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abbysimsfun · 22 days ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 167 (The New and Improved Buttercup Pet Clinic)

When Buttercup Pet Clinic's rebuild was finally complete, the architect, Layne Wise, offered to show Heather's family around once the last coating of paint had dried. The entire weekend had been rainy, but the family wouldn't let weather dampen their spirits!

The clinic was spectacular - everything Heather had envisioned and more, with a coastal blue aesthetic that felt right at home in Brindleton Bay. She couldn't wait to finally reopen for the public, but today she could admire her new workplace at its most pristine. She could still smell the faint hint of fresh lumber, new paint, and she walked carefully over freshly waxed tiles in the welcoming new clinic.

Every room looked professional, but homey and lived-in at the same time - exactly what Heather had hoped for. "I can't wait to get patients in here," she said.

"This clinic is absolutely gorgeous!" opined Daisy, Heather's mother, as they followed Layne from room to room. The exam rooms, the high tech lab, the pet playroom - each space was immaculately designed.

There was even space for her strange blue bird statue in the front yard - one of the few pieces of furniture she saved from the previous build, crafted from feathers she'd collected the previous summer.

She also placed a grave for Rico Garrison, her old vet tech, in the backyard. His former girlfriend, Kaori Hayashi, was still Heather's best tech. Even now, as a young single mother; Heather thought she and their infant daughter Kimi deserved a place to mourn him.

The obstacle course set up in the backyard was a pet-friendly oasis to rival any place in town, featuring a gazebo and even a barbeque to host adoption events for Shelly's Animal Haven in the summer. Even the staff break room far surpassed the old clinic.

Finally, Heather had done away with the last remnants of the old Brindleton Pawspital, the clinic she'd extracted from the Landgraabs' greedy business empire years earlier. Now, more than ever, Buttercup Pet Clinic was a space to call her own.

She thanked her architect profusely for his incredible work, adding thanks to his wife, Emi, for letting him stay so long in Brindleton Bay to get it finished. She'd flown in from Evergreen Harbour to see the finished product for herself, far less nervous about running into her old fling, Hayes Harms, and his family with her husband by her side.

"It's no problem," Emi said as they gathered in the clinic's cafe. "I was the one who suggested it, after all. It'll look incredible in my husband's portfolio."

Heather had worked out a deal with Hazel's girlfriend, Suri, who was doing great business at the updated Salty Paw down by Fisherman's Wharf. Already interested in expanding her business, she agreed to co-manage the cafe portion of the clinic with Heather and take most of the profiits, though Suri would work primarily from her espresso bar in Fisherman's Wharf.

"It's a shame your sister and her girlfriend couldn't be here," said Daisy. "You girls have put together a lovely little spot here for clients to wait for their pets."

"Suri's baked goods are amazing, and I never would have wanted to open a cafe here to compete with her," Heather said. "They wanted to come, but business is too good for them on weekends and they couldn't get away. Plus, Hazel said Alex Goth's about to declare his candidacy for mayor, so she'll be even busier helping with that soon."

"Who else is running?" wondered Holly, but Heather shrugged.

"No one," said Conrad, making drinks behind the counter as the family settled into stools after the tour. "Brindleton Bay's been without a mayor so long, no one else really has the appetite."

"And I think no one's all that opposed to the idea of Mayor Alex Goth," Heather said. "People know him, he's organized for local charities for years, and people trust his family."

Holly grinned. "He should hire you for his campaign. Or at least get the endorsement of the best vet this side of Simlandia."

Ash and Lavender hung out in the cafe and pet playroom with Captain Whitaker while the adults talked politics. Cheerful Betta had gone back to San Myshuno early, to enroll in a performing arts program suggested by her arts critic father. "I don't know what she thinks is so great about performing in front of people," Lavender lamented.

Ash looked at her strangely. "Who do you think will listen to you play violin if there are no people in the audience?"

"Who says I'll perform? Maybe I just want to learn violin."

"That's silly, Lava. Instruments are supposed to be played in front of people. Violin lessons include recitals, just like ballet."

Lavender anxiously turned up her nose. She'd only gotten as far as thinking of violin as something she could excel at like her brother excelled at so many other things, but she hadn't considered this aspect of her new hobby. She didn't like it.

Inside the cafe, Layne Wise overheard Ash bring up ballet, and he proudly brought up his stepson - one of his wife's twins with the cheating former creature keeper, Hayes Harms. "Our son Charlie is a real prodigy at ballet. He wants to be great, but there's only so far his talent will take him in Evergreen Harbour."

"Ash's friend, Pearl, is with SanMy Ballet School in the city," said Holly. "My daughter Tetra takes classes there, too, but Pearl's on track to join the company when she's older. I know they're short on male dancers and always looking for them."

"Charlie, alone in the city? I know SanMy is the best there is, but he's only fourteen..." lamented his mother.

"If you talk to the school, they have placements available with local families if you think he's mature enough to live away from home. Whatever you do, try to keep Nancy Landgraab at arms' length. She's on the Board of Directors and treats the school like its her own. But our friend Dylan, Pearl's mother, would say she's easy enough to impress if Charlie's talented."

Heather was careful how she spoke of Nancy with Ash nearby, and the Wises thanked her for the suggestion before she headed into the break room to enjoy one of Suri's baked goods. She moved uncomfortably, and Conrad followed to make sure she felt okay despite the afternoon's excitement.

Heather smiled. "I'm fine," she said, wiping down crumbs on the break room counter as she finished her muffin. But no sooner had she spoken before a rolling twinge squeezed against her stomach. She recognized this feeling - a contraction - and she grabbed her sides in pain.

"You're not fine," he said, his pulse quickening as her breathing grew heavier.

"No, I'm not fine. I'm okay, but I think I'm in labour; the baby's coming!" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

This Brindleton Pawspital build was created by @mikkimur-sims and it's posted here. It's not on the Gallery. The second brick version is, but I really wanted the coastal blue version to match the aesthetic of Heather's house next door. It's stunning and functional and I love it.

Some of you know my issue with successfully downloading tray files for lots, and I had an enormous amount of help getting this file in my game that I'm beyond grateful for. Heather's clinic is gorgeous and I'm so excited to put her to work in here.

I've got to tag @rinseesims even if she's still on hiatus so she might see what her boy Leoric/Leon/Layne is up to! If anyone's wondering where Layne got his facial scar, both Leoric and Leon survived a bear attack so that might as well be canon for Layne, too. What a story, right? I wonder if Layne will ever talk about it!

And shoutout to @changingplumbob, because your shelter is totally canon in my story universe now! I'm excited to actually see what it looks like in your BC save! 😂

NOTE: Yes, the inside rain was very bad this day, and architect Layne glitched holding an invisible umbrella. But its not canon and most of them didn't even notice the rain, so whatever. I certainly wasn't going to slander Layne or the lot creator with some meta remarks about ceiling leaks in the brand new glorious build!

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #brindleton bay #sims 4 cc

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aventurineswife · 3 months ago

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Do Lingyang with a reader who is like Gaming from genshin impact

“Dance is the hidden language of the soul”

Summary: Lingyang, a member of the Liondance Troupe, crosses paths with a lively and dedicated individual from the Sword and Strongbox Secure Transport Agency who shares a passion for dance. Bonding over their mutual love for performance, the two begin training together, blending their unique dance styles into something new. As their connection grows, they learn from one another, sharing both the art of dance and the deeper meaning behind their crafts.

Tags: Lingyang x Gaming!Reader, Fluff, Liondance, Wushou Dance, Friendship to Romance, Growth, Self-discovery.

Lingyang stood at the edge of the bustling market square, his tail twitching in time with the beat of the music flowing through the air. His sharp, feline features were lit by the vibrant lanterns hanging overhead, their soft light casting a gentle glow on his lion dancer’s attire. As always, the crowd seemed entranced by the lion dance troupe's performance, their spirits lifted by the infectious energy of the dance.

But today was different. Today, there was someone else who caught Lingyang's attention.

You were just arriving at the market, your movements quick and full of purpose. Clad in your usual attire, you exuded the same vigor that had earned you a reputation as one of the most reliable, energetic individuals at the Sword and Strongbox Secure Transport Agency. The people of Yilong Wharf spoke highly of you—not just for your diligence and fierce protection of cargo, but for the joy you spread in the form of your Wushou dance practices.

"Is it truly them?" Lingyang murmured to himself, watching as you effortlessly dodged a jostling passerby, your movements graceful, but full of raw energy. There was a magnetic force about you—an unrelenting drive, a palpable fire in your eyes.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on your daily routine of completing small errands. But Lingyang's sharp eyes had already spotted your practiced movements, noting the fluidity with which you shifted between stances. He couldn't help but admire the energy you radiated—the same dedication to craft that he had in his lion dance. There was something about your rhythm that was familiar yet distinct, something that drew him in like a pull he couldn’t resist.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, his tail swishing behind him, and his voice reached you before you could turn.

"Your movements—are they inspired by Wushou dance?" Lingyang asked, his voice light but with an undertone of curiosity.

You paused, turning to face him, your usual confident expression replaced by a flicker of surprise. Lingyang’s appearance was striking, and there was something comforting about his gaze—his eyes, though wild, held a warmth.

"Yeah! I practice Wushou Dance regularly," you responded with a grin, wiping your brow as you straightened. "I’m hoping to become a pro one day! But enough about me—what about you? Your movements have that same grace, though… you’ve got that wild energy of a lion. Are you a part of the Liondance Troupe?" You tilted your head, genuinely intrigued.

Lingyang’s tail swished again, and his smile widened. “Indeed. I’m part of the troupe. And I was just admiring your style. You’ve mastered the fluidity of Wushou, but there’s something... untamed about it. It reminds me of the power in lion dancing."

"Thanks, I guess! I’ve worked hard for it!" You laughed, adjusting your jacket. “I’ve been trying to keep up with my dance routine, even though the agency’s always got me running all over the place."

Lingyang couldn’t help but chuckle at your words. "I can tell. There’s a fire in you, one that’s hard to ignore." His eyes sparkled with admiration. "But tell me, do you ever dance for enjoyment? I find that dancing—whether for performance or practice—helps me keep my own fire burning."

You blinked, taken aback. "For enjoyment?" You thought for a moment. "Well, yeah. But it's more about self-discipline. I keep working on it because I want to get better, you know? Even though I don’t get much free time, I have to squeeze in some practice. It helps clear my mind."

