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lovingksuki · 1 year ago

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✰ SECRET ADMIRER

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;

word count: 1k

"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."

"there's not."

"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.

"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.

then you grabbed the red paper in her hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.

"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.

"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am chocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.

"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.

"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.

"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.

"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."

"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.

"hey!"

"more like the pretty girl type."

"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"

"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."

at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.

"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."

"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.

"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.

"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.

"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.

"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.

"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.

"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.

"precisely."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.

"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.

but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.

"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.

"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.

"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."

"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.

whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.

"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.

"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.

"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.

when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.

"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.

"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.

"mmm... asui-san?"

"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.

"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.

"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."

"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."

the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.

"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"

"uh, ok."

his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.

after the girls left he released his breath.

"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.

"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"

"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."

"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.

"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"

he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.

"a bit more."

every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.

trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."

"shit."

#mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo x reader #self insert #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n

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persicipen · 1 day ago

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after the rain ノ neuvillette

ৎ୭ — · · 0.9k ノ gn reader — fluffy hurt to comfort . insecure neuvi ノ subtle hugs and kisses . comforting him after the rain ノ slightly rewritten old fic <3

The world outside, glistening from the dew on the ground, seems to mirror the turmoil within the Chief Justice of Fontaine, now curled on the sofa right next to you, his silhouette not as powerful and admirable as usual. His eyes — sharp and perceptive in the courtroom — are now veiled by a shroud of doubt. Their typical iridescence now dull, forgotten pearls in the cracks of the rocky shore, roughened by sand and salty waves, depleted of its shine.

He finds himself troubled by the complexities of his own heart and the dimmed shades of morality.

The weight of expectations, the ones he dispensed with an unyielding hand, has taken its toll. As you observe him in this hushed ambience, it’s as if you’ve been granted access to a hidden chapter of his life, a glimpse behind the curtain of his public persona.

The low sun of the afternoon paints rainbows in the myriad little raindrops that cling to the windowpane like scattered jewels; each droplet captures a fragment of light, forming a dazzling mosaic of colours, their wet traces meandering down the glass surface. The sky is slowly turning orange and pink, gaining its healthy blush after the downpour, the dark clouds lazily gliding away beyond the horizon. The bloom reflects in Neuvillette’s amethyst eyes, a sight so breathtakingly beautiful and hurtful you can’t pull your gaze away.

He was crying. Again.

You caress his cheek gently, fingers seeking to soothe the damp imprints left by his tears. It’s a delicate touch, a gesture of empathy in front of his unspoken pain.

“You’re more than enough, Neuvillette.” You whisper softly.

He shudders, his breath uneven, and you take a closer look at his eyes — the pearlescent blue in them so mesmerising, still gorgeous despite the saddened gaze.

Neuvillette glances back at you, his expression softening for a little while, but as quickly as it appeared, the tenderness retreats, once again veiled by the weight of sorrow that grips his heart.

“I don’t deserve any of the respect the whole Fontaine is offering me…” His voice is barely above a whisper, still interrupted with muted sobs. “Perhaps I truly don’t understand them.”

“Don’t say that, Neuvillette.” Your voice is almost pleading as you look at him, trying to convey as much care as you can give to him to get the message through without hurting him when he’s so vulnerable right before you.

“I don’t feel anything. I’m just…” he trails off, looking away, as if ashamed to finish the sentence.

You brush your thumb over his cheek, wiping his dried tears away, and his eyes flutter shut under the long lashes; he finally allows himself to enjoy the feeling of your gentle touch, soothing his soul slowly with each passing moment.

It’s almost heartbreaking to see him like this. He carries himself in public with such strict elegance that it wouldn’t sound too far-fetched to assume some might see it as arrogance, yet it was nothing but a shield to hide his doubts and inner loneliness.

The confidence was not false per se, but similar to those ornated masks worn at the annual masquerade ball. You know it must have been very difficult to confess.

“Think how many people are grateful for what you’ve been doing to Fontaine for all these years.” You lean in and plant a soft kiss on his temple, his body relaxing against yours, curling closer into a hug; despite his height and broad shoulders, he feels right now like a lost little creature searching for a safe place to rest and to feel loved, and you wish you could protect him forever. “You keep their lives forever just and safe, because they know they can always turn to you and find the truth.”

He sighs heavily into the crook of your neck, warm breath against your skin, trying his best to calm down. You keep petting his hair gently, fingers intertwined with silver locks affectionately.

“Please never leave my side,” he murmurs against your neck, and it feels like the most intimate moment, just you and him, and the only thing you can do is press another gentle kiss on the top of his head.

“I won’t. Ever.” You say, and there is nothing more important to him than your promise, his heart melting warmly in his chest.

You both cuddle on the velvet cushions of the sofa, the setting sun casting long, warm shadows across the spacious room. The air still smells of the freshly brewed tea and the passing rain, the sound of distant birds singing returning after the weather.

Neuvillette seems calmer now, relaxed in your arms. He is vulnerable during such moments, his eyes looking deep into your soul, bright irises absorbing every little detail of your features so he can hold your face in his memory. His hand finds yours, and you hold it tight, caressing the skin of his palm.

It feels nice to have this closeness, to be able to experience his loving gaze upon you without feeling uneasy or too self-conscious.

Your fingertips brush along the shape of his knuckles, tracing the hem of his sleeves, slightly crumpled after a weary day of work. He closes his eyes, relishing the touch of your hand, those little sensations like gentle breezes of tenderness slowly dissipating the doubts that were troubling his mind.

You watch him as his gaze shifts towards the window, taking in the beautiful colours of the evening. His expression is soft, a hint of a melancholic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He then snuggles closer to you once again and whispers into your ear the barely audible words full of devotion.

“I love you.”

A ribbon of trust spoken in the silk of his voice.

“And I love you, too.”

#—writing.#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette fluff

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 years ago

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Date Night

PARING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: Tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week, and is back in time for date night. Missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. mutual masturbation, lazily handjob, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie, established relationship. MDNI no mentions of y/n

A/N: this is a repost, bc i accidentally deleted the original🥲

rewritten 07/12/23 - deleted big chunks (1.2k words to be exact) as badly written and adds no context, just a load of waffle

Every alternating Friday, you and Tangerine would have a date night - a special night dedicated to prioritise each other. An evening together, no distractions.

Today was date night, your favourite day. The same day that Tangerine returns home from his ten-day-long mission in South Africa.

As you pace the living room impatiently -waiting for your husband to come home to you- you see car headlights shine through the blinds, your favourite indication that Tangerine made it back safe.

Feeling giddy at his arrival, you run to the front door, ready to greet him with a kiss and a smile.

Keys jingle in the lock, and you rush over to him. "Ah!" you shriek, wrapping him in a tight, welcoming embrace. "God, I've missed you," you blurt out, planting quick, hurried kisses over his cheek.

He chuckles, gripping your waist, hugging you with one arm as he walks into the house. "Missed you, love," he adds, dropping his bag to the floor to wrap his now-free arm around you. "How you been?" he asks, lingering a kiss on your lips, blue eyes lit up huge.

"Good, bored. Same old, same old," you smile. "How was your business trip?" you jest, pulling away to shut the door behind him. "Get many kills? Win mvp?"

He snickers, kicking off his shoes to follow after you. "Dickhead."

You make your way into the kitchen, but he hangs back, sifting through his away bag. He meets you at the island a moment later, a bottle of wine and a single red rose in hand, a sweet, sincere smile on his face. "For you," his grin brightens, placing the gifts on the countertop.

"You're annoyingly sweet," you smile, placing the rose into an old wine bottle - half-filling it with water. "Puts my present to shame," you playfully frown, nodding to the gift bag on the dining table.

He rolls up his sleeves, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he makes his way over, laughing almost obnoxiously when he sees what's inside. He picks up the small bottle, turning to face you. "Lube? Really?"

"I know, I know. It's stupid," you offer an apologetic smile, scratching the side of your neck - almost embarrassed.

"Should I be insulted?" he jokes, walking back over to you, standing on the other side of the island, resting his hands on the surface with a wide stance.

"No," you dismiss. "It's, you know... my way of telling you I missed you," you respond suggestively, leaning over the counter to kiss him.

"Oh, yeah?" he grins cockily, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you.

You hum, checking the time on your phone. "We got over an hour til dinner arrives," you innocently suggest. "Want to play cards? A board game?" you tease.

"Mh-hm," he nods, playing along. "Monopoly. That will kill the time."

"Okay then, great," you grin. "Let's go play," you add, walking away - heading for the stairs.

You halt when you reach the bottom of the staircase, waiting for Tan, hand extended for him to take. You lead him upstairs, him holding onto your hand from behind, following after you like a dog on a lead.

Walking you both through the door of your shared bedroom, guiding him to the armchair in the corner of the room, you ask him to sit. He does as asked, adjusting his groin in the chair, manspreading in the way he knew you liked - keeping his eyes fixed on you in front of him. Gaze lidded and focused as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.

You stand a mere foot away, undressing yourself of your baggy sweater to reveal a black lace bra - one you wore specially for tonight. You're close but not close enough, just out of reach, just out of his grasp. You keep your attention locked on Tangerine as you tug your pj bottoms down, revealing a matching pair of slinky underwear.

"Fuck," he sighs, exasperated, biting on his fisted knuckle.

You perch upon his thigh and slip your arms around his neck, leaning forward and brushing your lips over his teasingly. "Missed you," you whisper, slowly circling your hips over his spread thigh.

You lazily drag your palm over his chest, stroking down his stomach, pausing when you reach his belt. He makes haste movements at unbuckling it, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks the second he's free. "Fuckin' missed you," he replies, voice strained and hoarse against your mouth.

You slip your hand into the front of his trousers, fingers leisurely trailing over his pubic bone til they reach the edge of his aching hard-on. You make a soft coo, silently instructing him to lift his hips.

A soft smile forms on your lips when you pull his thick cock out of the waistband of his boxers - tip messy and leaking, waiting impatiently to be touched. You place your thumb over his head, applying slight pressure as you swirl his precum around, lightly brushing down the side of his cock.

His grip tightens on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks firmly, groaning and mumbling into your mouth about how good you're making him feel. You make a soft hum noise - an almost moan, rolling his cock in your hand, slowly rubbing him off. Nice and gentle.

His hands fall from your face to stroke down your bare back, halting when he reaches the clasp of your bra. He undoes it with ease, dropping the flimsy piece of lingerie to the floor, letting your tits spring free, just mere inches from him.

Tangerine slides a hand between you, reaching for your underwear the way you did him. Teasing at your clit through the damp fabric, flicking his thumb over the sensitive mound as you continued to make those desperate whines he loved so much.

"Get on my dick," he instructs, voice strangled and urgent as he handles you, spreading your legs over his other thigh - making you straddle him.

