#she wanted to watch the sunset with him in paris | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urdreamydoodles · 8 months ago

Text

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.2)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Ororo Munroe, Mystique, Magik, Colossus & Sunspot

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Being in a relationship with Pietro Maximoff was like living life at lightning speed—quite literally. His world was always in motion, and being with him meant constantly adapting to the rapid pace of his thoughts and actions. But beneath his fast-talking, sometimes brash exterior, you found someone who was deeply caring, even if his way of showing it was a little unconventional. He adored you, always racing back to you after a mission or zipping out to grab your favorite food when you were feeling down. But sometimes, Pietro’s powers got the best of him.

Today had been one of those days. It started out fine—Pietro had taken you on a whirlwind day trip to Paris, as he often did, running across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. You had laughed as he effortlessly carried you through the streets, dodging between pedestrians, never once bumping into anyone. The two of you had spent hours exploring the city, grabbing pastries from the corner café, and watching the sunset by the Seine.

But on the way back to the mansion, something went wrong.

Pietro, in his typical rush, had underestimated just how tired he was. He carried you back across the ocean, but this time, his focus slipped for just a second. That second was all it took.

One moment you were in his arms, the wind whipping through your hair, and the next you were falling. The blur of the world slowed into a terrifying clarity as your body hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and pain flared through your side. For a moment, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, Pietro was there, his face pale with fear. He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you but not touching, as if afraid his very presence would break you further.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, his usual confidence and swagger gone, replaced by sheer panic. “Oh god, I—I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—”

You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made you gasp. Pietro’s hands immediately shot forward, but then he froze, torn between wanting to help and being terrified of making things worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never… I didn’t think this would happen. I’m so stupid! I—”

“Pietro,” you gasped, forcing a weak smile. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head furiously, his silver hair falling into his eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t careful. I was too fast. I always do this—”

“Hey, stop.” You reached out, grabbing his wrist to ground him. “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

His eyes, wide and filled with guilt, locked onto yours. For once, Pietro didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have a joke or a grin to deflect. He looked devastated, as if the very thought of hurting you had broken something inside him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you’re everything to me, and I… I hurt you.”

You gently pulled his hand toward you, resting it over your heart. “Pietro, I trust you. Always. This was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.”

Pietro’s face crumpled, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips trembled against your skin, and you felt his breath hitch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Being with Wanda was like stepping into a world where magic and reality blurred together. You were always mesmerized by the way her crimson energy glowed at her fingertips, the way she could bend the world to her will, her power immense but her heart so fragile. You’d been through a lot together, and you’d come to understand the weight of her power, the burden she carried with each spell cast, each alteration of reality. But despite her best efforts, sometimes things spiraled out of control.

Today, it had started as a simple, quiet day in your shared apartment. Wanda had been in a particularly good mood, her laughter filling the room as she practiced her magic casually. She’d been making small changes to the space—coloring the walls with a wave of her hand, rearranging furniture with a flick of her wrist, changing a painting on the wall just for fun. You’d always admired how natural her magic was to her, as if it were an extension of her being.

"Look at this!" Wanda giggled, twirling around as she summoned a cluster of glowing red orbs that danced in the air between you. You smiled, watching her joy with an affectionate gaze. She was so radiant when she let her guard down, when she allowed herself to play without worry.

You reached out, trying to touch one of the floating orbs, but suddenly, her expression shifted. Something flickered in her eyes—panic, uncertainty—and the magic faltered.

Before you could react, the energy exploded outward in a burst of chaotic force. You were thrown back, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The wind was knocked out of you, and pain seared through your back and head as you crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

“Y/N!” Wanda’s voice was filled with horror as she rushed toward you, her crimson energy quickly dissipating as she knelt by your side, her hands hovering over you. “Oh my God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to—I lost control—”

You winced, trying to catch your breath as you pushed yourself up, but every movement sent sharp pain radiating through your body. Wanda’s hands trembled as she touched your arm lightly, afraid to cause any more harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—my magic—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, even though you were still catching your breath, your body aching from the impact. You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch her hand. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Wanda’s face was pale, her green eyes wide with guilt and fear. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t control it sometimes, and this is exactly what I was afraid of. I hurt you. I could have—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her gloved hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Wanda…” you breathed, slowly pulling yourself into a sitting position despite the pain. You cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. “You didn’t lose control. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

She shook her head, her chest tight with emotion as she looked at you, her guilt weighing heavily on her. “I could have done worse. What if next time it’s worse? I can’t live with myself if—”

You silenced her with a soft kiss on her forehead, your touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. I trust you. We’ll work through this. You have more control than you think, Wanda. I’ve seen you do amazing things, and I know you can handle this.”

Her tears slowed as she gazed at you, her heart swelling with love and guilt, her hands carefully cradling your face. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be so careful. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, leaning into her touch, knowing that together, you could face anything—even the occasional chaos of her powers.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Your relationship with Charles Xavier was built on a deep, unspoken understanding. His mind was a marvel—brilliant, compassionate, but weighed down by the burden of leading the X-Men and carrying the future of mutantkind on his shoulders. You loved him for his wisdom, his kindness, and his unwavering dedication to his ideals. But with his incredible psychic abilities came risks, especially in moments when his concentration slipped, when the weight of his mental strain became too much.

The day had started like any other. You had been sitting across from Charles in his study, watching him as he went through a pile of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read over reports from Cerebro, the faint hum of the machine in the background. You could tell he was tired, the mental strain from constant use of his powers weighing on him. He rarely admitted it, but you could always sense when he needed rest.

"Charles," you said softly, setting your book aside. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break."

He glanced up from his papers, offering you a small, tired smile. "You worry too much about me," he said, though the affection in his voice was clear. "But I appreciate it."

Before you could reply, something shifted. Charles’s expression grew distant, his eyes glazing over as his mind seemed to drift away. You had seen this before—when Cerebro pulled him into a deep telepathic connection, when his mind traveled across the globe in search of new mutants.

But this time, something went wrong.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through your head, so intense it felt like your skull was being split apart. You gasped, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion overwhelmed your senses. Images flashed before your eyes—disjointed, chaotic thoughts that weren’t your own. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, your body wracked with the intense pressure of Charles’s mind accidentally invading yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

You collapsed into the chair, gasping for air as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. Charles was immediately by your side, his wheelchair rolling quickly to you, his face filled with horror and guilt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I��I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”

You blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from your mind as you looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly, something you had never seen before. The great Charles Xavier, always calm and composed, was visibly shaken.

“It was an accident,” you managed to say, though your head still pounded from the psychic overload. “I’m okay.”

Charles shook his head, his guilt written plainly across his features. “No. I wasn’t careful. I—my mind slipped, and I hurt you. I should have been more aware. I…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a hand over his, trying to convey your forgiveness through your touch. “Charles, it’s okay. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I’m fine. Really.”

He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, the weight of centuries of knowledge and responsibility pressing down on him. “I could have done much worse. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would never… I would never want to harm you.”

“I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve been carrying so much. It’s no wonder your mind slipped. But I’m not afraid of you, Charles. I never will be.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You are far too forgiving, my love. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve everything,” you said softly, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips, reassuring him with your touch. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Let me help you.”

He gazed at you with such deep gratitude, his hand brushing your cheek softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, knowing that, no matter what, you would always be by his side.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You’ve always admired Hank’s intelligence and his unparalleled kindness. For someone so physically imposing, he was remarkably gentle, both in mind and heart. Being with him had been a gift, his endless curiosity and deep compassion bringing a unique sense of warmth into your life. You loved watching him in the lab, his mind constantly at work as he balanced his brilliant scientific endeavors with his more primal, physical side.

Today was no different, except for one thing. He’d been stressed recently, working long hours in his lab to perfect a new serum, one that could enhance mutant abilities without adverse side effects. He was meticulous, often pushing himself too hard, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Love, you’ve been at this for hours,” you said, leaning against the doorframe of the lab, watching as he adjusted some delicate equipment. His large, fur-covered hands moved with surprising precision. “You should take a break.”

Hank glanced up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he offered you a weary smile. “I’m almost finished,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with both affection and fatigue. “Just a few more calculations, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

You sighed, knowing how hard it was to pull him away when he was so focused. Still, you couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

He looked up from his work, his blue eyes softening as he reached for your hand, pulling you close. “You always know how to take care of me,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I promise, just a little longer.”

You smiled, resting your head against his broad chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heart. But as you pulled away to give him space, something unexpected happened.

A sudden crash echoed through the lab. One of Hank’s devices, an experimental generator, sputtered and sparked. Hank reacted instantly, his instincts taking over as he lunged forward to stop the malfunction. But in his haste, he misjudged his own strength.

Before you could react, his powerful arm swung out, hitting you square in the side. The force of the blow sent you flying into a nearby table, your body crashing against the hard surface. Pain shot through you, sharp and unforgiving, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Hank’s voice was filled with horror as he rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he carefully lifted you into his arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—are you alright?”

You winced, trying to catch your breath, the pain in your ribs making it hard to move. “I’m… okay,” you managed, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the impact. “It was an accident.”

Hank’s face was a mixture of guilt and fear as he cradled you against his chest, his large hands carefully checking you for injuries. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—sometimes I forget how strong I am.”

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his self-loathing threatened to consume him. He had always been so careful with you, so aware of his strength and size. To have hurt you, even by accident, was his worst nightmare.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing through his thick fur. “I’ll be okay, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

But he shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I should have been more careful. I—” His voice broke, and he pulled you closer, his arms trembling as he held you. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying to soothe his guilt with your touch. “I trust you,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and reassurance. “I’ll always trust you.”

Hank held you close, his heart aching with both love and guilt, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this never happened again.

Emma Frost

Being with Emma Frost was never simple. She was a woman of many layers, her sharp intellect and cold exterior often hiding the vulnerability and passion that lay beneath. But you knew her better than anyone. You’d seen the cracks in her icy façade, the warmth she reserved only for you. Emma was fiercely protective, but she also had her moments of weakness, and today, that weakness had shown itself in the worst way.

You were in the Danger Room, watching her train. Emma was skilled, both in her telepathy and her diamond form, and she took pride in her ability to protect herself and those she cared about. You had always admired her strength, but you also knew how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.

“Darling, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you called out, leaning against the control panel as she finished a particularly brutal round of training simulations. “You’re already incredible.”

Emma smirked, her blue eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered over to you, her body shimmering as she shifted out of her diamond form. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she purred, though there was a hint of tension in her voice.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Are you okay?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here.”

For a moment, Emma softened, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, something shifted. Her telepathy flared without warning, a sharp, unintentional burst of psychic energy hitting you like a tidal wave. Your mind was flooded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions—fear, pain, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm.

You cried out, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion tore through your mind, leaving you gasping for air. The pressure was unbearable, your thoughts splintering as Emma’s powers overwhelmed your senses.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her hands shaking as she reached for you. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You staggered, still reeling from the psychic onslaught, but you managed to steady yourself, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the aftershock. “It was an accident.”

Emma’s usually composed expression crumbled, her icy exterior shattering as guilt washed over her. “I hurt you,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “I swore I’d never let that happen.”

You reached out, gently touching her cheek, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice filled with understanding. “You were overwhelmed. I get it.”

