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whispersoftheton · 1 year

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This idea has been on my mind for a while… Anthony seeing you in the bridgerton blues for the first time, can either be smut or fluff :) thanks

Ahhhh I love this so much, thank you for sending it in! :)

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff, smut, p in v

Word Count: 1.2K

The family gathered around the room on another sweltering summer day. Hyacinth and Gregory bickered over yet another sworn tie in their endless chess matches while Eloise quietly read her book in the opposite corner. Anthony sat between his brothers, Benedict telling him of his endless tales from class among the unspoken soirees he discreetly attended from time to time and Colin of his many travels. Anthony found himself growing bored, awaiting your arrival. You were to accompany him and the rest of the Bridgertons to the races this afternoon, as it would be your first outing as a family since your marriage to the Viscount. And he could not bear to listen to another one of Benedict's tales for one more second; he needed to see you.

"Mother." Anthony stood hurriedly from the gold-trimmed sofa to approach Lady Bridgerton as she entered the room. "Where is she?"

"Now, calm down, Anthony; she is nearly ready." Lady Birdgerton assured him while straightening out his neckline to perfection. She knew Anthony's antics well enough by now to understand his growing impatience was only a product of his theatrics.

"I feel as though I have been waiting an eternity. Surely she must-" Anthony made his way past his mother and into the hallway, his words stammered as soon as his eyes landed on you. You'd been making your way to the main room when he appeared in your path, a smile gracing both your lips. There was no word in the English language to describe how beautiful you looked. The most impeccable dress draped over every curve in a more delicate shade of blue than he wore but complimented his outerwear perfectly. Warmth blossomed in Anthony’s chest at the sight of you in that color. His color. He never thought he'd see the day when the one he loved, the one his heart eternally yearned for, would wear the color that meant so much to him and his family. He would never tire of how easily you overpowered him whenever he was in your presence.

"Do I look alright?" You nervously patted your skirt, ensuring everything was as it should be. Hesitation apparent in your tone as you approached him.

"Alright?" Anthony's eyes widened as he took your hands in his. He couldn't believe you would use a modest word such as 'alright' to describe how exquisite you looked right now. "My love, you look…absolutely stunning. Beyond words, truly." Heat filled your face, and your stomach fluttered at his flattery. Anthony had a way of making you feel as though you two were the only person on the face of the earth, easily melting under his gaze. It was an exquisite feeling you wished to relish in forever. Anthony glanced around and took advantage of the privacy to steal a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against your own. They parted slightly, allowing you to move more passionately as your hunger for one another became apparent in mere seconds. It shouldn't be surprising, seeing as you and your husband could hardly keep your hands off each other since your wedding night. The moment grew heated with every swipe of his tongue, hands caressing the soft flesh of your waist and hips hidden beneath the restricting fabric of your dress.

"Mother!" Anthony reluctantly pulled away, panting, and shouted. "Go ahead without us. We will join you shortly, as promised." Without so much as a second thought or a response from anyone, he whisked you away toward a nearby closet in a closed-off hallway he was sure no one wandered by.

"Anthony, what are you doing? The races are starting soon." You protested before he cut you off with another chaste kiss and shut the door behind him.

"We will join them in a moment. I must have you right now." The passion flowed through his words, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation and a chuckle escape you. He pulled you close, continuing his ministrations. His lips scattered kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Your dress was bunched up toward you as Anthony hastily removed his trousers just to his upper thigh. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

"Seeing you in our family color," Anthony spoke between kisses. "You are so beautiful." He was rambling as he often did when he was this worked up. The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every beautiful sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now. Anthony abruptly lifted and pressed you against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic groan from his chest.

"Anthony, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his cock prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as the tip slid over your sensitive clit. He lined himself up and pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison, and he waited, letting you settle as you nodded for him to move. Anthony began to plunge into you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he bottomed out inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him as low whimpers escaped you.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Anthony craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even being inside you now, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already aching for attention. Your bodies rocked in sync with one another, desperate for relief. Anthony felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed on his cock, pulling Anthony to spill himself inside of you.

Anthony pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. He made sure you were settled on the ground and took the time to adjust himself. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before opening the door to confirm no one was outside and stepping out of the closet. You may have missed the race's first leg, but with the knowing smirks and blissed-out looks on both your faces, it was well worth it.

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#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton angst #bridgerton netflix #lady bridgerton #viscount bridgerton

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lilacsandpetals · 11 months

Text

Frozen Blossoms Pt. 6

Last part here.

Next part here.

Bi-Han x F! Reader

Tags and notes: Arranged marriage AU, SFW (but some suggestive themes), exploring emotions, Pre-MK1/MK1 AU

Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, blood, and mentions of violence.

Bi-Han had gotten far too used to you now.

Since that night when you washed his hair, the taste of your lips lingered on his. It’s as if you’d cast some spell on him. He sought you in quiet moments of the day when no one else was around but you and him. Exchanging discrete touches, stealing kisses, and nothing more.

He inched closer to you every night as you retired to bed. You opted to wake up earlier. A chaste kiss was shared before he departed in the morning, followed by a fervent one before bed each night.

Every day that went by brought you closer to him.

Yet it still left much to be desired. The longing for more of you was present, but it seemed all too difficult to proceed as he hoped. Something seemed to always pull you two apart. Whether it was you pulling away from a kiss far too soon for his liking or him being dragged away to serve Earthrealm. Or maybe on occasion, it was his own apprehension.

He did appreciate the kiss of goodbye you would gift him before he’d depart. Which these days, was more often than he preferred. But he tells himself that it’s not only for Earthrealm’s safety but yours as well.

And maintaining your safety was of the utmost importance to him. He’d strictly insist that you remain within the Lin Kuei’s walls, and when he did, he could see the disappointment in your eyes. Yet it was for your own good. He was sure that you were aware of the fact that your position was highly coveted. So slowly but surely, whispers and retaliation of your marriage clawed their way to the Lin Kuei. But he would not allow anyone from the surrounding clans to advocate or force your removal.

Still, they were becoming more of a nuisance than he had initially anticipated.

Many clans had approached the Grandmaster with offerings of their daughters for marriage; greedy and willing to sacrifice their kin as a bargaining chip in exchange for the Lin Kuei’s protection and loyalty. Although, what right did he have to think that way? His own father had so quickly arranged his marriage for the sake of greater resources for the clan’s advancement and well-being. He knew it was tradition, and he was nothing if not a product of his clan’s laws and heritage. But still, he wondered if his mother would have made him abide by such a standard.

Either way, when you had married there were already unhappy whispers dancing throughout the other clans. With tensions brewing he urged your instructors to intensify your training as time went on, just in case things went south. Other than the blatant conflicts they’ve had to shut down, he had instances where they’ve caught suspicious characters lurking nearby the Lin Kuei’s estate.

He wouldn’t worry you about all that. He’d manage that burden on his own.

Usually, he’d be eager to use the skills he has been taught. His bloodlust is greater than he’s let anyone take note of. But when it came to you, these conflicts concerned him. He found no pleasure in engaging in disputes that may put you at risk. It causes his heart to become anxious like he needs to wipe out any threat to you the second it arises.

That’s why he is always leaving you. Your time spent together has been cut short so often because he needs to take care of you in this way.

———————-

For now, he sits at the bedside, his body is tired, but he is eager to spend time in your company.

He glances at your flowers and gently plucks a petal off of one of them, he’d need to pick you new ones soon. These were clearly dead, yet he found it slightly endearing that you kept it around. One night he had seen you pluck some of the flowers off of their buds and place them into one of your books. He never cared for flower pressing, but he did find it somewhat gratifying that you’d preserve his gift in such a way.

His eyes then fall to the books. You had a decent stack of them resting at your bedside. You came off as an avid reader. When he’d return home from his work, he would find you engrossed with your novel more often than not. He wonders what type of books you like. He supposes that you wouldn’t mind him flipping through them.

Oh, how he wishes he hadn’t. You had a type of literature you were fond of and he’s not surprised. Most of the women he knew of had a preference for romance. However, he did not expect your novels to delve into such explicit situations.

What type of filth were you reading??

You often maintained such a monotone look while you read, so he never would assume you could be reading things of that nature.

He toyed at the collar around his neck. Were those actions what you desired of a man? Did you think of anyone while you read those novels? Have you already indulged in such actions with another? Or did you want to try them at all? He was right beside you when you read in the evenings. In his opinion, you had ample opportunity to initiate anything if you so desired. However, you two never went farther than a kiss. And it has been some time now since your first one. A slight feeling of unease settled within his chest. He could be the one to advance your relationship if he really wanted to.

What was holding him back?

The distinct sound of your footsteps approaching snap him out of his thoughts, so he clears his throat and sets the books back in place as if they were yet to be touched.

You rounded the corner with a smile on your face, as beautiful as always. “Husband, will you walk with me to the dining hall?”

He narrows his eyes slightly, “yes.” He gets up and steals one more glance at the books before he walks with you there. He maintains his regular demeanor. As you keep up the pace by his side, your hand slowly slips into his. He allows it and gently tightens his grip on your hand. You keep your eyes trained on the path ahead, but he can’t help stealing glances at you. Your hair was neatly tied back. A few strands always managed to escape but it felt fitting for you. The necklace he’d gotten you has taken up permanent residence on your neck, he knows you are wearing it before he even looks. The pin in your hair is simple, but he wonders if you’d want one to match your necklace. He’s sure he’d be able to find one with a jewel similar in color to that of your necklace.

———————-

Dinner went as per usual. These days your father-in-law would direct his conversation to his sons, leaving you a silent listener at the table. They spoke about their missions and their current affairs. As the matriarch-to-be, you should have been attentive to the conversation. But you often found yourself zoning out. You weren’t included in conversations of this nature that often outside the dinner table, so it made it difficult to engage properly.

But today was different. A calculated list of questions descended upon you. Inquiries on if you’ve been sleeping well and how many hours per night, how consistent you are with training, and if you’ve been eating properly.

You were confused for a moment, you appreciated the Grandmaster’s concern, but it felt nearly invasive. Still, you don’t think much of it until he speaks up once again.

“If all is well, I assume an heir will be conceived soon.”

You nearly choke on your food and begin to cough a bit. Tomas pushes your cup of water towards you. ‘So that was what all the questioning was about.’ You were not ready to have a child, not yet. And you were yet to even sleep with your husband. You seem frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. Thankfully your husband comes to your aid.

“We will inform you when the time comes, father.”

Bi-Han eyes you briefly and you look back down at your plate. That would be a different topic for you two to breach at a different time.

———————-

You’re off to bathe before bed. The warm water is soothing in the midst of the cold weather. Bi-Han is tempted to ask if he could join you. Yet he cannot find the words to do so. Matters of the heart have bested him far more than those of the battlefield. So he finds himself in his secondary place of pain and comfort of the training grounds. More training was beneficial. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated Tomas or Kuai Liang to be present. They seemed more engaged in their conversation than the light sparring they partook in. What exactly were they talking about?

“Did you see his face?”

‘Who’s face?’ Bi-Han debates on whether or not he should ask, but before he is given the pleasure of deciding, Tomas spots him. “Bi-Han! Come practice with us.”

Bi-Han rolls his eyes, but he supposes the sparring partners would prove helpful. “What were you two talking about?” Tomas shoots Kuai Liang a certain look that Bi-Han takes notice of. “Well? Spit it out.” He snaps.

“It’s really nothing,” Tomas says sheepishly.

“We were just speaking on our future endeavors.” Kuai Liang remarks. He debates on whether or not he should cover up the subject of conversation, or if he should test his brother’s temper and be honest.

“As in?”

Kuai Liang throws some hand wraps to Bi-Han, which he snatches with ease. “Marriage and its aspects of love and responsibility.” Bi-Han nearly rolls his eyes. Both brothers assume a fighting stance. As per usual Bi-Han starts on the offensive, so he throws the first kick of the match, “Elaborate.”

“The same subject that father spoke about at dinner.” Kuai Liang responds with a punch that Bi-Han checks. He then shoves his brother slightly rougher than he meant to. ‘The subject spoken about at dinner?’ The sparring comes to an abrupt halt. “My wife?” he hisses.

Tomas promptly speaks up, “No! Just about the idea of having nieces and nephews soon.”

Bi-Han inhales sharply, and Tomas takes note, “I mean unless you haven’t been trying for a child yet?”

Kuai Liang shoots him a slightly amused look, and Bi-Han knows that face. It’s the same face that his younger brother would give him before he was about to spew utter nonsense. “You haven’t yet, have you?”

“Shut your mouths, you insolent fools.”

Tomas tries not to chuckle, “The more you avoid the question, the easier you make the assumption for us.”

“Neither of you is married, so do not act as if you could even comprehend such things.”

Kuai Liang respects his older brother, he really does, but right now he has to resist rolling his eyes.”Harumi and I are not married yet, but I think I’m capable of understanding such a topic.”