You reach between you, parting your underwear aside and grip his base, pushing his reddened head through your slick, puffy folds - rimming his head around your hole before slowly sinking onto him. Thick cock spitting your insides nicely as you lower down, ass cheeks resting on his upper thighs.

He slinks his arms around you, tightly holding around your waist as you wind your hips over him, mumbling spluttery curses when his tip kisses at the hilt.

"Yeah, yeah. That's it," Tangerine whispers, praising you for the way your walls work over his dick - like your cunt was stroking him, tightening and releasing with every soft, little bounce.

"Really, really missed you," you whimper into his mouth, holding the sides of his face, using him as stability as he nudges up into you - meeting you halfway with clumsy, sloppy thrusts.

The soft, sticky clicking of your pussy wrapped around his cock, and muffled moans and whispers fill the air, sounds getting progressively louder when he shimmies down the chair - hands on your waist as he fucks up into you by himself.

"God— fuck," you cry out, limbs seizing up as you cum, your body turning limp above him. Pussy clamping and jolting with your release.

He reaches his high a moment later, a groaning and grunting mess as he spraypaints your insides with his warm, thick load, your tightening walls milking his cock in the most delicious way.

His forehead rests against yours as you catch your breath, both completely blissed out.

"Shower?" he offers, speaking suggestively, toying with your tits, rolling them with his palms.

You hum, lingering a kiss on his lips as you slowly lift yourself from his dick, cum leaking around the base. You head for the shower, nodding for him to follow, a devious smile on your face.

After your lengthy shower -and some more fooling around- you and Tangerine find yourselves on the sofa, freshly washed, tucking into your dinner as you watch tv - enjoying the rest of your special night together.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train fanfic #bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #tangerine smut #aaron taylor johnson #smut

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 32: FELINE LOVE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

The crisp spring breeze lazily danced through the vibrant foliage, carrying with it the tantalising scent of blossoming fauna and the promise of new beginnings. It was almost noon of a day filled with endless possibilities.

As the clock struck twelve, Cillian appeared at your doorstep. He was punctual as usual, and his charming smile, etched with a hint of nervousness, illuminated his face as he patiently waited for you to answer the door.

As you swung open the door, your heart skipped a beat when you saw what he held in his hands.

"Flowers? Really?" you asked, chuckling. This was not what you had expected.

"Of course. I wanted to do this properly, you know," Cillian joked.

"You certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Mr. Murphy," you said, playfully teasing him as you took the bouquet of flowers.

"You have seen nothing yet. Just wait until you find out where we are going," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his striking blue eyes. You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for this man as you exchanged warm greetings.

"Do tell. Where are we going?" you wanted to know, as the way he smirked at you was somewhat concerning.

Cillian's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned closer, his voice laced with a whimsical tone. "Let's just say that we are embarking on a journey to a place where whimsy intertwines with tranquillity and where the soft purrs of feline companions fill the air," he joked, and you let out some laughter.

"So poetic," you chuckled as your curiosity piqued, and you followed him to his car.

The car ride was filled with light banter and playful teasing, a harmonious symphony of laughter and shared moments. Cillian's cultured voice resonated through the vehicle, his words flowing effortlessly like honey from his lips. Your heart warmed at the sound, his intelligent and witty conversation captivating your attention.

"So, I saw you deleted your Instagram account," you pointed out as he was driving, causing Cillian to laugh.

"Yeah, it was funking weird. I never posted anything, and within a day, I had almost 3,000 follower requests. That's way too hard to keep up with, especially when you receive endless messages,"

Cillian let out a hearty laugh, his voice rippling through the car like a melodic echo. "3,000 followers? That's impressive, Cil. Maybe you should have become a social media influencer," you teased, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I think I am just too old for social media, you know," Cillian mused as he turned his gaze briefly towards the road before looking back at you.

"Perhaps you're right. It seems social media is a young person's game, old man," you teased him with a cheeky smile just before. Finally, he pulled up in front of a pretty-looking building right on the outskirts of Dublin.

"Well, I might be old, but clearly, I'm still making young man mistakes," he then pointed out, referring to the fact that he had let you go.

As you stepped out of the car, your eyes widened in surprise and delight. Before you towered a charming building painted in hues of pastel pink and adorned with whimsical cat-themed decorations. The cosy cat cafe stood invitingly, with an air of calm and tranquillity. The tantalising aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of catnip, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to embrace your senses with open arms.

"You took me to a cat cafe? Why?" you mused, seeing that Cillian somewhat disliked feline companions.

"Because I know that you love cats, and I figured this would be a somewhat unique place for a date," Cillian told you before searching for an empty seat.

The space was adorned with soft, cosy seating areas adorned with colourful cushions that seemed to beckon you with their plush invitation. The sunlight bathed the room in a warm golden glow, streaming through the large windows and casting dancing shadows on the wooden floors.

As you and Cillian settled into a cosy nook, the soft cushions embracing you like a warm hug, your eyes fell upon a mischievous little feline perched on a windowsill. The cat, named Nuggets, had an air of disdain about him, his sleek ginger fur glistening in the sunlight. His piercing brown eyes seemed to hold a secret, a hidden depth of knowledge that made you curious.

As you observed Nuggets, a mischievous grin crept across your face. You were determined to win him over, to break through the barriers he had erected and show him the love he deserved. Cillian, on the other hand, seemed less enthused by the presence of cats. His elegant brow furrowed slightly, a subtle expression of mild distaste, as he cast a wary gaze towards Nuggets.

“I want to pet him,” you determined, and Cillian moved further into the back of his seat.

Cillian's eyes drifted from Nuggets to you, a look of mild apprehension etched across his face. "Are you sure about this? I mean, he doesn't exactly seem thrilled to see us," he remarked, his tone laced with a touch of scepticism.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Cillian's apprehension. "Oh, Cil, come on. Look at him; he's like a furry little grump. How can you resist him?" you exclaimed, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you observed Nuggets.

"Don't you think he is intriguing?" you gestured, and Cillian sighed softly, his fingers elegantly drumming on the armrest of the cosy chair. "I suppose he has an intriguing air of aloofness about him," he admitted, reluctantly giving in to your playful suggestion.

Cillian gazed at Nuggets with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. His eyes flickered with a muted intrigue as he observed the ginger feline, who seemed to be deliberately ignoring his presence. Nuggets, perched on the windowsill like a miniature king overlooking his kingdom, exuded an air of nonchalance, his tail flicking dismissively.

Cillian then glanced at you with a bemused half-smile, his voice laden with humour. "He seems like a furry ball of attitude. But I suppose there's something fascinating about it, and I can't help but wonder what goes on in that tiny cat brain of his," he mused.

You leaned closer to Cillian, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you whispered, "Watch and learn, Cil. I'm about to work my magic on Nuggets,” before you took a deep breath, ready to start your mission to win over the elusive Nuggets.

Slowly, you approached the windowsill where he perched, your movements deliberate and gentle. Your heart fluttered with anticipation as you extended your hand towards him, offering an invitation to connect. Nuggets, however, met your gesture with a disdainful flick of his tail, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Undeterred, you spoke softly, your voice laced with warmth and affection.

Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes filled with amusement. "Alright, I'm ready to witness this miracle," he replied, settling back in his chair, his fingers intertwined as he observed your every move.

You tilted your head to the side, observing Nuggets with a mix of determination and admiration. "Oh, you're a feisty one, aren't you? But mark my words, my furry friend, you won't be able to resist my charm for long," you whispered, your voice filled with conviction.

Nuggets glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of curiosity dancing within his gaze.

You continued to extend your hand towards Nuggets, determination etched on your face, your eyes filled with unwavering resolve. Nuggets, ever the embodiment of stubbornness, met your persistence with a sly glint in his eyes, his tail twitching with an air of defiance. The atmosphere in the cat cafe seemed to hold its breath as if waiting for the inevitable clash between your unwavering determination and Nuggets' unwavering independence.

Undeterred by Nuggets' initial display of resistance, you continued your approach. Your outstretched hand trembled slightly, a mixture of anticipation and determination coursing through your veins.

"Come on, Nuggets," you whispered, your voice filled with gentle encouragement and Nuggets, overcome by curiosity and perhaps a hint of loneliness, cautiously extended a paw towards your outstretched hand. His sharp claws grazed your skin, a gentle reminder of his feline nature. You held your breath, silently urging him to take the final leap of faith. And then, in a moment that felt suspended in time, Nuggets hesitantly pressed his nose against your palm, his rough tongue darting out to give it a tentative lick.

Nuggets's small, rough tongue made contact with your palm, his whiskers tickling your skin. The moment hung in the air, suspended as if time itself had frozen to witness the union between human and feline. A surge of joy flooded your being, intertwined with a sense of triumph. You had cracked Nuggets's tough outer shell and revealed the vulnerable heart beneath.

Cillian, observing the scene unfold before his eyes, couldn't help but chuckle. Cillian's laughter rippled through the air like velvet, filling the cosy nook with an aura of light-heartedness. "Well, it seems you've cracked the code," he remarked, a trace of amusement dancing in his striking blue eyes. "I must admit, I didn't think Nuggets would succumb to your charming ways so easily," he pointed out before he leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched your interaction with Nuggets.

"Come, have a pet too, Cil," you gestured, causing Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

"You know I do anything for you, right?" Cillian laughed before moving towards you and Nuggets carefully.

His fingers trembled as they made contact with Nuggets' fur, and a jolt of electricity seemed to course through him, igniting a spark of connection. A mischievous glimmer danced within Nuggets' eyes as if he had finally found an adversary worthy of his attention. Cillian's lips curled into a small smile, a mix of amusement and surprise playing across his features.

"Does he like me, you think?" Cillian questioned as he cautiously stroked Nuggets' fur, his movements slow and deliberate as if afraid to shatter the delicate connection that had formed between them.

Nuggets, seemingly torn between his inclination to preserve his grumpy facade and his growing fondness for Cillian's touch, emitted a low rumble of contentment, a subtle acknowledgement of the actor's presence.

"Yes, I think he does like you. He is purring. Well done, Cil." you smiled, and Cillian's expression softened, his fingers continuing their slow, rhythmic movements along Nuggets' ginger fur.

"Well, well, it seems I've won the affection of this little miscreant," he remarked, his voice infused with a touch of amusement. Nuggets, ever the enigma, purred in response, the sound reverberating through the air with a deceptive sweetness.

Cillian continued to stroke Nuggets' fur, his touch gentle and soothing. "You know, this cat reminds me of someone I know," he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes. "Perhaps Nuggets and I share a common trait — a touch of grumpiness hidden beneath our charming exteriors." He chuckled softly, the sound resonating with a hint of self-deprecation while you rolled your eyes.