But Emma shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been stronger. I should have controlled it. I—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders tense with guilt.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your head against her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t have to be perfect. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I’m not afraid of you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into your embrace as the tension slowly melted away. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You deserve everything.”

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Ororo was breathtaking in every sense. From the calm in her voice to the ferocity of her powers, she was like the perfect storm—gentle and violent, all at once. You had fallen in love with her grace, her wisdom, and the way she treated you like the calm at the eye of her whirlwind. But even the most controlled storm can lose its way, and today, you found yourself caught in the middle of one.

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon at Xavier’s mansion. Ororo had been training in the backyard, working on perfecting her connection with the elements as she often did. You sat nearby, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, the rhythmic sound of the wind responding to her commands soothing your nerves.

“Be careful, love,” you called out with a teasing smile. “You know how you get when you push yourself too hard.”

Ororo’s golden eyes met yours, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve got everything under control, darling,” she reassured you, her voice like a summer breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain.

You relaxed into the moment, watching as she raised her arms to the sky, commanding the clouds to shift, the wind to change direction. You were used to this—Ororo playing with the elements like a conductor leading an orchestra. But today, something felt off. The air grew heavier, the skies darker, and a sense of tension filled the space around you.

Suddenly, without warning, a crack of thunder split the sky. You barely had time to react before a sudden gust of wind, stronger than any you’d ever felt, slammed into you, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, pain radiating through your body as the wind continued to rage, swirling around you with an almost tangible fury.

“Y/N!” Ororo’s voice broke through the chaos, panic evident in her tone.

She was by your side in an instant, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made it difficult to breathe. Ororo’s hands were gentle but frantic as she helped you sit up, her face pale with fear.

“I didn’t mean to—oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she touched your cheek, her fingers soft against your skin. “I lost control for just a moment. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You winced but managed a small smile, reaching up to place your hand over hers. “It’s okay, Ororo,” you said, though your voice was weak. “It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Ororo shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I should have been more careful. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively as though she could shield you from the storm that had already passed.

“I trust you,” you whispered, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Ororo held you tightly, her breath shaky as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never let it happen again,” she promised, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of her storm, you knew that she meant every word.

Raven Darkholme (Mystique)

Loving Raven had always been a risk. Her world was filled with danger, deception, and ever-changing faces. But you had fallen for her, despite it all, because beneath her tough exterior was someone you loved with all your heart. Still, there were moments when her powers—her ability to shift and change—created unintended consequences.

Today had been one of those days. You and Raven were in the middle of a mission, something quick and straightforward. But things had gone wrong. In the heat of the battle, you had gotten too close, and without realizing it, Raven had shifted into a form with a sharper edge—literally. Her arm, now covered in razor-like scales, brushed against your side as she fought off an enemy, and you felt a searing pain slice through your skin.

You gasped, stumbling back as you clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers, and Raven’s eyes immediately snapped to you. Her form shifted back into her usual self, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in her eyes.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice shaking with an emotion she rarely showed—panic. She was at your side in an instant, her hands already on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "I didn’t see you… I didn’t realize…" Her voice was frantic, and the guilt that clouded her expression was unlike anything you’d seen before.

"It’s okay," you said, wincing as the pain shot through you. Your vision blurred slightly, but you forced yourself to smile up at her. "It was an accident."

But Raven wasn’t hearing it. "I’m supposed to protect you," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration and anger—though not at you, at herself. "I’m supposed to be in control, and I hurt you."

You placed your hand over hers, despite the pain. "Raven, it was a mistake. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Her jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle she was fighting. Raven prided herself on being in control, on never letting her emotions—or her powers—slip. But this time, she had, and it was eating her up inside.

"I won’t let this happen again," she whispered, her voice hard with determination as she pressed her forehead against yours. "I won’t lose control like that again."

You smiled softly, despite the pain radiating from your wound. "I know you won’t," you whispered back, your hand gently squeezing hers. "I trust you, Raven. I always will."

Raven’s eyes softened at your words, and she carefully lifted you into her arms, her movements gentle despite her strength. As she carried you to safety, you could feel the tension in her body, the way she held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

The wound would heal, but the love between you and Raven only deepened. She became even more protective of you after that day, never letting her guard down again when you were near. But through it all, the bond between you remained unbreakable.

Illyana Rasputin (Magik)

You knew Illyana had a complicated relationship with her powers, especially with the dark side of Limbo that constantly pulled at her. Despite this, you loved her fiercely, and she loved you with a passion that could light up even the darkest realms. She was careful around you, more than anyone else, but today, things had slipped out of her control.

You had been helping her train, something simple, nothing too intense. But the energies of Limbo were unpredictable, and without warning, a surge of dark magic shot out from her sword, the edge of it grazing your arm. The moment it hit, a burning sensation spread up your skin, and you let out a gasp, staggering backward as the pain ripped through you.

Illyana’s eyes flared with panic, and within seconds, she was at your side, her sword vanishing into thin air. "Y/N!" she cried, her voice breaking as she grabbed your shoulders, her hands trembling. "I didn’t mean to! I— I lost control for a second!"

You winced, feeling the magic burn deeper into your flesh, but you forced a smile through the pain. "I know," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest on hers. "I know, Illyana. It’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, with guilt. "No… no, it’s not. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have let this happen." Her fingers traced the burn on your arm, her magic already working to heal it, but the regret in her expression remained.

You could see the darkness lurking just behind her eyes, the worry that she might hurt you again. "Illyana, listen to me." You gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet your gaze. "I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to. This doesn’t change how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of her that she rarely let anyone else see. She kissed your forehead softly, her lips lingering there as if trying to absorb your pain. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to hurt you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "You won’t. I know you, Illyana. You’re stronger than the darkness."

She nodded slowly, her arms wrapping around you tightly. From that moment on, she became even more protective, determined to never let her powers slip around you again. And through it all, your love for her only grew stronger.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

The weight of Piotr's presence always made you feel safe, but today, that same strength was what had hurt you. You and Piotr had decided to engage in some light sparring in the Danger Room, a regular part of your routine since you liked to train together. Piotr, in his towering, metal form, was always so careful with you, knowing the tremendous strength he carried. But today, something went wrong.

The match had been going smoothly until you tried to land a playful punch on his side, which he quickly blocked. But his reflexes, powerful and fast, caught you off guard. He turned, his metal fist too swift and forceful, and connected with your shoulder before either of you could stop it. The impact was immediate, sending a shock of pain through your body and knocking you to the ground.

You gasped in shock, clutching your shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath. "Y/N!" Piotr's voice was laced with panic as he immediately knelt beside you, his large metallic hands trembling as he reached for you. "I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. Are you hurt badly?" His deep, accented voice was almost a whisper as his guilt consumed him.

The pain was sharp, but you forced yourself to give him a reassuring smile, though it was more of a grimace. "I’m okay," you managed to say, though the pain in your shoulder said otherwise. You knew Piotr would never intentionally hurt you, but the guilt that filled his eyes was almost unbearable.

"I should never have agreed to spar with you," Piotr muttered, his voice full of self-reproach. His hands hovered over your body, unsure of where to touch, afraid of causing you further harm. "I’m too dangerous. I hurt you. I could’ve—"

"Piotr, stop," you interrupted softly, reaching up with your good arm to rest your hand against his cool, metal cheek. "It was an accident. You’d never hurt me on purpose."

He closed his eyes at your touch, but the pain in his expression didn’t lessen. "You are too precious to me," he whispered, his accent thick with emotion. "I cannot forgive myself for this."

Despite the pain, you leaned into his embrace as he carefully lifted you in his arms. His metal skin was cool against your body, but you could still feel the warmth of his love beneath it. "I know you love me, Piotr," you said, resting your head against his broad chest. "That’s why I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Piotr carried you to the med bay, never once letting you go. Even though the pain in your shoulder would take time to heal, the bond between you and Piotr only grew stronger. He became even more protective of you, but the love and devotion he showed was something that would never waver.

Roberto Da Costa (Sunspot)

Roberto’s energy had always been one of the things that attracted you to him. His fire, his passion, his vibrancy—he was like the sun, impossible to resist. But today, that same energy had gone out of control. You and Roberto were training together, as usual, but he had been pushing himself harder than normal, his powers flaring hotter and wilder than you had ever seen before.

You had been standing too close when it happened—a massive surge of solar energy burst from Roberto’s body, and before you could react, the heat slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. The burning pain spread through your chest and arms, and you cried out in shock, clutching at your skin as it stung from the impact.

"Y/N!" Roberto’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed over to you, his hands still glowing with the residual energy from the blast. "Oh god, are you okay? I—" He knelt beside you, his usually confident demeanor shattered as he took in the sight of you, wincing from the pain.

You tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace, as you lay on the ground, the heat from the blast still radiating through your skin. "I’m okay," you said weakly, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. The burn was painful, but the look of guilt on Roberto’s face was worse.

"I didn’t mean to," Roberto said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I lost control for a second, I swear. I would never… I’d never hurt you on purpose." His hands hovered over you, glowing with warmth but not daring to touch you, as if afraid he’d burn you again.

"I know, Roberto," you said, your voice soft but filled with reassurance. "I know you didn’t mean to."

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with regret. "I should’ve been more careful. I could’ve hurt you so much worse." He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

You reached up with your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his arm. "You didn’t let anything happen," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pain. "It was an accident. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

Roberto’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled shakily. "I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do if I really hurt you."

You smiled softly, despite the burn, and pulled him closer to you. "I love you too," you whispered back. "And you didn’t hurt me on purpose. That’s all that matters."

Roberto carefully helped you up, his arms gentle but protective as he guided you to the med bay. The pain would fade in time, but the love between you and Roberto only grew stronger. He was more careful with his powers around you from that day on, but the bond between you remained unbreakable.

484 notes · View notes

moviecritc · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I don't know if you write about Charles and Alexandra, but what about something based in obsessed by olivia rodrigo, in a more sapphic way, maybe reader and alex can make out or something. also if you can mix it with smau would be super cool 💕

obsessed ⋆ charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader (various fc) x alexandra saint mleux

warnings: some bad words for the three of them (it was for the sake of the plot, nothing to harsh)

a/n: i made her a singer to add more drama. also i loooved this idea, i've been wanting to write something like this so much, thanks for requesting it <33

Remember that requests are open 💕💕

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charlesleclerc and 145,824 others

yourusername some visuals from the Paris music video 💜🩷💙

view all comments

user1 i felt so seen in the first verses of the song, i'm also a sucker for gossip

charlesleclerc 💜😍

user2 so dry

user3 what is someone so cool like yn dating someone so boring and simple like charles

user4 graduated in cuntology with a master in slayfication and cum laude in mother is mothering 101

sabrinacarpenter princess of glittery gel pen songs 💜💜💜💜

user5 IM SO IN LOVE

user5 that i might stop breathing

user6 yn using paris as a joke bc charles is monegasque is beyond cuteness

user7 GOALS.

user8 imagine having YN LN as a gf and NOT POSTING HER leclerc you better watch out

user9 it's giving taylor and joe

user10 THE HEARTSSS never beating bi allegations

When Y/N saw the Instagram notification, curiosity got the better of her. Just curiosity. She and Charles had been dating for almost six months, and this was the girl he had been with before her, so she simply wanted to know who she was. She scrolled through her posts, seeing the life she had after breaking up with Charles; she worked at a museum in Monaco and at the same time was an influencer.

