“You don’t understand. I’m…I’m a monster.”

“That’s not true!” Hope came in to hug him, but Remus scooted away, putting his arms around himself.

“Yes it is! I’m bad and I shouldn’t be around people! I could hurt them!”

He said this last bit looking at Dumbledore, willing him to understand, letting him know he would love to accept his offer, but it was better for everyone else if he didn’t. To his surprise, the old man was still smiling kindly at him, if not a little bit sad.

“Mr Lupin, I know perfectly well that you are a werewolf.”

Everything else froze then. Remus straightened up, surprised not only that the old man knew his secret, but also at his bluntness. Remus himself often tiptoed around the word, not to mention his own father. Dumbledore pushed further.

“But I see no reason why you shouldn’t attend Hogwarts. I am looking at you right now, and you seem like a normal boy to me. A slight setback one night a month should not be enough to keep you from your birthright.”

Remus wanted to laugh and scoff at the words “slight setback”, but weirdly enough they also comforted him. He could feel a sob ripping out of him, the tears that had gathered in his eyes spilling out.

“R-really? Ca-can I really go?”

Dumbledore’s expression softened. “Of course. I came here myself so I could discuss safety measures with your parents, and put them at ease.” He looked up at Hope and Lyall, the game of gobstones completely forgotten. Remus’ parents were standing there, unsure of how to react as Dumbledore suddenly adopted a business-like attitude. “I already have a plan of action, should you choose to accept my offer. I will make arrangements for the full moons, so that Remus can have a safe place to transform. It will be heavily protected with spells, and accessible only through a secret passage from the school grounds, guarded by a Whomping Willow. Madam Pomfrey, our school’s healer, will help young Remus to get there and heal him afterwards if needed.”

Remus dared a look at his parents. Lyall seemed at a loss for words at how fast things were going; Hope clearly didn’t understand everything Dumbledore had just said, but she was smiling brightly nonetheless. Dumbledore arched his eyebrows.

“I can assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure Remus is safe and has a normal school life. Now Remus,” he looked down at him again, “I am sure you understand, given the prejudice around werewolves, that sadly not everyone will be as accepting, so it’s of the utmost importance to keep all of this a secret. Can you do that?” Remus hurried to nod, and the headmaster addressed his parents once more. “Does this sound like an acceptable plan to you?”

“Yes…yes!” Hope said eagerly, overwhelmed with images of her son surrounded with other kids his age, as he should be. Lyall just nodded, dumbfounded.

“So, Remus, I will ask you once again.” The wizard’s blue eyes were shining brightly when they pierced him, and Remus’ heart was beating like it was trying to run away from his own body. “Would you like to study at Hogwarts?”

Remus couldn’t help the way his face scrunched up with a new stream of tears coming down his cheeks, the sob in his throat that made him hiccough, or the way his chest seemed to expand with unbelievable joy. He almost wailed.

“Yes…Please, I want to go!” His eyesight was blurry, but he could feel his mum and dad kneeling next to him and hugging him, both crying as well. Dumbledore stood up, trying to give the family some privacy.

“Wonderful. Mr Lupin, I gave your letter to your dad. In there you will find everything you’ll need for the school year. I will see myself out.” He headed towards the entrance, stopping only for a few seconds. “I will see you again in a few months, Remus. I have no doubt you will do incredible things at Hogwarts.” He smiled down at the bundled family, and Remus tried to return one of his own through the tears.

“Thank you,” he said fervently.

The three of them stayed on the floor for a while, laughing and enjoying the moment even minutes after Dumbledore had left the house.

“Dad, can I see the letter?”

Lyall reached into his pocket and handed him the envelope that had his name written in green letters. They got up and settled together on the couch while Remus opened the flap, but before he could take out the piece of parchment, his dad put a gentle hand over his.

“Son, there’s something we should discuss first.” Remus’ heart dropped, but his dad smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t say no to this.” He scoffed. “Seems to me that you will probably be more protected at Hogwarts anyway. It has always been your mom and mine’s dream to see you attend Hogwarts, you showed signs of magic from a very young age. However…”

He sighed, frowning. Then he turned so he was facing Remus completely, making sure the boy was looking at him and paying him full attention.

“Other than Dumbledore, you can’t trust anyone. Like he said, werewolves are frowned upon,” he said with a pained expression that Remus wasn’t sure how to interpret. “So whatever happens, you must not let anyone know about this, ok?” Lyall grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him a bit in the process. “I am really, really sorry to have to say this Remus, but you are gonna have to be very careful around the kids at school. I know you want to make friends, but they will not trust you if they find out. You would be putting yourself in danger, we can’t risk that. No one can ever know. No one. Do you understand?”

Lyall looked a little maniac by the end of his speech, the hold on his son was almost painful. He didn’t let go of Remus’ shoulders until the boy nodded slowly and said, “Yes dad, I understand.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #SIRIUSxREMUS #sirius x remus #hp marauders #Marauders #marauders fic #marauder era #I just love them so much #Everything we were

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