Lingyang’s smile softened, his gaze turning introspective. "I can understand that. My own practice with the Liondance gives me that same sense of focus and clarity. It’s more than just art; it’s a part of me. In every performance, we put not just technique but soul into it." He paused, sensing a quiet connection in the air between the two of you. "Perhaps we could dance together one day. I think there’s a rhythm we could share, something that goes beyond steps and moves. What do you think?"

You stared at him for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Despite the evident differences in your styles, the way Lingyang spoke made you feel like he truly understood. "I’d like that," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "It might be fun to see how our moves mesh together."

A comfortable silence followed as the music of the festival carried on, the festive sounds mixing with the soft wind. Lingyang looked up at the sky, letting the cool air brush past him.

"You know," he began, his voice lighter, "the Liondance Troupe always aims to bring good fortune to others. But sometimes, the best part of dancing... is the way it brings people together."

You nodded, eyes glinting with a spark of understanding. "I can definitely agree with that."

The next few weeks passed in a flurry of practice and exchange, with you and Lingyang meeting on several occasions to share your respective styles. Despite his quiet demeanor, Lingyang was always a steady and enthusiastic partner, encouraging you to push your boundaries and take risks in your dance.

And you, in turn, taught him how to refine his movements, how to blend grace with the wild energy he brought to his performance. Slowly, the two of you began to create something new, something unique—a fusion of lion and Wushou dances that captured the power of both traditions, yet spoke of a partnership forged through shared passion.

One evening, as the sun set and the market square buzzed with the sounds of the festival, Lingyang stood by your side, watching as the crowd gathered in anticipation for the next Liondance performance. His gaze, as always, was intense, but there was a tenderness to it as he looked at you.

"You’ve come a long way," Lingyang said, his voice low, but filled with pride. "I’m glad I found you."

You grinned, playfully bumping your shoulder against his. "And I’m glad you stopped me that day. Who knows? Maybe we’ll give the crowd something to remember."

With a final nod of agreement, the two of you stepped forward, ready to share the rhythm of your hearts with the world.

#x reader #fluff #lingyang #lingyang x reader #lingyang wuwa #wuwa lingyang #wuthering waves lingyang #lingyang x y/n #lingyang x you #liondance #wushou dance #friendship to romance #growth #self discovery #gaming genshin

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lullabyes22-blog · 1 month ago

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i just discoveredd this immaculate rarepairing of yours, and i was immediately obssessed <33

idkk if someone asked this butt after finishing mal de mer, i just kept wondering what would Silco be like around a laboring Mel— is he the going to be beside Mel holding her hand while Mel's crushing his or is he going to be the type of husband who just stands outside the room?

Thank you so much<3 I'm so thrilled the Melco agenda is spreading :D

Interestingly, in the Mal de Mer timeline, when Mel goes into labor, Silco is actually overseas on business. He and Mel have been keeping in touch via missives. But as fate would have it, he gets stuck in a particularly remote village which delays his mail for days. She writes to him that the contractions are coming closer together now, and that it won't be long before she finally goes into labor...

And then he never hears from her again.

Naturally, this sets his paranoia off into overdrive: not knowing how she and his unborn child are doing. It's worse when he gets a Morse landline code from Sevika, alerting him that Mel's ready to go into labor, and that it's much more risky than initially anticipated.

The message ends with 'RETURN ASAP' — no other updates.

Silco makes haste home by commandeering the fastest vessel, traveling at warp speed towards Piltover without rest, the desperation churning inside him like sea-froth against jagged cliffs.

His worst fears only seem to manifest, because when he arrives back at the mansion after nearly a week away, he finds Mel's penthouse aswarm with Piltovan doctors and chemists.

Sevika is waiting for him outside, flanked by blackguards. There is also, berthed at the nearby wharf, a Noxian medevac zeppelin which Silco doesn't recognize, and dread settles deep within the pit of his stomach.

Sevika, reading his grim silence as 'explain,' wastes no time describing exactly how things deteriorated after she'd sent her last telegram. Mel was hit by preeclampsia, which escalated into severe HELLP syndrome once active labor started. It was so bad, the Topside doctors had to induce general anesthesia. The baby, in her mother's haywire body, had gone into fetal distress; she had to be pulled out via forceps.

Unfortunately, the blood loss from the procedure and her internal hemorrhage sent Mel spiraling into multiple organ dysfunction syndrome. With sepsis rapidly overtaking her body, the doctors informed Sevika that she'd be lucky to live another twenty-four hours.

It would take a miracle cure to save her.

Right around this time, Ambessa — who'd been docked at their port for two nights already, ostensibly to be at hand in case of crisis, and in Silco's estimation to kidnap the baby — stepped in with her own personal squad of doctors.

She'd locked herself inside with Mel. Her guards have been blocking everyone else from entering ever since.

Hearing this, Silco's panic boils over into rage. He elbows his way past the guards, Sevika on his heels, bursting through the door to Mel's room only by dint of force—

— and stops dead in his tracks.

The sight greeting his eyes is nothing short of a tableau straight out of H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu mythos.

Mel is submerged in some sort of cylindrical aquarium that resembles an autopsy tank; the water is tainted dark red, almost black. Inside the glass, Mel floats unmoving, swathed in the same translucent gossamer gown she wore the night they consummated their marriage. Her long hair wafts out in tangled streamers, giving her the appearance of a drowned siren.

An horde of Noxian chemists cluster round, administering solutions from various tubes fed into the tank itself. Whatever the solution is, it has rendered Mel's skin deathly translucent.

She isn't moving, except to drift slowly, suspended as if weightless in the eerie darkness.

Ambessa, her tall figure with its back to Silco, turns just as he enters. There's no surprise on her face. She lifts one gauntleted finger to her lips, commanding him to silence.

And Silco, stunned, finds himself obeying, rooted in place.

Because nestled in the crook of Ambessa's arm... is a baby.

Though clean and freshly-bathed, it's obviously newborn. At first, Silco doesn't register what he's looking at. The shock has caused all cognitive functions to momentarily flee his brain, until he finds himself moving automatically, gliding forward with both arms outstretched to seize it, because he doesn't want Ambessa touching something so fragile, not when he constantly senses something profoundly avaricious about this woman, no matter that he perhaps owes her his child's life, no matter that they are ostensibly allies.

Ambessa, for her part, hands it — no, her — off without protest. Once he has taken possession of the bundle, he looks down, seeing her face for the first time: scrunched up features, pouting lips, wispy curls. She's feather-light, fitting easily in the space between his wrist and forearm.

He stares, transfixed.

His child.

There's no doubt it's his; the resemblance to himself and Mel is undeniable. Though he will, at his soonest convenience, summon Singed to administer a blood test. He wouldn't put it past Ambessa to swap his heir with a decoy, and smuggle the real deal back to Noxus.

"You're fortunate," Ambessa says, imperiously. "If I were a few hours late, they'd both be dead."

And she slants her glance towards the tank where Mel stays motionless, floating like a sea witch under a spell. The tank's contents, she explains, are a breathable vapor from the Shadow Isles; just being submerged within it is enough to neutralize most of the patient's inflammation and endotoxin. Since it's classified as a controlled substance outside of Noxus, Ambessa had it brought all the way over in that huge airship moored nearby.

"You expected this to happen," Silco says, accusingly.

"Childbirth is fraught with danger. A battlefield, some might call it." Ambessa lays a hand, contemplatively, upon the tank holding Mel. "And the Medarda women have a history of fighting the bloodiest campaigns of all."

She tips a nod to her doctors. Obeying, they drain the tank of its solution. As it flushes out through the grates set near the bottom, Mel sinks in tandem, like a puppet cut from marionette strings, still clad in that lacy shroud.

If she really is healing as promised, then it certainly can't be seen on her wan, unconscious features.

Silco moves closer. Before he's able to pull her up, Ambessa leans over and does it herself, lifting Mel bodily out of the empty vat and laying her on the bed.

To her credit, the older woman's touch is careful. Almost tender.

"She will heal now," she says. "Though it may take several weeks. Keep the babe close to her, so she knows it survived." Here, she flicks a near-pitying glance at the bundle nestled against Silco's chest, then at Mel. "And heed my advice. Don't expect any future whelps after this." She raps the glass tank with her gauntlet, once. "Even this vapor can't save a lost cause."

Silco's bad eye smolders. He says nothing.

"Also keep your harridan Head Wife well away," Ambessa continues, nodding to Sevika looming in the doorway. "Mel will need every bit of peace and quiet for the weeks ahead. Not a jot of stress. My guards will be posted at all entrances; any attempts at aggression, even of the verbal variety, will result in ejection from the premises."

Sevika glowers, taking issue with being addressed as Silco's 'Head Wife' but otherwise holding her tongue. Her stance, however, radiates just how badly she wants to deck the Noxian matriarch across her sneering mug.

For Silco's part, he says nothing. Nothing about the absurdity of Noxians crawling all over his property, or the ridiculousness of Ambessa giving orders while under his roof, or his newborn being brought into the world via forceps, as if to foreshadow the bloody conflict she'll soon inherit.

No. All that matters is Mel's safe delivery. The rest is a bridge to be crossed later.

And they've got their whole lives for that, don't they?

And so, all he does is gently lay the baby girl onto the bedding next to her mother's unconscious form. His gaze never leaves Mel, who slumbers so peacefully that it could almost pass for death.

"You have my thanks," he says, without looking at Ambessa. "And my utmost gratitude."

There's no inflection, but nor does it seem obligatory politeness.

Ambessa takes it as victory. Her grin shows teeth.

"No thanks required, Eye of Zaun." Ambessa lays a possessive palm over the baby, as though asserting her own ownership. The touch is gone after half a second, but her meaning is clear enough. "But you will repay me this favor, in due time. Never doubt that."

"Get out," is all Silco answers, weary of the games and gambits. "Before I decide the debt's been repaid in kind already."

And Ambessa, cognizant of when she's overstayed her welcome, nods.

Gesturing to her guards, she takes leave — sweeping imperiously past him, trailing expensive perfume, bloodlust and a palpable sense of wickedness, which will remain until well after she's back aboard her grotesque warship and setting sail out of sight.

Once Silco hears her party exiting belowstairs, he finally exhales the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

With steady fingers, he touches Mel's pulse. Her heartbeat is strong, thudding against his fingertips. As he smooths the curls from her clammy forehead, a soft sigh escapes her. One arm slides reflexively around their child, cradling the baby as naturally as if she'd been awake all this time.

Sevika, watching them in silence, finally ventures:

"Congratulations, sir. At least you know the kid's inherited your lucky streak." Seeing Silco's bridling lip, she elaborates: "Dodging death."

Silco, looking over at Mel and the sleeping baby, smiles a smile that isn't wry, or bitter, or, for once, tinged with rage.