Looking at her photos, she realized she was very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. Her hair was healthy, long, and a gorgeous dark brown, her body was perfect, the clothes fit her great, and she had a very sweet voice. She wondered why Charles had ended things with Alexandra.

Then, as she scrolled through her highlighted stories, she accidentally liked one. Y/N immediately threw her phone down. "Shit," she said, grimacing. "Shit, shit, shit." She picked up the phone again and saw the red heart on a photo of Alexandra in a bikini with a beautiful sunset in the background. Y/N stared at the photo for a moment and then removed the like.

She ran her hands over her face, feeling like an idiot. Alexandra would still see the notification, then she would see that Y/N had removed the like, and she would probably think she was weird. Or worse, she could message Charles, asking what his girlfriend was doing stalking her profile.

Charles was at the Grand Prix of Canada at that moment, she was in Monaco. The time difference was huge, and she wasn't going to bother him with this nonsense. So she decided to message Alexandra directly.

Y/N couldn't stop thinking about Alexandra for the rest of the day. She found herself a couple of times staring at her pictures, she knew that Alex lived in Monaco and that they could bump into each other anytime. That idea felt amazing. She seemed like a gorgeous person, and the little chit chat they had felt really comfortable, even when Alex was her boyfriend's ex.

Y/N didn't mention any of this to Charles, he probably just make a big deal of it and they would have a discussion. And she was too lazy to think about arguments.

So she wrote a song. For the nexts days she focused on the lyrics and when Y/N handed the papers to her producer, they loved it. As soon as they could they recorded the song.

When Charles came back from the race, he found Y/N staying after midnight in the studio so she could finish the song. And he didn't complaint, because he really thought the song was about him.

yousername just posted!

liked by yournamehq, alexandrasaintmleux and 583,981 others

yourusername 'obsessed' is now yours, with the mv starring @alexademie 🍒🍸💎

the comments have been restricted

alexademie so proud of this project 🤧💙

sabrinacarpenter MISS? i was not expecting this at all and it was so so good 😩😩

gracieabrams QUEEN. in capitals and screaming.

chappelroan so cunty, so hot, so sapphic.

laufey ok now IM obsessed with YOU.

She didn't even think it was a bad idea until she saw her. They had decided to meet at a private club in Monaco; Alex wore a black satin dress that fit her extremely well, with her hair loose as she had seen so often in photos and a sparkling gaze. Y/N felt stupid for only wearing a white top and jeans.

"You showed up," Alexandra said with a smirk.

"You thought I wouldn't come?" she asked, matching her expression. Alexandra lowered her head, saying nothing and tucking her hair behind her ear. Y/N went to the bar and ordered a round of shots, although she didn't need to get drunk to do what she was about to do.

She drank one and then watched as Alexandra imitated her.

"Where did you leave Charles?" Alexandra asked, pulling her to a sofa area. The club wasn't very crowded, but more people would start arriving soon.

Y/N clicked her tongue. "Charles is the last person I want to talk about right now, honestly."

"You're right," Alexandra agreed as she nodded. "Let's talk about the song, then."

Y/N looked at her with a silly smile, trying very hard not to feel embarrassed. Although she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about, she could see from Alex's expression that she had liked the song.

"What did you think?" she asked, sipping her cocktail.

"I loved it. I never thought someone would write songs about me," she lowered her gaze a little and then Y/N noticed how she had the tip of her heel circling around her foot.

"Did Charles ever dedicate any of his piano songs to you?" Y/N asked, furrowing her brow a little.

"Charles never even dedicated time to me," Alexandra looked away a bit.

Y/N nodded, perfectly understanding what Alexandra was talking about. Charles was too focused on his career, and unless you asked him, he could completely ignore you for weeks or change plans you had been planning for months because he had to train. That was the kind of person Charles was. At first, it had been a dream, accompanying him to his races and spending time with him, but when you scheduled a tour to be able to attend most of his races and he didn't show up at almost any of your concerts… It affected you.

"Men," Y/N said simply, rolling her eyes.

"Exactly! They're unbelievable, in the worst sense of the word," Alex spoke, slightly laughing.

They fell silent for a few moments, not breaking eye contact. The music had been turned up, and they were bathed in purple and green lights, moving around the room. Alexandra almost glowed for Y/N's eyes; under that lighting, everything seemed unreal. She leaned toward her, but didn't make the final move, wanting Alex to take that step.

Alexandra smiled mischievously and pressed their lips together. It was a calm kiss, not too long but their lips touched enough to explore them calmly, and for Y/N to remember the slight scent of red licorice from Alex's cologne.

As they separated, Alexandra got as close as possible to Y/N, resting her head on her shoulder. "Are you drunk?" Y/N questioned, fearing for a moment that it was all an act of alcohol.

"No," she denied vehemently.

Y/N didn't think much more about it, discreetly grabbed her phone to text Charles that it was best for them to end their relationship. She and Alexandra kissed a couple more times that night.

Five months later

alexandrasaintmleux just posted a story!

[caption 1: opening night 🍒 @yourusername] [caption 2: best view 💖]

589 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 11 months ago

Text

Boyfriend thing: Dick Grayson x reader

AKA: the wealth gap XD

***

When she started dating Dick, he quickly learned that spoiling her by taking to the best restaurants and fancy places was a no go.

It was heartbreaking, seeing her get self-conscious as the fake belief of not being good enough and not belonging in such premises haunted her mind.

Y/N would simply crouch in her chair, doing her best to shrink or better yet - to disappear so that no one would give her any look, believing she was Dick's dependent, or maybe even --.

Well the rest of that thought was getting blocked all the time. Nonetheless it was clear as day that she was uncomfortable just from staring at the prices on the menu or summary of the purchase of tickets for a concert or other event.

So having her best interest in mind, and driven solely by feelings for her, Dick slowly started picking four stars places instead of five, taking her to vacation to the places off the top5 destination list and purchasing second raw festival entries instead of first.

In his own opinion this was a bit downgrading and almost lower class, but he could suffer a little less luxury for her.

In her opinion it was all too much. Why was he spending all that on her? She was not worth it and it was all redundant and unnecessary and not what she was used to, being raised with four older siblings in a little house, learnt to watch every little expense. Definitely not having enough to order lobster for dinner or fly to Paris just to watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower.

So one day, sitting in the little cafe where the cheapest beverage (water) was 20 $ she decided to speak up.

"Dick..." the resolve to clear the situation died on her tongue.

"Yeah? What's up Y/N?" Dick grinned, raising head from his creme brulee to meet her eyes. "Hey... hey, what's wrong?" the look on her face alarmed him immediately. "Aren’t you enjoying your dessert?"

"I am. I am, it's delicious! I just think that maybe...." whatever she thought was spoken up incoherently and with a heavy blush on her cheeks.

"Hm? Care to repeat that last part? I didn;t quite get it."

"I-think-I-should-pay-for-half-the-price-for-our-food." she said again on one exhale and with even more red face.

Dick almost choked on his food, starting to cough like he was dying on the spot, his mind spiralling.

"P-pay in half?" he stuttered as if those words were bringing him physical pain. "What do you mean pay in half?! Y/N?"

"It's a normal thing to do--"

"No?" he looked at her with terror and incredulity.

"Look, you cannot just--"

"I can and I will." he quickly snatched her bag from within her reach so she wouldn;t even get a glimpse of the idea to reach for her purse.

"Come on, please. This is not right. I got my own mon--"

Now he was sure he was getting into a cardiac attack. Was she suggesting that she used her money to use on the attraction he was obligated to provide as her boyfriend?

"Y/N... honey, look at me..." he grabbed her hand above the table, interlacing their fingers, waiting patiently for her to meet his gaze. "Who hurt you....?" His tone was soft and sweet upon realising that if she's acting like this, there must have been something in her past. "Who made you believe that--?"

"I feel like I owe you and--"

"O-owe me....?" holy shit, now he was for sure dead, cause her words were like a ton of bricks thrown on him. "For what? For loving you? For wanting to give you all the best? For making sure that all the things we do make you smile?"

"I'm not used to--" her gaze travelled lower, glued to the ground "I always thought-- I mean, other guys--"

"If they made you believe you owe them for things, they weren;t even worthy of that name." Dick scoffed, getting angry at whoever mistreated her. Making a silent promise to himself to track all those assholes down, one way or another. "Look. Normal thing is that a man provides for the woman he loves. And -" he added quickly, sensing she was about to chime in, "And before you start talking about equality I assure you, I am all up for it. But I need to pamper you ok? It;s a must, cause I might die if I don;t." he teased a little.

"You're such a drama queen" she chuckled

"Made you laugh though." he leaned over the table and kissed her cheek "but seriously, Y/N, you give me something that money can never buy - love, happiness... And I suppose that this-" he gestured over the table "-is a poor attempt to show you how much I love you too."

"But I know it."

"I know you do, but what’s worth the money if you have no one to share it with? So, please, on all that's holy, do not ever feel guilty for helping me spend this fortune in the best possible way."

"Which is?"

"Making memories with you." he smiled genuinely, his heart melting upon seeing the real happiness reflected in her eyes at the words. "So? What’s it gonna be? You'll let me do the boyfriend thing or should we call for an ambulance already?"

"You know how much I hate hospitals." Y/N chuckled rolling her eyes playfully "And that is my only reason for letting you do your boyfriend thing. "Because I'd hate to be the lovesick girl waiting in the corridor while her man is fighting for life."

"Works for me." Dick grinned "Now shall we order those world famous gelatos they have here...?"

masterlist

June 2024 masterlist

Requests are open ! :)

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

547 notes · View notes

please-destroy · 5 months ago

Text

Maroon

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

It is hard to begin this when it has already ended.

You met her at a dinner party. Your date ignored you for most of the evening. So did her husband.

It should have been miserable, but it was perfect.

Scarlett was messy. The good kind.

You stayed by the open window of the Parisian apartment, ignoring the chatter behind you and the sunset ahead of you. Scarlett chain-smoked and you watched the white entrails of a bad habit float away.

‘Don’t worry, I’m quitting.’ She assured you, when she lit the first one.

‘I don’t care.’ You answered plainly, watching her black dress shimmer.

Scarlett’s head tilted and her lips drew back into a smile.

You stole a bottle of champagne from a waiter, passing it between you like teenagers. Scarlett’s words were bitter sometimes. She didn’t want to be here, in this country, in this marriage.

You could tell that she liked you. Your strange indecision between empathy and nihilism. You rolled your eyes at her pettier problems. You made her laugh. Her hand touched your arm and her fingers lingered.

Your gazes kept snagging together. Her eyes were beautiful. You could see the softness that she’d locked away.

You left the party first, dragged away by the useless date that you never planned to see again. Scarlett took an eyeliner from her bag, scrawling her phone number along your forearm.

She held the eyeliner cap precariously between her teeth. Her glittering smile promised everything.

You could see the cliff edge, it made you want to drive faster.

You called her the next day.

She answered abruptly in a hoarse voice, cursing about hangovers. You suggested getting coffee someplace on the streets of Paris.

‘How about coffee here?’ She invited you casually.

‘Too rough to be seen in public?’ You quipped, already reaching for your keys.