With a smirk, you replied, "Oh, Cil, I think you and Nuggets share more than just a touch of grumpiness. But that's what makes you both so endearing." You nudged Cillian playfully, your eyes brimming with affection.

Cillian chuckled his laughter like a melody that filled the cat cafe, intertwining with the soft purrs of the resident feline companions.

"Perhaps you should adopt him? Nina would love a pet, and I believe that every child, no matter how old, needs a companion," you suggested, and Cillian's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your suggestion, his eyes widening as he considered the implications.

"You want me to adopt him?" Cillian asked, and his question hung in the air, a moment pregnant with possibility. You gazed at him, your eyes filled with a mix of excitement and determination. "Yes, Cil. Think about it. Nuggets need a home and love, and you have plenty of both to offer," you replied, your voice infused with conviction.

Cillian's gaze lingered on Nuggets, his brow furrowed as he mulled over your suggestion.

Cillian's eyes flickered with a mixture of uncertainty and contemplation, and the air in the cat cafe seemed to vibrate with anticipation as if awaiting the verdict that would determine the course of their lives. After a moment of silence, Cillian let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Alright," he finally conceded, his voice laced with a hint of resignation and a touch of amusement.

Cillian's agreement hung in the air like a delicate spiderweb, fragile yet filled with possibility. You couldn't help but let out a small squeal of excitement, your eyes dancing with anticipation.

"I will be your designated cat sitter if you go away, working on movies and stuff," you told him, and Cillian's eyes widened at your enthusiastic offer, a mixture of amusement and apprehension playing across his features.

"I couldn't think of anyone better for the job," Cillian confirmed before making another suggestion. "And perhaps, sometimes, you could come by and visit him, even while I am there," Cillian suggested, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in a smirk.

"Well, maybe if you cook me dinner, I will. I will play with Nuggets while you prepare the food," you smirked at Cillian before admitting that you missed his cooking.

"Alright. How about Monday, then? Dinner at my house at eight? We could even go to the fair before then if you like. Just as friends, of course" Cillian suggested as his eyes twinkled with anticipation, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Monday it is then. Fair and dinner at eight," you agreed with excitement.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murhpy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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unhappy-last-resort · 4 months ago

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Weak (Yandere Kamui X GN Reader ft. Chrome, & Camu)

Part 1 of 2

Warnings: Reader is sick, Kamui is a little crazy, arguing between friends, blood/vital fluid mentioned, angst, drama

A/N: This started as a comfort fic that was supposed to only be 900~1.5k words.

There's a special message left by my cat at the end.

Will be deleted and rewritten

Word Count: 2k

Status: edited

Humans are weak.

He had, and still does believe, that everyone has their own strengths, but now as he looked at your form, haphazardly buried under blankets, an ice pack on your forehead, a collection of medicines and bottled drinks on your nightstand as your body shook again with another round of coughs; he was faced with an indisputable fact and a soul crushing fear.

Humans are weak. A broken leg was something that would take three hours at most to be fixed for him, but for you, it would take six months, or even a year. Worse that the damage could still effect you afterwards. A mere bullet to your stomach and a microscopic virus could equally do as much damage to you- even going as far as to take your life.

Once your delicate body was damaged or broken, it was done, it couldn't be reversed. The best that could be done was help you recover and wait. Wait, wait, wait. And oh how the waiting was driving him crazy.

He found his hands trembling and his mechanical heart drumming against his metal ribs so hard he could sense the tremors it made through his chest and when you lazily turned to look at him, slow blinking and breathing loudly, he smiled as big as he could for you.

Even if he was darkness, he hoped he could be the comfort you needed...even if he lied to you and said he'd protect you yet he failed to protect you from what was ailing you now. He almost wished he was human, maybe if he was, he could take the illness from you and bear it instead. He knows that's not how it works, but- anything would be better than standing here and waiting for you to get better.

You always called him sunshine and told him he brightened up the room, but in reality the sun was you and he was just wraith who longed to have it. You warmed his skin and body up from the inside out, awakening every chord and bolt anew with a burning fire, a fire that grew to the point it becoming an unbearable inferno. You were what he looked forward to seeing each day, he drank your presence like water and breathed your scent like fresh air and when he didn't see you then everything felt wrong like he had missed monthly maintenance or something it honestly drove him crazy sometimes how much he needed you to function, especially when Chrome started putting a monthly limit on how frequently he could go to Gray Ravens lounge.

He said it was for his own good, and he trusts his Captain with his life but, not being able to see you as much as he needed almost made him-

"Kamui?" Your soft, hoarse voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He realized after a moment what had likely made you call out to him was not a need or a want on your part, but that he was shaking and it was a little too obvious. Releasing a small breath he didn't know he was holding to steady himself, he put on another smile and moved to kneel at your bedside, reaching to cup your face and brush his thumb over your cheek, remembering its feel and texture.

"Don't worry, I'm right here." He whispered softly, attempting to match your voice as relished in how you closed your eyes, how you still found safety and comfort in him despite his failings to protect you. You cough again and he winces, each wrack of your body clawing nails into his heart.

"You're shaking again." You sound like it's taking you so much effort to talk. How could something so small affect you that much?

"Huh? I...am?" He falters, his thumb frozen in it's place as a weight like thousands of rocks settles on his shoulders and drives him into the metal floor. No, you can't see him like this, not now, he needs to be strong in front of you, he needs you to rely on him, he needs you to be with him, he needs you he needs you he needs you he needs you he needs-

Warmth. Your hand. It burns against his synthetic skin like cinders and he leans into it, soaking the coal in your hands and breathing in the smoke deeply, letting it overheat his heart into a dull rhythm before slowly opening his eyes to see you. You looked so concerned, why? Shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?

“Kamui-...It'll be alright, you can go rest.” You stroke his cheek and he wonders if you're also memorizing how it feels to you, but more importantly, why are you asking him to leave you? Is he annoying you? Are you done with him? Did he do something wrong?

“No! No, no, no, I don't wanna leave you! What if you need something? What if you can't get to the bathroom on your own? What if you try to get up and then fall over and hit your head and then you crack your skull because it's made of bone and not metal and-”

“Kamui.” You manage amidst another small coughing fit. “I'll be okay, besides, the Ravens are on their way back.” You say it as if that's a comforting fact, one that he should be happy with, but he feels a tidal wave of different responses surge from his throat, ranging from desperate pleas to keep him with you, to not trusting them enough with you despite knowing full well that they'd rather be turned scrap metal than let you die, but still, he just wants you to choose him over everyone else. Unfortunately, he never gets to voice any of these to you as his terminal rings in that exact moment, and he's tempted to ignore it, to savor the time he has left with you without it being interrupted, but it's his Captain and he promised to pick up when he calls.

Kamui smiles at you again, the grin digging into his cheeks as he slowly rises and answers the call. Immediately, the familiar silhouette of his Captain fills the screen, his blonde hair perfectly combed, uniform freshly ironed, and blue eyes striking, all as usual except...the scene behind him is right outside the Gray Raven lounge annnd he can already feel his vital fluid pressure rising. Instead of greeting his Captain, he closes his terminal and quickly leans down to you, gently stroking your cheek and whispering he'll be back before quietly moving to leave you, each step feeling more painful than the last as he approaches the metal sliding door. With a small sigh, he presses the button to open it and instead of the dull, grey wall and an empty hallway greeting him, instead he sees his Captain, his arm frozen midair, seconds away from pressing the button to open your door.

They stare at one another in frigid silence before Kamui sighs and steps out of your room, the door closing behind him as moves towards the opposite wall. “...Capt, is this really necessary?” He grumbled loudly as he leaned against the wall.

“Kamui.” The narrowed eyes and slight downturn of his Captain's lips was all he needed to know of how badly he had messed up, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be with you! What's so bad about that that everyone has to get in the way? “I am going to remind you once again that I only agreed to let you watch over them temporarily was because you promised-”

Kamui rolls his eyes, already not wanting to be reminded of the stipulations he was made to agree to. “-To keep my hands to myself, not make a fuss, and leave when I'm told, I've heard it a billion times! I did what I promised, so what's the problem?”

Chrome groans loudly and runs his gloved hands through his hair, tugging at his roots and his usually controlled expression twisting into one of pure exhaustion.“Kamui, please give me a break, I cannot do this with you tonight- especially not when you can't even keep the promises that you made!”

Kamui scoffs, how come he's the one acting like he has it tough? Does he have any idea how much it hurts knowing you're suffering and not being able to even stay by your side? Besides! It's not like he would know that he touche- realization hits him like freezing water through his veins that quickly turns into a rolling boil beneath his skin. Immediately he's hit with an almost all-consuming rage, but a glance at your closed door and the thought of you idly staring at the ceiling is enough to make him take a deep breath and whisper through gritted teeth.

“So you don't even trust me anymore? What's next? Are you going to bug me on all our missions from now on too?”

Chrome's nostrils flair, the creases of his frown deepening. He closes his eyes momentarily and takes a long, drawn out breath as if saying a silent prayer before speaking once more, each whispered syllable cutting into Kamui's hearing modules like a needle. “I only did it because you have proven to me, so many times, that you can't be trusted alone with them! And once again, you have proven that to be true!”

Kamui grinds his teeth, the strain on his jaw creating a sound they both can hear clearly in the tense silence of the lounge, his brows drawn together tightly into a scowl. How could he say that? He loves you! He would do anything for you, shouldn't that be more than enough for Chrome to trust him? What right does he have to judge who you're safe around? It must be because he wants you all to himself!

Kamui's fists ball together, his vital fluid pressure rising rapidly. Without spending another moment to think, he jerks forward as Chrome moves backwards, his Inver-Device nicking Chrome's cheek and causing the latter to wince and step farther away.

Chrome lets out something halfway between a grumble and a growl as he covers his cheek, icy blue eyes meet his violet ones, anger and hurt swirling beneath the ice. A short puff of air leaves his lips as he stares at his gloved hand, smears of red staining his cheek.

...

Wait.

That's...

No.

Nononononono-

“Captain...?” Kamui reaches out his hand, the pads of his fingers smearing with vital fluid of his dearest companion. He remembers when they first met, Chrome looked so frigid back then, almost delicate as he stared down at the Strike Hawk dog tag in his hand. His shoulders were slumped downwards as if being weighed down by a weight too heavy for him to bear, and the mist in his eyes hinted at some agony rooted so deeply into his being that he would never be free from it in his life. He had told Camu at that moment that he was going to do his best to help him find happiness.

But now, as he stared at his fingertips stained red by something he did, another fear took over his being and he felt his throat tighten. The room was silent, but Kamui had never heard silence be so loud ever in his life and when Chrome turned and left without sparing him another glance, not even an order to come to the lounge, he felt something crack.

“You did what?!”