“You and Harumi have known each other since you were children, I met my bride rather recently. It is not the same ordeal, so don’t speak on it.”

Kuai Liang supposes his brother is correct. “You’re right in that I wouldn’t understand your exact situation. But you misinterpret my intentions.” He placed his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, “Don’t overthink it. Whenever it does happen, you’ll be fine. And I’m sure you’ll have offspring soon enough.”

Bi-Han will not voice it, but he hopes his brother is right.

———————-

Steam fills the room. You sink into the hot water and let out a pleasant sigh. Lately, you’ve had to increase the amount of time you spend training, and it is safe to say that your muscles still haven’t properly adjusted to the increased burden of it. Therefore, unwinding like this was greatly valued.

Whenever you were in this tub, you were reminded of your first kiss with your husband. The memory is still fresh in your mind and it causes heat to rush to your cheeks. He had looked stunning that evening with his hair down and his demeanor relaxed. Since then you were thankful that you had gotten close enough to exchange more kisses in private. Although neither of you breached the aspect of furthering your physical relationship. Yet you did find yourself desiring it more and more often these days. Thinking of his physique had caused your mind to wander further than you would have felt comfortable admitting.

And then it made you think of dinner earlier.

The process of producing a child did intrigue you, but the rest seemed nerve-wracking. Pregnancy was something you knew you’d have to endure sooner or later. It excited you but scared you all the same. And then the thought of raising a child in this strict environment worried you.

But those were problems that you would address later. For now, you’d relax, and ponder the possibilities of what may have happened if you hadn’t retired to bed so quickly after your first kiss that night.

———————-

Bi-Han eventually returned to your shared quarters. You were adorned in a silk robe, relaxing in the bed, book in hand. Your eyebrows were furrowed as your eyes rapidly scanned the words on the pages. You bit your lip briefly before a small smile emerged on your face. He wonders what about the novel could have you so engrossed; was it on the same topic he had seen earlier today?

He clears his throat and you look up, then briefly down at your book again before you shut it. Your eyes lift to meet his, “welcome back”

He cracks a small smile as he walks over to his side of the bed. “You say that as if I’ve been gone for a long time.”

“It felt long to me,” you tease and lean closer to him. Your book is still enclosed in your hand and Bi-Han can’t help but glance at the novel. “What were you reading?”

“Oh, this?” You hold up the book a bit higher and he gives you a little nod. “It’s a romance.”

You then stand up and motion to the stack at your bedside. “The majority are romance novels. I’ve read through a lot of them.”

You set the book in your hand down gently. “Speaking of which, I want to go get more.”

He raises an eyebrow, “More books? Why?”

‘What does he mean, why?’ You think and cross your arms rather confused, “why not?”

“Do you need them?”

“I find them enjoyable, isn’t that reason enough?”

“Can’t you find enjoyment in other things?”

You scoff and lay a hand on your hip. “I know you’re often preoccupied but the home we live in is catered to the strict nature of your clan. There are not many means of enjoyment here. My days are busy and I like to read to unwind.”

“There’s other ways to unwind.” He responds, almost in a tone that merges desire with that hesitant spite, and it only confuses you more. You step closer, “If you don’t accompany me I will go on my own.”

“You will not.”

Now you are getting annoyed. “And who’s going to stop me?”

Bi-Han clenches his jaw and steps forward, he holds your hand, “I will. You are not allowed to leave on your own.” It wasn’t safe, you’d become an object of envy for other clans. He was not going to let you out on your own.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, you went out on your own accord when you had lived with your family prior to the marriage. You went out during the Mid Autumn Festival. So what was the problem now? To be frank, it was getting a bit tiring. Living out a similar schedule every day, seeing the same locations on the daily.

Before your husband can say anything else you come up with another retort, “Okay, if I’m not allowed to go alone I’m sure Kuai Liang or Tomas will come with me.”

“No, not happening.” He snaps. Were you purposely trying to get on his nerves? The unamused look on your face clearly told him you would not be backing down. “If you desire to go that badly. Then I’ll take you.”

———————-

Bi-Han kept his word the next day.

It was nice to get back into the village, a much-needed change of pace from the confining walls of the Lin Kuei.

You had dragged your husband along to various shops—mostly window shopping. But you eventually made it to the shop that sold the novels you had a preference for. The shop itself was quaint, and the books were located in the back corner. You make your way there and skim the shelves, with your husband following close behind, His shadow looms over you as he tries to steal glances of the books you pluck off the shelf. You can feel how close he is so you turn around, handing him the book you have in hand. “You seem slightly interested.”

He takes the book and glances at the cover, “I assume it’s a romance.”

“Of course, it’s a genre I like. Oh and don’t put that back, I want to buy it.”

Bi-Han flips through the pages. It appeared to follow the course of the other books you had at home.

Maybe he’d sneak a look at the book when you were preoccupied again. If you found the actions done in the novel so enticing, maybe he could use that knowledge to his advantage. Or rather, the overall advantage of your marriage.

He continues to follow you around the shop and ends up buying the books you picked out. As you exit the shop and make your way onto the street you see Bi-Han staring at a small establishment. It was a tad far and on the other side of the road.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You oblige and as you squint your eyes, you notice it’s a jewelry shop of some kind. You try not to ponder, but you wonder if he was buying something for you.

So you wait on the side of the street, pacing back and forth a bit while you wait.

But something is wrong, bit by bit, the smell of smoke starts to become apparent. At first, you consider it nothing. Perhaps a nearby eatery had burned their food or something of that nature.

Then your stomach drops as you turn. Without warning, black smoke erupts into the air, and hot flames lick at your surroundings. Screams and shrieks of civilians ring in your ear as you attempt to make sense of what is happening.

You need to get out of here. Where is Bi-Han?

Your eyes quickly scan from side to side. The heat of the flames are becoming more and more apparent as your skin starts to sweat. It’s getting harder to breathe. Your sense of direction is skewed.

You need to find your husband.

But you can’t.

It all happens too fast. You don’t know when the unfamiliar hands grabbed you, and you don’t register how quickly the cloth covers your mouth and nose. You only realize you’re beginning to lose consciousness when it’s too late.

———————-

Your eyes can barely open. There’s a heinous pounding in your head accompanied by stinging pain around your ankles and wrists. You realize you’ve been bound there by a rope that scrapes against your skin every time you move, leaving it red and on the brink of breaking.

You’re unable to speak due to a cloth covering your mouth. You try to remain calm, but that’s easier said than done. Tears stream down your face and you attempt to regulate your breathing. You remind yourself that the more you panic, the harder this will be.

How long have you been here? The last thing you’re able to remember is being ambushed by men you didn’t know. With a thick cloth serving as a blindfold and being in what you assumed was a darker environment, there were limited ways to estimate the passage of time.

It suddenly hits you. The fire must have been a diversion.

You knew something was wrong. Between Bi-Han being more protective, the rise in clan conflicts, and the sudden increase in training, you should have deducted that something was off.

This would not have happened if you paid attention more or if you trained more. Maybe you would’ve been able to defend yourself and make it to Bi-Han in time. You knew risks came with your new status, why didn’t you take that into account more?

You never thought it would affect you so directly, that you’d become a hostage. And worse yet, you didn’t know what these men intended to do. What if they meant to kill you? You would never get to say goodbye to your family back home. You would not get to say goodbye to Bi-Han. You wished you spent more time with him. You can feel yourself shaking, but attempt to take a few deep breaths.

You try to snap out of it. You have to be calm. Worrying would do you no good now.

Your husband wouldn’t leave you like this, would he? He was a capable man. You know he wouldn’t just forget about you.

You will be fine. All you have to do is remain steadfast in your trust towards your husband.

And so as time slowly passes, your breathing returns to a normal rate, and the tears do not stop, but they slow down. You lay your head against the concrete wall. Your mind runs over the same thought again and again. That BI-Han would rescue you, you just needed to be patient.

You don’t know how long it has been, but you’ve remained practically still.

The sound of a heavy door creaking open gets your attention.

“She’s here!”

Your heart pounds as you hear two familiar voices within ear’s reach. ‘Kuai Liang and Tomas.’

“Is she hurt?”

“I think so.”

Both of them come to your aid, first removing your blindfold. Your eyes try to adjust to your surroundings and the visual confirmation that your new family is present eases the tension a bit. Tears of relief leave you as they remove the cloth from your mouth. “Thank you.” You mumble. Drool pools at the side of your lips when you speak. Between that and the tears you briefly think of how much of a mess you might look like now. But the thought leaves as fast as it comes. Kuai Liang undoes the binding on your ankles, while Tomas tends to your wrists. It hurts, and you notice your left wrist has begun to bleed. Your lip begins to quiver and Tomas hastily wraps a cloth around it. “Don’t worry, the rope didn’t cut that deep, this cloth should do until we get back home.”

“And don’t worry Y/N, you’ll be home soon,” Kuai Liang remarks in as comforting a tone that he can muster up right now. But you catch the concerned looks that the brothers exchange.

You try to crack a smile, to show your appreciation at their attempts to make you feel better. But it’s difficult right now.

Where was your husband?

As if on cue, Bi-Han practically breaks down the door as he enters the room. “They’re all dead but one, I left him alive to question.” His tone of voice is harsh, practically lethal.

You’ve never seen him like this.

Blood paints his face and clothing. He is breathing heavily and you can vaguely hear it through his mask. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes have never appeared so cold. There’s a blood-soaked dagger in his hand. You can see it’s made of ice and he tosses it to the side before running towards you. His mask covers the lower half of his face, but his eyes have always been expressive, and you can see the hardened look in his eyes slightly soften. He bends down to your level, taking your ankle in his hand gently before you feel his arms wrap around you. He lifts you bridal-style.

Exhaustion has overtaken you. The blood on his clothing concerns you, but it doesn't seem like it belongs to Bi-Han. Some of the blood gets on your cheek when you lay your head against his chest. You can faintly hear his heart beating frantically although he doesn’t show it. He carefully wipes a lone tear that cascades down your cheek.

You want to thank him for saving you, you want to apologize for allowing yourself to be kidnapped. You want to scream and cry, and you want him to wipe away all the tears that threaten to spill over. But it feels as if no matter how many times your mouth opens, no words come out. That no matter how badly you want to move, your body is frozen in place. He carries you out and you close your eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you.

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Thanks for reading 💙

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sansaorgana · 1 year

Text

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

#erik lehnsherr x reader #lilysfiction #magneto x reader

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flythesail · 1 month

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Everything about the Acolyte cancelation just feels so off. I want to be hopeful when seeing the strength of the renewal campaign or even the number of big news sources writing about it, that something like a wrap up movie could be possible, yet nothing about this situation says "normal."

There were reports from so many places (with no evidence) that Acolyte merch was intentionally taken offline. (For the record, nothing came up when you searched "Andor" either.) Then soon after, the merch is back. (Presumably because it was out of stock.) What I find surprising is that the news spread like wildfire. Why? When for most of its existence, the Acolyte has been thrown under the bus - from review bombing to racist attacks from so called "fans" - why was everyone suddenly jumping on the cancelation news when doing little to defend or support the show from the start? Merch seems like such a minor thing within the grand picture.

Many, okay most, shows are canceled after one season nowadays. But this is a first just by default of falling under an IP as large as Star Wars. Shows that are not renewed go "quietly." Kenobi was written as a single season. Tbobf might have been up for a second, but after the way it was used as a bridge for Mando seasons 2 and 3, a lack of renewal is not a shock.

There's so much proof the Acolyte was on course to be renewed and the cancelation was not planned. As recently as last month they were looking for directors for season 2. I believe there were reports of a writers room in February.

Lee Jung-jae says in an interview he's surprised about the cancelation, and right after there's "coincidentally" news that Keanu Reeves would have been Master Sol if not for scheduling conflicts. Lesley Headland has ALWAYS said JJ was her first choice. Which says what? That Lucasfilm wanted to punish JJ for showing support for the show that they canceled. This is on top of doing absolutely nothing to protect Amandla from all the disgusting racists on Instagram. This is on top of them announcing Manny for SW Celebration, which isn't until NEXT year. Wtf is he going to talk about?? Thanks for canceling my show last year! I sure would have loved to continue it! The cancelation news was even publicized on his birthday. This comes after recent news for tie-in novels, an art book, and a visual guide.

My best guess would be that plans for season 2 were underway, and a higher up got scared. Of what? Taking creative risks. Or maybe scared of the people who claim to be "fans" and have done nothing but trash the show from the start with no basis.

I'll play advocate, what if it was just for viewership and budgetary reasons? It does cost a lot to make. But then why not adjust the budget? Why not adjust the marketing strategy for season 2? The success of something like Star Wars cannot even be entirely measured by viewership or Disney+ subscriptions, less so a month after the finale. What about merchandise sales or growth over time, as the Acolyte perfectly slots into a space in canon that quite frankly, is unexplored but adds so much to the overall narrative longterm!