"I suspect," he says, pulling up a seat at Mel's bedside, "she'll inherit a great deal more than that."

Sevika, conceding with a grim nod, and takes her leave.

Alone, Silco doesn't break the stillness except to gently caress his daughter's cheek. He stands guard over his two treasures — alert, protective — until sunrise starts filtering in through the windows.

Then, naturally, Jinx gets wind of her brand-new sibling and sets off a whole fusillade of fireworks to wake up both cities and chase sleep right the hell away.

But that, again, is a story for another day...

#arcane #arcane league of legends #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane silco #silco #asks #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane mel #mel medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #melco #silco x mel #mal de mer #arcane sevika #sevika

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mastermark1960 · 9 months ago

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I'm watching a YouTube called "San Francisco fisherman's wharf SHUTTERED". It is a sad testament to totally stupid management policies of a fucked up demonazi, woke city government. How in the fuck do you think it is a good idea to not punish criminals for stealing? Evidently working tax payers and business do not support your stupid policies and are fleeing and closing stores in a mass exodus. To the idiot voters that put these morons in power and are now fleeing California in droves I will tell you to leave your woke, stupid, unethical, moronic and pathetic liberal voting at the border. Stupid choices = stupid results. New York city and Chicago are in the same death spiral as San Francisco. Sanctuary cities???? Sanctuary from what???? Reality, common sense, and rule of law??? Wake up you woke libtards and stop your nazi propaganda. You call Trump and MAGA nazis all the time. Well look in the mirror and you will see the dumbest person you know. America was great and if that is a problem for you then all a can say is leave. The door swings both ways, don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out.

#republicans #democrats #war is real #donald trump #joe biden #kamala harris #stupid people #i stand with israel #god is a republican #fuck democrats

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 1 year ago

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Yandere(?) Jing Yuan

MY HUSBAND ✨

A little warning though. I quit playing HSR after 2.something. I don't remember. But it's because my devices can't handle it anymore :( at least I got Jing Yuan before I deleted the game. So I am probably going to put some wrong information here. Especially the timeline. Forgive me! Also,I lied. I'm not making this fic NSFW. Have some not so good angst LMAO Of course, there's spoilers so... Spoiler alert! Notes: Highly OOC Jing Yuan. He's a lonely man fr fr. Also, an extra long fic as an apology for disappearing like that lol. Also, not even sure if this counts as yandere. But just to be safe, i'm putting it here. So, dead dove, do not eat.

Being a long time trailblazer from the Astral Express made you develop quite the wanderlust in you.

You were originally from Xianzhou. A spoiled kid of a rich family that decided to embrace the free life when the Astral Express first visited your planet.

You developed a strong friendship with Himeko and Welt, alongside treating Dan Heng and March as your little siblings/children.

When Stelle arrived in the Astral Express, it seems that your little family is complete. Sure, Stelle may be a little gremlin with a Stellaron inside, but hey. Family is family.

When the talks of going to Xianzhou appeared, you volunteered to guide Stelle and March around alongside Welt. You did miss your family, and wanted to prove that you weren't the same immature person before.

Well, you know what happened next.

The wharf being abandoned, littered with mara struck soldiers...

It seems that Xianzhou became worse for wear.

Fearing for the worst, you urged the three to follow you and defeated the Mara stricken soldiers in such precision.

Seriously. You follow Nihility since you want to be more laid back in your life. But why does life keep forcing lemons down your throat? Now, it's even your family being dragged in your bad luck!

You got dragged by the three around until you all got to the square, and immediately bade goodbye for the time being. Promising to help them as soon as they need to. For now, you need to get back to your family.

Once you got to the manor, you burst through the door and was immediately smacked to shit by your parents.

"YOU PRODIGAL CHILD! NOW YOU COME BACK HOME?! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE..."

A nagfest, you took in their worry filled words with a sharp edge before calming them down. You asked if any in your family have been mara stricken, but all of them shook their head thankfully enough.

Then, you noticed a man by the tea room. It seems that your parents forgot etiquette and abandoned their guest.

"AH! Forgive us, General! It's just this child... Oooh this child!"

You took a peak and was stunned.

Jing Yuan. The guy whose family is from the Realm-Keeping Commissions? And he's the general now? That's...

"You remember Yuan-yuan, right? Y/N'er?"

Oh you remember alright. How can you not? You loved this man a lot.

You squirmed under Jing Yuan's golden gaze that's filled with an unreadable emotion that you're sure had to do with your past.

And the past is what he desperately holds onto up to this day...

"General! The astral express--"

Jing Yuan's usual relaxed demeanor stiffened, his eyes going rigid. If one looks close, the chess piece he's holding onto cracked, making it glitch.

His face softener a bit as to not scare Yanqing more who stepped back a bit.

"Is that so? Thank you for the information, Yanqing. You can go rest now."

The kid nodded before walking away and leaving Jing Yuan alone.

His world, once so bleak and dry, suddenly had a drop of rain that he once missed and took advantage of, thinking it won't go away.

"Y/N..." He whispered to himself, putting down the piece and washing his face with his palm.

Other than Jing Liu and the others, you were one of the few people he's close to. Ever since you both were in the academy, you've always didn't like his quite stubborn nature. He didn't like his academic strand, wanting to be a cloud knight.

He noticed you pulling a face whenever he cuts classes, sleeps, loafs around... Sure, you were spoiled to bits, but at least you have the decency to be good in school.

So, he made it a point to annoy you greatly. Always popping around the block wherever you were, following you while talking your ear off... Doesn't help that he's a classmate, it's a daily annoyance that you gradually welcomed over time.

It's a friendship born from being together all the time. You watch him train with Jing Liu, taught him stuff he didn't understand, and in return, he would teach you how to fend for yourself since you always told him you wanted to travel the galaxy.

And that friendship developed into something more intimate. Exchanging shy giggles, flirty whispers, firsts of everything... Even without a label other than lovers, you both knew that you two are destined and tied together. Soulmates, if you will.

He's happy that you were by his side. With the quintet and you, how much more happiness does he need in his life?

But sometimes, so much happiness meant that there will be a terrible thing happening the next day.

Fortunately for you, you left Xianzhou before the Baiheng incident in the process of saving the Xianzhou Yuque. It was a timely flight that Jing Yuan supported so that you will be safe from the chaos that will unfold.

Unfortunately for Jing Yuan though, he paid the price of seeing his friends fall one by one.

Baifeng, sacrificing herself when fighting Shuhu, Dan Feng creating a draconic abomination in the process of trying to ressurect Baifeng and solving the Vidyadhara reproduction problem, Yingxing being backfired and becoming immortal stricken with mara, and JIng Liu, also struck with mara.

He watches as his beloved quintet crumble to dust in such a short time, even defeating his own beloved master in order to save so many lives and bring justice to those lost.

Jing Yuan had no one. No one to turn to, no one to confide in.

In times like those, what he yearned is you. For you to return, for you to look at him with so much grief, concern, and care.

All he wanted is your hug, your reassurance that it wasn't his fault, and it wasn't his burden to carry.

But you didn't return. Not even a peep, not even a soul.

700 long years of waiting, of bottling up his emotions that it almost spilt over.

Sure, he's happier now, but is he truly happy?

Deep inside, he kind of resented you for being so blissfully unaware of what happened to him. Of what happened to the quintet. You never even contacted him in those 700 years. Did you just forget your relationship just like that? Did you move on from him? He thought both of you were together forever?

Then slowly, he got jealous. Of you, at first. Just travelling across the galaxies without a worry in the world. How selfish of you to just run off to the farflungs of the universe just to never contact him again. Shame on you. He's a worried lover! How can he not? Then, he got jealous of the people that you must have met. How much were they charming you that you forgot about him, your soulmate?

He started visiting your family in year 300 too. Consoling them and telling that you were gonna go back home. When? Soon. Like really soon.

He found solace in your family that started treating him as their own son. Taking care of him when he visits, entertaining him with a game of chess, maybe even talk about their life.

He also heard more stories about you. About your spoiled attitude outside of school, of your rebellious years, of your wants and needs to see the outside. It's as if he's living vicariously through your parents, and relieving your memories in order to not forget you.

Then, he starts yearning for your presence once more after just trying to forget you.

It's a never ending addictive cycle that he's lost in the deep trenches in.

You were the only constant in this godforsaken world, the wine he yearns to drown himself in in order to forget his problems. But his problem is the wine, his problem is you. But the alcoholic he is, he continue to guzzle down the addictive taste until reality blurs with fantasy. In which a picture perfect world existed were nothing went wrong, and you were still there back in his arms.

Over the years, he somehow got over it. Turned to tea, thought about stuff. But your family reminded him so much of you and told so much stories of you that he became so attached to the idea of you.

He started a little hobby of writing letters to your non-existent being. Thinking you'll read them in the future. He refuses to believe that you're dead and rotting in a ditch somewhere. He knows that you're alive. He knows it.

He wrote down what he wishes to tell you, on what he wanted to do with you once you come back like a little drink, maybe even roam around and show you what Xianzhou looks like after 700 years.

Then, it devolved into his frustrations, anger, jealousy, and grief about what happened in those measly years. On why he wanted to have you so bad with him, to have the only remaining friend with him by his side. He wants to cling to you, to finally have a full on restful sleep, but also yell at you for leaving him behind.

He thought of the people that made you forget him. Of the people that took you away from him. Yes, they may, no, they ARE the reason why you weren't returning home. They must be.

He knows he's wrong. And he's working on it. A few letters down the road had him apologizing, telling he's in the wrong, and started writing about what to do once you come back.

Until those letters carried a weight that he's thinking of.

What will happen if you decided to stay in Xianzhou this time?

What will happen if something or someone made you stay?

What if, Jing Yuan forced you stay?

An absurd idea, but those letters quickly became a drawn out plan on what he'll do to make you stay by him, by his side. Eternally until the end of both of your lifespans.

And those letters were now safely kept in his hand. They will not see the light of the day.

The time he knew that the Astral Express came to their wharf, with Yanqing telling him, he immediately ran to Fu Xuan to know who are the passengers of the train that stepped out to help.

And there you are. You chose the path of Nihility. Fitting for a person like you who wished for everything, yet nothing. A spoiled kid who only wanted meaningless vices and thrills to fill the void inside. You grew up so much just as him.

What is this feeling inside? Relief? Resentment? Guilt? Love?

Woah, love? Really? Does he really still feel love for you? Or is that just a byproduct of the putrid mix of emotions inside of him?

He always knew his feelings for you never disappeared. It was supposed to be just a harmless puppy love that is forgotten over time. Like come on, it's been seven centuries.