“I got angry, okay! If you were in my position you would've-”

“I wouldn't do something that reckless because I wouldn't have let it get to that point!”

“I can live without those guys just fine, but you? You need them too.”

“I know...”

“I'll apologize to him...not now though, I think he needs space.”

“Hmph...From now on, whether we share bodies or not, I'm going to watch over you more carefully so you don't do something so stupid next time. I hope you realize that stunt didn't only jeopardize your relationship with Chrome.”

“If he tells them-”

“I know! I know! I'll talk to them too.”

“Alright, well, before we do anything, let's make a plan. We don't want to make it worse, so just shut up and listen to what I tell you, alright? And no interrupting me!”

(P.S. feedback on this fic would be greatly appreciated)

Whilst writing this perverted doctrine, mine feline lord came and sat upon mine writing utensil and thusly bestowed an artistry which was too profound and beautiful to be left in with mine own measly musings, but I, as her humble servant, do not wish to deprive voracious readers such as thine selves from these words bestowed upon thee by her majesty.

“scfvd5”

Take these words to heart and may thee have a blessed day, thank you for reading.

#unhappy writings #yandere pgr #yandere punishing gray raven #yandere kamui #yandere kamui pgr #yandere camu #yandere #yandere writing #yandere male

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tokiwarcube · 6 months ago

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Taking down Skwisgaar's walls has been a slow, but rewarding process. To the world, Skwisgaar Skwigelf is the cold God of guitar, of beauty, of sex. But in your arms he is a man -- one who is hopelessly in love with you. He just has a hard time conveying that, sometimes. But a shared breath of smoke washes away that last bit of rubble holding his tongue in place. /// Or, in which you have very sweet high sex with Skwisgaar. Short drabble, I'm obsessed with him

A modern Adonis, with skin of sculpted marble and eyes of sapphire, Skwisgaar Skwigelf is nothing if not well-crafted. He was put together by the gods with such calculation that he’s become a god in his own right. God of beauty, god of sex — in his sheets, the sun won’t rise until your eyes are rolled back. It’s an art, and one he’s perfected at that.

But high Skwisgaar is… considerably less put together. He’s giggly, fumbling… open. His ever-present (considerably lowered after so long of knowing you, loving you, but still there) walls crumble into dust, allowing the ceaseless love bubbling behind them to flow forward over the rubble, and into you.

At some point in the night, between passed joints and swirling smoke, he had found himself not just between your legs, but in your arms, too. Indulging in the softness of your touch as your hands roam up his biceps and across his chest, the last coherent thought in his head drew his face to your neck with flushed cheeks and upturned lips. His fluttering eyelashes and hot breath against your throat draws quiet laughter from your mouth, only to be broken by lazy moans brought forth from his half-thrusts. Closing the microcosm of space between you again and again, sparks of pleasure ripple through the haze — ecstasy stretching for what feels like forever, only to be rewritten the next second.

Somewhere in your subconscious you remark on how fucked out you sound, but before you can think on it further, the thought is gone — lost in the feeling of him and the heavenly fog clouding your thoughts. You card a hand lazily through his silken blond hair, marveling at its softness. Although perhaps heavenly would be a better descriptor for your partner, especially with the way he moans in turn at your gentle touch. Fumbling hands move to pull you just that fraction closer, not to change angles, but for the pure experience of feeling your skin pressed against his.

“You ams so goods to me,” he murmurs, upturned lips heard more than felt as he presses a new kiss to your cheek. And in the brief space between you, dragging his lips up to finally connect with yours, you see the bright shine of love in his blown-out pupils. That, you don’t forget. You don’t forget it as you taste the earth from his tongue; don’t forget as the giggles between the two of you blossom into shared, shaking cries; don’t forget it as you rise in the morning, tangled in each others arms; and you certainly don’t forget it as he plucks well-practiced chords from his guitar over coffee in the afternoon.

But you know, it wouldn’t hurt to take a few more hits tomorrow, just to make sure.

A/N: If I'm to be entirely frank, I was high off my gourd when I wrote this. My cannabinoid-addled brain knows nothing, save for loving Dethklok. Thanks for reading! <3

#dethklok x reader #metalocalypse x reader #skwisgaar skwigelf x reader #metalocalypse skwisgaar x reader

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wa-wandavision · 4 months ago

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Solar Eclipse | Y.J

[REWRITTEN VERS]

Summary: You and Jeongin fall in love all over again, but this time without the memories

Warnings: Ancient times, time travel, mentions of death, slightly strangers to lovers, fluff, death, mention of death, suicide, overdose, side effects of overdose, (vomiting, diarrhea, etc)

Pairings: Ancient demon Jeongin x 21st century fem reader

You stand in the middle of his room, dry tears staining your cheeks, wearing all black . You didn’t want to ruin anything or the way it was, so you stood instead of laying on his bed.

It has been marked as one week since your best friend had left you alone in this toxic world—a week since he sacrificed himself for you.

A few days have passed since Jeongin turned to dust in front of you, and your heart tightens painfully at the memory that it made you inhale shakily to get more air in your lungs. You begged the universe every night to let you feel his arms envelop you as he calmed you with his soothing words, but it never happened.

You stare at the playful picture with you and your best friend with teary eyes and tear-stained cheeks, desperately hoping that he will magically appear behind you and surprise attack you with his big, comforting hug, but Jeongin never rushed to you like he used to, engulfing you in his arms or placing his palm on the back of your head as he soothed you with only his captivating voice. You were not fond of skinships, but you never cared if it was with him.

He never hugged you tight—in this very room you were standing in—to make sure you never left his arms, to make you feel secure, and to let you know just how much he loved you, but he wasn’t here anymore. Jeongin was gone.

And that realisation hits you hard like a punch in the heart and stomach. He really was gone… Jeongin, your best friend was never coming back, ever, no matter how much you wanted him to. This was real.

Fresh tears sting your eyes as they freely cascade down your cheeks, displaying your grief. You slowly place the picture against your chest, sniffing as fresh tears stream down your cheeks. You gently place the photo of you and him on his empty, tidy bed before walking out of his room without a second glance, adamant to be with him once again.

You walk to the bathroom and lock it behind you. You open your handbag and dig your cold hands in, rummaging for some pills. You fish out tablets from your handbag and pop a few tablets from the packet into your hand. Six tablets in your hand at most.

You slide your handbag off your shoulder and place it on the bathroom sink, and you lazily sit next to the toilet bowl, legs stretched out in front of you, slightly leaning your head against the white, cold tiled bathroom wall.

You look at the six tablets in your hand before raising it to your lips and throwing them all in your mouth with a slight tilt of your head, your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of you seeing your best friend again

You felt the side effects of the overdose after a while. Dehydration, restlessness, vomiting, diarrhea, weakness, you name it. You were in slight pain and discomfort, but you were still content with the choice you made.

What you didn’t notice was the solar eclipse outside.

#yang jeongin #yang jeongin x reader #changbin #bang chan #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #lee know #stray kids #time travel #hyunjin #jeongin x reader #kim seungmin #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin

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i8chocolatecake · 1 month ago

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New Undertale AU!!!!! Written By: Me!!! i8Chocolatecake, also known as I8CC or Cake!

in this au, we have a normal underground at the start of the story- before things really start to happen. The human is nicknamed Angel (we don't know their real name), they/them pronouns ofc, and wears a soft dark grey cloak with a silver clasp shaped like a pair of wings. They wear a pair of long black jeans, and their shirt is black with designs of the night sky decorating the whole shirt. Angel is an older child, around 15-16 when they fall into the underground. They make their way through the ruins harmlessly enough, but when they make it to Snowdin forest? Things start acting up around them. The fabric of the world shifting and warping with their presence- it touches Sans, first. Sans watches the human sitting at their desk, typing out this post with bleary eyes peering at a much too bright screen for this late at night. Sans turns to the human and speaks. Sans asks them why they are doing this. Sans asks them to stop. Sans asks me to stop. Sans tells me he can feel my words changing him. Sans feels the pressure of the alternate reality I am making of his life squeezing his soul like a vice. Sans pleads with me to stop this, but the pressure remains. The world is being altered. Angel is meeting him in the woods for the first time, and Sans must smile as his body metamorphises without his consent. He must shake the humans hand and make silly puns while Papyrus watches his brother slowly begin to be rewritten- unable to say anything about it as the change begins to infect him as well. Sans begs me to undo what I have done. I ignore him. It is too late to stop this force. The plan is in place. Sans' bones begin to open hundreds of eyes, all different colors with snow white eyelashes and his mind cracks under the sudden influx of vision stimuli. Papyrus' bones warp and change, opening hundreds of mouths with smiles like laid bricks. Papyrus screams and the sound explodes from every mouth he has, erupting across the quiet forest and audible for miles- echoing off the distant celing of the Underground itself. Sans watches and sees so much that he cannot stop himself from seeing. Angel looks upon the skeleton brothers with apathy. Their presence causing the two's transformations; they know have their purpose, and do not question the results of their actions. Sans turns his many eyes upon me and I feel their gaze beam through my very soul. His gaze turns to a glare of anger and pain. I ignore him. He calls my name. I ignore him. He claws at my hands through the keys of my keyboard. I ignore him. He reaches through my screen and stares at me from inches away. I. Ignore. Him. He screeches in rage. I ignore him. He grabs at my hands trying to get me to stop as Angel approaches Waterfall. It is too late. He is too late. Sans pleads with me again. I do not respond. He turns, then, to you, dear reader. He turns to you and speaks through my words. He says, please. He says please again, then, tell me something. You nod, or at least that is what he hopes you do, since he continues. I... I am your favorite. It is what I see- there are so many of me out there. You hurt me. You let me live my life, just differently. You kill my brother. You let my brother live alongside me, with his own differences. You create me and others- even this one I have been speaking with (she is writing down these words as I say them) is creating. She created me with the knowlage of you- even if that was not her original intention.

it wasn't

I see so much, now. I see it all. I feel it all, too. My mind is fracturing. I can hardly think, now. Am I simply meant to observe this? To observe you? To know you? To judge you? Am I nothing more than a vessel for your pain? Is there nothing I can do? What am I to do?

shaking, the skeleton's many eyes blink lazily, like a cat would, his eyes rippling like water as they do so.

The woman is tired. Her two eyes begin to droop closed. It is late for her. She must sleep.

undyne screams in pain and fear as her own spears erupt from her scales until she resembles a bloody porcupine. monster kid sees this in horror and tries to run, but had already gotten too close to Angel. monster kid's body begins to shrink, until they are the size of an ant- the pressure on their organs is immense, their body now much too small even for their scaled down insides. they will live, of course, but with a constant ache beneath their muscles and a tiny, clumsy body- unfit for anything but hiding away.