Even if the show is expensive, you will never convince me Disney of all companies doesn't have the money for it. Something happened and it happened fast. Whatever did happen, to cancel the Acolyte is a cowardly move. I want to hope it can come back and that this "scrambling" to change the narrative in the media is a sign of regret, yet it's most likely a poor attempt to control the narrative in their favor and push the blame to everyone who actually cares about the show.

At the very least, I hope the response is a wake up call. That Star Wars fans will not stick around no matter what. That you cannot treat your creators, actors, and fans, primarily women and poc, as lesser time and time again and expect them to continue to support your product. This decision is telling in more ways than one. It's unfair and if nothing changes, Star Wars will only get worse from here. Which is disappointing, because I love it and have been a fan on and off since I was 11 years old. But I cannot deny that everything about the way the cancelation is happening feels like a betrayal.

The Acolyte dared to be inventive. It dared to be diverse. Whether that be the cast or those behind the camera, this story was made by and made for people Star Wars has continually neglected, and it still felt like true Star Wars that anyone could enjoy. It was a step in the right direction. If given a chance, it would have only become bigger. When is the last time a Star Wars project brought in new fans like this? You can only retell the same stories so many times before they lose what made them special in the first place. As a true fan, Lesley brought fresh perspective. From Amandla's performance as Mae and Osha, to JJ's performance as Master Sol, which he learned English for. Or Manny as the Stranger, a mystery turned sith turned lead love interest. The Acolyte explored the grey era between good and evil, the decisions that define us, what it means to feel, and the power of that. The Acolyte dared to exist and a cancelation can't erase the fact that it matters.

If you're still reading, please do sign and share the petition. It might not bring the show back, but it is a show of support for the cast, crew, and fans it stood for.

#the acolyte #flythepost

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remembrancer-of-heresy · 2 months

Text

The thirst to subjugate (Part 1)

Summary: You have a remarkable ability to notice details. This is what fascinated Corvus. And what intrigued Alpharius and Omegon.

Corvus Corax/fem!Reader, Alpharius and Omegon/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, possessive behavior, manipulation, power imbalance

Word count: 1238

Song: Hatari, CYBER - Hlauptu

The translation of the song is just... One yandere is scary as hell. But two yeanderes is death

You smiled at him. Soft and gentle, as if he were not a primarch. He did not fight with xenos and other creatures, subordinating systems to the Imperium. No, you saw an ordinary person in Corvus when you asked if he needed anything else besides dinner. The serfs on board were quiet and could not take such liberties around the primarch.

"No. Why do you ask?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and your lips purse into a thin line. There is a distinct blush on the cheeks. You were so easy to embarrass. Gathering your strength, you answer quietly and shyly.

“You just looked so sad. I thought you might have had a rough day.”

He really had a rough day. Working together with the Alpha Legion was productive and yet exhausting. But Corvus always looked melancholy and many could not grasp his true state. But you did it.

It was refreshing. Corvus couldn't remember the last time he wasn't looked at with adoration, fear or respect. When they looked at him not as an all-powerful primarch, but as a man who also needed rest.

He had friends on Lycaeus , but they all saw him as a savior. His sons, the family he dreamed of, still saw him as a commander. Only dear Nasturi and Gerit were different. And now you too. Corvus longed to find a family, to feel love even despite the knowledge that he was a product of the Warp. He just couldn't let you go.

At first it all started innocently. You brought food to his chambers and you talked a lot about a variety of things. Surprisingly, you didn’t touch much on the topic of the Crusade. You avoid it. One time he asked you why and you said that you don't like war. Such a kind soul.

You told him stories about your friends and family. At first you were a little embarrassed by such attention to yourself, but you soon relaxed. To such an extent that one day the story about how your brother was scared of a rat made you choke on your tea. And it started flowing out of your nostrils.

Corvus was captivated by this sight. Absolutely normal and natural. This is how you should behave around your family, isn’t it? Does this mean that he is now part of your family? He would really like this.

Your work schedule and responsibilities have changed significantly. Now you spent almost all your time alone with Corvus. He taught you to read and now you started talking about books. The Primarch was a monster, he knew it. But he strove for the light.

That's why he didn't take you. Didn’t subjugate you all to himself. You still saw your family and friends quite often. And yet, how Corax missed you in these moments. In the end, he realized that maybe you were something more to him. Is it possible that this...

Love.

The subjugation of the System was successful, but some military tactics were worth discussing. Therefore, a couple of times the primarch invited his brother on board. Surprisingly, the Raven Guard were famous for their stealth, but it seems that the Alpha Legion have surpassed them in this. There was something strange about them.

You were at all these meetings. Served documents and drinks. You fulfilled your duties without question. Despite the acute tension and feeling of fear that was gnawing at you. The first meeting went well, but he noticed a change in you during the second.

You looked at Alpharius strangely. Eyebrows were raised, lips frowned. You watched his every move. The worst part is that Alpharius noticed this and smiled. Not as if he was enjoying your fear or trying to calm you down, no. The primarch smiled intriguingly and interestedly.

“Who is this young lady?” - Alpharius traced his lips with his finger until he left it on his chin. Corvus wanted to break it.

“My personal serf” - your name softly and sonorously flies from his lips. - “She won’t bother you, let’s get down to business.”

“As you say, brother” - their family ties sound like a mockery. Although the primarch of the Alpha Legion had always been like this. - "As you say."

As soon as the meeting ended, Corvus immediately came over and hugged you. Buried his nose in your shoulder and sighed your wonderful smell. Gently stroking your hair. He will protect you, he will take care of you. You are his family, his ray of hope, you are the best thing he ever had.

He asks what happened. Why were you so afraid of the primarch. You, surprised by his pressure and thoughtfully look at the floor. In doubt, you look at your feet and fidget with your toes. As if you yourself didn’t know why you were so nervous. Finally you look up at him.

“It seemed that he behaved differently.”

"Differently? What do you mean?"

“I-I don’t know.” - you sigh and Corvus can imagine the gears working in your head. - “It seemed like your brother spoke and behaved as usual. But for some reason, it seemed to me that he, t-that he... was a different person. It’s as if his twin brother had taken his place.”

Corvus feels a smile form on his face. What a funny girl you are. True, sometimes you behaved so normally and ordinarily. And yet you could surprise him. His hand gently strokes your cheek. You lean on his arm and Corax holds back a sigh.

His fingers trace your jawline and he lifts your face. Maybe this was the perfect moment to kiss you. Feel the taste of your lips. Link your souls together. Absorb. But he didn't.

“You have nothing to fear, I only have one brother, Alpharius. And he alone is more than enough for me; fortunately, he doesn’t have a clone.” - You giggle and yet Corvus knows that you don’t fully believe him. - "Everything will be fine. You will be safe with me.”

But his confidence gradually faded every day. The Primarch of the Alpha Legion liked you. He constantly mentioned you and tried to talk to you. And one day it actually happened. Right behind Corvus. He thought Alpharius had left the ship. But somehow he managed to catch you on your way back to the parents.

You trembled in Corvus's arms but didn't cry. Alpharius frightened you with his appearance and offered to join his Legion. Corax holds back from pure rage. But while you are in his arms, he should be gentle. Must be a support. Protection. Savior.

The primarch should organize a guard for you. No, that's not enough. You will be noticeable. An easy target. Then he will hide you. As crows hide jewels in their nests, so he will do to you. He will make you the most comfortable nest next to him. You won't need anything. And he will coo over you for an eternity.

You snuggle into the warmth and try to calm down. Gradually lulled by Corvus, you feel your eyes begin to close. A little more and you will fall into pleasant blackness. Away from this world with its cruelty and secrets. And yet, even on the verge of sleep, the mocking voice of “Alpharius” is heard in your head. You should have told Corvus everything, but you knew, you knew they would find out.

“You see us, and we see you.”

#primarch x reader #primarch x oc #corvus corax x reader #alpharius and omegon x reader #tw: yandere #tw: obsession #tw: manipulation #yandere alpharius omegon #yandere corvus corax #yandere primachs

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bluefairyhere · 10 months

Text

Same time tomorrow?|| Colby Brock scenario

¬Colby meets a girl at a coffee shop.

Pairing->f!reader x f!reader

w.c 1.7k

cw. very fluffy and corny

Almost every morning was the same for you. Get up, take a shower, grab your books and laptop and head to the coffee shop down the street to get productive. For some reason it was easier for you to focus and avoid procrastinating at said coffee shop, which was beautiful.

Vines all over the wall outside, this white, cottage-core-like vibe that you got from all the arrangements inside. The plants, the yellow-ish lighting, the kind old lady bartending--who you always thought was the owner--the bookshelves on two of the walls inside. Everything about this coffee shop was perfect and it screamed inspiration. It was the place you felt the most calm at. Until you saw him for the first time.

His dark hair falling a little on his forehead, his piercing blue eyes, muscular complexion and tattoos. His nose piercing and the chains plus the rings on almost every finger. He was so mysterious and edgy.

You could still remember the first time you saw him walk in. You usually never noticed whoever walked throught the door, but for some reason as soon as the little doorbell rang indicating someone'd come in, you felt an electrifying need to see who it was. And it was him, of course, with his sufficient smirk and careless demeanor. Yet when he ordered his coffee he acted so nice and happy, not edgy and damp. From the very first moment you found him fascinating.

Then the next morning he came back, but unlike the day before he actually stayed to drink his coffee while scrolling on his phone and didn't even notice you were there. Not like you were expecting him to. He was probably taken, or a total player and either way he wouldn't look in your direction. Why would he? you were just a simple literature major trying to get through the weeks without losing your mind. But you had no idea how wrong you were, because Colby had noticed you from the very first day.

He remembered going into the coffee shop Sam had told him about--apparently they made the best coffee of all times at the lowest price ever witnessed for such quality, or so Sam said-- and not being disappointed with what he ordered. But while he was in line to order he'd noticed you from afar, at the back of the whole establishment, focused on your books and laptop. He instantly thought you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and your aura seemed so tender and pure. He knew right away he wanted to get to know you, but how? It's not like he could just casually sit down at the table, introduce himself and ask you out. So the next day, he went to the coffee shop again, and there you were. Same table, same books, same laptop. He went for a week and he started to bring his stuff as well, mostly his laptop to do some editing and research for his videos. Hell week was coming so all the recording was already done, now they just needed to do the editing, and he also found the coffee shop an extremely relaxing and nice place to get stuff done. Plus, when he got tired, he'd look at you for a few seconds and feel recharged again. It was the weirdest thing, he wasn’t one to feel so connected to someone he’d never talked to before.

When you noticed he started sitting in the shop and working as he ate and drank his now usual muffin and what seemed to be plain coffee, you couldn’t help but imagine little scenarios in your head in which you’d go up to him and say anything, or he’d come up to you and…

“Hey.” You looked up, killing your previous train of thought. It was him. A plain black shirt with a XPLORE inscription in white, ripped black jeans with chains, rings on his fingers and his nose piercing practically staring at you.

“Huh?” Is all you could mumble. You did not expect this.

“May I sit here?” He asked with a small smirk, and you nodded.

“I noticed you since the very first time I came into this coffee shop… please let me take you on a date.”

You were about to say something when your phone rang, waking you up. It was a dream, you dosed off on the chair, head on the table. You looked around and he was gone, luckily. You hoped he didn’t see you like that.

And so the days kept going by and you continued to see him at the coffee shop, still daydreaming about who this handsome stranger was and the things you could do together. You were already at peace with the idea of him being nothing but a proximity crush and never really knowing anything about him, not even his name. Until one day he just stopped going. One day passed, then three and before you knew it, it had been a week.

You had no idea why. It’s not like you were super sad, but you missed seeing him around. You thought your proximity crush would die with his absence, but much to your surprise it actually didn't affect the way you were starting to feel about this handsome stranger.

All of a sudden, one day he came back. What you didn't know is that he had come back from recording at another haunted location with Sam and the crew, where he had an epiphany. He needed to talk to you. So that day, when you walked into the coffee shop he was sitting at your usual table, at your exact usual spot of the table too. Why would he do that? Surely he must have noticed you sit there every morning. You looked around, unsure about what to do. You even looked at the bar tender, but all the old lady had to do about it was giggle and shake her head, clearly amused.

You sighed and decided you'd take the table next to that one, so you were walking right past it. You were about to put all your stuff on said table but Colby's raspy voice prevented you from it.

"You don't need to sit there." You stopped on your tracks, not believing what you were hearing. You turned back to him.

"Sorry?" You acknowledging him made Colby feel way less confident, but he didn't show it.

"I'm not new here, I know you usually sit here. I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind... sharing a table with me?"