But seeing you there, with your mother still nagging you, and your eyes locked onto him with an excited, naive look on your face made those forgotten emotions resurface.

And unfortunately, became an unfortunate ingredient in the rancid pot of emotions he bottled up over the years.

The General, known for being laid back and relaxed, can feel that image slowly crack and crumble every step you take towards him with a smile on your face.

It's so painful. How can you have that sweet smile on your face while he had to endure so much guilt and pain that he doesn't deserve to undergo?

What's worse is that your smile was lifting so much off of his shoulders to the point that he wants to drag those problems back to his shoulders and stubbornly hold onto them just to prove you a point.

He can't believe you had so much power over him. It's driving him insane how your mere presence shook the centuries worth of healing that he did for himself.

The conflicting thoughts started to whirl in his head.

He wants you to stay, but he wants you to disappear now that you're actually here.

In those mere seconds, he composed himself and gave you a soft smile. A smile that usually had a lazy quality in them now looks rigid.

"Y/N, my love. How are you? It's been seven centuries!" Calm and composed. That's what he wishes his voice sounds like.

You, sweet, oblivious you, hugged him with such a smile on your face. After all, Jing Yuan was your lover. And you hoped that he didn't hate you that much from not communicating.

"Yuan! I'm so glad I met you here again! Wow... You're a general now! How cool is that?!"

Your excited voice grated his ears to the point that he wants to cover it vehemently, but he also wants to get a hold of it and hear it over and over again. Reassuring himself that you're actually here in the flesh with him and not just a figment of his fractured reality.

With a smile, you grabbed his hand and got out of your parents' manor, wanting to apologize to Yuan by catching up.

Are you really that insensitive? Such naive thinking that by only talking things out, the problem will be resolved. Well, in your defense, you didn't know what happened with JIng Yuan and the quintet. All you knew is that they grew apart from the looks of it.

You didn't undergo the same traumatic experience that Jing Yuan did, the agonizing isolation, the years of waiting for that somebody to come home, and your mental health devolving into something more sinister, something that crosses with your logic multiple times.

But here you are, flashing your carefree smile at the dying Jing Yuan who squeezed out a chuckle.

He wishes that you burn in hell. He wishes that HE burns in hell. He wishes to burn with you, spending the last agonizing minutes with you finally in his arms again.

He grasps your hand, wrestling out an apology in his mind to you.

But he can't let you go until you knew of the agony you left him with.

And that's going to take a lifetime with you by his side, shackled and ruined.

It has been a whirlwind of emotions.

You saw Dan Heng, turn into your old friend Dan Feng. Well, his visage anyways. Were you that blind to not see the similarities? Or were you blocking the image out of your mind in order to protect your own peace?

And Yingxing, no, Blade. When did he turn into this immortal, suicidal maniac who wishes for nothing but death for himself and revenge?

And it's Dan Feng's fault? Dan Feng would never!

Your image of Dan Heng/Feng started to mix, making you dizzy and confused.

Baiheng. She died? Did she really? So did Dan Feng's ritual work or not? Did she reincarnate? Is she somewhere out there?

What happened in those years?!

And Jing Liu... Jing Yuan's master. Mara stricken and committed a massacre. That Jing Liu?

Jing Yuan even defeated her himself... Oh gods, did he just carry that burden all by himself? All those years... Centuries of pain and suffering that he didn't deserve.

The carnage, the aftermath, the result of grieving.

It's almost too much to bear for you.

And you were just out in the world, travelling and being all wishy washy, enjoying yourself with your newfound friends?

For gods sake, you were Jing Yuan's lover! Did you just forget about him just like that? Then those promises. Were those fake and surface level?!

How about your old friends? Did you even consider them? In those seven centuries, did you not even think of them?

Of course you did! But you swore that you thought that they're going to do fine!

Guilt riddled your weary body. Exhaustion catching up to you as you wept in your room.

So much to process, so much to grieve. It was almost too much if it weren't for Jing Yuan there to comfort you. Telling you that it was okay, that it wasn't your fault.

But what if's kept popping up your mind. What if you returned earlier? What if you were there for Jing Yuan? What if you didn't actually leave?

And Jing Yuan was so nice throughout the whole thing. You only talked to Dan Heng for a little while, but you need more time.

You felt so selfish for being like this. Why are you so affected when you weren't even there?

That's it. You weren't there. You weren't there for your friends, for Jing Yuan who only has you.

Seven centuries of loneliness... How did he even endure it?

You wanted to share the burden so bad, to be with him and atone for those time lost. You want to be there for him.

You are a terrible lover. A terrible friend, and a terrible person. Those phrases continued to mingle in your mind and wore you down to your barebones.

Now, even a sneeze from Jing Yuan warrants you to panic.

And Jing Yuan had a sick sense of satisfaction from seeing you wallow in sorrow.

Again, he knows it's wrong. He knows that he shouldn't be delighted in seeing you suffer.

But that side of him loves the attention he thinks he deserves. The care that he's deprived of, the love that he's blatantly robbed of.

So, he eggs that anxiety in yours on more by talking about the past and the pain he went through, his eyes narrowing in an indescribable stare as your person gets hammered down more and more.

It was eating him alive. But he assures himself that this is just temporary. Once he felt satisfied, he will start fixing you up again good as new.

And, as your parents urged you to finally marry Jing Yuan, and you nodding in desperation to make it up to him more from the centuries of neglect as his lover, Jing Yuan apologizes in his mind once more, and holds you close.

Hello love, you certainly gave everyone a scare. They're all just thrilled to see you safe and sound. As for this latest little game of yours, thank the stars it's over. Did you have fun? Did you get everything out of your system? Good, good. Everyone is so relieved. Welcome home, Y/n. -Jing Yuan

(Original, unedited quote from White Diamond in Steven Universe)

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moresims3productions · 9 days ago

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Sully's Isle | San Sequoia | Free Download | No CC

Looking for a drink with a great view of the wharf or just a place to unwind after a long days work? Check out Sully's Isle! A bar with a different vibe for the residents of San Sequoia. Play cards, surf the web, or challenge someone to a foosball match. Just come on in and take a load off.

This lot replaces Anchorpoint Abode.

This lot is designated as a bar because I like the idea of a "daytime" bar with things for your sims to do. They interact with all the objects on the lot as is. However, you can easily transform this lot into a restaurant by closing in the area with the TV and making it into a Dine out kitchen. Then copy the tables by the front door and everything will work just fine. You can even sub one of the bathrooms for an employee area if needed. (Small business idea)

Download link has been moved to Google Drive temporarily as I can't upload files to Simfileshare at this time due to the update/maintenance.

Packs Used: (Anything not in your game will be replaced but the shell should remain the same.)

T.O.U. - Do not reupload or claim as your own.

Gallery Download Search: RealMS3P OR MS3P

Alt Download: Here

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mercurysmaelstrom · 7 months ago

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Bite the Hand

pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Knight!Reader

summary: Labelled as a kinslayer, you flee from your city, finding solace in a seaside town. Years later, Gwayne Hightower, an old friend whose house is allied with your own, comes in search for you now that your house is in need of a new head.

Gwayne looks for you in hopes of rekindling the relationship you ran away from.

contains: angst, smut (18+), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.1k

notes: this is for my service tops. reader is gender neutral. also reader is more of an ex-knight. happy reading!

You poured a tankard of ale into your cup as your crew conversed.

Your table sat all the way in a far corner of the wharf-side tavern, a booth you swiftly suggested when you and your fellow dock workers first arrived. With the full room in view, your eyes glided along the area, observing the several port laborers and merchants—most of them rowdy men, as to be expected.

You took notice of the tavern waitress and the blank expression on her face as the very same men harassed her, indicating that she was used to it. Thus, the next time she approached your booth, you flipped a gold coin in her direction, following it with a small nod as her eyes briefly widened at you.

She smiled tightly, grateful, yet confused, then walked away when she realized you had no intention of asking for anything.

“How gracious of you,” you heard a voice in the booth behind you, the one spot out of your line of sight.

The soft look you’d presented to the waitress hardened once you recognized who the voice belonged to.

You continued to look forward as you spoke. “What are you doing here?”

Gwayne Hightower slurped the rest of his wine before returning his cup to the table. “I could ask the same of you. Your house is missing an heir.”

The redhead wasn’t worried about being heard. The myriad of voices in the room easily flushed out his own, including yours.

You snorted. “If that were true, I would have claimed it long ago.” You took another swig of your ale. “My father was not particularly keen on passing it on to me.”

“Perhaps I need to speak more bluntly.” He leaned closer to you. “I would not be here if your father were not desperate for his heir. Age has caught up to him.”

Finally, you turned toward him with a furrow in your brows, seeing the face of a childhood companion. No cloak hid his armor, not that anyone paid him any mind. Many knights came and went in this town.

“The Stranger has taken him?” Was it relief or grief you were feeling? You weren’t sure.

“Not yet,” Gwayne answered. “But he is weak.”

You turned away, wretched memories furiously swimming their way to the surface. Even after all these years, the truth of your doing was not any easier to accept. It mattered not if what you did was right or wrong. Guilt had a way of latching onto you and never letting go.

You stood up, your crewmates much too distracted with their beer-medicated laughter to notice you. You momentarily scanned the room before looking down at Gwayne you peered up at you expectantly.

“Let’s speak elsewhere.”

The two of you pushed past the cramped room, exiting the tavern and its slippery concrete floors. When you decided speaking outside a lively business would be reckless, Gwayne followed on foot with his horse by his side as you reluctantly led him to the small cottage you owned not far from the wharf.

“Have a seat,” you told him once the two of you escaped the cold wind of the coast, entering your home.

While you decloaked, Gwayne unsheathed his sword, laying it on the gray wooden table you had handcrafted yourself.

The moon beamed through the kitchen window, enough to help you see where you were going as you headed for the makeshift altar you had set above the fireplace, lighting a few of the candles you used more for reading than praying, although your first year in this town mustered more prayers from you than your life in Ecraen altogether.

You occupied your focus on the hearth below as Gwayne removed his pauldron and arm braces, the metal clanking against the table until he was left clad in a dark green gambeson and leg armor. He did not sit after, but instead roamed curiously around the small kitchen dining room, examining nothing of importance.

“This place—no one’s suspicious of your ownership?”

You stoked the now-crackling fire. “No one’s been here. Except you.”

Gwayne cleared his throat, remembering why he was here in the first place. “As I said, your father needs an heir.”

Your brow twitched. “What of my cousin?”