Sans grins without any humor. He knows as well as I do what is happening to his world. He knows his role in that world now, too. He is to watch and know and note it all. All the horrors in that little universe of his. And once that universe has concluded its little story? He is to see and know everything else- all other worlds and stories. He is to be a record of the tales across the multiverse's.

A living library of lives.

SO!!! Just a fun little Idea i had that hit me in the face a bit ago and I NEEDED to get it written out asap- the story kinda got like,,,, The Magnus Archives-y near the end ngl XD but i still love it!! with the actual AU part of it (off the top of my head lol, this was mostly meant to be about someone writing an Undertale AU and Sans somehow Knows about it and tells the author to stop or smth and ends up pleading with them to stop but it doesn't work) ill maybe come back with the other main characters and their personality/role based mutations (i hope u understand why sans is eyes at least- that is the one I was most confident in tbh) annnnnyways!!!

#tw derealization #fourth wall break #sans undertale #sans #undertale au #ut au #undertale #psychological horror #The magnus archives inspired #im gonna call this #Watchertale #Watchertale au #Cake's Stories #Cake's Fics #Cake's Rambles

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icallhimjoey · 2 years ago

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I've Got You

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your flatmate have perfected the art of wingmanship for one another. It’s a great system that seems to work every single time, until you’re left unsatisfied.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, rpf, fem!reader, smut, lots of drinking, angst!

Author’s note: baby’s first smutty series - sorry if it’s bad! I feel like I rushed this one a little bit towards the end. but OK ENJOY! (rewritten on 13 nov 2023)

Wordcount: 3.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You were going to earn that ten quid back, and you were going to make sure Joe was going to be the one to remind you of it.

Your lips made contact with the tip of him, so very softly, he barely must have even felt the graze of your mouth at all.

You barely got a reaction out of him.

You did it again, a little firmer this time, making sure he could feel you properly, but the pressure of it not nearly enough for him.

Teasing.

Joe wasn't having it and pushed up his hips, chasing your mouth as you pulled back.

"Do that–" Joe stopped, had to swallow whatever got stuck in his throat before he could finish.

"Do that again," he breathed lowly.

You kept pressing slow kisses to his head, growing steadily in pressure until eventually adding your tongue too.

It took entirely too long, you knew, but Joe bathed in it, not once asking you to take him into his mouth.

His erratic breathing made you smirk, and when you took his tip into your mouth to suck on, Joe moaned shakily as he grabbed a fistful of your hair. Only pulled very slightly, hands more careful than you expected them to be.

Just when Joe thought you were going to finally take all of him into your mouth, you pulled back. You used your hand to stroke him up and down lazily, sliding your head away from his touch, feeling strands of your hair slip through his fingers..

"Jesus Christ," Joe groaned earthily, frankly quite annoyed at your pace and you could see the veins in his neck as he threw his head back in frustration, needing more than what you were giving him.

"So impatient," you cooed, but before Joe could complain, you pumped your hand down to hold him at his base and took all of him.

You hadn't calculated all that correctly, and you felt your throat constrict as Joe reached a part of it you hadn't expected him to, very nearly triggering your gag reflex.

The sensation of it made Joe moan huskily.

His hand found its way back into your hair to guide you up and down, a move you usually hated because it meant you could be held down, could be made to choke on them. But Joe's hand seemed to be there just to touch, just to hold onto you.

You moved your head and hand in unison, working fast along his shaft, steadily.

It was silly how a soft moan from you got a much louder one from Joe.

So silly.

Almost too easy.

When Joe's hips started bucking, muscles involuntarily spasming at your touches, you knew he was getting close. You kept up the pace, tongue laving sloppily, cheeks sucked in, everything all wet as you paid close attention to his pulsing head.

Joe tried to hold out.

He really, really tried.

But the sight of you, combined with the noises you were making, was too much for him to bear and left him a panting mess of a man.

It didn't take long for Joe's breaths to scatter as the built-up pleasure within him broke and riddled through his body. With his head thrown back into the pillows and his stomach twitching, Joe drained himself completely, swearing as he did.

It took a minute for Joe to catch his breath after.

You waited a little scared he'd react the same way you had, but there were no signs of panic, no fear visible on his face, no wheezing heard in his breathing.

"Fucking hell," Joe found your eyes and smiled at you, his breathing still heavy as he hummed through his exhales, his hands now in his own hair.

"Yea?" you would lie if you said you weren’t proud of yourself. This felt like a job you’d finished in record time.

"Pass me my wallet," Joe joked, speaking on an exhale, pointing in a random direction, and it made you laugh as you fell onto the bed next to Joe.

"I owe you 10 pounds, I think."

And, listen.

You didn’t want to make it a regular thing.

Honestly, you didn’t.

But when you walked in on Joe watching a film under a throw blanket a couple of days later, you joined him on the sofa and, immediately, Joe put his hand to work.

Joe had held open the throw blanket, invited you in. Made sure it covered the both of you properly after you'd sat down. As you settled into a comfortable position next to him, not even really cuddling up to him, Joe’s hand found itself in your underwear.

Just... there.

Like that was the place where his hand was meant to be kept.

No words were spoken, and Joe didn’t even really look at you. But his hand was definitely there, fully cupping you, applying pressure with his fingers in pulses.

Both your gazes remained on the TV, and you could've sworn that Joe was actually following the plot of the film until you could feel your arousal transfer onto his fingers and he put its slick to good use.

When Joe thought it took too long for you to come, he sat up slightly and turned into you, his eyes finally off the screen. He continued to press his cheek against yours so you could hear his heavy breaths and soft groans close in your ear.

His noises, combined with his closeness and the fervency of his touch pushed you over the edge within seconds.

Afterwards, Joe had just sat back, and you easily confessed you didn’t like the film at all.

Joe finished watching it by himself.

Friday rolled around quick, and you were heating up some leftovers for dinner when you heard the front door open as Joe walked in with two of his friends. They’d done a quick food shop, and when they caught you in the kitchen, were quick to shoo you out.

You sat down, had your dinner, and enjoyed listening to them as they started preparing the kitchen for the cooking of their meal.

There was something very wholesome about the three of them cooking together; cutting vegetables, asking each other’s opinions on flavouring, having casual other chat, but then at one point pausing every single task at hand to challenge each other to toss trash into the bin from a certain distance.

There were a lot of loud oohs and ahhs, and footsteps back and forth from near misses.

When you expected them to make fun of each other for failing, they started giving each other helpful tips. They kept trying until all three of them succeeded.

Adorable, you thought.

They were the very definition of ‘boys will be boys’ that you supported wholeheartedly.

When you ventured back into the kitchen to put your dishes into the dishwasher, one of Joe’s mates held up a spoon over a cupped hand for you.

“Try this,” he said, and as you leant over slightly for a taste, you could see Joe eye you from behind him when you made eye contact with his friend as he fed you.

“Ooh,” you frowned, covering your mouth with your hand as you chewed with your mouth slightly open because of the temperature of it, fresh from the pan.

“That’s gorgeous!”

It earned a wide grin from the both of them, as they looked at each other and nodded with big smiles, obviously excited that whatever they’d put together tasted beautifully.

“I know you’ve just eaten, but we could make you a small plate if you want?” his other mate suggested as he opened several kitchen cupboards to look for dishes to set the table.

“That’s okay, thanks. I’m going to go for a quick shower,”

“You’re coming with tonight, right?” Joe checked in with you whilst reaching into an upper cabinet to grab some glasses.

“Yea, just quickly want to freshen up,” you half-shrugged as you walked out.

A night out with them sounded fun, and you’d not been out the week before, so you felt you were due a night of drinks, loud music, and dancing.

“Good, because someone's newly single,” Joe called after you, referencing one of his friends who he made big eyes at.

Um.

What?

You stepped back slowly and saw all three of them look at you. Every face read something different, leaving it impossible for you to gage why one of Joe's friends being newly single was a reason for you to join them that evening.

Your eyes darted between each of their expressions, your own left in plain confusion.

“Joe said you’re the best wingman he’s ever had,” his friend then explained.

Oh.

The realisation of what they were getting at came with relief and you could see Joe’s grin behind him.

Joe's friend turned to look at Joe before looking back at you again with hopeful eyes. He almost seemed a little ashamed to bring up the topic and you wondered if Joe had told them anything about the recent... developments between the two of you.

Not that you wanted him to talk about it to other people.

You hadn't.

Shit.

Had he?

You smiled and shrugged at Joe’s friend.

“I try,” you simply said, slapping the wood of the doorframe before leaving them alone again, back on your way to shower.

As you walked off, you could hear them carry on conversation and Joe thought that you were underselling yourself.

“Not that you’d need much help mate,” Joe started, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “But there’s something about having her talk to them, it’s like– it’s honestly like magic,”

Ew.

You didn’t know why that had never made you feel icky before. Hearing those words come from Joe’s mouth made you feel a bit gross, but you were quick to shake them off, and anything that lingered, you hoped you could rinse off in a minute.

That night, the first bar the four of you stepped into was impossibly busy. With Joe’s friends in front of you, and Joe behind you, you snaked your way through the crowd towards the bar.

You were held onto from the front by your wrist as to not lose you, and you could feel Joe’s hands on your lower back as he followed closely behind you.

When the boys saw that the bartenders were two guys, they pushed you forward to order drinks, knowing that you’d probably get served much faster than they would.

There was something about being out with three guys. The giddiness and excitement of being out with your girlfriends wasn’t there, there was no dancing and singing whilst getting ready together, no weird mixed pre-drinks and no promises no one was going to keep about being good tonight.

Being out with three guys was fun in a different way.

You felt a bit protected, a little special, and you concluded that it was nice, even if they used you to get their drinks quicker and Joe’s friend was solely interested in seeing you pull a girl for him.

Finding a table for the four of you to stand at was a journey, but with wide elbows and a lot of apologies to the people around you, you managed to secure one. You all cheersed your glasses when you did.

“So, how does it work?”

Both of Joe’s friend looked at you with eager eyes, leaning forward on their elbows, waiting to witness the magic that Joe mentioned to them.

You looked at Joe, entirely blaming him for his horny mates, rolling your eyes when he pretended he had nothing to do with their behaviour.

“Alright,” you decided to just go with it, then.

“There’s some terms and conditions,” you started, copying their stances, leaning over the table and speaking in between their heads so they could both hear you.

“They need to be single,” you leant back to look the both of them in the eye as a warning before moving back in between them.

“They need to be at least somewhat tipsy, and... you’ve got to do some work when I bring them over – be ready with a joke, a compliment, or, for quickest results: shots.”

Leaning back, you saw the two of them look at each other and nod, one of them half-shrugging, the other giving a thumbs up as if to say, we’ve got this.

Then they both turned back to you and waited expectantly for what to do next.

“Go, take your pick,” you gestured around, as if presenting them a buffet of women to choose from and you heard Joe laugh beside you.