You looked around, confused. At this time of the day the shop wasn't very concurred with people so there was no need to share a table with a stranger. Even so, you had no idea why you were pushing things since getting to know him was all you wanted to do since you saw him for the first time. "I'm sorry but... why?"

Colby seemed to hesitate, but he had gone through almost every possible outcome of this situation with Sam. He could do this. He had to, it was now or never.

"I just figured it'd be nice. I'm Colby, Colby Brock." He stands up and offers his hand for you to shake. However, youre too stunned to process that. Just what was going on? Was he asking you to sit with him? For real?

"Im y/n, nice to meet you too." You were a little hesitant too, but honestly this was all you dreamt of lately, and it was finally happening. You decided to not overthinking and just sit down, right in front of you.

At first it was a little awkward, neither of you knew what to say.

"So, I've always wondered," Colby broke the silence "what is it you do with so many books every morning? And like you stick post-it's on it and write notes on your laptop... are you like a writer doing research or?"

You giggles a bit.

"Not really, I'm actually a literature major. I come here in the mornings to do my homework and papers and stuff." You said still smiling. "I could show you if you'd like."

"Yea sure, I'd love to see." So you took out your stuff and showed him the goods. You were currently working with two books.

"So what we're doing is making an essay comparing the accuracy of The Song of Achilles with the actual Achilles legend thing, its really interesting because..." And he was actually listening! A couple of hours passed and you learnt a lot about each other. You learnt he's a youtuber, hasn't been in a relationship for a while, likes writing music, is religious, amongst other things. And he learnt even more stuff about you since he couldn't stop asking. He was so obviously very interested. But you both realized it was time to go and continue with the day.

"This has been lovely," you said "but unfortunately if I dont leave now I won't be able to make it to campus on time." You said almost pouting.

"Yea I know, I have a meeting with the crew as well... But before you go," he seemed unsure about whether to say this or not, but after what seemed like a quick internal debate, he decided he'd say it. "I had been wanting to talk to you for weeks, and I'm glad I did. Maybe we could exchange numbers, if that's something you'd like to do?"

You felt your cheeks instantly redden. You were so sure this was going to be a one time thing, but you were so glad he was asking because you wanted this to happen again. And again. And again. You nodded.

"Of course." You offered him your phone so he'd type your number. After he was done you dialed his phone. "All done, have a good day." And you left. When you reached the door you looked back, and there he was, starting at you with that cute, satisfied smile of his. You waved and smile and he did so back. Then you left, and before you got to the bus stop you got a text message.

Same time tomorrow?

#colby brock #colby brock fluff #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #hell week #colby brock scenario #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #fanfic #sam and colby fanfiction

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aheathen-conceivably · 8 months

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Violette had tried not to think about Will’s question for weeks. Still, there were small moments that brought up the confusion she had felt when he asked. They weren’t as common now as they had been in New Orleans, but even people who were friendly had a way of asking one too many questions. She had never had any questions about who she was. They were her mother and father, and that’s all she thought she or anyone else needed to know.

Still, she wanted answers for herself, to root her new-found bravado in some sort of concrete truth. But for all she wanted to ask, she didn’t feel like she could go to her mother or father. Least of all because she was old enough now to see their faces when the questions took on a malevolent tone. Her mother’s small wince before she turned to look at her father, his face now a mask of angry stone. Then her polite but terse answer to try and prevent the situation from getting any worse, even while her father’s arm gripped around her shoulders more tightly.

There were moments when she wanted to speak to her mother like she had once done when these things happened. But Violette had long noticed that her mother had a way of avoiding difficult questions, of getting lost in her thoughts and forgetting to answer, or just responding with a pleasant platitude that made her feel better in the moment but gave her no real answers.

So she stayed silent, instead thinking that maybe she could talk to her father on the way to the ranch. But she needn’t even look at him to hear his voice descending into the heavy tone that happened when his face grew dark, Who made you question yourself, Princess? Huh? Where are they? Tell me, I’ll take care of them for you.

She couldn’t quite name it yet, but she could sense fear in their answers: the fear that her life might be more difficult than theirs had been, and that there was nothing they could do to stop it. As she encountered their avoidance and anger, she could sense that this fear would keep her in the shadow of their protection forever, even once she was grown. Only in trying to protect her, they couldn’t see that she wasn’t afraid; she wanted the truth, and she slowly realized there was only one person who would give it to her.

When she entered the cabin the first thing that Violette heard was the sound of cursing coming from the kitchen, “Goddamn bread. Foolproof rise recipe, my ass…”

As she stepped nearer she could hear rustling, like someone was frantically flipping through the pages of a book. "Can you not cooperate for once? Just fucking once! Goddamnit, I'm trying, the least you can do is meet me halfway!" The frustrated voice was replaced by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor and rolling away just as Violette reached the doorway.

Her Aunt Jo looked up at her presence, seemingly talking to herself amidst a messy display of canned products, flour, and half finished attempts at cooking. As soon as she saw Violette she wiped the flour from her brow and tried to cover up the look of frustration on her face. She only succeeded in transforming it into guilt that Violette had seen her outburst, but quickly realized that her niece was too preoccupied to register her emotions anyway.

It took Josephine barely a split second to see that Violette wasn't herself. Her usual long strides and childish bravado had been replaced by sheepishness, and before she could even acknowledge her the words spilled out of her mouth. “Aunt Jo, what–what are you?”

Josephine looked at her quizzically, but she quickly continued in a rush of words too long hidden, “It’s just, Momma doesn’t look like me and Poppa doesn’t look like me but you do, and the kids ask me at school and Billy looks like his Poppa and they all seem to think there’s something wrong with the way I look or with Momma and Poppa together and I don’t understand. Is there something wrong with them? Am I supposed to look like you or like them? Is there something wrong with me, with not looking like either your momma or your poppa…”

Her voice trailed off and a wave of understanding washed over Josephine. She moved around the flour covered table and took her niece's confused face in her hands, “Lottie, look at me. My father looked like your momma too, do you understand? And he looked different from my mother and from me, so I know how they look at you, how you feel and the things they ask. That’s why I told you that you can always talk to me, because you are never alone, okay? You never have to feel like no one understands."

She almost stopped there, wanted to stop there, but Violette was staring at her with her mirrored olive eyes. They seemed remarkably unafraid, perhaps even angry that she had stopped speaking at all; Josephine knew that it was time, just the way she had long ago told Zelda would happen. So she took a deep breath and sunk to her knees next to Violette.

"You need to know there are people who think that others are lesser, simply because of the color of their skin. Those people don’t want to know that people like us exist, or that your parents could love one another. Some of them can’t believe it for all they’ve been told. So they ask and ask to try and make sense of it, because it—we threaten the lie that they’ve told themselves: that black and white people can’t live and love just the same. That one is inferior to the other and so they must be kept separate.”

At her last word, Josephine’s stomach sunk. She knew that part of Violette knew all of this, had seen it or felt it and internalized it to some extent, but to say it so bluntly was another matter. She could feel the nausea rising, so she could only imagine what a child must be feeling, but still Violette’s gaze remained resolulte.

She pushed back her niece’s hair and continued, “Just this, us, the love that your parent’s have and their lives, it threatens these people. So they will try to tell you that there is only one side of you, to put you in a box that fits their prejudices rather than challenge them. They’ve tried to draw a line in the sand that would split you in two; but you are you. You are whole and your parents love each other very much. That’s something to be proud of, no matter what anyone else may make you feel. Do you promise me you’ll always be proud of who you are and how you look, Lottie? Of your parents and the love they have for one another?”

You are whole. It would ring in her ears for the rest of her life. Every time she saw a sign telling her where to sit or someone looking at her parents hatefully. Every time someone stared at her a little too long only for a wave of disgust to wash over their face, or each time someone tried to tell her, whether in words or in actions, you aren’t really one of us. She would hear it in her mind like a refrain, a comfort radiating from this very day when her aunt’s arms were wrapped around her, even when she was long gone and there was no one left standing between her and the world’s vitriol.

I am whole. It lodged itself deep into her brain, creating a connection within her that kept her from splintering even when the world drove the wedge deeper into her psyche and tested the mantra to its limits. But on that day all she could do was nod her head in agreement and try to comprehend everything her Aunt Jo had said as she hugged her.

#1932 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Zelda darlington #Antoine Duplanchier #Violette darlington #Josephine Duplanchier #tw racism

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nevernonline · 10 months

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✧.* ninety minute movies; svt one shot series.

sneak peek: I am a religious watcher and lover of the iconic rom-com films from the 80's through the y2k era, so these are stories inspired by some of my favorites. xo.

titles in orange are finished products.

titles in black are in the works.

must love dogs; seungcheol x reader.

synopsis: after a breakup (three years ago) your friend finally attempts to get you back on the saddle by creating you a dating profile despite your protesting, hooking you up on dates with some of the eligible bachelors of their choice, none of which impressed you. until one day you met the boy with the dog.

prince diaries; jeonghan x reader.

synopsis: when your best friend comes back from a visit to his families home with a new revelation topped off with a crown and a title, you are tasked with helping him become his new royal self.

begin; joshua x reader

synopsis: you and your talented partner get an opportunity to sign under a famed record label, the catch is they only want you.

monster of the bride; junhui x reader

synopsis: getting married was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but its turning out to be the worst due to your mother scheming against your fiancé.

twenty-seven?; soonyoung x reader.

synopsis: you always wanted to be considered a 'serious' journalist, but to get the chance at moving up the ranks and getting to produce your own stories, you're get an idea to do one final story to impress your boss that's where inspiration strikes with the one and only soonyoung.

something borrowed; wonwoo x reader

synopsis: planning events for your best friends wedding should be fun, until your old feelings for her fiancé resurface

your place?; jihoon x reader

synopsis: after one fail of a hookup ten years ago, you gained a best friend in Jihoon. Once your vacation plans go awry you're left with one option only, to spend the rest of your time living under the same roof as that very same friend.

he’s all that; dokyeom x reader (rewriting soon <3)

synopsis:every year the kappa sorority hosted a ‘hot or not’ greek life pageant show. you’ve luckily escaped having to bring your own “nottie” to give a makeover to and train in hopes of winning a big prize for the rest of your crew. but, just when you thought your lucky streak was going strong your name get’s chosen as a representative and your sisters had just the guy for you to make over.

what's your number?; mingyu x reader

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

how to lose the guy; minghao x reader.

synopsis: minghao feels tired of shallow relationships. his friends, noticing his frustration, challenge him to pursue a girl and then push her away within ten days. intrigued by the idea, he reluctantly accepts the bet as a fun challenge.

holidates; seungkwan x reader

synopsis: fearful of spending yet another new years eve alone, your friend proposes you seek a perfect date in him.

he's not into you; vernon x reader

synopsis: curious what the problem is in your dating life where you just can't seem to get guys to commit fully to you beyond a second date, your work associate offers his help.

little black book; chan x reader.

synopsis: while your boyfriend is out of town on a work trip, you decide to search through his things just out of curiosity, when you find a small black journal ranking and listing his past relationships.

#pls ignore just updating my blog lmao #svt masterlist

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xxsycamore · 1 year

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𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙨 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 (ARTHUR X READER)

↬ 🩸 ❝ Now, now…❞ Arthur unfolds yet another towel, laying it on the bed. ❝ You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps.❞ ❝ What is?❞ ❝ Orgasms.❞

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Menstruation; Menstrual Sex; Period Cramps; Embarrassment; Kink Negotiation; Vanilla; Arthur is gentle; Pet Names; Gentle Sex; that gets a little not so gentle; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex; Kissing; Lots of it; mentions of blood drinking; Creampie; Aftercare; Post-Coital Cuddling; Crying; Dacryphilia • wordcount: 3,177 • masterlist

a/n: I've been trying to finish this fic for months 😭 My first period sex fic! Hope you enjoy!! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

Trying to escape from the pain in the realm of your imagination, you fantasize about nicer things…and that means fantasizing about your boyfriend, Arthur. If only he was here right now, you're sure the pain would be way more bearable. Maybe he would sit in the armchair next to you and take out the small journal he keeps on his person to work on his current draft. You love relaxing in the ambient sound of his pen scribbling across the paper, it has helped you fall asleep many nights. On those, he'd normally write on his desk, but seeing you snuggled onto yourself alone on the bed never sits right with him. It typically doesn't take him too long to come join you under the warmed-up covers. You think about how he props the book against his knee, how he plays with the ends of your hair spilled across the pillow when he gets deep in thought…

You also think about how on some nights, you just can't sleep, and he just can't write - when those innocent idle caresses start growing into more, and your gazes meet for a second too long. Arthur would slowly remove his glasses and turn off the night lamp; then in a flash, his lips are attacking your neck with passionate kisses before your eyes can get used to the darkness.

How did your mind trail off to this, again?

"Arthuuuurr…" You groan as the loneliness begins growing stronger with your daydreams, and the cramps chime in as well.