“You truly believe your father would rather his brother’s son become head of your family house? Regardless of your…” he paused for a moment, treading lightly as he looked out the window, “familial matters and, of course, his pride, he would rather foresee his own.”

“My cousin should be of age in a year,” you disregarded his answer.

“I do not trust that your father has a year.”

“Hm.”

Gwayne turned to face you, your back still in his direction. “Are you not even the least bit eager to claim your position?”

You sighed, setting down the stoker and facing the Hightower. “I am not fond of the reasoning, no. And even in Ecraen, I failed to see my father glance at me for consideration. And now he’s old. And gray. And desperate for the spare he cared not for all those years ago.” Now that Gwayne was in front of you, your mouth regrettably couldn’t stop running. “And you: why even send you? Of all people in my family- oh, unless the dishonor of the kinslayer was all too much, they had to send a Hightower instead.”

“You know I am much more than that,” Gwayne gruffly retaliated, taking a step forward. You could see he had lost his patience. “I was your companion, was I not?”

You swallowed.

“Before you left. Without a word. Not a whisper, nor a note.” He took another step forward. “We were close, you and I.”

Recollections of breathless sparring lessons between you and Gwayne when you were only squires ran through your mind—wooden swords clacking roughly against each other before you graduated to the sharp clangs of iron. You remembered joining your cups together, laughing with fellow young knights. And you remembered the redhead taking your lips with his own behind a tavern in Oldtown after more than enough drinks, drunk yet chaste.

Then you remembered his lack of remembrance for that kiss.

You never blamed him for it, though you certainly never reminded him either, even as you endured the heartache before disappearing.

You tore your eyes away from him, anxious to face the flame again. “I fear you may have wasted your journey here.”

Before you knew it, the knight had made his way closer, only an arm’s reach away.

“If you think I’ve traveled all this way simply on your father’s volition, you are mistaken,” replied Gwayne.

His gaze flustered you just as he did in your youth. And you loathed it; honeyed words that never meant what you shamefully hoped they meant.

With that, you sidestepped from him and the hearth, positioning your body to catch sight of him through the edge of your eye as you busied yourself with needlessly adjusting the tapestry of the seven-pointed star.

You were never heavily spiritual, not really. Neither was your father. Your mother was a different story. But time alone in this coastal town eventually pushed you toward the Faith.

You spoke again, your voice weaker than intended: “What other reason would you have for being here?”

“I came to see an old friend,” he answered earnestly.

An old friend.

You continued to fidget with the wool. “Alright then. You’ve seen me. You’ve spoken about my father; my house needs a new head? They can find that in cousin Alren. You’ve done what you needed, you may leave now.”

The knight’s lips parted at the haste of your words, his head tilting before his mouth closed. He moved close to the furnace, staring into the swirling fire.

Gwayne chuckled humorlessly. “Is that all?”

You could no longer see him, your back once again faced to him. You didn’t know how to feel. In this moment, you weren’t certain if you truly wanted him far away from you. Not when a part of you itched for the opposite.

“I have a life here, Gwayne,” you said, your focus still on the dimly lit tapestry.

He scoffed, his focus still on the flame. “And what life is that? Port labor? Drinks with a crew whom you hardly acknowledge? Days with no one but yourself?”

Gwayne lifted his head to see the seven candles above the hearth.

He knew your relationship with the Faith lacked stability. Frankly, he could not recall your faith being firm enough to see you in a sept, much less creating an altar for yourself, an attempt at one that is. Seeing one here made him wonder how desperate you were for the company of another that you seemed to have finally leaned on the presence of the incorporeal.

You sniffed. “‘Tis better than a life of shame.”

He spun his incredulous gaze to the back of your head. “Shame was your punishment in Ecraed. Yet you’ve told me no one has been in this sullen home of yours before me. Do you not see how you’ve isolated yourself? You traveled far to distance yourself from shame only to carry the damned thing with you all the way here!”

Frustrated, he furthered himself from you, drawing closer to the dining table with a hand on his hip and the other wiping down his mouth.

He tittered, eyeing the floor. “Better than a life of shame.”

“Do not mock me,” you spoke gutturally over your shoulder, dropping your hand from the tapestry.

“‘Tis but a repetition of your own words.”

The fire sputtered, its sizzling hum filling the room when you had nothing else to say, because as much as you hated to admit it, Gwayne was right, and all you could do was sit with the hard truth.

You glanced up at the seven-pointed star, embarrassed. Ashamed. Always ashamed.

Fuck, it was exhausting. Most of all, it was distracting.

You heaved out a sigh and looked to see the side of Gwayne’s face. The flame warmly flickered on his skin. You hadn’t taken the time to process how much older he had become since you last saw him.

Your stare broke when Gwayne turned suddenly, his face out of view as he went to retrieve his armor.

In fact, he wasn’t sure why he removed it in the first place.

“Mayhaps…you were right. I’ve done what was needed.” He lifted the pauldron over his head, proceeding with the rest of his protective plates. “Now I shall take my leave. Send a raven if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Gwayne.” You took a step toward him. Regret quickly seeped into you like venom from a snake.

“You live your shameless life hiding in this town.” He worked on his arm braces, moving much too fast to buckle smoothly. “And I will journey back to Ecraen.”

Your feet moved faster than you could think—you grasped his forearm. “Don’t.”

He tried to pull out of your hold, but you remained firm, pulling him toward you. Again, he tried to pull away until you confessed, “You’re right!” putting his movement to a halt. “You’re right. I know not how to live without shame.”

Gwayne’s body stilled. He only looked at you with sternness on his face.

Your eyes flickered between each of his, seizing his braced arm in anticipation that he would leave at any moment.

“Even before my brother fell from my sword,” you carried on almost hurriedly, “I knew shame all too well. But that is no excuse for how I’ve…for how I’ve treated you, I-I see that now. But you must understand, I was young; tunnel-visioned. I could only see so much, and all I could truly see…” you peered at your hand on his relenting arm, “was my own guilt—the disappointment I brought to my house.” Then you peered back up into his eyes, blue with tinges of orange that gleamed from the hearth. “I am truly sorry I did not see you.”

Gwayne didn’t move as he took in your confession; your realization.

In retrospect, he understood why you left. He understood the weight of your crime, and he understood why you did what you did. He recognized why you left your house and Ecraen; he recognized why you broke your knightly vows.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t understand how you left him, as selfish as it sounded. At least not at the time. But seeing crinkle in your brows and hearing the desperation in your voice, he realized that mayhaps he had been thinking too much of himself as well.

Gwayne looked down at the small space shared between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You’re sorry,” he murmured.

You angled your head to see Gwayne’s face and moved your hand from his forearm to his elbow. “I am.”

His eyes glided to your hand. This close, the redhead could smell saltwater off of you, a scent you lacked in Ecraen. He did not mind it.

He swallowed. “I suppose…I did not see you either.” He raised his head and your own followed as he returned his gaze on you. “And it seems I am not the only one in need of an apology.”

You scoffed softly. “I don't believe I want an apology.”

“What is it that you want then?” Gwayne whispered.

With no words left to say, you took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him in, pressing your lips onto his. Despite the small pause of shock, Gwayne didn’t fail to reciprocate. Both of his hands shot for the sides of your face as he inhaled, breathing you in.

Gwayne consumed you, chasing for a flavor he hadn’t remembered lingered on his tongue. The taste of your lips rang bells of familiarity, and even lost in your touch, he hazily wondered why that was.

Ignorant of what occurred in Gwayne’s mind, you took in the feel of him, remembering what you thought you had long forgotten.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and he parted his lips, allowing your tongue to enter. His allowance didn’t end there. It didn’t end when you guided him to the table and it didn’t end when you started to remove his armor all over again, sneaking in kiss after kiss as you pulled the pauldron over his head. You lowered it to the ground as Gwayne unbuckled his gambeson, revealing a beige tunic beneath.

You returned to kiss him again, laying a hand on his hip before hesitantly sliding it toward his groin.

You pulled away again. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” Gwayne answered breathlessly, chasing for your lips again.

A muffled moan escaped his mouth when you cupped him, trailing your lips to his jaw and down his neck, snaking a hand under his pants. Gwayne murmured your name groggily as you grabbed hold of his stiff cock, rubbing up and down, feeling him out. Then you pulled your lips away from his neck and lowered his pants, the knight intently watching you. He continued to watch when you spat in your hand and grabbed him once again, and in response, a whimper released from the back of his throat.

You stared back at him, reveling at the sight of his mouth parting wordlessly as you rubbed your thumb over his leaking tip. You enjoyed having him here, eager for your touch; his member in your hand as he gazed at you with so much anticipation. Equally as eager to please him, you moved your fist up and down his length, slowly first, just to witness him writhe.

You didn’t fail to notice his hand tightly holding on to the edge of the table, his body more sensitive than you expected, presumably from his days on the road.

He dropped his head between your neck and shoulder. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head, lightly tugging at his red hair while you quickened the pace. You hadn’t expected to hear the vulnerable whimpers from a man you’d seen in battle, killing men left and right, especially when you twisted your hand near the tip of his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Don’t tell me you're nearly there already?” You teased him, smearing pre-cum along his length to help lubricate him even more, earning more profanities from his tongue.

A subtle smile appeared on his lips, though you couldn’t see it. “No time for sex.”

Your pace began to slow, hoping to prolong this moment with him. “I don’t recall you taking a vow of chastity in Oldtown.”

“Don’t…”

“Mm?”

“Don’t…don’t slow down.”

You tilted your head. “Look at me and I’ll do as you say.”

Gwayne obeyed, lifting his head with no reluctance.

Your hand snaked around to his face, and you patted his flushed cheek. “There we go,” you told him, keeping your hand on his jaw as your other hand jerked him faster. “There we go, Gwayne.”

Soon after you spoke, he grunted.

You licked your lips as you watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his mouth wide open as he came. Simply listening to him—gods, the sound of him, you never wanted it to stop. And so you kept rubbing, milking him of all his worth.

“Shit.” Gwayne’s body squirmed, but you continued, dropping your other hand on the table beside him.

As smooth as your hand moved, from your spit or his own bodily fluids, there was something about the calluses on your palm that added to the sensation; calluses that stemmed from the hilt of your sword. Feeling that you still had them, somewhere in Gwayne’s disheveled mind, he put together that you hadn’t put down the sword completely.

Memories of you swinging your sword almost sent him over the edge again right then and there.

“Want me to stop?” You leaned in. “I can stop.”

There was a smugness in your tone that took him back to your sparring lessons; you used to ask him the same thing when he seemed too tired to fight back.

“No, don’t.” He lifted his head to the ceiling. “Keep going,” he requested and you listened.