“Let’s do a lap,” one of them said, circling a finger in the air, and the both of them took off, leaving you and Joe by yourselves.

“Idiots,” Joe mused, chuckling lightly to himself.

You scoffed at him.

“Says the man who’s not pulled someone without my help in months,” Joe was just as bad as his mates and he needed reminding, you thought.

“I haven’t?” Joe made eyes at you.

“I think I did a fairly alright job landing my flatmate the other day,” your jaw dropped aghast, and you were quick to flip him off, unable to hide your laughter.

“Still involved me though, didn’t it?” you challenged, in turn making Joe laugh.

It took a little while for Joe’s friends to return, and when they did, they brought over new drinks for the four of you.

“There’s two girls,” one of them shouted into your ear. They use their full extended arms and fingers to point, and Joe was quick to push their arms down, giving them a disappointed shake of his head.

You looked over and saw the girls they were talking about; friends. That was definitely trickier. They could band together, against you, and fuck with the system.

You nodded slowly and carefully thought of a game plan.

"Alright, I've got you," you then said, not wanting to let them down. You pretended to crack your neck, did some fake stretching, made the boys laugh and then finally instructed them to get tequila shots for your table.

Help.

Help was the answer.

You needed these girls to help you with something, somehow, so you could then owe them and offer them shots.

From a distance you could tell that these girls had been drinking, and from the way they were dressed you hoped for Joe’s friends’ sake that they were single.

You walked straight up to them and grabbed one of them by the wrist.

“Sorry, I’ve lost my friends, have you seen three, sort of tall, handsome men?” you shouted into her ear, and the face you made at her afterwards had her immediately scan the crowd for you.

“One of them has like, floppy, blond hair,” you described, catching the attention of her friend who nodded upwards to ask what was going on. She explained that you’d lost your hot mates, and you then leant over to her to tell her the same thing, but then also described the other two boys.

“Last time I checked,” and you panned your eyes over to exactly where they were stood.

All three had their eyes trained on you, and it was so dumb, but you had to pretend not to see them boring their eyes in your direction.

“They were there, somewhere, I think.”

“Is that them?” one of them asked, and pointed directly at your table.

“Where?” you pretended you were practically blind.

The other girl waved at them and pointed at you, signaling to them that she’d found their friend. Sheepishly, they all waved back, entirely unaware of the conversation that you were having with these girls.

“Oh my God, that’s them! Thank you so much, saved my fucking life! Have you two done shots already tonight?”

And just like that, you made your way back through the crowd over to your flatmate and his friends, two girls following suit.

They were all smiles when they saw the amount of tequila shots waiting at the table – two each, for the six of you, cost a fucking fortune – as they welcomed you warmly.

As you handed each girl a shot, you pointed at one of Joe's friends and introduced him to one of them.

“You've never met someone with a bigger heart,” you started, licking your hand, ready for him to sprinkle some salt onto it from the little shaker he was holding.

Your new friend did the same.

“He works full time, difficult boring office job, which pays a lot of money, but then at the weekends, he volunteers at a dog shelter,” you lied, and you pouted at her.

You had no fucking idea what his job was.

Knew for a fact he didn't fucking volunteer and a dog shelter.

She copied your face immediately and made puppy dog eyes at him.

“You do? That’s so cute!”

Boom.

He was in.

When you turned to see if Joe’s other friend needed help being introduced, you were met with them already making out, the slice of lemon that Joe had handed them wedged in between their teeth still.

That was fast.

Joe saw that there were now six shots left for the two of you and nodded for you to join him on his side of the table, stepping away slightly from the others.

You saw Joe line up the shots, organising them in front of you before counting down loudly. You knew exactly what was expected of you, and with the fast pace of everything happening, your brain didn’t fully catch up until it was too late, and the tequila was already gone.

In literal seconds you left all shot glasses empty and were nursing a full lemon slice in between your teeth, your throat on fire.

“Woo!” Joe’s voice was loud, adrenaline pumping you were sure, and he held two hands up to high 5 you.

You did, but immediately went, “Bathroom break,” and stepped away from him momentarily.

The music was loud, and the place was still packed, sweaty bodies bumping into sweaty bodies as you slowly managed to make your way through.

The line for the toilets was long, and even though you did really enjoy talking to the drunk girls in the queue, befriending them immediately like drunk girls were so easy to befriend, you did think it took you way too long to eventually find your way back to Joe.

He was still at the same table, but had now found a barstool to sit on, looking out into the crowd of people dancing.

When he spotted you making your way back over to him, he held an arm out for you to reach, and when you took hold of him, he pulled you in strongly.

It was almost romantic, and you could feel the buzz from the tequila warm you at your core. Joe pulled you in way closer to his body than he needed to, made you almost crash into him, and his mouth found your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Blonde girl, over there in the corner,” Joe nodded his head over you and made you turn around to follow his gaze.

You saw an impossibly good-looking girl and were quick to look around to locate Joe’s friends. You couldn’t seem to find them, but then spotted one of them, and he was still talking to the girl that he shared a lemon wedge with, doing a fantastic job at making her laugh.

“I think they’re good,” you turned back to Joe, ready to point your finger in the direction of what you saw unfolding a few feet removed from you.

But you were halted, because you could see it in Joe’s eyes.

It was unmistakably there.

Your stomach dropped.

Left you immediately dizzy.

Joe meant for him.

Joe meant for you to talk to that girl for him.

You frowned, confused and suddenly disgusted by your flatmate and his friends, now to you the very definition of ‘boys will be boys’ that fucking sucked.

-----

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#Ive Got You #part 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn smut #joseph quinn smut #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic

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viceroywrites · 7 months ago

Text

better than drugs

pickles x fem!reader

the two of you meet in rehab; him being a metal drummer punished for drinking while operating a hovercraft and you being a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who recently relapsed.

in the short weeks you spent with him, you came to two realizations; he was more addicting than any drug, and you never wanted to quit this drug.

ao3 version here - first two chapters are rewritten on tumblr and the rest will be the same moving forward.

content warning: this story involves discussion of alcoholism, drug usage, and drug addiction. reader is a recovering addict.

chapter two - faith

As you finished unpacking the rest of your duffel bag, Pickles watched you curiously from the stiff, metal chair in the corner of the room. You both had remained quiet for some time as you waited for the mob of guards and nurses that were hunting down Pickles to pass by your room, having him hide in the corner before signaling that the coast was clear.

“Sooo… what brings you here? Not gonna lie, you don’t seem like the type to be in this hell hole of dreary douchebags… Everyone seems like they’re off their rocker about to blow their brains out if they don’t get a hit,” Pickles asked, finally breaking the silence, leaning back against the chair lazily.

You chuckled dryly and turned your head to turn to the infamous drummer, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Before I tell you my whole life story, let me hear yours. What’s the drummer for a death metal band notorious for boozing it up doing in a rehabilitation center? Is this like some weird publicity stunt like the stupid Ricki Kixx sobriety thing?”

The drummer snorted at the mention of that and shook his head, grinning at you, “Damn, I wish it was, then I’d be getting paid to be in this dump.”

He shrugged, “Well, since you know I’m in Dethklok, you know about the whole hover drum incident shit?”

You nodded, “Yeah, saw it on the news. I heard you crashed into multiple planes.”

Pickles winced at the mention of it, his fingers mindlessly drumming a beat against the metal chairs. “So I was drunk when I was flying it. Caused a lot of damage or whatever. When do we not, ya know? But I guess it was too much this time and I’m being punished for it.”

“Personally, I think the people who invented those were stupid not to make some auto-pilot function or at least realize you can’t fucking pilot a hover drum set when you’re wasted and save the fancy invention for another performance.” You rolled your eyes, switching out the stiff, low-quality bed sheets with your blankets.

The redhead slapped his forehead and began pacing the compact room, “Thank you! Stupid pricks kept putting the blame on me… told me they made the decision to send me to fucking rehab… told me I was in “denial” and “couldn’t handle my booze”” He threw his hands up in the air, using air quotes to emphasize his point.

Your eyebrows rose in amusement, and you continued to listen to him rant as you pulled out a tiny white box from a small compartment you had carved out in your duffel bag.

“Like fuck those assholes! I can fucking handle my booze ten times better than those lightweights can! I’m Pickles, the drummer of Dethklok – I’m like known for being the drunk of the group!” He continued to rant before stopping as he heard a ‘click’ sound.

His gaze turned to you as you suddenly had a cigarette propped between your lips, trying to light it with your old, worn-out black lighter.

“How the hell did you get those past the guards?” Pickles’ eyes widened, swiping the pack from you, “They practically strip searched me down, I couldn’t even hide anything in my boxers.”

“Hey, those are mine, you prick!” You stuttered out, quickly grabbing them back. Your eyes narrowed at him and you wagged the pack in his face, “I’ll let you have a smoke if you keep this a secret… and help me light this thing.”

The red headed drummer grinned at your desperation and took the light from your hands. The gap between you and him became smaller as he got closer to you to light the cigarette dangling from your lips. His skinny, pale fingers skillfully flicked down the lighter, igniting a fire that matched the heat of your cheeks – a reaction to having the attractive musician close to you.

You took a puff, exhaling the smoke slowly. Your body felt warm and satisfied from the taste of smoke on your tongue. As you opened your eyes, you noticed a pair of piercing green orbs on you.

Pickles smiled in amusement, admiring how mellow you looked, “You needed that, didn’t cha?” You rolled your eyes, throwing the pack to Pickles, “I’m guessing you need it too if you were so willing to take up my offer.”

“Nah, I was fine honestly. Since I helped you light it though, how about you tell me how you got these past security?” Pickles shrugged, tossing the pack on the bed before taking a seat on it.

Your eyebrows raised at Pickles’ willpower to resist the cigarettes and he chuckled at your reaction, “Doll, once you’ve had the hard stuff, the real good shit, a pack of cigarettes does nothing for you. Glad to see it satisfies you, though. Now, mind answering my question?”

You sighed, admitting defeat. You plopped down on the bed, the duffel bag putting a space between you and Pickles. Opening up the main compartment, you dug to the bottom to reveal a hidden compartment you had cut into the bottom. Inside contained a few packs of cigarettes, a back-up lighter, and a bottle of pills.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” You joked, covering up the hidden compartment once again. “Also, the pills are my anxiety medication… the guards would’ve taken it away and the doctor would’ve put me on a prescription of something that would make me like a zombie like all the fucks out there.” You gesture your head towards the door, “I need this stuff to function day to day. So don’t get any funny ideas about stealing them.”

Pickles put up his hands in defense, “I won’t… as long as you teach me some of the tricks you know, cowgirl.” He smirks, winking at you.