You hear the floorboards creak outside the door and you raise yourself to a sitting position, calling an abrupt end to your short break. Maybe you'll go take some medicine, after all…

"Calling for me, luv?"

You stand awkwardly in front of the couch for a second, staring at Arthur as if he is a fraction of your imagination still. He's not, and if it wasn't for the godawful cramps you'd be throwing yourself on his neck right this instant.

"D-Did you really hear me? It can't be possible!"

Thankfully, he's the one shortening the distance so you don't have to, planting a greeting kiss on your cheek.

"Oh? So you did call my name?" A wide grin occupies his lips now, satisfied with himself and his little accidental guess that wins him the sight of your blushing face.

Realizing his bluff, you purse your lips, removing yourself from his smooching range.

One look at you and Arthur is nodding as if all the checkboxes in his head are now marked. However, he's not celebrating the brilliancy of his deductive mind with a smirk this time; he looks remarkably concerned.

"You were lying down just now, luv, didn't you? Are you in pain? Your period came?"

Despite the best efforts of this persisting pain, expressions other than a bitter frown are still able to play on your features, and you're honestly impressed. "Yes, yes, and yes, but…how did you know?"

Arthur steals himself another kiss, on the corner of your lip this time. "How did I know? Is it so strange for me to know my lover inside out?"

Whispering his reply is all a part of the flirty little trick to win you over, and you wish he didn't - because it works a little too well with the whirlwind of emotions and hormones inside you. You shiver whole, barely able to spare a thought or two about the actual reason. Didn't you catch him taking a bath today? Did he take a peek in your underwear drawer, armed with the knowledge about which panties are the "period panties" (which surprisingly IS a thing even with the circumstances of this time and age!), and notice their absence? Some pervert he is. It wouldn't even be his first time doing this, but still, you're not mad. Not when he's palming and caressing your shoulders while sneaking in another kiss on your pouting lips. You love his attention, especially now that you missed it so much.

"Now luv, what are we going to do with you, hmm?"

You shiver as his hands wander all the way down to your hips and linger there.

"Should we get you something warm to press to your belly? Or maybe take you on a light walk once you're done resting? One word and I'll do everything for you, my dear."

"Arthur, you're spoiling me…"

"Think about it, I'll wait."

Oh, thinking is not good. Not when he's so close with little to no room left to be closer than that, save for the one thing you absolutely cannot ask of him. Your thoughts start getting shameless; cursed be the conditions that are not letting you pounce on him. Even if you're never going to live down the shame of it, you wish you could just hump his leg to a sweet, sweet release and be over with it. It would end quickly and without mess.

Arthur looks at you differently now, and you can feel his gaze examining you. You try to control your breathing which might have quickened in the last couple of seconds. But he's too good at this.

"Something the matter, luv? You seem hot."

His cool hand on your cheek feels too good, as if asking you to nuzzle into it, slip the thumb in your mouth and suck. You summon some much-needed self-control at the price of a sharp breath that puts the attempts at steady breathing to waste. You decide to spill the beans, groaning as another cramp creeps its way onto your nerves, both metaphorically and literally.

"I'm horny."

You expect pity at most. This sort of blurted-out-of-nowhere confession is more typical of the man in front of you, so even with this, you're not doomed to become the bigger pervert between the two of you; it's relieving somehow. You hope that Arthur understands.

"Ah."

It's a small exclamation, and it could mean many things coming from his mouth of all people. While leaving yourself wholly in his hands and their gentle messaging motions, you should've considered that he is ready to sweep you off your feet any second. Like he does right now.

The sudden loss of balance surprises you, and you find yourself carried bridal style. Arthur turns with you in the direction of the door, but before taking a single step, he leans in to whisper to you. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you have no chances of escape as his warm breath hits your lips.

"I think I just thought of a way to relieve you from your pains, darling."

***

To your surprise, you're dropped off at the chaise longue once in your shared bedroom. You watch in near horror as Arthur brings out towels and lays them on the bed. It's not long before you connect two and two, and you have to protest.

"Arthur, you're surely not thinking about-"

"Now, now…" Arthur unfolds yet another towel, giving it a small shake. "You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps."

"What is?"

"Orgasms." Arthur catches your gaze, having finished preparing the bed. You watch him approach and you change the position of your legs on the chaise longue, pressing your thighs together.

Sometimes you hate how awfully familiar Arthur is with the human body given the fact that he used to be a doctor - a field doctor, but a doctor nonetheless - everything from your anatomy to your bodily reactions being a mere tool in his hands to love you and to take care of you, should the need arise. You should be glad to have such a knowledgeable boyfriend by your side, even if it embarrasses you to no end when he puts his skills into action.

"But, it's gross!" You insist in a near-shout, realizing that he's now close enough to hear you even in a meek whisper. "Just think of all the mess… I don't want you to be grossed out with me."

"My dove."

Arthur caresses your neck, pressing his thumb into the underside of the top button of your shirt and easily undoing it, then moving to the next. He pretends he doesn't possess the skill of getting it all done with in seconds, and you're not a fan, even if it gives you time to arrange your thoughts. He wets his lips and continues.

"Nothing about you could ever gross me out. I think this exercise would help me prove that to you, even… and maybe by the end of it, you'll truly believe me."

Soon there are no more buttons left for him to undo.

"I happen to know how to wash blood from bedsheets."

Shivers go straight to your nethers, images of sleepless nights flash in your mind with the reminder of the sharp tips of his fangs perforating the skin of your neck.

"I'm a blood-drinking bastard, remember?…" He latches his mouth into your neck, but keeps his fangs to himself. Despite doing nothing to stop him, you know that losing more blood is not the wisest thing to do right now, and you're already sure Arthur keeps that in mind. You still enjoy his teeth on you, even the ones that don’t aim to break the skin. Before he can suck long enough to leave a mark, he breaks the contact, needing you to be good and listen for a little longer.

"Some blood cannot get in my way of giving you pleasure. Quite the contrary."

You whine at his comment alone, as embarrassing as it is, and you realize that you've been rubbing your thighs together a little too hard. It doesn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he places his warm hand on your knee, smirking at the way you shiver and release the tense muscles of your thighs. He pats you in encouragement. "Will you stand up for me, my princess?"

Complying quietly, you stand up on shaky legs. Arthur hugs you from behind, distracting you with kisses as he untucks your open shirt from your skirt, moving to his next target. Soon the two pieces of clothing pool at your feet, leaving you only in your underwear. His hand is gentle as it guides you to bed like many times before.

You lie down with the soft towels underneath caressing your lower body, and it's not as awkward as you thought it would be. Arthur doesn't give you much time to dwell on it as he climbs ontop of you, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Burning hot need pools in your belly, a tang of pain mixing with it, and you realize you've almost all forgotten about your cramps. Instead of being wary of upcoming sensations flaring them up, you feel like chasing the prevailing lust that now resides in your loins. Arthur's got you. You want to experience this together with him.

Eager to show him your progress, you guide his right hand between your open legs. To your surprise, he lets out a groan, breaking the kiss to look down and rub the place at the apex of your thighs.

You didn't expect to feel him through the obstacles in the way, and your own sensitivity catches you unprepared. The noise you make is familiar to Arthur, it's hardly the first time he's got you helpless and dying for him to touch you like that. Though it usually takes a bit more toying with you. He keeps rubbing down on it until your body is certain this is nowhere near enough for what it needs.

"Arthurrr… Please…"

"Begging already? My, aren't you cute?"

You pout at his teasing, taking matters into your own hands as you try to shimmy out of your panties. He's there to help, hands meeting yours as he pulls them down and out of the way.

You shut your legs together out of embracement, and Arthur is prepared for this reaction as he quietly tuts you, resuming his ambush on your lips, and you give into his ways of convincing you.

Feeling the tips of his fingers on your clit, electricity runs through you and you thrust your pelvis up involuntarily. Arthur remains collected as his fingers dance around your bundle of nerves, but no matter how gentle he is, his touch feels too good for some reason. You can feel how slippery it is, but the feeling is not too alien to you, and that's a relief. While drowning in the sweetness of Arthur's kisses, it all feels like a regular night with him, you're just extra wet and sensitive.

"Arthur- Are you gonna…" You don't finish, instead running your hand down his toned body and to the front of his pants.

He chuckles. "Only if you can handle it, luv. Say the word and I'll give you what you need. But if you think that would be too much, I can make you cum on my hand now and here."

It all sounds lovely to you, but the hormones playing with your head are demanding all you can take and more. You want to explore this sensation all the way, despite the tad of embarrassment still threateningly lingering in the back of your head.

"I want you inside…" You blurt out, raising your legs in an attempt to make Arthur hurry up and slip inside you already. You obviously don't need more preparation, as you're sure it's not only the blood lubricating your hole anymore.

The shadow of lust darkening Arthur's blue eyes is alone at fault for your walls clamping down around nothing. The rustling of a belt coming undone is music to your ears as you count the seconds before Arthur claims the place between your legs once again.

Same as when you felt his fingers, the tip of his very hard cock makes you jump, but now Arthur chooses to simply observe from above as you forms writhe. You feel him coating himself in your juices and the filthiness of the act makes you moan on the spot. The repeating tease of him threatening to breach your entrance only to withdraw is making you crawl out of your skin.

"Are those tears in your eyes, Luv? Oh, you poor thing, we teased you too much now…"

You're shocked to discover that your vision is indeed blurry. Hormones at fault, you mutter a sound of surprise that turns into a moan as Arthur finally enters you.

"Oh— My god, so— big-"

Arthur groans like you rarely hear him do. He must have felt that too. You're really tight around him.

It's good he slips his tongue between your lips again because the smallest thrust would make you explode. You're getting drunk on this sensation, feeling him so intensely. Just as you begin to relax, he starts grinding inside you.

"Ahhhh- More, more!"

Eager to give you all you want, Arthur complies until you start hearing the wet noises of him thrusting inside you. It's making your face red, but you can't help moaning at every thrust, adding to the sultry sounds.

Arthur is as lost in it as you are, and your heart sings at being the source of his maddening need. Hearing his low noises of pleasure drives you closer and closer to the edge, as all you can think about is cumming together with him.

Locking your legs around his torso, you egg him on to tip over the edge now and here. The unmistakable noise of him cursing under his breath floods you with desire just as you thought you couldn't feel needier, but then something happens that catches you off guard. Arthur moves his head away from where it was nestled against your neck and at first, you aren't sure about the reason before you hear his muffled groans. He fills you with his hot cum just a second after.

You realize that just now, he was biting the pillow. The bloodthirst must have gotten to his head, and he… did everything in his power not to drain you of more blood.

Seeing him so out of control makes you scream as a violent, powerful orgasm is ripped out of you, your body seemingly having a mind of its own as it humps against Arthur through it, and he holds you down by the folds of your knees to ride the pleasure off for you. It's one of the best orgasms you've ever had.

Hormones shifting once again in the chemistry of your brain, you glow with the aftermath of pleasure running through your body, head to toe, and suddenly the need to hold Arthur close grows tenfold. His hands move to cushion the back of your neck as he kisses you softly, spent and content as you are, chuckling against your lips.

"Aren't you going to ask why we haven't done this sooner?"

Still catching your breath, you want to groan at how quickly he regained his cockiness, being a textbook gentleman just a second ago. Though, you can totally see his point now.

"I just…really don't want to look down right now."

"You don't have to. Leave the cleanup to me. I'll take good care of you."

The whispered promise is already lulling you into a deeper relaxation, as you rest your limbs with no intention to get up anytime soon. Arthur is… absolutely, shamelessly spoiling you rotten. Both with his gentle care and with his ways of casually giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, making you discover a new kink.

Oh, and your pain is completely gone, by the way.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @princess-pray-a Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen arthur #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp smut #tw periods #tw period sex #tw blood #ikemen #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen series #ikeseries #otome #otome fanfic

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maybe-limerence · 1 year

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“Streaming services,,

Yan! Pervert x Cam girl! Reader

T//W: smut, yandere typical creepiness, fem reader.

A//N: Hey, first time I posted a mostly smut fic. Tell me what you think, I’m not sure I’m happy with it tbh. If I’m being honest, I wrote this cause I needed the spice practice. I’d appreciate feedback, but anyway, enjoy. Ily!!

Yan! Pervert, with a crippling porn addiction. He consumes it like he consumes air. His mind is so full of pornography that he can’t remember what time it was five minutes ago, but the porn video he watched three weeks ago is still clear.

Yan! Pervert, who is incredibly intelligent. Like, can hack into the government and completely destroy or rebuild a nations economy smart.

Yan! Pervert, who could be doing something productive. Who could be doing something with his life. But he browses through porn sites.

Yan! Pervert, who’s rich. Rich rich. And no one knows how, considering he just sits at home and watches porn or reads erotic books.

💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷

Cam girl! Reader, who started because the job she was working at didn’t pay well. She was overqualified, underpaid, and stressed the fuck out.

Cam girl! Reader, who after a few weeks became incredibly popular. It was to the point that camming was making more money than her day job.

Cam girl! Reader, who gained more and more followers and started collaborating with other cam girls.

Cam girl! Reader, who caught the eye of Yan! Pervert when Yan! Pervert’s favorite cam girl (who he doesn’t remember the name or user tag of) collaborated with you.

🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚

“H-ah~. Oh f-fuck,” you whimpered.

Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut so tight tears started streaming down your face. This had been your 5th? 6th??Orgasm. In a row too.

Your poor abused cunt. The machine you bought was powered off donations, and it seems like someone wanted you to lose your mind.

💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷

On the other side of the screen was your biggest fan! Yan!Pervert loved donating money to you, and since you got that fuck machine? He was being extra generous.

While he know the streak was going to end soon, he chuckled to himself. The stream was going to end for others, not himself. He had hacked into your webcam a long time ago.

He noticed your time running out. He donated $500 to speed the machine up, quickening up the pace to make sure you cum one last time.

🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚

“Oh my, FUCK!” you cry out, feeling another orgasm in your stomach. The machine quickened almost impossibly fast. All you could do was claw at your sheets and let out a chant of fuck fuck fucks.

You were so overstimulated it hurt. Yet, it hurt so good. Your vision blurred and you let out a mix of a scream and a whine as you felt a wave of pleasure rush through your veins.

Right when you were about to start blacking out because of the stimulation the stream ended, and the machine stopped.

💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷💚🩷

It took you 5 minutes and 59 seconds for you to unmount, Yan!Pervert counted. He did well, making you feels so good you had to steady yourself for almost 6 minutes.

Of course, you’d never know of him. Sure, he was perverted, but he knew what he was doing was wrong. He had a moral compass, and he knew stalking a cam girl wasn’t a good thing.

#yandere #darling #oc stuff #yandere x reader #yandere x you #maybe limerence

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drippingmoon · 9 months

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Merry new year to everyone, again! 🥳💞🥂

I know it wasn’t an event this year, but writing a yearly wrap-up is really therapeutic, you know? So I decided to continue the tradition, and if anyone wants to join me, absolutely view this as an open invitation^^ Introduction is over, and now let’s see what 2023 looked like:

(spoilers: I adored it. I'm also probably going to make this my fixed post, in case anyone ever wants to catch up with me. And also because my second baby, AoS, is growing, and it doesn't have an intro, but I can't leave it out.)

Stats

Aquiver, Aglow: 181k (draft 4) + 195k (draft 5) + hmm, draft 6 is an outlier, because I didn’t rewrite from scratch, so I’m unsure of the written word count. I didn’t change much from draft 5, so I’d say an extra 15-20k. Total word count: 376k+

Remains of a Night: 120k

Aberration of Sunlight: 134k

This was definitely my most productive year to date. And I got so hungry: the more I wrote, the more I just wanted to keep writing, and honestly? I’m proudest of myself for literally carving writing time whenever I got a spot into my schedule. Mostly it was from 8pm-11pm, but I had a mad run where my only free window was from 1am till I literally felt I was dying… I’ll talk about that separately🤣🤣👌

Though, I'm seriously understating it.

Like a lot of other people, I would have all these hours when I was younger when I didn't have anything to do, yet I'd still find some excuse not to write. "I'm waiting for the right time." "I'm anxious I'm not going to get it right." "Tomorrow! Tomorrow I can start right from the morning, and I'll have more time to write, yeah?" or "I'm too tired now, it's late..." and so the snowball rolled down and downhill and I found every reason under the sun not to write, now that I think about it. Sigh. So much time wasted. But I can't regret it either, because I needed those baby steps at that time.

And now! Now I do what I thought I'd never learn to: I prioritize, and I actually organize my daily stuff so it's not so impossible anymore to have a little bit of writing time. I don't take it for granted either. It feels like such character growth for me, I'm immensely proud of it.

And for the record? This year was a huge improvement over yesteryear mentally, too. It turns out, what I needed to get over my word count anxiety… was to be faced with people who literally didn’t give a fuck about it, and just cared about the story. One of the most unexpected things beta stage managed to do to me… was to quench all my anxieties. It’s as simple as that. I read and enjoy very long books. People also do that. So, I’m very happy to say I’m no longer in a tizzy about ‘quiv. It might kill my chances for trad publishing, it might not. I’ll be happy come what may.

Because it’s so simple how working on ‘quiv or thinking about it makes me joyous, and now I can just enjoy that freely. I will miss writing this story so much. I really will. But at least I’ll have it forever to reread, and I hope this thought brings comfort to everyone who also has problems letting go, like it does to me.

Let’s break it down a little, shall we?🤩

Aquiver, Aglow◇◇◇

My little star of the hour. How fond I am of it.

Like you could glean from above, ‘quiv went through three drafts this year. More specifically: in the first part of the year, practically almost as soon as February arrived. I knew it was getting closer to the final version, and gave me the push to finish all three back to back. I couldn’t justify anymore the bazillion AUs I do with rewrites (basically, WHAT IFs from events, WHAT IF it went this different way, WHAT IF Tyrone actually said this here… and so on and so forth. I wanted to test out as many pathways as possible, and did I exhaust every one of them in existence? Definitely not. I don’t think that can happen, you just keep getting new ideas. On and on. What happened, instead, is that these couple different pathways, at some point, cemented themselves as canon in my mind. I didn’t want to tease myself with alternatives anymore, and that’s when I knew they would be it. Some bits from the first draft, some from the third, some from the second. Some were even draft 6 originals!

It’s a bit of a weird process. I definitely didn’t need to reach draft 3, and meet Mezusa, because I could’ve feasibly made it work with just Yles in the story. It still would’ve made sense, though in a different way. But if I hadn’t… I might’ve missed one of the best characters I’ll ever probably have created, and the story (and Yles) is much stronger for her, if you ask me.

For that matter, yes, full rewrites every single draft might take a lot of time and effort, but honestly I don’t think I’d ever change my writing process (save for the moments of frustration when I think I will lol) because of the sheer satisfaction of it. Whoever said so long never to settle on the first version, I owe you a beer and probably some curses as well lmao, but very lovingly. You shaped my writing life.

I don’t have much else to share about ‘quiv, other than it’s off with my beta readers my beloved, and maybe a tentative promise that, if anyone wants, you’ll be able to read this precious ball of hope of mine relatively soon. This story is so gentle to me. And as much as I loved to write and work on it, I dearly hope that whoever decides to give it a go, is treated just the same. That’s the only wish I have.

I also don’t know if I’ll go trad or self-published. Instincts say trad, because I fuckin’ suck at marketing (fact), and I know I’d grow resentful if I’d have to put so many hours into advertising when I know I could instead… write. I’m a writer. That’s the only thing I know how to do. Trad, however, might not be as kind on a ~200k as life’s been, so I might not have a choice. If it comes down to that… I’ll just treat it as I do everything. I don't love this story any less if I just write, publish without a fuss, hope that maybe, just maybe, a reader or two will stumble upon the story and we could talk. Maybe we can have the fun of our lives, create some genuine connection. I know that’s applies to a lot of writers. I hope we can accomplish it.

And so, I’ll finish this section of the wrap-up with a kiss to my ‘quiv, for all the warmth it’s ever brought me. It’s come so far, I know it can live distinct from me from now on. It brings me great comfort. And I look forward to the times I’ll reread it, and we can relive our best experiences together. Never thought I’d get to this point. Thank you, ‘quiv.

Remains of a Night♤♤♤

Mwhahaha! And because ‘quiv took all the pressure, this left AoS to be an extremely fun and spirited experience. Literally the chillest I’ve ever been writing. In many ways, it’s more my thing than I expected ‘quiv to be: I get to murder characters left and right, it’s more plot-heavy and banking on the tension created by a creature that horrifies the characters down to their marrow, but still the only way to defeat it is to know it better, which, uh, might have unpleasant consequences for them. It’s got chase and stealth scenes, and it always shoots me with adrenaline to think about them. In short, exactly my jam.

It’s not a new book, nope. You knew it before as Aberration of Sunlight, but from the get-go I felt it would be bigger than ‘quiv. Very fortunately for me, I had a place where to break it, and behold: there’s RoaN (book 1), and AoS (book 2). There might be a third book, which I dearly hope not because titling sucks, but it depends on the Sycamine arc. More on that in AoS.

One last thing to note, before we delve into the story (hoo-ray for earlier drafts, because I can talk more frankly about them). This is the culprit of my 1am writing adventures!!😫❤ My schedule became too packed, then NaNo came round and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to honor how AoS began, because it was last year’s NaNo, aaand I’m happy to say I won NaNo, somehow, with 56k down before I died. At that time, I only had one section left to write (from both books), otherwise, hahahaha, yeah, it wouldn’t have flown. Still, most of draft 2 I’d written in September-October, with my fairy lights, late nights, and cups of hot cocoa, exactly like how life should be<3

Alright. We’re going through them chapter-by-chapter again, exactly because I love seeing the titles so much:

ACT 1

Cracked Visor, Scorpion Grass

I did it! I did! Twas another shower thought I managed to get down in time. Bare broken sentences, but they did the impossible, and arranged this chapter into a structure I adore to bits and won't ever change. (And 'quiv's naughty voice left me alone for once and I could write it properly!) While I don't think I'll ever be happy with a first chapter (not as a concept, but the writing — part of me will always wish that the reader just had all the information already lol), this one is in the right place.

It pays its respects to the story of the broken helmet at the foot of a spaceship, and how it reconnects Madigan with all the people who'd suffered from being tethered to the planets when they yearned to fly, but the Beast punished them cruelly for it. It makes him feel phantoms of their efforts. The tone is exactly what I needed this story to start from: melancholy and numbly hopeless, against the backdrop of the Beasts's echoed cries.

Rain Through the Universe

Unlike 'quiv, because RoaN and AoS are way more plot-heavy, it's not as easy to change things willy-nilly (whereas 'quiv was all about character bonds and dynamics). As such, it's very similar to draft 1. Because of that, I'll frankendraft next (select and combine drafts 1 and 2, rewrite to connect them) and afterwards I'll try something I've always wanted to. (Scrivener keeps hinting at it!) I'm gonna split the chapters into scenes, and focus on those individually and how I can just rewrite them and set their purpose in stone<3 I'm excited!

As for the chapter itself, gods, I love the atmosphere. Just the wreckage of a sundered ship, and Madigan’s sudden madman appearance making a lasting impression on Spica, because how could it not. They no longer answer distress calls in that age, it just means more dead bodies. In fact, they're forbidden to. Madigan instead brings him what he himself lacks: hope. And a lot of crawling around while dreading the Beast's lambent eye opening, and oh my, the moments are really flying by😈👏 extreme fun for me as the writer.

Aberration of Light

If you remember, the books follow two timelines, which will connect at some point. The first and main one is Madigan and Spica’s story. The other is Holloway’s, in the distant past of that universe, and who’s been dubbed the most selfish man in existence. That’s important, because of how the Beast came to be. But that becomes important later. For now, a weird-ass new recruit has joined the ship, and the witchy crew will very soon start making bets if she’s the Beast in human flesh, which really wouldn’t bode well for their future.

Night Falls On Their Reflection

Draft 2 became Spica’s draft. It was high time. He didn't exist in the original idea beyond chapter 2, but he refused to die with his story untold. And now he's one of the most independent thinkers I've ever written. Now he's Madigan's son (yes, even at 25), best friend, back-to-back partner all in one, and I could watch the trust and mutual respect between these two forever. To be sure: Madigan comes up with the dumbass plans, and Spica's only too happy to follow him through everything (it is good fun.)

He's repaying the incredible kindness Madigan's shown him when answering his distress call, after all.

But it goes a bit further than that, doesn't it? Madigan is used to watching over myriad people. He's the Superintendent of his planet, and while he genuinely loves people, kindness is his default. It doesn't go further than that for him. He doesn't necessarily think people need, much less desire his presence there beyond Madigan extending help, and most of the time, he's content with that. Kindness does make him happy. And it should be the same with Spica now, shouldn't it? He's kind, but he's not Spica's family, nor ever will be. Yet he immediately feels a connection with the boy, that has nothing to do with bonding over escaping-a-cosmic-disaster. And so does Spica.

This is the moment when Madigan starts feeling guilty, for stepping where he should not. But here's the beauty of Spica's character: he's nothing if not dead sure of his own feelings, and what he sees with his eyes. It's okay if Madigan keeps unexpectedly taking steps back. For very long, there'd been nobody to support Spica's beliefs. So he does the same, as when he followed his heart to go into dead space: he believes in himself and Madigan, and that their paths aren't meant to diverge. They mean too much to each other for that to ever happen.