‘The paparazzi don’t deserve this picture.’

She was bored and lonely. What’s new. Who isn’t.

Except, Scarlett wasn’t anyone else.

(It’s lazy, it’s cliche)

But, she was special.

Your eyes lingered on her creased white t-shirt when she answered the door. Her blonde hair hung loose and wavy from last night’s updo. Scarlett yawned as she led you inside.

She seemed raw and it made your stomach flip.

She paced her kitchen barefoot, waiting for the coffee machine to pour out. Your conversation picked up the patterns of the night before.

Scarlett talked to you about a film project that she’d been offered, that she’d turned down to stay here in Paris.

‘To be here with him.’

You leaned against her pristine oak kitchen table, worth more than your life. You nodded absentmindedly. You tried not to fixate on avoiding a coffee stain.

Scarlett gesticulated as she continued to talk. She was growing more animated. You wondered if your silent attention reassured her. You wondered how anyone could ignore her.

Her words flowed like a stream of consciousness. Her eyes locked with yours, and your pulse stuttered with the burning intimacy of impending confession.

Scarlett’s mouth stumbled over a truth she hadn’t planned to say.

‘I’m scared to be alone.’

You watched Scarlett process her own words.

Wide eyed. Caught. She looked like a lost child.

You stood up unthinkingly.

You walked across the room. Reached out your arms, and hugged Scarlett carefully. Felt the burning warmth of her through the thin t-shirt.

The air sparked and you knew that this was going to be something more.

Scarlett’s arms wrapped around you in response. You felt surprise rippling through her body.

After a moment, her head pressed against your shoulder.

Another moment, her lips pressed against your skin.

That’s where it started.

A switch flipped in your brain then. Something like addiction.

Boundaries and morals washed away.

You didn’t care about her husband, her reputation or yours.

You slept together in her marital bed.

Her body was soft like the lost thing in her eyes.

Scarlett’s fingers dragged across your skin with gentle wanting.

The world fell away.

It was desperation, but it was not a bad thing.

Her fingertips brushed your skin. You felt the soft weight of her against you.

It was not a bad thing.

You tell yourself that sometimes.

You stayed the day with her.

An almost stranger you’d met and fucked.

A beautiful stranger, whose soul scraped your insides like a new bow on a violin.

You left in the afternoon. Scarlett checked her phone with automatic concern and you knew she was thinking about her husband again.

You kissed Scarlett one last time, lips swollen and hair mussed.

On the way home, you thought about her murmured goodbye and the look in her eyes.

There was something dazed about her satisfaction.

She called you three days later. Her tone was cautious and you felt like a risk. Thrills went through you.

She invited you to a bar. It was only when she mentioned the word ‘discreet’ that you understood her real nervousness.

‘I have wine at mine.’ You noted casually, scanning the living room that you would have to tidy imminently.

‘Oh.’ Scarlett answered, shyness taking over from caution. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

When she arrived at yours, it was not the same. It was four in the afternoon. Scarlett wore a trench coat over a sweater and jeans.

She didn’t smile until you did, her rosy cheeks tinged with relief.

You poured pink wine into glasses as she settled on the sofa. Once you were seated too, Scarlett cleared her throat.

You held up your hand.

‘You want to smoke first?’ You suggested wryly.

‘Fuck you.’ Scarlett answered, her attention drawn instinctively to her purse that held cigarettes.

‘Quit then.’ You countered lazily.

Silence stretched between you. Scarlett’s fingers played with her lighter. She made no move for a cigarette.

‘It was an accident.’ Scarlett said finally.

You fought a smile. You shook your head in simple disagreement.

‘It didn’t mean anything.’

You shook your head again, refilling Scarlett’s glass.

‘I was lonely.’

You hesitated.

‘It was fun.’ You corrected at last.

Scarlett’s gaze made your throat tighten, like the smell of sex or the taste of tequila.

‘It was fun.’ Scarlett echoed, eyes full of defeat and acceptance.

A moment later, her hand touched your knee.

You had everything you wanted.

Until she left again.

You walked Scarlett to your door. Her cheeks were rosy. From sex and wine and the cold chill of smoking at an open window.

You cupped her face and kissed her softly.

Scarlett’s breath hitched as she watched you.

Sweet sadness caught her expression and you knew that this would end.

Scarlett didn’t call you again.

You didn’t call her either.

You saw her one last time. Three months later, a party in New York.

You kept your distance until the night was nearly through.

She appeared at your table, like some perfect apparition, arm outstretched. Her feet were bare. Her high heels lay next to her husband’s seat.

You danced across an empty floor. Scarlett’s body brushing yours, over and over.

Her eyes sparkling with the same sweet sadness.

When you felt the unmistakable bump graze against your stomach, you felt the sweet sadness too.

When the baby news was official, you sent her flowers. The same shade as her rosy cheeks.

When you saw the burning sunset. You thought of that night in Paris.

#scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x you #black widow imagine #avengers imagine

179 notes · View notes

firstelevens · 16 days ago

Note

French kisses for the pairing of your choice!

20. French kisses

Bucky would like it on the record that the architects of the city of Paris are at fault here.

Going unseen is unquestionably in his wheelhouse, was already kind of his expertise before he spent two years being chased around the world by a very persistent, annoyingly handsome, occasionally-flighted bird. If this were the Latin Quarter or Montmartre or even two blocks down at the Tuileries, he could have made himself and Sam disappear, melted into the crowd with no trace left behind them.

Instead, they're right in the middle of the Place Vendôme when Yelena's voice comes over the comms to let him know that the pursuer they thought they'd lost is bound straight for them, and she doesn't need to say it for Bucky to know that it'll be messy if they're spotted.

He can see Sam's eyes darting around the square, trying to map the quickest route to an area with cover, but the motorcycle is bearing down on the square too fast for that. It's close to sunset, at least, and the lighting had been dim enough when they ran that it's possible their pursuer only got an impression of a silhouette rather than details.

That's too much to explain, though, so when Sam warily watches Bucky take his hair out of its bun and shrug his very nice wool pea coat onto the ground, all that Bucky thinks to say is, "Trust me."

And he does, Bucky is gratified to see, if the slight relaxing of Sam's shoulders is any indication. Of course, then they instantly tense up again as Bucky gently pushes him up against the nearby streetlight and bodies his way into Sam's personal space.

"I'm sorry," says Bucky, and he can feel the way that Sam's breath catches in his chest. "This isn't how I wanted to do this."

He only processes what he said when Sam's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but then Yelena is yelling that the motorcyclist is about to be on top of them, so Bucky shoves those thoughts into his ever-more-full box of things to talk to Sam about later, grabs him by the hips, and lays one on him.

It's not going to sell their cover very well if Sam's hands keep flitting around in a panic, but luckily he gets with the program fast and grips Bucky's shoulder with one, sliding the other up into Bucky's hair and tugging a little in a way that might make an embarrassing noise come out of his mouth if his lips weren't functionally glued to Sam's.

They hear the motorcycle circle the square once, twice, thrice, and all that Bucky can do is hold Sam as close as possible, hope that his shoulders and the shadows are broad enough to cover him. The growl of the motor fades after the third round, bound towards the river by the sound of it, but neither of them pulls away, the kisses gone from fierce to something much more tender as their hold on each other relaxes.

Bucky has half-forgotten why they were even kissing here in the first place, just knows that he's going to hold onto this for as long as he has it, which is just enough time for Yelena's voice to sound over the comms again.

"Ugh," she says, clearly disgusted. "He's very gone now. You can stop frenching."

He and Sam do move apart at that, although Bucky takes it as a small victory that Sam remains in the circle of his arms. He pulls a face as Yelena lectures him about taking out his comm the next time he wants to stick his tongue down Captain America's throat, but Sam just grins at him, mischief in his eyes.

"So tell me again how this isn't the way you wanted to do it?"

#fr I have not heard anyone unironically discuss french kissing since middle school so we adapted #sambucky #zainab does ask meme things #my fic #philtstone #kiss prompt fics

26 notes · View notes

valkyyriia · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! If the request are still open I’d like to make one 😊 This is my first time requesting something so I apologize if I missed anything 🙏🏻

I’d like to request Comte as the suitor(established relationship) and rain for the prompt. Thank you 😊

A Deluge of Feelings

Words: 1401 CW: None | SFW Tags: Fluff, Non-Sexual Nudity, Google Translate French, Spoilers for Comte's name, Minor Characters from Comte's Route Prompt: Comte + Rain Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain / Reader

Note: Absolutely no worries Hikari! There's a first time for everything 😊 Glad to have another Comte enjoyer here! He's my favorite suitor!

I had several other ideas for this fic that I ended up stashing away for a rainy day (pun fully intended). I really do love Comte. ♥

Also posted on AO3 here.

When you left for the ball earlier this evening, the sky had been clear; nary a cloud in sight. The sun had been near setting when you had climbed into the carriage, its rays painting the evening sky with gorgeous shades of peach and orange. You made a mental note to ask Vincent - or Leonardo, if he felt productive - to try to paint a nineteenth-century Paris sunset for you one of these days.

So when you heard the telltale rumbles of thunder in the distance soon after arriving, it caught you - and your partner - by surprise. You had been talking to your friend, a nobleman's daughter by the name of Claudine, when the manor's windows rattled from the shockwave. Rain began to fall in light droplets, a soft pitter-patter cascading against the roof. Your partner, the ever-elegant Comte de Saint-Germain, quickly made his way to your side.

"Claudine, it's always a pleasure to see you," he greeted the other girl amicably. She curtsied and addressed him in kind, before excusing herself with a cheeky grin in your direction. Your response was a not-so-ladylike roll of the eyes, your own attention returning to the nobleman by your side.

Le Comte watched her walk off, his brow furrowed. The way girls behaved was still a mystery to him, even after God knows how many centuries of life. He would always be doomed to wonder in this regard, he supposed. Some things weren't meant to be understood.

Returning to the matter at hand, Comte placed a large hand on your back and drew you close, kissing your temple and murmuring into your ear. "We should try to get home before it gets any worse, Ma Chérie. I don't want to stay out and risk you catching cold or us getting stuck in town."

He swiftly guided you towards the doors of the manor house to call for your carriage. The rain, however, had other ideas. As you neared the door the soft droplets turned into a torrential downpour; sheets of rain fell from the sky like gauzy curtains, obscuring all but the brightest of lights. Water ran in dark, snaking rivulets across the cobblestone paths,

The pureblooded vampire exchanged a quick word with the coachman by the door. The watery onslaught was so deafening you were unable to make out much of what they were saying, but you assumed it had something to do with the carriages.

After a moment, your hypothesis was confirmed. Comte turned to you, an apologetic smile on his face.

"We won't be able to take a carriage back to the mansion in this weather, between the flooding and the low visibility. The coachman isn't certain they'd even be able to make it to the city's residential district with how bad it is," he said, kissing your forehead. "For now, we should just try to enjoy ourselves for a bit longer and hope the rain passes by."

The two of you returned inside, le Comte remaining by your side this time. He continued to greet the other nobles who approached the two of you, his hand secure on your hip. You stood by him, a placid smile on your face as you played the part of a nobleman’s partner.