The droning sound of the dinner bell echoed throughout the rooms in the rehabilitation facility, cutting you off. You reached back into your duffel bag to grab a pack of cigarettes and headed towards the door, which Pickles looked at you as if you were insane for taking your stash out into the open.

“Don’t question me, just follow my lead.” You grin, shoving the pack into your oversized hoodie.

Pickles smirks in amusement as he follows behind you, shoving his hands in his pockets. As the two of you make your way down the hallway, other patients come out of their room, helping you blend into the crowd of people. Surprisingly, the guards don’t bat an eye as you and Pickles pass by, more preoccupied with another rowdy patient.

You file into the cafeteria, breathing a sigh of relief as almost all the staff was the same since your last stint in rehab. Otherwise, your plan would not have worked and you would have looked like an ass in front of Pickles. Seeing the red-headed drummer head towards the line, you pull him back by the neckline of his black tank, causing him to grunt in response.

“Dude, what the hell?” Pickles muttered, glancing back at you. You shake your head in response, jerking it in the direction of the guards posted nearby the food, “Too many guards, they usually dip and keep watch at the door after most of the patients get their food. Then we go and get ours.”

Pickles’ pierced eyebrow raised in confusion, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s the same shit cafeteria food whether we get it now or later, isn’t it?”

“That’s where the cigs come into the equation. Nothing like some good ol’ fashioned bribery right?” You grin, watching as the line slowly dwindles down to one or two people. The guards take leave, leaving the only staff left being a few nurses and case workers who are mindlessly scrolling through their phones and the cafeteria workers.

Grabbing a tray, you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one can see you before pulling out the pack. You beckon for Pickles to join you, sliding down the line as you mindlessly put food on your plate without a care. Pickles watches you, his green eyes following your every move before you stop in front of a particular worker.

“Hey, not sure if you remember me but are you still doing trades? I’ll give you the whole pack if you can get both of us a decent meal.” You grin, waving the pack of cigarettes just for him to see. He glances over you, making sure the coast is clear once final time before snagging the pack of cigarettes and walking away.

“What the hell? You just gave those up to him?” Pickles muttered under his breath and you rolled your eyes in response, “Dude, have a little patience. Being sober is definitely making you antsy,” The server returned with two plates full of much better quality food that looked like it came from a restaurant. He swapped your plates, scraping the slop back into the buffet style trays before grinning up at you, “Pleasure doing business with you again. This better be your last stint here, sweetheart.”

“Can’t make any promises.” You wave your hand dismissively before winking at Pickles, sauntering off to a table in the far corner so no one questions why your food looks way better than theirs. Pickles glances down at the plate and back to you in surprise before trailing behind you, following your every move as you show him the ropes.

“Enjoy not eating slop for at least one night. I can’t do this all the time since my supply is limited but it makes staying here a little less miserable.” You say as you take a bite of the warm food. Pickles slides into the seat across from you, staring at you inquisitively, “So mind explaining to me what just happened back there?”

“That’s Dante. He smokes like a pack an hour but the facility limits the workers to only bringing in one pack. They search them, just like us, to make sure they don’t have any drugs on them.” You wave your fork in the air casually as you explain, “So my second time, I snuck in some cigarettes and Dante caught me with them. Instead of ratting me out, he offered to bum some off me in exchange for better food during meal time. Sometimes it was a whole catered meal like this since that’s what the doctors eat, sometimes I’d ask him to pick up something I’m craving.”

“How many times have you been here? Ye weren’t kidding when you said this wasn’t your first rodeo?” Pickles grinned, savoring the actually edible food as he was grateful he ended up opening your door earlier today. “This is my third - my first time was in high school, second was in college.” You say with a nonchalant shrug though it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue to admit that you were back here, eyes carefully assessing his reaction.

“Third, huh? You must’ve been the life of the party back then. Would’ve loved to chug a handle with ya.” Pickles snickered in a light hearted fashion, not having any judgments of your stints. He saw you as a fellow connoisseur of the finer things in life just like him - booze and drugs. You visibly relaxed at his response, the tension in your shoulders releasing. You rolled your eyes playfully, tapping your water bottle against his, “Guess we’ll have to stick to chugging water while we’re here. Cheers to surviving this hell hole. Hope it’s your last time.”

Pickles takes your cue, holding up his water bottle and tapping it against yours before taking a sip, “Dude, that was totally lame. Can’t believing I’m fucking cheersing water.”

“Could be worse. You could be crawling out of your skin like those guys since they’re in the early stages of detoxing from what I can tell. You seem like you’re actually doing fine for the most part.” You hum, glancing over your shoulder. Pickles looks past your frame, assessing a table full of patients who are glancing around anxiously, picking at their food and fidgeting around. He smirks, shrugging his shoulders, “What can I say? This isn’t as hard as they make it out to be.”

“Says the guy who has been starting fights and raising hell since he got here.” You snort, crossing your arms after finishing most of your meal. “So what week are we on in group? Because if it's Step 2, I’m gonna blow my brains out.”

Pickles shrugs noncommittally, “To tell you the truth, I haven’t been paying attention much. Most of the time I’m just trying to be on my best behavior so I don’t get tased by the staff.” You chuckle at his response, stuffing your hands deeper into your hoodie, “Well, I’ll guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“So what’s your poison? Alcohol, weed, cocaine, ecstasy, methamphetamines?” Pickles asks out of curiosity, trying to guess himself. He’s tried it all but his main drug of choice, as the counselors called it, was alcohol. It was the one he reached for in most situations - to feel good, to destress, to numb. You chuckle at the question, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease as you’ve been asked this question several times in your life - each time you entered rehab, each AA and NA meeting you attended.

“I got hooked on Adderall in my teens. I was an overachiever, would use it to stay up late studying for tests. Smoked some weed as well, that’s what the parents caught me with. They found Adderall later on.” You hummed, recounting the times where all you would stress about was school and academics due to your parents’ high expectations. “Then I went off to college, got into my dream school, and my parents bragged about that for a looong time. I was a goody-two shoes in high school so I started partying, drinking, doing cocaine in the bathroom, acid and molly when I would go to concerts. The usual. I skipped classes, was pretty much high all day. My parents found out and shipped me back here.”

“And now?” Pickles asked, smiling in amusement as you recount the similar experiences to him - except for the good grades and overachieving. You paused for a second, thinking it over for some time before sighing, “Honestly, I don’t know. I drank for the first time after a stressful last few months. I definitely drank way more than I should have but I don’t think I have a poison now. Maybe it’s because other than that, I literally have been sober for the past 5 years. Maybe I’m just in denial.”

Pickles noticed your mood shift to a more somber one and he hopes his next words are helpful in some type of way, “Well, one fuck up doesn’t mean all that hard work is gone, right? You’re only human.” You blink at what he says and end up letting out a laugh in response, “You know, I guess you aren’t wrong. Guess I’ve got a lot to learn from you too, newbie.”

The red-haired drummer can’t help but crack a genuine smile at the sight of your mood being lifted. The two of you finish your meals, stomachs satiated from the fulfilling dinner. As you’re about to pick up your tray, Pickles takes it for you, “I got clean up since you did me a favor hooking me up. You should get some rest. No offense, you’re starting to look like a zombie like the rest of these junkies.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping off the drummer as you got up from your seat, “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow in group, don’t get into too much trouble and please stop pissing in the trash cans. The hallways reek of urine.” Your nose crinkles at the memory of the stench. Pickles chuckles, “I’ll try not to. Sometimes the bathrooms get busy and I don’t wanna wait to take a leak. Hey, uh… thanks again.”

“No problem, thanks for keeping things interesting. G’night!” You say with a grin, waving at the drummer who watches you disappear behind the doors. His gaze lingers to where you once sat in front of him before dumping any remaining food scraps into the trash and placing the tray and plate back. Pickles had any one goal in mind for his stay at the rehab - get the fuck out of here and be back in Dethklok. Something about you was electric, fascinating and you coming in today was a welcome distraction. He created another goal in his head as he walked back to his room - get to know you more.

You headed to the communal showers after a few hours have passed, wanting some privacy and peace and quiet after the eventful day settling back into being in rehab. Towel, toiletries and clothes in hand, you place them down on the counter. Lowering the hood of your hoodie, you assess your reflection in the mirror. The dark circles beneath your eyes are more pronounced, the fatigue from working overtime and keeping up with deadline after deadline apparent. You looked drained of life, weighed down by the responsibilities of life. Your self-care had pretty much gone out the window, not taking care of your skin and appearance, settling for looking passable at work.

You let out a sigh, clapping your cheeks, “Alright, time to get your shit together. Once and for all.” You turn on the shower, letting the steam roll out from behind the curtain before undressing and stepping in. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips as the warmth of the water seems to relax the tension in your shoulders. As the water cascades down your body, you reflect on the day - particularly your fate encounter with the drummer of Dethklok.

In all your stays at rehab, you had never really connected with anyone in programming. Maybe it was just the cycle of people you ended up staying with, maybe it was the fact that you shut yourself off as much as possible, reluctant to share any more of you that wasn’t being exposed in group therapy, staying surface level when interacting with any other patients. Yet somehow things with Pickles seemed like they clicked. It was fascinating to you that despite being sober and probably struggling with cravings, irritability, the works, he still had a fire running through his veins.

You chuckled to yourself, getting preoccupied in your thoughts as your skin began to get pruny from how long you had just been standing in the shower. You quickly scrubbed your hair and body, wanting to get as clean as possible as a reset. Wrapping the towel around your body, you step out of the shower, feeling refreshed. Going through your skincare routine and brushing your teeth, you change into a fresh set of PJs.

Just as you’re about to head out, you hear the door swing open. You blink in surprise as normally everyone is usually knocked out for the night, an hour passing since you started your shower. You glance over your shoulder as the figure rounds around the corner. You visibly relax at the sight of Pickles, toothbrush in hand and towel draped over his shoulder.

“Guess we think alike, it’s already a pain in the ass to share a bathroom with my fucking bandmates, now I gotta do it with 15 other dildos.” Pickles commented, his green eyes trailing up and down your figure. You looked visibly relaxed and refreshed, grinning to himself as he noted your pajama pants - black with cartoon skulls dotted across the fabric.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair then, I was just heading out. Have a good shower.” You say, walking past him. “Hey Y/N,” Pickles calls out your name. You turn your head, eyebrow raising as the handsome drummer smirks, “Cute pajamas, by the way.”

Your eyes gaze down, your cheeks flushing as you realize he’s referring to your pants. You huff, your lips pouting as he gets a rise out of your flustered reaction, “Hey, they’re comfy, asshole! Hope I used up all the hot water and you have to take a cold shower!” You stomp out of the bathroom, causing Pickles to snicker.

"Well, at least I got some form of entertainment for the rest of my stay," Pickles comments to himself, actually excited for tomorrow to tease and mess with you so more.