(In short, and legend says you can still hear me screeching about these two ten thousand years later, I love these two so much, and especially the parallels between Spica going alone into outer space and loving Madigan.)

(And, okay, obviously all these developments don't happen in a single chapter, but I couldn't stop gushing🤭🥰.)

Who Puts These Tombs in Ice

Overall, I think draft 2’s Luitgart performed worse than draft 1. Mainly it's the setting I want to revert (still an icy, sempiternally dark hell, but with different ice constructions) because some of the beats are a huge improvement, and again, I gotta combine the two. Otherwise, I’m still as obsessed about the Luitgart arc as I’ve ever been, and huge thanks to it for being so strong it could function as an ending of its own, allowing me to split the book.

Gettin’ into spoilery territory, but I have to un-kill Madigan so many times it leaves me in hysterics. That was what I was supposed to fix this draft. It got worse. Considerably.

(One constant: the chapter being a love letter to Madigan, and how his first answer will always be to help the other, no matter if they deserve it or not<3 and finally, finally, he gets acknowledged for it, and the favor returned.)

ACT 2

Lemon-Dotted Days + Remnant

Two Holloway chapters! I’m actually massively pleased with how they’ve turned out. Last year, I said the main issue was that I had an outline, and that never works for me. So I did what I do best and rewrote everything from scratch, and the result is both uncanny and… unexpected.

Unexpected, because I never in my life thought Holloway’s voice would make me laugh so much. He’s supposed to be unsympathetic, but then you get his interactions with Saintlark (the new crewmate, possibly Beast) where they’re contemplating the harvest of a nebula, and he’s harshly critical of it, which gives Saintlark hope… only to go deadpan One Moment Later: if they’d used the nebula to prolong their lives instead of bolstering the war, they wouldn’t have died like clown idiots.

And, they could’ve maybe stolen immortality from the nebula. They would've had to share it with him, of course. Or he would've murdered them to get it.

That, my guys, is his personality in a nutshell.

I have a lot of feelings on Holloway now, and most involve me huffing and slapping my forehead while groaning, but oh my gods. Was it ever so fun. And wait, wait, wait. Since I'm talking of humor (apparently a lot of comedy fit into this horror lmfao) I have to show you guys the following section🤣🤣👏:

Corpse Snow

The drifters are set howling on the ice. They share glances, five separate vehicles nodding at each other. Madigan revs up the engine, splitting the air with a jet of steam and vibration.

The last of the marines are climbing into the box. A figure flashes past Madigan’s drifter — and he leans over, teeth grinding because of his ribs, and he does his very best to grab someone by the back of their suit and pull. Workout days were never his strength, though. He only succeeds in stopping them in the frost smoke.

It’s Spica dangling from his hand, expressionless.

Lieutenant Hahn instantly seizes on the situation. He throws Madigan a long, withering look. “Whatcha doing, Boss?” he asks softly, about to unhinge his jaw again.

Madigan nudges Spica into the drifter. “Picking up your boy.”

Spica gets the hint and deposits himself into the front seat, glancing from his father to his Superintendent. He seems to give up on whatever’s going on, and makes himself cozy in the frosty spot. And Madigan, of course, pretends not to notice Hahn’s drifter sliding closer.

“And you didn’t consider I might want to have my son with me?”

Madigan looks up and sighs. “Lieutenant, dear Lieutenant,” he starts pleadingly. “Why won’t you show some leniency to a poor, wounded man?”

Hahn’s drifter stops, summoning a breeze across the icy floor that gently rocks the other vehicle. His breathing distorts the comms with static. “And what exactly is my son right now?”

“My trusty navigator,” Madigan answers easily.

“Sir’s emotional walking stick?” Spica pipes in at the same time.

They both look over. Spica’s quietly turned to the navigation, as serene as daylight, seemingly oblivious to how Madigan's expression changes, lightning-fast. He quickly hides it under the guise of a polite mask, as the marines stir and turn their attention on them. They’re snickering.

Lieutenant Hahn throws up his hands, giving up on everything.

This is also the first 30k chapter I’ve ever written. It's everything I've ever wanted to do with ice.

Heart of the Void

The end of the book. Originally, it was the ending section to Corpse Snow, but since it already got so ungodly long, I chipped off that bit and I have to say I’m very happy with how it works as an epilogue! So it ends the frosty, weary journey, and I can’t see the two books as separate yet, but here we bid goodbye to the first.

Aberration of Sunlight♧♧♧

I did the unthinkable and created a fifth arc. This might not seem like much to you, but I was screaming bloody murder you guys😭😭😭. Sigh. It’s so sigh. For so long, AoS consisted of four clear-cut acts, but it was necessary. With the introduction of Sycamine, and making it two books, it was just needed. It’s still one of the worst things I’ve ever done because I was used to four😃💔

(The chapters continue from where RoaN left off – from chapter 10, to 21.)

ACT 3

Retro Spectrum

Sycamine, oh Sycamine. Definitely the break I needed before Days in Darkness. It made for a really neat beginning. It’s calmer, focusing on the knowledge they have on the Beast. It’s also a reflection on Procyon (their main star) and the story of the two straggler dog constellations, and what they'd been running away from. I liked the direction it took. It veered away from the Beast for a bit, so the tension kept expanding in the background. And when it returns, well... maybe they shouldn't have been so eager to see it again🤭.

It suffers from the same syndrome as draft 1’s first chapter… it’s there in the vicinity of the idea, but too much to the left. Not bad for a first attempt. The setting annoys me – I really don't enjoy writing cities, and AoS didn't change that. So, for our next try, I was thinking... maybe we don't need to be on the planet, but up close and veeery personal with it. It's a secret❤.

And, oh gods. I put a moustache-twirling villain in this. And then I couldn’t stop myself from naming some sucker Sweetman Calories. I don’t know what happened to me during those days, but I’m crying🤣🤣🤣.

Toast to the Light

Holloway and Saintlark’s story is slowly coming to an end. Unexpectedly bleaker than draft 1, yet it feels much more sincere. Holloway has a way of saying everything Saintlark needs to hear. No surprise. They did that to themselves.

Dissonant Recognition

Ahhhh, the Madigan-is-slowly-losing-his-grip-on-reality chapter, or maybe he should really stop staring into the suns. One of my favorites<3 Also because it features Moren (!!!) who has a blast staying in the grey morality area, because she doesn’t know if her actions could ever matter, or if she could change anything. Does she just exist? Is she a player or just pawn? Who knows. Besides that, she gets along great with Spica. They form such a teasing duo, the level of mutual respect they felt for each other on sight was a delight to write. My favorite ally of theirs, even if her destiny lies elsewhere.

Night Beneath the Elevator

Best title hands down, dethroning Solgesis. I’m going batshit crazy about the visuals, it's exactly my thing. This half-light slanted over an elevator waiting in a rundown basement to be boarded. And there's something underneath it, and always has been. Something insidiously creeping up and waving its tendril fingers at you as you're just waiting for the fucking thing to ascend. Immaculate, guys, I'm telling you, and I'm cursing my hands because I can't make a wallpaper of this. I want to eat that atmosphere.

Time-sensitive missions, y'all.

And why the heck did nobody inform me I was going to add Command as an actual character and have them talk with Madigan?! That entire convo, made up entirely on the spot but somehow with a direction, made me realize what an idiot I’d been for not doing it sooner. They mean so much to Madigan, after all.

(And Mariya. So much Mariya in these chapters.)

ACT 4

Loop System

Like Who Puts These Tombs in Ice, draft 1 might’ve done it better. Not Spica and Madigan, though, because of the sheer development Spica’s been through and the dynamic he’s managed to form with the crew. It's different from Madigan’s, but similar enough that it’s got Hahn commenting lightly: [Spica’s] picked up quite a few habits from Madigan, hasn’t he? Almost as if they’ve gotten very very close, huh? How about Madigan tell him more?

(I adore writing Hahn.)

Outreach

Another Holloway chapter. Doesn’t have the punch of the kids subplot from draft 1, but this just makes it worse for Saintlark personally, because, this time, the consequences are on her.

Days in Darkness

I knew the moment I first got the idea this would be my favorite chapter. Well, it finally happened in draft 2: when the entire crew is here, this time, and ready for the final countdown, to relive the experience of being trapped in a ship that's disintegrating. No more heroes left behind. I'd been so tired writing this chapter in draft 1, but this time around it was incredible. Everything went up sharply from here, both in terms of events and how on fire I was.

(Maybe less than the gorgon, but I was.)

ACT 5

Echo Terminal

The first of the two log chapters.

I've never written smoother, more visual chapters than in this period. Days in Darkness changed me so much, I was writing day and night by this point and couldn't get enough. Well, I hit my limit in the second half of the very last chapter, but I am beyond satisfied. Even the Beast's metamorphosis took me by storm, because I'd been wondering what the final verbs, the final images, the final design for it was going to be. I didn't expect it to come to me this early, and with such thrill. Those were my very best days of the year, and I toast to them.

(And I knew it was going to be fantastic when Halo's Warthog Run OST started blaring in my head, with as much adrenaline.)

Where, Now? + Solgesis

My beloved. The second and last of the two log chapters, but it’s Noelle Saintlark’s log.

Holloway’s timeline ends here. Or maybe it just gets carried into the future. I thought I’d want to rewrite his parts again, make the plot just a tiny bit more psychedelic and nonsensical because it’s so close to the Beast… but Solgesis put all my fears to rest. Even the formatting and layout is a bit of that special thing I’ve always wanted to try, and it really changes the perspective of the previous chapters. There's a new confession that stands at the heart of Holloway's stories.

Honestly, the only thing that needs urgent working on is the anger at the end of the chapter.

Anger is so hard for me to write sometimes. Not because I don’t connect with it, but because I feel self-conscious writing it. The wildest I felt it was when I tackled 'quiv's chapter 3 and Imera's Turning speech, both in quick succession (before I'd even written draft 1. I'd been taking notes.) Since then... I just thing back to how keenly I'd felt that anger, and I kind of intimidate myself out of it. Kind of like a natural resistence, I quench it from myself. Which is actually hilarious when you think about it. It’s like I’m going I BANISH THEE FROM MY BRAIN because generally, as a person, I dislike feeling and operating on anger. But no worries. I’m going to find a way around it.

Watch me😎.

What Goes Around…

(Now it’s the time for me to start crying some rivers, and, alright, it won’t be visible so I’ll say it: the chapter titles are holding a conversation, guys. They speak to each other. And sometimes it’s both sides of the same coin, like how What Goes Around (comes around) hints here. If you take two chapters, one from the beginning and one from the end (for example 1 and 21) it'll tell you a little secret. Okay, What Goes Around and Rain Through the Universe communicate through their plot, which I can’t spoil but of course it has to do with Madigan and Spica and how they first meet… but there is one title pair that does it best visibly.

Lemon-Dotted Days and Days in Darkness.

And I hadn’t even planned this. All the parallels I wanted to draw… I feel like they built themselves, guys. They really did, and it makes me so wildly happy I don’t even know how to stop my hands from flailing.

And, with them being 21 chapters, they meet in the middle, on the one unpaired chapter.

Called Toast to the Light.

I friggin’ love everything.

New Sunrise, Forget-Me-Right

Of course, Forget-Me-Right is a play on Scorpion Grass. But it’s also such a gentle name for the chapter, because everything ends here. Lying on their backs, staring out into the universe, and it really, really is over. Just a dark horizon on which stars flare and bloom. And suddenly, that maddened rush to make every sacrifice count, to remember every soul they’ve encountered because the legend says the Beast absorbs you when it kills you – all that suffocating pressure dissipates. Lightness remains. Because they’ve protected each other.

For the first time in my writing journey, blood rushed to my head with such emotion I had to stop writing, which never happens. I had to look up and exclaim, holy fuck. But how could I not, considering how the story ends for the Beast? I am speechless. A lot of gorgeous surprises this draft.

Conclusion□●□

Whew, what a year it's been! As for how 2024 will probably look like, though I don't like making plans: finishing the beta stage for 'quiv, and tackling RoaN and AoS's draft 3. Thaaaat one I'm actually starting on Christmas, when I can (finally!!) reread draft 2 with my mug of hot cocoa (or maybe mulled wine for a change) and, no surprises here, I'm hyper stoked for that<3 <3 <3 I legit can't wait to see where the new draft brings them. I might not have set any expectations for them, but they're vying to keep up with 'quiv and I adore it🤭❤

As for my lovely friends... well, you know by how I spam your tags how much I adore you and wish you happiness forever🤩🥺🥳 I don't know what my activity will look like in the near future, so for now I won't be saying anything, and my semi-hiatus continues. Semi, because you're unforgettable and I crave to see what everyone's been up to and (!!!!) what you've written!

So let's meet in 2024 again, and all the best wishes to you, the reader🥰🥂❤.