Soon, you found yourselves dancing together on the ballroom floor, enjoying each other’s company as you waited for the storm to subside. Unfortunately, it seemed as though there was no end in sight. The rain continued to pour, quickly dashing any hopes you had had of returning home tonight. Normally this situation would bring you stress, but you found the thought of being stranded in town for the night didn’t bother you that much. You were with Comte, and you knew that he would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Le Comte checked his pocket watch, a graceful frown marring his face. It had gotten quite late already, and with no sign of the rain letting up, your choices were dwindling. At your questioning glance, he smiled reassuringly.

“These things happen. We can predict the weather, but we can’t ever be fully certain how it’s going to be. It’s no matter,” Comte spoke, lovingly brushing a stray hair out of your face. “We will just have to brave the weather and head for a nearby inn, I’m afraid.”

Before you could speak up, you were interrupted by a familiar, loud voice.

“Ah, Comte de Saint-Germain,” he said. You immediately recognized this as the Duke de Guermantes, Comte’s friend and Claudine’s father. He smiled at you, greeting you as well.

You knew the Duke de Guermantes rather well, all things considered; he was the father of one of your only female friends in this time period, as well as a friend of Comte’s.

“Monsieur le Duc,” you replied in kind with a curtsy.

He turned back to le Comte with a friendly smile. “I see the two of you are stuck in town for the evening, non? The carriages won’t run in this weather.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct,” Comte agreed with resignation. “We had hoped the rain would let up long enough for us to return home, but I suppose le des intempéries had other plans.” He smiled amiably. “We were going to brave the outdoors soon and go to one of the inns nearby for the evening.”

The Duke de Guermantes shook his head dramatically. “I think not! I would make quite the poor host to force one of my dearest friends and his partner leave the safety and comfort of my home in un orage. Non, you shall stay here for the night.”

Le Comte’s features were painted in surprise. “Are you certain? I would hate for us to impose on such short notice.”

“Nonsense,” the Duke waved him off. “I shall not hear of it. You could never impose.”

“Merci beaucoup,” Comte said. “We are very grateful for your hospitality.”

Soon, you were both shown to a guest room in the Duke’s manor. Rain still beat against the windows, drowning out any other sounds.

Comte stepped up behind you, his hands deftly picking out several of the pins holding your hair up. As your hair came loose of its confines, his fingers gently combed through the strands. You sighed into his touch.

Comte’s hands slid down to your shoulders and he kissed the top of your head.

“Je t’aime,” he murmured, turning you around in his arms and brushing a hand against your cheek. “I am sorry we could not make it home tonight, Ma Chérie.”

You smiled back at him, leaning into his palm. “It’s alright, Abel. I’m happy to go anywhere so long as it’s with you.”

Le Comte’s golden eyes were filled with an indescribable deep emotion in response to your words. His hand drifted to your chin and tilted it up, his lips crashing into yours for a hungry kiss. He soon broke away from you, grimacing in discomfort.

You frowned, your hand cupping his cheek. “What is it, Abel?”

He just shook his head in response and took your hand in his, pulling it from his face. Your eyes widened in understanding.

“When did you last eat?” You murmured.

His eyes drifted to yours and he smiled knowingly. “I’m not hungry,” he murmured. “Not for anything but you, at least.”

Your cheeks flushed, but your frown deepened. You went to step away but his other hand came to grasp your waist and hold you there.

“It will pass, as it always does,” he assured you. “Un moment, s’il vous plait.”

You turned back around and began to unlace your dress. You were surprised when his fingers joined yours almost immediately, assisting you in shedding the garment. His fingers lightly skimmed over the skin that was now laid bare before him.

“You are beautiful, Ma Chérie. I still find it hard to believe that in the endless sea of eternity, I found you.” He kissed your bare shoulder. “However much I should like to ravish you this evening, I fear we must get to bed,” Comte sighed. “We still have to head back home in the morning and I think we should not abuse le Duc’s hospitality.”

With a pout, you agreed and crawled into bed with him, nestling against his warmth comfortably. He kissed your forehead. “Bonne nuit, mon amour,” Le Comte whispered. “Je t'aime, maintenant et pour toujours.”

Taglist: @natimiles @queengiuliettafirstlady @candiedcoffeedrops @goddesswitchmother

@fang-and-feather @candied-boys

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte

54 notes · View notes

moirindeclermont · 6 months ago

Text

Welcome back, amazing people!! Ready to go back to Bridgerton? As mentioned, we will start with longer stories today, so I can't guarantee smüt in every episode. Eventually, though, these short stories will become spicy. (But this one .. this one starts spicy 🔥 🥵)

I'll post the link for the next episodes here in the following days.

Today, I introduce you to Vampire!Colin and Pen... well, Pen has more than one secret. Enjoy!!

Smashed | A Polin Vampire!AU

Coming back to London was a mistake.

Colin was walking at night, the only time he was able to do so, and thankfully, he wasn't hungry. He knew hunting in Mayfoar was not possible, so he had taken a horse, gone to the outskirts of town, and fed. He could enjoy being around people only when he was full. Being a Vampire did not change his appetite. But that seemed the only thing that didn't change.

He still felt like Colin but wilder, more impulsive. On a good night, he felt free.

Nobody knew about him. Nobody knew because what was the point in them worrying and fussing about something he could not even explain. He was in Paris some weeks ago, and he was having the time of his life when he was attacked. The man was shorter than him but so strong he could barely move him. Colin remembers struggling to free himself. And then... Nothing. He woke up in the same street just before sunset. He got to where he was staying and noticed two little bites on his neck.

He went to sleep, and he felt different when he woke up again. The learning curve from that has been challenging. With no idea of what was happening to him, he was only puzzled by the fact that someone had passed him a curse. Condemned to live during the night and drink blood for the rest of his days.

So, he returned to London because it was familiar and safe. But even that felt anything but safe when he could not stop sinking his fangs into one of their servants.

Still, it wasn't like he had a choice. Drink or die. He tried to resist the hunger, but the less he ate, the more wild and unpredictable his inner creature became. Being fed at least allows him to interact with his family... And Pen.

Gosh, Pen. No matter how full he is, he can't stop thinking about her and the tingles she gave him. There was something different about her, something he had never noticed, but it was almost glowing when he returned.

So, he walked the street thinking about his best friend, trying not to get too overwhelmed by everything else around him. Creature of the night, or Vampire... Still, Colin never felt so alive. That also kept him awake more often than not.

Suddenly, a quick movement caught his attention. He focused on it, following the noise as quietly as possible. It was way past midnight, and usually, he was the only one walking. But that night, he wasn't alone.

After some minutes, he found himself in the garden of a noble family. In the middle of the labyrinth, people were talking.

Getting closer, he could clearly hear the voices. Men, dark and powerful. And a woman. Pen?

That was Pen, but what was she doing outside?

He couldn't help but sprint toward the labyrinth, but as soon as Pen was in his eye view, he stopped.

He assumed Pen was in danger... Another mistake, apparently. Pen was not in danger.

Pen was the danger.

She moved quickly and lethal, a short bullet that made quick work of the men threatening her.

The sight made him hard on the spot.

Colin could not keep his eyes off her.

And while watching her, a part of his mind imagined how it would feel to have that fiery woman in his arms.

He was in awe of her, and he wanted her around his cock.

It was a madness he never experienced before in his years as a human and in his weeks as a Vampire.

Soon, she was done.

Panting (and Colin could not not notice how the body was responding) Pen turned around and saw him.

And he knew she knew what he was.

Pen got closer to him, her eyes hiding from him for the first time.

"I guess we need to talk," she said.

Colin only nodded.

"Tomorrow after the sunset in your garden, by the Apple tree?"

He nodded again, still on edge.

She turned at that, walking towards home.

But then, she looked back at him again.

"Walk home with me?"

They didn't exchange a word; everyone was lost in their world. Colin was imagining all sorts of things but didn't dare to speak. There would be time tomorrow.

Pen looked at him one last time before going into her home. Colin did the same.

Once inside his room, he didn't waste time.

He took himself in his hand, and the image of Pen fighting those men came again.

He stroked himself thinking about her, coming strong on his dick, her breasts bouncing as he was thrusting into her.

He did not know what tomorrow might have looked like or what the conversation might turn into, but that night, Colin Brigerton, vampire fledging, discovered he had a crush on his best friend, Penelope Featherington, who apparently could beat several men without a scratch.

Maybe, after all, coming back to London was not the mistake he thought.

TBC

But in curious to hear from you, what do you think?

#polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #polin positivity #polin bridgerton #polin brainrot #polin fanfiction #vampire!colin #vampire!au #vampire fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

msnihilist · 1 year ago

Text

I read something about adult/teenage Phinabella going back to Paris to redo their little trip to the "City of Love" that went wrong in Summer Belongs To You, and... I don't know, I just kind of hate that?

I hate it because it's boring. I can literally grab any book from Walmart with a shirtless man on the cover and read about a whirlwind romance in Paris or turn on the Hallmark channel and see the same thing set in some Christmas town, and blah blah blah, it's the same shit I've seen my entire life.

The whole point of the Phinabella arc in SBTY is that Isabella realized wanting a storybook, traditional romance out of Phineas is wrong. It's something she expects out of love, but not something she should expect out of him. Narratively, this is reinforced because every dynamic in Paris goes sour. Candace and Jeremy don't have their kiss until they're home (because he met her halfway, get it?), Vanessa leaves Ferb alone on the Eiffel Tower, Phineas is more interested in bolts and blowtorches than romance, and that's good because that's who he is.

He's not the kind of guy who's going to sit down, relax, and watch a beautiful sunset with the girl he loves, and Isabella doesn't want him to be that person. She loves him for his weird-shaped head, and how he uses big words to explain simple concepts, and even in her birthday song about wanting to be alone with him for one day, Isabella is perfectly content to help Phineas on one of his projects by handing him the tools he needs.

Phineas doesn't show his love by getting someone flowers or chocolates or a spontaneous vacation to Paris. His love language is acts of service and quality time. He is perfectly content to spend a whole day with Ferb, doing nothing at all. He will make an entire styrofoam town at the mere suggestion that Buford can't risk getting any bruises. He fretted like crazy over Isabella's birthday gift and felt so bad when he thought it had been ruined.

Phineas literally goes crazy when he can't invent, and Isabella would never want him to change that part of himself — because if he did, he wouldn't be the boy she loves.

He would just be another normal guy, and their romance would be another normal story.

And I think Phineas and Isabella would both hate that.

#phineas and ferb #phinabella #idk just some Thoughts™ that I wanted to get out there #I dislike when people make their relationship normal #let these two be little weirdos!!#isabella LOVES phineas' inventions and she loves him for everything that makes him weird

95 notes · View notes

starwarsmum · 2 months ago

Text

Day 31 of Maribat March is Death Match

A huge thank you to @maribatserver for the prompts this month, as always these fics wouldn't exist without the amazing work put in by those who put the calendars together

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64300951

“It's laughable, the thought that you, a child, could defeat me. I am Hawkmoth and I swore to you that I would get your miraculous eventually,” the villain sneered, his cane pressing against Marinette's throat. Chat lay prone, several feet away, but he was still breathing, thankfully.

She blacked out.

_ _ _

When Jason died, it was in an explosion. He had been foolish and hopeful and desperate to help his birth mother and Joker had killed him for it.