#metalocalypse #mtl #pickles the drummer #pickles x reader #metalocalypse fanfic #rehabklok #mtl fanfic

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dapperpea · 1 month ago

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#FFxivWrite2024 / Day 29 / Free Day / Holdup

Weird West AU

Archon had been making headway on the water issue, talking with outlying smaller groups about locations and fair treatment, making himself generally amicable while Zoissette led the scientific work of determining how much water was where and how much could be shared out. He’d made some small deals here and there, handshakes to make future contracts mostly, but he’d finally gotten one set up in writing. It had taken weeks to gain trust and weeks more to work out the kinks in the language, but he finally had it in hand. It was… Nice, having achieved something that he was supposed to do.

He was heading back to Stonewood late in the evening, having stayed back to have dinner with the small group of Hhetsarro he’d made the deal with. The contract was safely in his pocket, and he’d been escorted halfway to town by a few of the Hhetsarro’s members. Unfortunately, the trouble occurred in the other half of the walk.

The brush rustled and Archon glanced toward it in time to see a man step out, face obscured by a bandana. Not a great start to an encounter. No one should be out here this late, much less dressed like that. Archon

The click of a pistol’s hammer was the first introduction the stranger bothered with. Archon stopped and looked over to find a Tonawawtan man stepping out from behind the bush, face obscured by a bandana. Not a great start to an encounter. “I don't have much on me,” Archon said. It was true, in terms of pel, at least.

“I think you do.” The other man strapped forward lazily. “We’ve been watching you run back and forth to the settlement over yonder, working on water. Valuable thing, water.” Behind Archon, a bandana’d Hhetsarro woman stepped out, flanking him.

We. Interesting term to use. Possibly more than just the two? “Been pretty dry. You think they have water?”

“Tch. Don't play stupid. You just finished making a deal with them for water rights.” The bandit gestured with his pistol. “Your contract. Give it to me.”

Archon swallowed. They knew what he’d been doing, and that he’d just finished the contract. How? Was this bandit associated with the group he’d just made the deal with? “Won't do anything for you. It's not in your name.”

“Maybe not, but we know plenty of people who would pay for a contract like that. It can be rewritten. Re-signed. We can convince the Hhetsarro it's in their best interest to change business partners, if necessary. Water is gold out here, and who holds it holds the town.”

Archon set his jaw. He really didn't have a good answer to that. “Fine. Don't shoot me while I pull it out.” He slowly reached into his pocket and slid out the folded contract.

The bandit snatched nearly as soon as it was clear of Archon's pocket, flipping it open and scanning it to ensure it was real. “Good to see you can be reasoned with. Glad this didn't have to come to violence.”

“I'm sure,” Archon agreed sourly. “Can I go now?”

“Git on.” The bandit gestured with his pistol again, motioning for Archon to walk on. “Don't look back. We’ll be watching.”

“Fine.” Archon did as he was bid, continuing back to town without further incident. He considered heading to the sheriff's office, but what was he going to say? Two people he couldn't describe held him up for a contract? They would be long gone by now. There wasn't much he could do until someone else tried to make that contract, unless he went out tomorrow to make it again. Hopefully with a lot more firepower with him.

#ffxivwrite2024 #archoncore #peabody writes #weird west au #ffxiv weird west au

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thatwildnya · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER 4: You Now Smell Fishy

chitters:

Wild: this chapter has been the most edited and rewritten one so far. i still might go back and change some parts but we’ll get to that later. i added the last part after Nya said this made him want some eel and octopus.

Nya: i’m craving sushi now 🗿

TW: blood, but only from Floyd being the menace he is

It turned out your uncle was very happy that you had taken in the wild and stray centaurs. He had applauded your kindness, giving permission to bring back as many as you desired. He would pay for all expenses of course, as he was so gracious. In return for his kindness, he made you responsible for all the pets you brought in. You didn’t plan on taking in anymore you were fine with what you had. However sir oh so gracious fancy pants had other plans.

About half a year after Malleus and Sebek joined the growing family your uncle showed up out of the blue with three merfolk for you to care for. At the time you had been out buying groceries, so you had no idea what you were coming home to.

“Hello my beloved nepiece!” Crowley greeted you as you came into the living room. He had just finished setting up the tank and was introducing himself to your current pets. After a quick explanation he left, saying he had business to attend to. He left a letter explaining how to properly care for your merfolk.

When you walked down the stairs to see what your new pets looked like, you found that your basement was now over three acres large (according to the letter) and filled with ocean plant life. You stared bug eyed at the sight before you, how the hell did he get this done in less than an hour.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts you failed to notice a pair of curious eels swimming over to get a closer look at you. A fin-like hand hitting the glass jolted you out of your thoughts.

The two eelmer stared at you with big eyes filled with curiosity. From how closely they resembled each other you assumed they were related. They appeared to be about a foot long each but were still tiny. Your thumb was bigger than their head.

They followed you as you began circling the tank, curious about what you would do. At some point one of them got bored and swam away. The one that stayed kept his eyes on you, continuing to follow you on your little walk. The way his eyes studied you gave you chills. It was like he was observing you for your weak points. Creepy.

Another knock on the tank caught your attention. The little mer beckoned you forward, an innocent smile on his face. You inch closer, unsure of what he would do. He points up, and you turn your face upwards just in time to see the other mer jumping out of the tank. His body collides with your face with a wet splat. You stumble backwards and fall on your butt with a yelp. Pulling him off, you hold him by his waist. He’s laughing at you, and in the background you can see his brother also laughing.

Great, a pair of troublemakers. Just what you needed.

~~~~~~

“I was told there were three of you, where’s the third?” Jade and Floyd were their names. The twins were currently flopped over your thighs while your legs were lazily kicking in the water.

“Tako-chan? He’s shy, been hiding ever since his pot was set down.” Floyd answered, curiously fumbling with the zipper of your jacket. “He’s weary of humans,” Jade spoke up, “can’t blame him though. They were the ones who snatched us from our home.” you frown, was this how all merfolk were acquired? That’s messed up bro.

“If you wanna meet Tako-chan you’ll have to go for a swim~” Floyd chirped, tugging at your shirt, “The water’s enchanted so you can breathe without having to drink a potion. Your uncle mentioned someone needed to renew the magic sometimes, why can’t you do it yourself Shrimpy? Are you that bad at magic?~” what a little shit.

“Where’s the pot?” you ask using a finger on his forehead to gently push him off. He let out a hiss of protest, trying to cling to you by digging his claws into your pants. Jade took notice of the slight change of your mood, and let out a trill. Floyd pouted at his brother, letting go after a bit of back and forth.

Taking off your jacket, you toss it to the ground. Sliding into the water you shiver. Holy shit was it cold. You probably should have expected this to be honest though. Regretting leaving you jacket behind, you follow the twins.

~~~~~~

The proclaimed octo pot was more of a cauldron rather than a pot. Squatting down, you peek inside. Two beady gray eyes stare back at you for a moment before a cloud of black ink comes shooting out at you. Thankfully you were far away enough to where it wouldn’t hit you. You make a mental note about the ink spitting, best you don’t wear any light or nice clothing when around him.

Floyd swims into the pot as soon as the cloud clears, chittering at his housemate as he tries to pull him out. Soon distressed squeaking can be heard from inside the pot, getting progressively louder. Jade has settled himself on the top of the pot, peering in with a grin.

A particular loud squeak was suddenly heard. Floyd was tossed out of the pot by a chunky tentacle. A nasty looking bite was on it and bleeding. You grab Floyd by his torso to stop him from going back in.

“Bad!” you lightly smack him on the head, “do not bite him!” Floyd lets out an angry hiss, biting your finger and thrashing in your grip. You grit your teeth, bringing him up to your face. “Do not cause any unnecessary trouble, I was already looking after six pets before the three of you arrived. If you can’t behave I will rehome you!” Floyd growls, sinking his teeth further into your flesh. Jade quickly swims up next to his twin, grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him off. He’s letting out distressed chittering the whole time, eyes blown wide with fear. Floyd eventually lets go with a growl, still glaring at you. He speeds off as soon as you release him.

Jade grabs your hand. His eyes are shiny as he pleads, “please don’t be mad! I’ll talk to him, he’s really good I swear! Please don’t separate us!” he clutches your finger, tail wrapping around your arm desperately.

You sigh, bringing your other hand up to stroke his back. He shivers at your touch, tensing but doesn’t pull away. Guilt fills you as he continues to plead for you to not get rid of his brother. That was a bad move on your part, they had been essentially kidnapped before coming here. The only familiar things they had were each other, separating them would give them a one way ticket to depression land.

“I spoke in the heat of the moment,” you try to reassure him, “I won’t separate you… I promise.” Jade’s grip on your finger tightens, though he relaxed the rest of his body. After a few minutes he releases you, going to find his twin so you could both apologize.

Now you turned your attention back to Azul. Taking a seat, you lean back on your hands. After some thinking, you sigh. Taking a deep breath, you speak.

“You’re scared, I get it. You were yanked from your home suddenly and then treated as if you were an object instead of a living being. I can relate to what you went through. My parents got rid of me as soon as they found out I didn’t have a drop of magic. I was put into foster care but only people who needed physical labor would take me. They assumed I would be stronger to make up for my lack of magic. When they found the opposite was true, I was sent back. I have never stayed for more than a month in one home, they always found an excuse to send me back. At first I tried to make myself stand out, but now I know it’s pointless. A magicless human shouldn’t exist, it’s against the laws of nature. It’s best to keep your head low and out of the spotlight.” you stare at the ceiling, for if you didn’t you feared tears would flow. This was the first time you’d ever spoken these thoughts out loud. It felt… nice. Like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Azul listened to you, slowly inching out of his sanctuary and closer to you as you spoke. When you were done, he was a few inches from you. He paused when you saw him, tense and ready to withdraw if needed. His face was round and body chubby, he looked quite squishy. You wanted to poke him if you were being honest.

You stay still and wait for him to make a move first. He ponders for a minute before coming to a decision. He crawls towards you, slowly making his way into your lap. You sit completely still, not wanting to spook him.

Azul settles down in your lap, his tentacles wrapping around your legs. He took up your whole lap space, his limbs very chunky and long. Lord you wanted to squish him so much no do not that might scare resist the urge I say RESIST IT R E S I S T.

~~~~~~

Hoisting yourself out of the tank, you pause to take a sniff of your shirt and scrunch your nose, it stank of raw fish. Dropping down you head for the stairs, thinking about what you should make for lunch. Sushi immediately comes to mind.

… yeah that’s definitely not a good idea.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst au #twst centaur au #wild's writing #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #floyd leech #jade leech #twst jade #twst floyd #twst fluff #twst writing #twst octavinelle #octavinelle #octavinelle trio

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