You could feel your hand start to cramp, but you ignored it, too enthralled by Gwayne moaning your name. You kissed his neck initially, then sucked, smoothing over newfound bruises on his skin with your tongue before he lowered his head, impatient to claim your lips right as he came again, light splatters of additional cum inevitably landing on your fingers and pants.

You pulled your lips away, your body still pressed against his as you snickered. Gwayne’s forehead landed on your shoulder again as he came back down to earth.

You caressed the back of his neck. “Feeling alright?”

Gwayne hummed, lifting his head back up, still somewhat high from your cramped hand.

“Interested in me returning the favor?” He tugged at the hem of your trousers.

“Very.”

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfic #house of the dragon #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon season 2 #freddie fox

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absentfather · 13 days ago

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So, what if, what if?!?! And this is just my sleep deprived mind working right now and focusing on Doctor who, the baby that the Doctor is shown to be holding is NOT Belinda, but is in fact, Mundy?

Now, let me explain. The Doctor tells Belinda that a mysterious "he" told him that she was important, and he cannot tell her who he is because of the time travel stuff. Now, what if? That mysterious "he" was either the Doctor himself? (We saw him interact with himself in Joy to the world and in the anniversaries, although those were different regenerations).

Like what if it's important that Belinda has a child, who then is either Mundy herself or is a child that would later have their own child, Belinda's grandchild, who would be Mundy. That would still make Belinda important because of the whole events of the episode "Boom", but also, it may become important as her adventures with the Doctor may change her (Like in my previous theory, trapping her in a different century in the future).

The moment the Doctor took her Dna without her ever wanting that (As unlike Ruby, it seems like she knows her family as she asks Mrs Flood to get her parents), I knew this was going to be an important plot point. Unlike pretending they're not played by the same actor, like how Martha's cousin was the one at Canary Wharf or when it was never mentioned that Amy was at Pompeii, I think this plot point of Belinda and Mundy is going to be more interconnected than before.

Those are just my thoughts. They may not make sense, but it's what I think.

#doctor who #dr who #doctor who spoilers #dr who spoilers #15th doctor #belinda chandra #mundy flynn #doctor who theory

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goldensunsetchild · 1 year ago

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To Answer The Call | SAGAU one-shot|

A/N: I wrote this one-shot because I wanted to celebrate that I won the 50/50 even though I didn't have it guaranteed so now grandma is home. I also decided to use the Lantern Rite invitation to invite Ga Ming because he's such a sunshine I love him so much. So, I hope you like this.

CW: fem!reader, a little (cough*highly*cough) self indulgent, Zhongli mentioned to be the creator's favorite.

Word count: 899 words

Featuring: Xianyun and Ga Ming

It was no secret that the thing the vision holders wanted the most was to receive the call, from their creator. Aside from the ones that were chosen as starting companions, there were only a few lucky ones that got the chance to receive said calling as it seemed that Her Grace was someone really picky when it came to choosing those that were going to be called to her side. Among all the Liyue vision holders, it seemed that the favorite of Her Grace was none other than the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Consultant; Mr. Zhongli.

Most believed that it was because of his extensive knowledge of Liyue's history, perhaps Her Grace liked knowledgeable people the most. However, people like the adepti knew that the reason was... something else; Morax was the god of contracts and as such Her Grace found suitable to made a contract with him in order to guarantee that he would answer the call when the time came. Of course, he answered her call half because of the contract and half because he would never dream to ignore his creator.

Some time after that news arrived that the next in answering the call was Miss Keqing, the Yuheng from the Qixing. Almost at the same time news from Fontaine said that the Chief of Justice, Mr. Neuvillette also answered Her Grace's call and even from Mondstadt an astrologist named Mona Megistus also answered said calling. Of course there was more than just them who had already the privilege of answering her call, including the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing Miss Ningguang and the famous opera performer Miss Yun Jin.

As member of the adepti Cloud Retainer also had the secret wish that maybe some day her creator would call for her, after moving to live among humans and making a new identity she awaited every day. And when the time finally came, she saw it and heard it... the call from her creator so of course she answered immediately and next time she knew she was in front of the Traveler. Though it would be more appropriate to say that she was in front of her, there was no way of mistaking that right golden eye that shined with ancient power. But why was her expression so... surprised? Disappointed? The adeptus couldn't really tell at all.

"Xianyun? Wow... I mean, thank you so much for answering my call. I... I'm actually surprised because I thought that you might have not wanted to answer my call."

How could she not? Nothing could ever be more important than being at her creator's service, she glanced at her and noticed that after saying those words Her Grace smiled at her, it seemed that after all she was pleased with her answering to her call. Of course, as soon as she got within Her Grace's grasp she immediately showered the adeptus with a lot of gifts and also bestowed her with more power. Just like she had done with all of the other acolytes that answered her calling, Her Grace really loved them so deeply. So, the news that Miss Xianyun from Qiaoying Village got called by Her Grace spread out until it reached Yilong Wharf where a certain young man was also wishing that her creator called for him.

Everyone knew his name, Gaming, one of the guards for the Sword and Strongbox Secure Transport Agency. A lively and passionate boy who also loved Wushou Dances, of course as everyone else he wanted to get the chance to be called by Her Grace but he never thought that he would have more than what he expected because he also got to meet her in person. It was no secret that the blond traveler better known as the Hero of Liyue was the creator's vessel, so when he met with them at Liyue Harbor he thought of himself as a really lucky person.

And to his surprise he not only met Her Grace but also she helped him to reconcile with his father, could he be more lucky? Of course he could, because he felt so special when she extend him a letter and it happened it was no ordinary letter because it was actually an invitation to join her. He was so worried that she would never call for him but it turned out that she prepared an invitation for him and only him. He opened the letter and of course, soon he received tons of gifts and even more power.

"Since you weren't answering for my calls I thought that maybe it would be better to give you an invitation in person. That way you wouldn't be able to reject me right?"

She said, her right golden eye shining as bright as the sun. Gaming felt his heart racing like crazy, he wanted to tell her that it was not that he was ignoring her calls but it seemed that they got lost and never reached him but now... Now he was by her side and not only that, he was not going to forget so easily how excited she seemed upon meeting him for the first time or when she said such things like he was "her precious sunny boy", he didn't have any clue what that meant but for some reason it sounded special and it made him feel that way: special.

#sagau #self aware au #genshin impact #genshin self aware #genshin impact gaming #genshin impact xianyun

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deusvervewrites · 1 year ago

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The First Line

A lot of people out there will tell you that the first line of a novel is the most important. I've seen the wisdom that the first line must grab the readers attention, be some kind of a "hook" to draw them in deeper, or to tonally reflect the main themes. That the first line needs to throw the reader into the thick of it!

But how true is that really? It's been nagging me for a while now as someone who has started more fics than I've completed.

Out of curiosity, I grabbed a handful of my favorite novels and compiled their first lines.

"There are many legends about my mother." Daughter of the Moon Goddess, Sue Lynn Tan

This line doesn't really establish much about the plot of this book. Not the narrator's name, goal, conflict, or even the setting. We can make some inferences from the existence of legends around someone, but 'legendary' only narrows anything down because of the book's title. It is, however, indicative of the narration style and the novel's prose.

"Mary Jekyll stared down at her mother's coffin." The Strange Case of the Alchemist's Daughter, Theodora Cross

This line puts us right into a scene. Some real In Medias Res. Except... it's not really an action scene. It's a somber affair. And from Mary's staring, it's safe to say she has some heavy thoughts on the matter.

We can also make some assumptions from the wording choice. Looking down at the coffin suggests that she is standing over it, so we know at once this takes place during the funeral.

Interestingly--and I'm going to break my soft rule of not addressing the rest of the text here--this line does not allude to the novel's framing device.

"The temperature of the room dropped fast." Bartimaeus: The Amulet of Samarkand, Jonathan Stroud

This is another opening that's setting a scene instead of trying to introduce us to the cast or conflict, or even to the setting. Why is it getting colder? We can infer from the fact that the temperature is dropping fast that this probably isn't a good thing or at least not a normal thing.

"I've seen Steelheart bleed." Steelheart, Brandon Sanderson

This line fascinates me. It says a lot and, at the same time, very little. We know that someone named Steelheart exists, obviously. However, the narrator is giving gravitas to the sight of them bleeding. So we've already learned that Steelheart doesn't bleed very often, and seeing it was worth remembering. But who Steelheart is and why the narrator cares? Nothing in this line indicates that.

"Kendra stared out the side window of the SUV, watching foliage blur past." Fablehaven, Brandon Mull

I think this is the most relatable opening line I have listed here, since I can instantly in my mind picture the expression on Kendra's face knowing nothing else about her, or where she's going. We can guess she's probably not happy to be going there since she's staring out the window with what I would assume to be boredom. That's some conflict there. But, like, extremely minor conflict.

"The tired old carriage, pulled by two tired old horses, rumbled onto the wharf, its creaky wheels bumpety-bumping on the uneven planks, waking Peter from his restless slumber." Peter and the Starcatchers, Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson

Well this sentence rambled on a bit didn't it? But it's very evocative. It tells us very little about the story (beyond Peter's name) but it sets the scene beautifully. Not only is it evocative of the scenery, but the time period (from the horse-drawn carriage) and the tone as well. We also know that Peter wasn't sleeping very well, which indicates that he's either anxious about something or that sleeping in this carriage wasn't very easy. Or both.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

This is the kind of line that would get me murdered by a lot of writing advice that I've seen over the years. This line tells you next to nothing, not even whether or not its weird for hobbits to live in holes. What this line does do is ease us into the narration style that Tolkien employs, which is generally slow and descriptive.

Okay...?

So what was the point of all of that?

Well, this experiment has solidified my opinion on something. As I said, I've been having thoughts about opening lines, but I think that the actual first line of the book is not as important as the first scene of the book. None of these lines out of context are that good. Sure, The Hobbit is iconic, but that's not because that line itself is phenomenal. It's practically "Once Upon A Time."

But it works for the scene.

The first scene is far more interesting to me than the first line. I'm not so impatient that if the first line fails to captivate me I'll toss the book aside. And I know that's true for other people because H. Bomberguy posted a four-hour video on plagiarism and we all watched it.

What this means, I think, is that we don't need to treat our audience as if we're in an arms race against their dwindling attention spans as if we'll lose them forever to TikTok if the first sentence isn't the pinnacle of literature.

People will give a work a chance. That's what the summary is for; to tell people if they'll like it so they can know to give it a try.