He knew he was dead, but his soul had remained on the earthly plane for whatever reason, and he wanted to return to Gotham. Maybe he could follow Bruce around until he met up with a magic user who could sense him and then he could apologise for running off half-cocked.

You would think that being a ghost meant he could just pop out of one place to the next but no. No, Jason was stuck traveling over land and sea, trying to get back to Gotham based on a vague sense of direction. Which he got very wrong, because the first real landmark he found and recognised was the Eiffel Tower.

He'd steered clear of other ghosts for the most part - they were all bitter at something they'd left unfinished and it made Jason feel uncomfortable. Like maybe he was supposed to be like that. But he wasn't, he was fine and his only unfinished business was that he needed Bruce to know it wasn't his fault.

He decided he needed more direction than his gut and flew to the top of the Eiffel Tower to see how that might help. He hadn't expected to find a teen around his age perched at the top, eyes staring out at the city. She blinked when she saw him before cocking her head and saying something in French.

“Oh, uh, b-bonjour?” He stammered. He knew French, he'd been so excited to learn it at school and with Bruce but he was severely out of practice. “Um, je suis Jason-”

“American?” She asked with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. “You're a little far from home to be in Paris, non?”

“Yeah, I died abroad and now I'm trying to get home. Thought the view from up here might help,” he admitted, flushing when she gave a small laugh. “What're you doing up here?”

“Keeping watch,” she said quietly, eyes flickering back to the view in front of them. “I couldn't stop the bad thing from happening and now I just have to watch as things go on without me.”

“Bad thing?” Jason asked, wincing as she flinched visibly.

“Hawkmoth won. But I'm the only one that remembers it, and only because I died. And he still has all the Miraculous, so if he wants he can do it all over again. He's satisfied now but what happens if he's not anymore? But I don't know what to do,” she said, voice cracking at the end.

“You were a hero?” He whispered, slightly awed. It wasn't like he'd never met another hero before, but they weren't usually his age, and they definitely weren't usually dead. “...I was too.”

“Yeah? What happened to you?” She asked, sounding genuinely curious. And it had been so long since he'd talked to someone that it all came spilling out. Not just what had killed him, but from the moment he had met Batman and tried to steal the tyres off the batmobile. It hardly mattered if he told her the truth about who was behind the cowl, so it was nice to spill his metaphorical guts to her.

When he told her about how the Joker had beaten him with the crowbar she gasped audibly. He had been watching the sunset but glanced at her then to find that she was looking at him with eyes that shimmered with tears. A detached part of him wondered how that was possible - they didn't have bodies, so how could she cry? - but his main thoughts were about how beautiful she looked in the fading light.

“That's awful,” she said fiercely, hands clenched on her thighs. He continued to stare at her, words drying up without meaning to. “And that's what killed you?”

“No, he left me in the floor of the warehouse with Sheila and set off a bomb. She's probably dead too now,” he added absently, realising it for the first time since he had woken up dead. He hadn't thought about her except in the abstract, but in telling the story he realised that the Joker absolutely would have killed her too. “I just want to get back to Gotham so I can tell Bruce it wasn't his fault. Maybe then I can move on.”

“Can he see ghosts?” The girl asked, perking up again. But Jason shook his head and she slumped. “Oh. I just thought maybe you could tell him about…all of this. That maybe he could come and take away the Miraculous from Gabriel, even though it wouldn't fix anything.”

“I'm hoping to run into Constantine or something, that he'll help me explain it to B. So if I manage, I'll make sure he passes on the message, okay? If I can get someone to do it, I will,” he promised, reaching out to take her hand without thinking.

He was surprised when instead of passing through her, like he had with all living people, his hand collided with hers. It was small, and rough from callouses that he wanted to ask if they were from her hero work or something else. Her eyes were round and her mouth made a little pink ‘o’ as she looked at where they connected.

“Thank you,” she murmured eventually, smile breaking across her face. And if he'd thought she was beautiful before, it was nothing compared to now. “I bet you were a really good hero. I'm sorry you're…I'm just sorry.”

“I was okay. Still learning, still…but it doesn't matter now. I just hope I did enough, you know?” He said before lapsing into silence. “Hey, I never did get your name.”

“Oh, it's-”

Jason felt a horrible, wrenching pain somewhere near his lungs and he screamed. The girl jumped to her feet, alarmed, hands fussing over him. The world was going black again, and he felt like he was being pulled into an abyss. The last thing he thought before it all faded was that he still didn't have her name.

The pain didn't subside even as he started to regain control of his limbs. But when he tried to move he was met with something like walls. Which was absurd, he was a ghost, wasn't he? Everything felt fuzzy. He tried to maintain a grip on his train of thought but it slipped through his me tal fingers until his only thought was that he was trapped somewhere and he needed to get out.

He didn't realise he was clawing his way out of a grave.

_ _ _

Marinette could only watch hopelessly as the boy she had been talking to winked out of existence. She didn't understand, had he finished his business by telling her everything? Did the universe somehow think that meant he was done, even though she couldn't do anything with the information?

“I hope you're at peace, Jason,” she said softly to the open air in front of her.

#maribat #maribat march #maribat march 2025 #maribat event #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #ao3 #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #character death #tw character death #tw: character death

3 notes · View notes

changingplumbob · 1 year ago

Text

York Household: Chapter 9, Part 9

Reece comes for a quick stay over and Kelly's first day of high school does not go well.

CW: Unicorn zombie with minor carton gore, mentions of dysphoria

The Yorks are Italian so if you see them using words that don't look like English it's Italian, or what google assures me is Italian. Caro/Cara: Dear Buongiorno: Good morning Piccolo: Little one Tesoro: Treasure Nonno: Grandfather Nonna: Grandmother Si: Yes Grazie: Thank you Per Favore: Please Buon Compleanno: Happy Birthday

The birthday party has ended but there’s someone arriving.

Deanna: Reece? What are you doing here

Reece: Isn’t it obvious? My best friend got dumped. I’m here to make sure you don’t slide into a depressive rut

Deanna: Thanks but what about Samir

Reece: Trust me, he’s capable of surviving a day without me. Now where’s the food? And we can talk about that no good Paris

The pair grab some leftover mac and cheese and head to the patio.

Reece: Have I been blind or did you get a tan

Deanna: It’s the new me, finally looking Italian like the rest of my family now

Calista: So here’s your gift from me

Kelly: A locust?

Calista: There was a plague of them, figured that sounded like a bug you would like

Kelly: Grazie ma

Calista: The gift from your pa is on the porch

Kelly goes out and sees a new teen sized bike waiting for him. Excitedly he hops on and sets off to speed down his favourite hills

After eating Reece and Deanna head out to the nature beside the house. They both love the outdoors so feel more comfortable surrounded by nature than indoors.

Deanna: Can I ask you a serious question

Reece: Of course

Deanna: What do you love about Samir? Something you love that’s not what he looks like or how you look after him?

Reece: Oh, we’re going deep then. Well there’s a bunch related to the stuff you said but separate from that… *smiles* easy, his dedication. He goes after things with his whole heart and doesn’t give up when he comes across hurdles. *laughs* Actually do you know back in high school he’d arrive two hours before the doors got unlocked to run football drills on the field?

Deanna: Dang, when did he sleep

Reece: But of course am in love with his biceps to. And really… we look after each other more than just me looking after him, or the other way around

Deanna: *sighs* Paris said that I was in love with what she was, not who she was. She said I loved that she was an orphan that I could look out for and protect, because she asked me what I asked you and I didn’t have an answer

Reece: You didn’t?

Deanna: No. I’ve been thinking since and… maybe she was right. I loved that she was a cute blonde who was somehow shorter than me. Helping her made me feel good about myself. Did I love her? Did I even know what made her different from any other short blonde out there?

Reece: From the outside you seemed smitten but De… only you know the answer to that. Do you miss her

Deanna is silent for a while, but Reece knows she'll speak when she's figured out what she wants to say.

Deanna: Honestly… not as much as I thought I would

(her sad moodlet lasted a single afternoon it was weird)

Deanna: Maybe it was for the best that she left. I shouldn’t blame her for being the first one to see my heart wasn’t in it

The two lie quietly for a while, watching the clouds change colour in the sunset and smelling the sea on the breeze.

Reece: Look on the bright side. Now you get to go out there and find new women to woohoo

Deanna: Hmm, I suppose I can take your share

Reece: Deal, you have the tacos and I’ll have the sausage

Both of them spend the next few minutes giggling to themselves. They’ve been friends for most of their lives, being together remains easy no matter how complex life gets. After a while Reece pulls Deanna to her feet and they head inside so Deanna can do her university homework.

Kelly wakes up early the next morning, anxious to get ready for his first day of high school even if the watcher will not be accompanying him. He’s started feeling embarrassed about his new teenage body, like it doesn’t fit right. Trying to bush it off he decides to do a dance workout after breakfast. Workouts always seem to make his parents feel good about themselves.

Unfortunately school was rocky. Kelly got in two separate fights and his principal said he would be stood down for a day. Kelly knew his pa would also get a call so rather than head home after the last bell he opted to swing by Atlas’ house.

Atlas: Stupid rain. We could have gone for a bike ride

Kelly: There’s been a lot of stupid today

They head in and while Atlas has some chores Kelly decides to pass the time talking to Atlas’ mum Celeste. She is pretty dubious of him and his evil antics, especially since Atlas got the good trait on age up.

Celeste: Did you two enjoy your first day

Kelly: So many new sims to tor- get to know. And teachers

Celeste: How did you find it Atlas

Atlas: Fine but Kelly was the best entertainment all day

Celeste: Oh?

Kelly: Just a few scraps, no big deal. It's not like anyone had to go to hospital

Atlas: You’ll need to sell it better than that to your lawyer pa

Celeste: Hmm. Better catch that loading screen Kelly. You don’t want the rain to glitch anything

Atlas mouths an apology while Kelly shrugs and tries to look unbothered.

Aaron: Care to explain?

Kelly: It wasn’t my fault! Well, not completely

Aaron: Kelly, we know you have an evil side. We accept it. Per favore, can you be honest with me caro

Kelly: Fine. I was having some trouble in English and this kid beside me, Roger, said I looked like I was dyslexic and laughed so I pulled his chair out from under him. He punched me after that so I hit him back

Aaron: And the second fight

Kelly: *sighs* they split the boys and girls for the health lesson. At lunch I asked Anya what she learned and some girl thought I was being a creep for asking so I stomped on her foot. She wailed and told the duty teacher I’d attacked her

Aaron: *sighs* I see. Grazie for telling me what happened

Kelly: Am I grounded pa

Aaron: Personally I think a day stood down from school is plenty enough punishment. Education is important, it’s stupid to take it away as a punishment

Deanna: So you crashed and burned on your first day? Rough luck

Kelly: Shut up. At least…

Deanna: No comeback?

Kelly: I think I want to talk to Joey

Deanna: *laughs* careful or someone will accuse you of loving your family

Kelly sighs in indignation but calls Joey who is happy to come around and chill (he’s a bro, chilling is what he does best)

Joey: There’s Rocky!

Kelly: There’s who

Joey: Nevermind, clearly before your time. What did you want to chat about

Kelly: I got in some fights today

Joey: Okay and? Because to be honest bro I figured you would

Kelly: I’ve been feeling off since becoming a teen

Joey: We all do, it takes time to adjust. It'll pass

Kelly: I don’t think so

Joey: What makes you think that

Kelly: In health class they were talking about everything puberty does to us and our pixel parts and it just... felt wrong. Like I don’t want any of it to happen to me!