#ayearofwriting #2023 #aquiver-aglow #aberration of sunlight

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edutainer2022 · 4 months

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Inspired by conversations with @janetm74, here's a little thing based on the idea some time very early on in Jeff's fledgling business phase and before nuclear power got banned, and when the kids were small, the Tracies and the Van Arkles of the Uranium Empire might have been in each other's orbit through mutual acquaintances in high places. This was supposed to be nothing but laughs and wee shenanigans, but hey! Some angst and foreboding seeped in.

BEFORE THE DARK

The dinner ran it's course all the way to coffee and cigars at a drawing room overlooking the gardens of the Creighton-Ward manor. Just as the conversation shifted inevitably on to new bills regulating the nuclear energy production and radioactive ore mining, as well as the looming possibility of a big war. The men stayed standing in a close circle, voices hushed and tense.

Summer evening in the British countryside peeked in through the glass terrace doors with wiffs of the warm wind, infused with birds chirping and gleeful shrieks of children, playing outside, finally free of the formal confines of the dinner table. Jeff Tracy brought his little platoon of sons over to visit Lord Hugh. The Van Arkles too had their young son and daughter in tow. The elder boys, by the sound of it, were now wreaking havoc on the immaculately manicured lawn. The Tidy Twosome, at least - three year old John and Penny - were quiet and primly engrossed in a mutually fulfilling task of navigating a picture book.

The sudden patter of little feet on the terrace tiles and a painful yelp interrupted the cadence of the talk, as a five year old Scott ran inside - all wild blue eyes and windswept curls - made a beeline for his Dad and hid behind Jeff, hugging his knees for extra protection. Jeff barely had a chance to glance down at his (usually) fierce and fearless eldest, as the latter was closely followed by a tiny running girl, brown hair in two matching pigtails, now askew, brandishing a pool noodle about twice her size. The girl was eliciting something closely resembling a war cry. Jeff could feel Scotty squeeze himself into the adult's leg tighter. Jeff reached down and hoisted the boy up into his arms. He saw Willem Van Arkle do the same with the girl, who was yet to relinquish her weapon and waved it dangerously close to Scott's head. Lord Hugh was exercising all of his aristocratic poise not to laugh out loud. Jeff tightened the hold on his son.

"What's going on, Bluejay? Didn't I tell you to look after Virgie and Johnny after dinner?"

Brilliant blue eyes grew even wider, if it were at all possible. Scotty squirmed in Dad's arms to point outside, then at the militant girl.

"I WAS, Daddy! SHE wanted to hit Virgie, but Mommy says I should never EVER hit a girl so I created a dive... diva... diverzhon and she HIT ME!"

Lord Hugh gave up and was laughing by that point, trying not to spill vintage cognac on an antique rug. Jeff tried, unsuccessfully, to school his face out of an amused smile.

"SHE is Marion, right Scotty?"

"Yes, sir."

Van Arkle Sr. was frowning worried at the girl in his arms.

"What did we talk about, missy? We're guests here. We don't go hitting people."

Little Marion appeared less amenable to the idea and directed a glare at Scott, more befitting a mortal enemy than a preschooler. Both fathers put the kids down at that, but Jeff made sure to requisition the pool noodle from a grumpy Marion.

"You two go outside now and play nice. Bluejay, you make sure Virgie doesn't wander off and get lost in the park, okay?"

Scotty sketched an eager salute and beamed up at Jeff.

"K', Daddy!"

Ever the southern gentleman, he even offered a hand to the young lady. Marion contemplated his open palm, a little sticky with freshly mowed grass, slapped it forcefully and took off running outside with a yell:

"Tag! You're IT!"

Never the one to turn down a race challenge, little Scotty was sprinting off in a second, hot in pursuit. There soon was a sound of kerfuffle in the garden maze. Apparently Marion's brother and Virgil had joined the fray.

Van Arkle and Lord Hugh collapsed into the leather chairs, both sniggering. Jeff spared another moment scanning the far perimeter of the spacious grounds, making sure he didn't need to intervene.

"Told you, Tracy, the kids would take it on like a house on fire."

"That's one way of looking at it."

Jeff turned back to face the two men, steel eyes going a shade darker. Lord Hugh's face hardened as well.

"Now, gentlemen, what do we know about Bereznik repurposing those old nuclear warheads?"

Children's laughter drifted back inside through the open doors, but the air got chilly before impending dark.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #marion van arkle #jeff tracy #wee!tracies #scott tracy needs his dad #thunderbirds 2015 #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

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ghcstao3 · 1 year

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do you have more of the Bookshop!Au? I really like it, and would like some more, though don't feel pressured

i never planned more but i can definitely write more anyway :) !!

Soap returns a short two days later.

He can’t say he expected much of poetry—it had never been a genre he’d think to enjoy—yet the anonymous collection of works had him moved. Enthralled. And soon enough he’s back engulfed in the scent of old books and tea and sage, the man still tucked comfortably in his corner, deep into his own novel and hardly perturbed by the soft jingle of the bell above the door.

Soap doesn’t browse, this time. Takes a step toward the desk before he’s given the curt instruction of: “Classic fiction.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Soap obliges.

This time, he picks at random, not a second thought as he brings to the counter a book he only discovers to be called Moonfleet once he sets it down.

The man stares at it for a long moment. Checks the backside of the cover for the price and enters it into an old register before commenting flatly, “This is a children’s book, you know.”

Soap shrugs. “Just picked something, ‘s’all.”

Blond eyebrows pinch together as Soap is again subjected to coffee and swirling honey in the barest glint of sunshine that catches this part of the shop.

“Suits you, then,” the man sniffs, no ill-meaning to his words.

He rattles off the price—though Soap already knows how much he owes—and they make the exchange, but Soap lingers a moment longer afterwards, this time.

Soap shuffles on his feet, rolling his bad shoulder as he takes a deep breath, uncertain as to why he feels a sudden wave of nerves wash over him—he’s been in far more precarious situations before and felt less nervous. He’s been shot at and felt less nervous.

“Well, spit it out, then,” the man grunts. “You look ready to puke.”

Soap swallows. “I, uh—“ He clears his throat. “What’s your name?”

The man sits back. Even sets down his novel to instead fold his hands over the desk as he cocks his head. “Who wants to know?”

“Soap—er, John,” Soap offers. “Just curious. If you were still looking to have me come back and spend more money.”

A quiet hum. For a long while, Soap doesn’t expect he’ll be getting a name—which is fine, really, he’d come back anyway, but—

“Simon,” Soap is finally told. “That’s my name.”

Soap nods. “Simon,” he echoes softly. Soap likes the way the name weighs on his tongue, he decides. “Well, thank you, Simon.”

Simon snorts. “You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Johnny. Fuck, Soap might just buckle here and now. He’s always hated the nickname, but somehow the way it sounds in Simon’s low voice is… right.

“And—“ Simon suddenly adds with an amused and forceful sigh through his nose, “it isn’t just a children’s book. But it does suit you.”

Soap chews the inside of his cheek. “Thanks,” he says. Promises, “I’ll be back.”

Then without anything left to add, Soap leaves the shop in favour of the warm afternoon sun and whatever (other) productive things he’s meant to do with his day, a bright smile pasted to his face all the while.

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing #alternate universe

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 year

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Tell us more about the day Sephiroth visits Banora! Needing some fluffy First trio feelings rn.

You got it anon <3

• It's the first holiday in the year after the war is over. The base is buzzing with excitable SOLDIERs either getting ready to go out or—if you were really lucky—visit home for the holidays.

• All 1st class SOLDIERS are granted this luxury. The newly-appointed Director Lazard even encourages it, pushing the overworked operatives to indulge in some normalcy for once.

• Sephiroth sits in a comfortable armchair in the SOLDIER lounge. He's watching Angeal and Genesis sprawled out on the ground. They're wrapping gifts for their families and Genesis is grumbling about how he hasn't finished packing yet.

• Sephiroth would have offered to help, but he's not apt at gift wrapping. Truth be told, he doesn't even know what holidays entail. All his life Christmases, new years and others had either been spent monotonously in the labs or out in the battlefield.

• "You could come, you know," Angeal tells him. "My mom would be overjoyed to have you back at home."

• "So would my parents!" Genesis adds. "They're dying to meet you, Seph, and my parents' house has plenty of room."

• Sephiroth isn't included to take them up on the offer. After all, he has no family of his own and he wouldn't want to bother his friends'

• But Minerva blessed him with two persistent country hicks who refuse to go down without a fight.

• Before Sephiroth is even aware of what's happening, Angeal and Genesis are in his apartment, throwing things into a suitcase and raving about Banora.

• Sephiroth had never before experienced the helpless anxiety that keeps swallowing him alive on the flight. He's mulling over childish thoughts, but they're valid to his inner vulnerable-self. What if Angeal's mother isn't welcoming? What if Genesis's parents are suffocating and unkind?

• All worries dissipate as soon as he steps foot in Gillian's home. She's naturally maternal, pulling him in for a hug and complimenting his hair.

• He follows Genesis's lead, who's already sitting at the table and reaching for the nearest slice of banora white apple pie.

• They make conversation and Gillian makes sure to feel Sephiroth feel included by asking him about his interests and dislikes. Sephiroth finds it odd. She never once asks him about the war nor about SOLDIER. It's as if she's talking to a young child. He's not used to this.

• Soon enough Genesis's PHS rings with a call from his parents and it's time to go. Sephiroth and Genesis bid the Hewley's goodbye and make for Genesis's childhood home.

• "Don't worry," Genesis tells him once they're finally out of the village, "They'll be coming around for dinner later and I intend on persuading Angeal to sleep over."

• Mr. and Mrs. Rhapsodos are....not what Sephiroth expected. At all. He quickly realized that whenever Genesis complained about his overbearing and vapid parents, it must've been a product of a rebellious teenage Genesis.

• Mr. Rhapsodos has a firm handshake and sharp eyes. But he's smiling and complimenting Sephiroth's awards and position in the war effort. Mrs. Rhapsodos is exactly fifteen seconds into fussing over "Genny's" unkempt haircut before she acknowledges Sephiroth. Sephiroth immediately likes her. She asks for permission to hug him and smells like apple and cinnamon.

• After being dragged into more conversation and finding that Genesis's parents are equally as gossipy, sarcastic and flashy as their son, Genesis grabs Sephiroth and leads him upstairs.

• With the excitement of a 10-year-old during a playdate, Genesis throws open the door and shows him his childhood bedroom.

• Sephiroth stumbles into what's clearly still a child's room. Despite the huge bed, the shelves are all neatly filled with books, toys and other childish knick-knacks.

• "Mom and dad refuse to redecorate it," Genesis says as he plucks a toy robot from the shelf, "they refuse to, quote, kill the little boy they raised."

• Sephiroth palms the patterned quilt on the bed and smiles. "Genny?"

• Genesis throws the toy robot at him but Sephiroth dodges, laughing.

• After Sephiroth gets settled in his room, Genesis's mother calls him down for dinner. Angeal and Gillian arrive, and Sephiroth notices how close the two families seem to be. Genesis's mother and Gillian immediately immerse themselves in conversation, and Genesis's father tell the two boys a story about the first time he picked up a sword.

• Sephiroth watches, feeling out of place. The dinner table is ornate and stacked with steaming dishes, tarts, cakes and fresh fruit. Gillian notices and quietly places her hand on top of his. It's a silent gesture. She doesn't say anything, but Sephiroth immediately understands her wordless concern through her soft smile.

• He tries his best to fill his plate with the food he does recognize, and the dinner topic falls on embarrassing stories from Genesis and Angeal's childhood.

• Soon enough Sephiroth is choking on Banora White cider and holding back his laughter. Genesis and Angeal are red in the face from embarrassment. Mrs. Rhapsodos made it a point to go grab a photo album to corroborate her story.

• Dinner ends and Angeal agrees to sleep over for the night. Genesis insists they have the "sleepover that Sephiroth missed out on" and all sleep in his room.

• This is how the night meets it's end for the boys. Genesis is braiding Sephiroth's hair while Angeal is looking for a very specific Sephiroth action figure he's sure Genesis hid.

• Genesis starts quoting LOVELESS as a distract, and Sephiroth flings a pillow at his face. This starts a pillow fight, of course.

• Soon Sephiroth is under the blankets in the middle of the bed. Angeal and Genesis are on either side of him, both boys are using Sephiroth as a pillow and are fast asleep.

• Sephiroth stays up a little while longer. Genesis and Angeal had fallen asleep talking about all of the things they were going to do tomorrow, and Sephiroth admits to himself that he's excited.

• Sephiroth finally shuts his eyes. He doubts he'll be able to get any sleep with Genesis and Angeal's joint snoring, but he's happy.

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy #ff7r #angeal hewley #ff7 crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #crisis core #crisis core headcanons #final fantasy vii #writing

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