If you were afraid to write, or to share your writing, because you didn't think the first line was good enough... I don't think that matters. I think that people won't hate it. Won't turn up their noses in disgust.

#writing advice

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abbysimsfun · 4 months ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 106 (A Cautious New Year's Eve)

Ray Pierce, the Landgraabs' driver, arrived after dark to pick up Ash on New Year's Eve. Heather's parents, Daisy and Neal, had come from Henford to spend the night with Lavender, as Heather and Conrad had intended to catch Johnny Zest's stand-up at the Calico Lounge that evening.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Would you believe there was an accident on the Simmerloop tonight?"

"It's alright," said Heather, as she and Conrad pulled on their outerwear to head to the Salty Paw. "My sister made it with her wife and said Johnny's having a great show! We'll still be able to meet them at the bar well before midnight."

Despite the dangers circling their lives these days, the police detail outside their home and the clinic remained in place. Conrad had checked the number that called Ash on the police database, and found it had been passed around a few telemarketing scams. With reports of similar threatening calls from the same number, he concluded it was likely nothing more than a robocall and a prank, and not targeted to Ash whatsoever.

Though still uneasy, Heather accepted this and was, for once, glad her son was headed to San Myshuno to stay with the overbearing but security-heavy Landgraabs. Malcolm hadn't aired a story on Simlandia National, just as they'd hoped, and she knew she couldn't let her fears of a curse - or worse - affect her son. They would not let Ximena control their lives from wherever she was hiding.

"Have fun at your Dad's place, buddy," said Conrad, as they sent him and Ray on their way.

Before they left for Fisherman's Wharf, they showed her parents where Lavender's beloved yogurt melts were kept inside the fridge. Their picky eater had finally found foods she loved - unfortunately, they were all sugary finger foods like yogurt melts, Oaty-O's, and Peanut Butter Puffs. "Try the banana slices with her first," Heather pleaded. "Or she'll be up all night from too much sugar."

Daisy grinned, kissing her granddaughter's forehead. "I'd stay up all night long just to hang with this cutie."

Neal spent time playing with Mayor Whiskers and didn't really look at Conrad, which wasn't all that surprising. The precinct hadn't made any progress on the search for Ximena, so it wasn't like there was much to say. The lack of progress bothered Conrad much more than it did Neal, anyway.

"When you see Nicola, tell her we say hello," said Daisy. "We missed not having her at Winterfest this year, but I know it's been hard for her mother ever since poor Eddie's death."

Heather smiled. She wasn't convinced the only reason Nicola didn't join Hazel for Winterfest with their family was because of her grieving mother, Kim. But for Hazel's sake, she kept her opinion to herself.

She remembered her conversation with Hazel the night they brought home Felix Psyded, and worried things between her and Nicola had only gotten worse since, not better. But they would both be in town this evening, and she hoped they'd both be in good spirits.

The Salty Paw was full of revelers by the time they finally made it to the bar. Johnny and Eva were already there, preferring to watch the countdown to midnight with their friends - instead of a room full of complete strangers at the swanky members-only yacht club that paid him to perform.

Hazel and Nicola were with them, and Hazel shot her sister a pained glance as soon as they got up together to order a round.

"We fought all the way here," lamented Hazel by the bar. "She complained about everything, she thought the show wasn't funny. She almost decided to stay at the yacht club without me all night."

"Things are really that bad between you these days?"

"No matter what I do, I can't make her happy. And lately, it's reciprocated. No matter what, I get anxious whenever she walks in the room. I don't know what kind of mood she'll be in and I just...freeze. Wait for the tornado to pass, you know?"

"Hazel, I'm sorry. Have you tried counselling?"

"We keep talking about it, but we can't get our schedules to line up."

"You're both here tonight," Heather pointed out. "Are you sure it's not that you just can't get your schedules to align for therapy? That's kind of telling..."

Hazel sighed, with a small nod of her head as they returned to their table with drinks. "That took a while," Nicola sniffed. "I hope my ice hasn't melted."

"Yeah, well, it's freezing outside. You could keep your drink cool with some nice Brindleton Bay snow."

Nicola sneered, pasting on a facetious smile. "You mean snow covered in stray animal droppings? Only you have a taste for that, Hazel."

"So, anyway, has anyone made any resolutions for the new year?" asked Heather, desperate to change the vibe while her baby sister's marriage all but crumbled before their eyes.

"I'd like to travel more!" offered Eva.

"Wouldn't we all," Heather agreed, grateful Eva seemed as anxious as she did to silence Hazel and Nicola's bickering. Conrad glanced out the window in the midst of their chatter and did a double take, spotting a familiar figure standing in the snow by the patio tables.

"I'll be right back," he said to Heather, before making his way outside. Eyes wide, he stared at the man before him, reaching out to shake his hand. Though he looked as corporeal as any human sim, their hands slid right past one another. "It's really you," he said. "You're back."

The old man smiled. "Hello, Sargent. The name's Ben Gordon. Nice to formally meet you. Finally." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

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Not Yours, Never Was

Pairing: Tom Bennett x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Angst. Jealousy. Violence. Eventual smut. Word count: ~4k

Summary: She's been friends with Tom since childhood. When he returns to Manchester, following his escape from France, they become something more. The problem with Tom is that he's never quite willing to define what "more" actually is. Based on this request.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Tom rolls off of her, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, as he gasps for breath. One arm snakes around her shoulders as she cuddles against his chest, while the other reaches for his cigarettes on the bedside table.

She basks in the closeness, a satisfying ache between her thighs, knowing the moment is almost at its end. She listens to the click of the lighter, inhaling softly through her nose as a waft of smoke fills her nostrils with its familiar scent.

Then come the words she's been dreading.

"You should probably push off home, love, Lois will be back soon."

She nods, rising from the bed and beginning to dress. It's been this way ever since he came home.

Her and Tom had grown up living opposite each other on the same street. He'd teased her mercilessly, as boys will do to girls, but they'd always been friends. She'd felt sick with worry when he'd joined the navy, and her heart had broken when his father, Douglas, had told her he'd been reported as MIA in Dunkirk.

The day he'd returned to Castlefield had felt like a dream. He'd ducked in through the open back door while she was in the kitchen making tea and she'd dropped the teapot in shock when she caught sight of him. It had shattered upon the tiled floor, but it didn't seem to matter, not when he stood there with that lopsided smirk of his plastered across his gorgeous face.

Wordlessly they'd closed the gap, kissing each other hungrily, silent outpourings of I missed you expressed with every tender touch and caress.

From that point onwards they had seized every opportunity to be together. On the nights that her dad was on late shifts at the factory, she'd leave the lamp on for Tom in her bedroom window, a signal that it was safe for him to come up; her mum had always been a sound sleeper. In turn, she'd go to his house whenever Douglas and Lois weren't home.

She understood the need for privacy. Tom shared a room with his sister and she still lived with her parents, none of whom would appreciate them fornicating under the same roof. However, as the months had slipped by, it occurred to her that she and Tom had never actually been on a proper date, let alone been seen in public together.

"You know, Tommy," She says, as she finishes buttoning her blouse. "There's a dance at the Wharf on Saturday, to celebrate the rest of the troops coming home."

"Yeah, I saw," He replies, rubbing his brow and taking another drag of his cigarette. "My old man brought a leaflet home from his rounds the other day."

"Thought it might be nice if we went together?" She offers with a bright smile.

Tom's eyebrows raise as his eyes widen, and he exhales smoke through his nose. "Oh, I dunno about that, love. Probably not a good idea."

She feels her heart lurch and quickly looks away, not wanting him to see how badly his words have affected her. "Right. Well, I'll see you around."

She rises from the bed, walking towards the door, and he calls after her.

"Oi! No goodbye kiss then?"

Her hand pauses on the doorknob and she responds without turning to look back at him. "Probably not a good idea."

Once safely back in her own room, she swipes angrily at the tears she’s been fighting to hold back since she left Tom’s room.

They’d never established what their relationship was, the transition from friends to more than that had happened too suddenly for such a discussion to ever occur, but it hurt to know she was nothing more than an easy fuck to him. She’d known him all her life, so it wasn’t unreasonable for her to assume she meant something to him. But with a simple refusal of her offer to go to the dance together he’d proven she didn’t, perhaps she never had.

She wonders if it’s a case of him being ashamed to be seen with her, or that he simply doesn’t care for her enough to entertain her company outside of the bedroom. She isn’t sure which upsets her more, thinking about either causes a dull throb in her chest and a lump in her throat.

Pushing the thoughts away, she readies herself for her evening shift at The Oxnoble. The pub is surprisingly busy for a Wednesday evening when she arrives, but it’s been that way most evenings since the war ended, the mood is jubilant. She wishes she shared the sentiment.

She deposits her coat and bag in the back room before moving between tables to collect the empties. After an hour or so of pulling pints and chatting to punters, she finds her spirits lifting. Work serves as a welcome distraction to thinking about Tom Bennett.

“Was wondering when you’d finally crack a smile.”

She looks up as she closes the till to see Joe Broughton leaning over the bar, his soft brown eyes focused on her.

“Sorry, my mind’s been elsewhere this evening.” She says apologetically. “What can I get you?”

He holds up his half finished lager. “I’m alright, actually. Just wanted to say hello. You going to the Wharf on Saturday?”

The smile fades from her face. “No, giving that a miss.”

Joe frowns. “Why? Ted won’t let you have the night off?”

She shakes her head. “No one to go with.”

“Go with me!” He says a little too enthusiastically, his face flushing with embarrassment when he realises how eager he sounds. “I mean…if you want to, that is. Seems a shame for a pretty girl like you to miss out.”

She’s not surprised by Joe’s offer. She has always suspected he’s sweet on her, but until now has been too wrapped up in Tom to pay any mind to him. Tom’s no longer in the picture though. Joe’s kind hearted, tall, dark and handsome, and clearly has no qualms about them being seen together. He is everything Tom’s not. She'd be foolish to turn him down, so she doesn’t.

“I’d love to.” She tells him.

Joe beams with happiness, draining his glass and sliding the empty across to her. “See you on Saturday then.” He grins. “Pick you up at seven?”

She nods, collecting his glass and returning his wave as he pushes through the crowd and out through the pub door.

When she gets home that night her mum is already asleep, and her dad’s at the factory working the late shift. Automatically, her hand moves to the lamp to switch it on and she has to stop herself. She deflates when she realises what she’s about to do, sinking heavily onto the edge of the bed. There’d be no more secret signals for Tom to climb in through the window, not anymore.