Joey: So you don’t want to be a grown human? You want to be in a kid body forever?

Kelly: I do want to be grown! I just… don’t want to be a grown man

Joey: Oh… I’m a dolt for not realising what you meant, sorry!

Kelly: I was talking to Anya about what the girls learned and honestly, I wish I’d been born a girl so I could go through that instead. Don't laugh but... I want to be a woman one day

Joey: Okay. You were clearly born a girl though if that's what you feel

Kelly: What? My parts aren't-

Joey: *sighs* Someone just got your code wrong on the physical side. Glitches happen all the time. Come here sis, it’ll be fine

Kelly always had a feeling her older brother was open minded but it was nice to have confirmation. As he wrapped her in his arms she felt herself relax a bit. Maybe things wouldn’t be so tough?

(They won’t be Kelly! I pinky promise you this is a transphobia free save!)

Hi, me popping in! I'd just like you to know that Kelly rolled being trans all by herself when she aged up! It was zero percent planned but I am super excited for developing her story. It will be a big change, just like Onyx being non-binary, so please don't beat yourself up if you accidentally misgender my evil bean in a comment while your brain switches her pronouns. Hopefully it can be practice for all of us, and will help us make pronoun switches more easily in the real world. Obviously if you purposely misgender her you should stop following me because I'm not interested in nonsense like that.

Final comment, she will absolutely still be evil. Her next bit of story will be more focused on her gender rather than her terrorising the populace, but you can expect she's still going to be her. So if you go swimming in Tartosa, don't wear polka dots.

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0901 #DeannaYork #ReeceFoster #KellyYork #AaronYork #JoeyYork #CalistaYork #gif warning

14 notes · View notes

ikeromantic · 1 year ago

Note

Tis the month where we bid farewell to a year filled with tears and laughter. A month where everything is under an expansive blaket of pristine white as if the world is cleansed into a crystal clean slate but before we say adieu to 2023 and ahoy to 2024, would the fine and most creative beloved scribe grant us a final (perhaps few) scribbles for 2023? Perhaps one of the great multi-bejeweled warlord as he sits outside with his beloved, watching a flurry dance of the heaven's crystal flakes or maybe with the rather enigmatic Vlad as he catches the first few snow on his cold hand and magically transform it into a crimson heart for his lady. Guess you can't figure out who this nony is eh.

Hehehe ^_^ I might have some ideas where this ask came from, but I won’t tell if you don’t! Thank you for your lovely compliments, and for being your sweet self. I think I’ll write something for Vlad. I haven’t had much opportunity to write for our strange vampire prince. Approx 1300 words of fluffiness.

Vlad pushed his flower cart along the icy cobblestones. Snow drifts covered the stoops and squares and hid the fountains and lampposts. The Paris streets were a winter wonderland, made softer by the blanket of snow. In a few hours, it would be reduced to piles of gray slush and chill ice-melt, but now, in these early morning hours, it was magical.

“We should enjoy it while we can,” he said softly, his breath steaming.

The poinsettias on his cart nodded with red-leafed wisdom, bobbing silently in their colorful pots. Vlad regarded them solemnly. They were flowers of good cheer, the joy of family and friends. That was why he’d brought them today. To spread happiness despite the season’s chill. He found a good street to stop on.

There were several other stands setting up here, selling hot cocoa or mulled wine. Hand held snacks and little bags of colorful candy. By the time Vlad settled into place, the street was bustling with the day’s traffic. Most barely noticed the man and his flower cart.

Vlad watched the crowd, his half-lidded ruby gaze searching for the right customers. The people that would most need a bit of cheer. The first was a young maid, hurrying through the shops. She wasn’t dressed for the cold, and her uniform was ill-fit, too big for her small frame. She wore a face of intense concentration as she tried to keep her hem out of the muck.

He gave her a tiny white rose, barely more than a bud. In a day or two it would open into a beautiful rose. Her smile blossomed at the gift and she was humming as she returned to her errands.

The second was an old man in a patched coat. He wore a look of weary bitterness born of too many years alone, and expectations unmet. Vlad gifted him a poinsettia, with crimson blooms and a verdant stem.

His third customer was a gentleman, a man with a young face but ancient eyes. He’d served as a soldier, and the horrors of that etched scars across his soul. Vlad gave him a bundle of forget-me-nots and baby’s breath. The man would never forget his lost friends and slain enemies, but life gave him a second chance. A new beginning.

The flowers in Vlad’s cart were given away one at a time, until he had only one left. A tiny white poinsettia in a glazed white pot. The plant had just one small flower, and two little green leaves and a narrow stem. There was a time when he might have cut such a plant down, but he’d come to realize that every bloom had beauty.

He wondered who would come for this last little flower. The sun hung low in the sky, a distant glow at the edge of the city skyline. The lamplighters were already out, and many of the stalls were closing up. But Vlad didn’t want to leave until he’d found a home for his last blossom.

The sunset came, its glory muted by the thickening clouds and the roiling mist that crept up the banks of the Seine. Candles flickered behind paned glass windows, and the lamp flames wavered in the growing darkness. It seemed the last flower would need to wait for another day to find its place, Vlad thought.

He took off his apron and tucked it into the cart with a sigh. Just as he straightened, a pair of mittens covered his eyes. Vlad froze stock still. He knew, of course, exactly who it was.

“Guess who?”

“Hm. Charles?”

“Nope. Try again.”

Vlad chuckled. “Not Faust, of course. He only surprises me with needles or pills . . .”

“Not Faust.” A tremulous laugh, held in.

“Some street urchin, then? Or are you a burglar? Perhaps I should struggle, hm?” He grinned, his fangs glinting in the gloom. Vlad turned, easily grabbing his hidden assailant. Her mittened hands settled on his shoulders as he brought her close for a kiss.

When he pulled back to look at her, she was smiling. “You knew it was me.”

“Of course.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Did you come to fetch me?”

She nodded. “It was getting late and I missed you.” Her eyes went to the near empty flower cart. “It looks like you had a good day.”

Vlad nodded. “The square was busy. People shopping for the holiday, or out getting things for their celebrations.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling his lover against his side. “Did you want to have a special celebration?”

“Being with you for the day is enough for me.” She leaned into his embrace, snuggling into his side.

“But I was here all day . . .” Vlad’s eyes opened wide. “Is that why you missed me? I shouldn’t have left you alone for the whole -”

She laughed and shook her head. “No, I knew you’d want to be here, making people smile. But now your work is done and I have you all to myself.” Her wide, beautiful eyes regarded him.

Vlad didn’t think he would ever get used to that look. Full of love and hope and joy. He couldn’t help but smile as warmth blossomed in his chest. “Then let’s make this a special evening for just the two of us.”

He picked up the last tiny poinsettia, the white bloom seemed to almost glow in the evening light. “I think this flower was waiting for you. See how glad it is that you are here?”

She leaned close, her fingers almost touching the plant. “It’s so beautiful.”

Vlad tipped her chin toward him, and kissed her again. Her lips were warm and soft, and her mouth tasted of cinnamon and spice, sweet as mulled wine. She was everything to him, and he still could not believe he held her in his arms. Centuries he’d waited, wanted, ached for her. It felt like a dream, one he never wanted to wake from. A world without her was no world worth waking to.

The snow began to fall again, tiny flakes dancing on the evening mist.

She pulled back to look up at the drifting snowflakes. “Look! It’s snowing again!” She tugged off her mitten and caught a tiny flake in the palm of her hand. “It’s like an icy bit of lace, don’t you think?” Her hand lifted to show him.

He laughed. “It is. And already starting to melt.”

“Oh no!” Her eyes widened. “I should let it go.” She waved her hand in the air to release the flake, but it held to her skin, the edges already thinning to nothing.

Only she would be worried about destroying one tiny snowflake, he thought. His silly, lovely, ridiculous girl. Vlad caught her hand and blew across it, sending the tiny snowflake skirling back into the night. Then he licked the bead of moisture from her palm, letting the tip of his tongue tickle across her skin.

She giggled and tried to pull her hand back. “Vlad! What if someone’s watching?”

“What if they are?” He kissed his way to her wrist. There he could feel the delicate tracery of her veins and vessels, the steady pulse of her kind and loving heart. “I want everyone to know how much I love you.” He nipped the spot, a promise and a tease.

“Vlad,” she repeated, breathily this time, a heat in her gaze that could melt more than a snowflake.

He tugged her mitten back over her hand. “Let’s go home. I want to celebrate you.”

“Don’t you mean with me?” She picked up her flower as he began pushing the cart.

“That too.” Vlad smiled.

#Ikemen vampire #ikevamp #IkeVamp vlad #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

12 notes · View notes

thestupidhelmet · 1 year ago

Note

D + F, 1-4

Date Night: Eric Donna, Jackie, Hyde

Characters were chosen as individuals instead of couples, so I'm going to write this answer as the individual characters' ideal date night irrespective who their date might be.

Eric: His ideal date might be on a beach (before he goes to California in 5x01). Playing in the waves, watching the sunset with his date, then making out (or making love).

Also could be going to see the Packers play then making out (or making love).

Or seeing Star Wars then making out (or making love) dressed as Luke and Leia (this is before the characters were made siblings).

Donna: A rock concert, as long as she's not in journalist mode.

Or meeting someone in New York City or London and having an intellectual connection. Her heart will follow.

Jackie: Somewhere fancy and romantic, like Paris or Disneyland (her words). But, yeah, definitely a romantic spot or event. Of course, Jackie is so full of idealized romanticism that she can find any place or event romantic with the person she loves -- like the funeral home closet in "Grandma's Dead" (1x23).

Hyde: Ideal date for him is one that ends in sex. Or starts with sex, continues with more sex, and ends with sex. He can be interpreted as demiromantic and demisexual based on his characterization on the show -- with a high libido.

He's not a sex addict like Kelso, but he enjoys the act of sex. He's essentially stated he doesn't need to be aesthetically attracted to someone to have sex with her. But he can be repelled by someone's personality.

If he has romantic feelings for someone, however, he'd want to talk all night while drinking beer ... and pausing both for sex before going back to talking and drinking. (This is all pre-S5.)

Favorite Memory: Eric, Donna, Jackie, Hyde

Again, the characters were chosen as individuals, so their favorite memory won't be about their romantic relationships.

Eric: His childhood memories with Donna as his first friend and best friend hold one of the highest spots. Any memory of his dad saying he loves Eric or is proud of him. The car ride home with his mom during "Career Day" (1x18). Many more. He probably can't choose just one.

Donna: Her childhood memories with Eric as her first friend and best friend hold one of the highest spots. Watching football with her dad. Her parents renewing their wedding vows. The first time one of her stories is published in the school paper. Meeting musicians through her DJing job at WFPP.

Jackie: Whenever she won awards. Any quality time she's spent with her father. When Donna first called Jackie her friend. Her first time successfully completing a difficult cheerleading stunt.

Hyde: His uncle's visits at home when Bud and Edna were married and after Bud left. His uncle is the only family member (pre-S7) who treated him with respect and unconditional love. He modeled a lot of who he is on his uncle. (This is total headcanon; you'll find it throughout my fanfic and @those70scomics.)

Lots of childhood memories with Eric, Donna, and Kelso. Particularly Eric and Donna. They were his safe place, found family, away from his abusive home.

Childhood memories of Kitty and Red treating him with love and respect.

I should have categorized F as Favorite Memories, not memory singular. 😅

Jukebox Ask Game

#that 70s show #that '70s show #eric forman #steven hyde #jackie burkhart #donna pinciotti #jukebox ask game #ask game

9 notes · View notes

myboyknows · 1 year ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

We do this thing in the [Runs in the Blood server] every other week, where we post short excerpts from Fanged Four (and subpairing) stories that we're working on - about 4,000 characters. This is an off week, but here's my last snippet because I keep forgetting I have a tumblr and I wanted to post something! The context here is that in 1880, three months after Spike became a vampire, the family goes to Paris for a big vampire event. Some plot happened to their clothes on the way, so Angelus takes Spike to get an outfit to wear and they find something suitable on a young man near Le Chabanais, which is a popular Parisian brothel. He's wearing a green carnation on his lapel, which used to be a code for gay men, and so Angelus is about to take the opportunity to teach young Spike how to seduce the pants off someone.

The problem is Angelus is so bloody charming. Not all the time, of course – certainly not during the late afternoon, that last hour before sunset, when they've been trapped indoors for hours and all four of them are beginning to get hungry, testy, twitchy. Sunlight itches, Spike decided early on. The idea of it itches, knowing it's sitting just on the other side of the wall waiting to devour you in flames. Watching Angelus itch during that hour every day is like looking 127 years into the future and seeing his own self still annoyed by the sun after all this time. Must be something you never get used to, no matter how much you train yourself to sit still and draw a fucking beautiful portrait of your sire cuddling Death like a lover as she poses in elegant but scandalous positions. He can sense it roiling just beneath the surface of Angelus and Darla both, the restlessness, the impatience, despite their calm exteriors. Spike's been experimenting with ways to escape that last hour itch by making love to Drusilla before sunset, but she's itchy and irritable during that time as well, and they always end up fucking wild and fast like they're angry at something – nothing like the way they love each other's bodies in the dark – but he's still finding angry sex to be a pretty great way to spend the time and Dru seems happy to take out her itchiness on him as well, so he hasn't begun to look for other distractions. Maybe in 127 years, he'll learn to draw. But after the soothing sunset, and especially after the evening's first kill or caper, that's when Angelus turns on his ridiculous charm. Spike hates it, except when he forgets to hate it. It's confusing in a way that nothing else is anymore, not since he dug himself out of the earth. Now it feels as if everything in life has been made perfectly clear to him – everything but this one thing, this way that Angelus makes him feel when he's being so goddamn bloody fucking charming. Just tonight, after they'd pushed the remains of supper off a bridge into the Seine and watched the very satisfying resulting sploosh (and after Darla had screamed and Dru had pretended to faint, and Angelus had spun a heartbreaking tale in French to the local Sûreté of trying to prevent the poor human couple from committing a tragic double suicide) the big vampire had been in such a pleasant and playful mood that as soon as they were alone again, he'd twirled Drusilla around and danced her halfway across the bridge and back, both of them laughing. He'd bowed to Darla, grinning, and then – then! – he'd grabbed Spike and danced him around the bridge as well. And in spite of himself, Spike had laughed heartily as they galloped around in a wide circle, full of warm Parisian blood and high on the feeling that there was nothing the four of them couldn't do and get away with, too, and then he took his own lively turn around the bridge with Dru and dipped her so low the tips of her hair swept across the cobblestones. But when he looked up, Angelus wasn't watching. It's not like Spike cares. Why should he care? He barely knows the git, certainly has no reason to want his attention. But the problem is this way Angelus has of making you feel a certain way and then stopping, like it's all some big game. You don't even get to play; you just get danced around the board laughing until you realize suddenly that Angelus has begun playing something else. The problem is Spike keeps forgetting this is how it works, and then the problem is that he remembers. That's why, as he watches Angelus talk quietly to the young man in the alley beside Le Chabanais, his head tilted down as he looks up with just his eyes, smiling, and brushes his fingertips over the petals of the pale green carnation on the man's lapel, as he sees the way this man has fallen immediately under the spell of Angelus's charm, Spike again has the same problem he's been having for the last three months, and he still can't figure out what to fucking do about it.

#fanged four #pro-spangel #spike btvs #angel btvs #girlpire wip wednesday #fanfic excerpt #i might start doing this every off week #if i remember i have a tumblr #bi panic: spike edition

4 notes · View notes

airi-p4 · 2 years ago

Text

On the ice - Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 ....

_________________________________________

Chapter summary:

Marinette visits the Doctor.

AO3

_________________________________________

Chapter 1

"It's a pity that your mother couldn't come with us," Philippe Candeloro said to the absentminded girl seated beside him in his car.

"Ah- yes…" Marinette nervously answered, getting back at her thoughts.

She couldn't admit to Philippe how she had avoided telling her mom where they were going on purpose, because she was scared.

What if her knee was impossible to fully heal and she could never go back to competitive figure skating again? She didn't want to give her mother hope for nothing. She had been going through enough already.

"Calm down, Marinette. You're too nervous. It's going to be fine, you'll see," the man said, but his words didn't help to relax. She was still just as nervous.

"O-okay…"

How could she calm down? Her entire life could change with this visit to the doctor. She could either find the possibility of her dream taking flight or it crashing to pieces forever.

"We're here"

Philippe stopped the car in the parking lot. In front of them, a big hospital was in sight. If Philippe said anything else, she couldn't hear it. All she could hear was her heart drumming, resonating inside her body, pumping through her blood and inside her body.

Th-thumb, th-thumb, th-thumb.

"Marinette" a hand touched her shoulder, startling her. "The doctor called you"

"Ah-"

She couldn't remember how she got there from the parking lot, but it was time. A life changing event for her.

Trying to relax, she took a deep breath and thought of the people who encouraged her: her mother, Philippe, Coach Bustier, her new friend Luka… And with that deep inhale, she found the determination and courage she needed.

"Let's do this," she whispered as she followed Philippe to the Doctor's office. The door closed behind them.

____________

The sun was setting when Philippe and Marinette rode back to Dunkirk, much later than they expected. A few pink clouds covered the orange sky as the moon and a few stars started becoming visible. It was a beautiful view. Marinette looked at it nostalgic through the car window, a folder full of papers laying on her lap.

There were rarely views like that back in Paris, but she remembered watching a sunset just as beautiful with her parents when she was a kid, in Dunkirk, her grandma Gina riding her motorbike far away, to another one of her crazy trips. To freedom. She couldn't help it but be excited for her and to hear what fantastic adventures she was going to tell her when she came back.

A happy memory.

"How are you feeling, Marinette?" Philippe finally dared to break the silence.

"It's still a bit hard to believe it," she answered with a soft smile. She tapped her injured knee. "I didn't want to keep my hopes up, but…"

"But…?" Candeloro followed.

"I'm so excited!" She beamed at him. "I can't believe I may be able to jump again without even needing surgery! I might be able to go back to skating! I couldn't be happier!"

"You still have to undergo the doctor's treatment and do some rehabilitation, though, before you can start training properly on and off the ice," he reminded her. "But I'm sure you're going to be okay. You're very diligent and a hard worker. And since you've never stopped stretching and caring for your knee even after you retired, it will make everything easier for you to heal and get back to competitive skating. But, for now, you need to focus mainly on your physical condition so the knee heals as it should. Be careful not to overdo it," Candeloro reminded her.

"I know. I have all the exercises and the workout plan written in these papers, and I'm going to take it easy everytime I receive the doctor's treatment at the clinic" she tapped the folder on her lap. "I'm going to do my best!"

"I know you will," he hummed. "Are you going to tell the good news to your mother?"

"Yes! I can't wait!"

"You have rehabilitation three times a week with the physiotherapist, and the next appointment with the doctor is in two weeks. You should ask her to come this time"

"Ah- yes…" of course he knew she hadn't told her mother about the doctor. She was easy to read… he understood her almost as well as her former coach Bustier. Which reminded her… "Uhm… Mr. Candeloro…" he hummed to show his attention. "Would you… Uhm- I know you're already coaching Chloe but… would you become my coach if I heal fully and I'm able to get back to competitive figure skating again, please?"

Her question came out a bit too fast due to her nerves. Philippe's first answer was a loud laugh that surprised the girl.

"I was hoping you'd ask me. I'd be delighted to be your coach, Marinette Dupain-Cheng" he smiled reassuringly, and Marinette smiled back in relief. "Besides, I promised Caline I would. She's convinced everything is going to be okay, too".

"Coach Bustier did!? Really!?"

"Of course! We both believe in your potential and want the best for you," he smiled once more as he stopped the car. The street was darker now, night fallen, but she could see the streetlight illuminating her grandpa's house. Her home. "We're here" Philippe informed her.

Marinette nodded and unhooked the seat belt. Folder in hand, she stepped out of the car and approached Philippe's car window, which glass was down for her.

"Thank you so much for today. And for everything!" she bowed gratefully with a smile he returned.

"My pleasure"

"See you soon… Coach"

Marinette felt nervous saying that. How long has it been since she’d had a coach? Since Bustier… when she was forced to retire… when her world crumbled… That was now part of the past. Dark times were over- there was hope now.

"No 'coach' yet," he corrected her. "That's only for when you're fully healed." He reminded her. "So focus on getting that knee back on track if you want to call me that"

"Okay…" she blushed, slightly embarrassed.

"Now go tell your mother the good news and remember to rest this weekend. The doctor has been doing lots of testing and checkups," she nodded, rubbing her stressed knee. "And do not hesitate to ask me anything. I'll help you with whatever you need, okay?"

Philippe took his hand out of the window and Marinette returned the handshake determined.

"I'll do my best, I promise!"

"I know you will"

"Thank you very much! For everything. Good night"

"Good Night. See you soon".

Marinette took a step back and stepped into her house, not waiting to watch her future coach's car disappear in the dark of the street where she lived.

As soon as she stepped inside she jumped to hug her mother.

"Marinette? What's wrong? Are you crying?" Sabine rubbed her daughter's back.

"Maman! There's a high chance that I may be able to skate again! I'm so happy!" She cried.

"What!? That's fantastic! How-?" She asked, and Marinette proceeded to excitedly tell her mother everything about her future coach and the doctor. Happy tears filled their eyes.

"What are you doing? Dinner is getting cold. I'm eating without you two!" Rolland grumped. "Women and their gossiping and dramas…" he disappeared as fast as he appeared.

Normally, mother and daughter would be annoyed about his attitude but, this time, they couldn't help it but to laugh out loud and ignore him. Dinner getting cold was the last of their worries now.

"I'm so happy for you, Marinette" Sabine embraced her daughter tightly again.

"Me too, maman. I'm very happy!" she returned the affection. "I'm going to work very hard to make you proud"

"Oh, no, darling. As long as you're proud of yourself and happy, I'll be happy too. Do it for you, not for me, okay?"

"Okay"

They hugged for another long minute before going to eat an already cold dinner.

#my fic #airip4 #fic: on the ice #endgame lukanette

7 notes · View notes