The next few days pass quietly, though she has to make a conscious effort not to think of Tom. She does her best not to look through the window to watch for when Lois and Douglas leave. That would usually be when she’d slip across the road and knock at the front door, giggling as he opens it and leans against the doorframe with a smirk. His blue eyes would rake over her, before beckoning her inside. Not anymore. She doesn’t see Tom at all, and her lamp stays firmly off for the rest of the week too.

She stands in front of the full length mirror in the hallway on Saturday evening, taking in her appearance. She’s applied a layer of rouge to her lips, carefully curled her lashes and set her hair into a style that doesn’t disrupt the work of the rollers that she’s been wearing for most of the day. Her blush pink dress accentuates her curves, nipping in at the waist, with an a-line skirt that stops at her mid thigh. The red of her heels matches the colour of her lips.

As she smooths her hands over her outfit, she can’t help but wonder what Tom would make of it. She has to remind herself that it’s another man that will appreciate the effort she’s made for this evening, and not him. She hates the way her heart sinks at the thought.

Joe’s eyes widen when he takes in the sight of her as she opens the door to him. “You look…wow…you look fantastic.”

She grins, grabbing her coat and stepping out onto the street beside him. “You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.” She says appreciatively, noticing his slicked back hair and starched shirt collar.

The dance hall at the Wharf is packed by the time they arrive. Red, white and blue bunting hangs from the ceiling and a live band is in the middle of a Glenn Miller cover, with most people already paired off and dancing. Joe gets them both a drink, before leading her out to the centre of the floor.

As Joe spins and twirls her she can’t help but think about how wrong it all feels. The sensation of her hand in his, his palm at the dip of her waist, it’s so different to the way Tom touches her. Her skin doesn’t tingle in the wake of Joe’s fingertips brushing against it, her heart doesn’t flutter when she looks into his eyes. When he pulls her close his scent is unfamiliar, not the heady mixture of tobacco and spearmint that she’s come to know, to love.

Her breath hitches when she looks over and sees Tom through the crowd. The intensity of his stare is palpable even in the dimly lit hall, and fixed upon her and Joe. She doesn’t miss the way his jaw ticks as he looks at them. He’s made no effort, wearing the same jumper and slacks he always has on, yet still managing to look effortlessly handsome. It irritates her. She wonders who he’s here with and has to force herself to look away, not wanting to know, grimacing at the jealousy that blooms hot and acrid within her.

Focusing her attention back on the man she’s here with, she gazes up at him as the band switches to an instrumental cover of a Vera Lynn song. The atmosphere shifts considerably as the couples around them begin to slow dance.

Panic races through her, her mouth running dry and her heart thundering wildly as Joe starts to lean in. For a moment she is tempted to give in, a bid to forget about Tom once and for all, but at the last moment she decides she can’t. She doesn’t want to. She turns her head and Joe’s lips graze her cheek instead. As her eyes flicker upwards she notices that Tom has gone.

“Joe…do you think you could take me home? I’m not feeling well.” She says, not missing the disappointment that washes over his features.

The walk home is awkwardly silent and she’d feel bad for giving Joe false hope were it not for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Tom, who he’s with and what he’s doing.

Her curiosity is sated when they reach her front door and she sees Tom burst out of his, moving across the road towards them with purpose.

It happens too quickly for her to comprehend fully, as Tom’s fist makes brutal impact with Joe’s face, knocking him backwards. “You kissed her! You fucking kissed her!” He shouts at him, and she feels fury well up inside of her.

Stepping between them, she shoves Tom away. “Stop it!”

“Why?!” He spits back angrily. “You shagging him too?!”

Her eyes well up as Tom’s words bite into her. She spares a glance at Joe, before speaking to him. “Would you mind leaving us, please? I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother.” He says stiffly, glaring at the pair of them before stalking off back down the street.

When she looks back at Tom, he appears sheepish, almost regretful, but she can’t find it in herself to forgive him. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of order…”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” She shouts back, her tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheeks. “You had no right to do that. I’m not yours, I never was!”

His face softens, hurt flashing in his blue eyes, as he tries to speak. “Listen-”

“No, you listen!” She seethes tearfully. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be in love with someone that’s ashamed of you?! I can’t keep wasting my life, hoping one day I’ll be more than just a means for you to get your leg over. I don’t want to see you anymore, Tom. Leave me alone.”

She leaves him standing in the street as she goes inside, slamming the door behind her. She’s grateful that her parents aren’t home yet, otherwise she’d have copped an earful for the scene she’s just made in the middle of the road. Crying herself to sleep that night she curses her luck that she has to live opposite the man that’s broken her heart.

Her shift the next evening at The Oxnoble is quiet, most people have clearly opted for a night in after the dance the previous day. She’s grateful for it, feeling the furthest thing from being in the mood to smile at customers while she serves them drinks. She’s the only person behind the bar. The landlord, Ted, has taken advantage of the opportunity for a night off and left her with the keys, asking her to lock up come closing time. Save for a couple of older gentlemen nursing pints of bitter in the corner, the pub is empty.

She’s switching out the optic on a gin bottle when she hears the door swing open. Looking over her shoulder, she sighs, her mood instantly darkening when she sees Tom stroll in.

Propping himself on the bar, he eyes her nervously as she finishes what she’s doing and walks over to him.

“What d’you want?” She asks moodily.

“Need to speak to ya.” Comes his quiet response, long fingers flexing against the wooden surface.

“I’m working.”

“Can’t take a break?”

“Ted’s left me in charge. If you’re not here to drink then you need to leave.”

“Alright then.” He says with a shrug. “Pint of Guinness, please.”

She narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Tom, you don’t like Guinness, and it takes bloody ages to pour!”

“I know. Figured you’d spare me a few words while I wait.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a pint glass from the shelf above her head and placing it beneath the pump.

“Went to see Joe today, wanted to apologise and that, ya know, for smacking him…”

She looks up from the dark liquid that’s currently filling the glass. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s got a right shiner.” He says with a grin. It disappears as quickly as it appears when he sees the angry look on her face. “Anyway, he told me nothing happened between you two. I know you said you never wanted to speak to me again, but I was hoping you’d hear me out, just this once?”

She purses her lips, topping off his pint as it settles and passing it to him. “Told you, I’m working.”

“I can wait.” He says, sliding coins across the bar to her and taking the glass.

She has to bite back a laugh as she watches him take a sip and wrinkle his nose. “Tastes like blood.” He mutters to himself, wandering off and taking a seat at a table directly opposite the bar.

Tom has never been a man of patience and she fully expects him to get bored after an hour and leave. She’s surprised when he continues to sit there, periodically lighting up cigarettes and wincing at every sip of the stout he’s nursing.

Three hours later she rings the bell for last orders and the few customers that had occupied the pub slowly shuffle their way out, leaving her and Tom alone. He’s only half way through his drink, having spent the entire evening pulling a face at every tiny mouthful.

She takes pity on him, bolting the doors and then leaning against the billiards table. “Go on then, I’m listening.”

He rises from his seat, walking slowly towards her, almost like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly she’ll change her mind.

“Did you mean what you said? You’re in love with me?”

She feels heat rush to her cheeks and looks away. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? You don’t feel the same way.”

“Are you fucking joking?” He says, a tinge of irritation in his tone. “Would I have just sat for four hours choking down a pint of that shit, waiting for you to give me the time of day, if I wasn’t crazy about you? Give your head a wobble!”

She attempts to swallow around the lump that’s forming in her throat, her voice strained as she speaks. “We only meet up in secret and when I asked about the dance you said no. It feels like-”

“I’m ashamed of you?” He stands in front of her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Never. You mean everything to me. Thinking about coming home to you was all that got me through when I was laying in that hospital bed in Paris. Couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing that you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then why?” Her voice cracks, her eyes are glassy as she stares up at him.

Tom draws in a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve never been worthy of you, love. I might have come back from France a hero, but what about when all that dies down and I go back to just being Tom Bennett, the lad that’s always in trouble with the coppers? What will people say about you, if they know I’m your fella? You don’t deserve that.”

“Shouldn’t that be for me to decide?”

“I know that now.” He says, leaning his forehead against hers “Last night, I knocked to ask you to go to the dance with me and when no one answered I figured you’d already be there. Wasn’t expecting to see you there with Joe and it pissed me off. I know that’s selfish, but you’re mine.”

He presses his lips to hers and she melts into it, her resolve crumbling with embarrassing rapidity as her mouth moves with his. Her fingers work their way into the softness of his dirty blonde hair as his tongue slips into her mouth, working against her own as his large hands cup her face.

“Mine.” He whispers as he pulls away, making her gasp as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck. “Does Joe make you feel this good?” He asks, working open the buttons of her blouse, slipping a hand inside to squeeze at her through her brassiere.

“No.” She whines. “Just you, Tommy, just you.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks, lifting her by the backs of legs to sit on the billiards table.

He captures her lips in another searing kiss, pushing her skirt up to her hips.

“N-not here, we can’t.” She whimpers, pulling back.

“Door’s locked, isn’t it?” He coos at her, pulling the gusset of her underwear to the side. “Christ, you’re soaking. Is all this for me?”

She bites her lip, feeling dizzy with arousal. “Yeah, just you.”

“You gonna let me have a taste?” His eyes lock with hers, the blue barely visible with how dilated his pupils are.

Before she has a chance to respond, he’s dropped to his knees in front of her, licking a wide stripe against her folds with the flat of his tongue.

She emits a strangled cry, her hands flying to the back of his head as he groans against her, the vibration of it causing her to clench around nothing.

“Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had.” He whispers between kitten licks to her bud.

She bucks her hips against his face as he feasts upon her like a man starved, the cadence of her moans growing unsteady as a familiar tightness coils within her lower belly.

“You close, darlin’?” He smirks up at her.

She’s only able to respond with a nod of her head, too far gone to trust herself to speak.

“That’s too bad.” He says, pulling away. “Wanna be buried inside of ya when that happens.”

She feels like she could cry at the loss, and her fingers fumble in their hurry to get Tom’s belt and trousers open, as he works to open the wrapper of a sheath that he’s fished out of his pocket.

Tom’s jaw goes slack, his eyes screwing shut as he pushes inside of her and she swears he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now. He stills against her once he’s bottomed out, composing himself.

“So fuckin’ tight. Whose are you?” He rasps against the shell of her ear.

“Yours.” She breathes, without hesitation.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He snarls, grasping her hips and setting a punishing pace.

She leans back, bracing herself against the table with the palms of her hands. The green felt is coarse against her skin, and she knows she’ll have friction burn from it, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

The hold he has on her is iron clad, pulling her flush against him with every jerk of his pelvis, his face buried in the crook of her neck as his belt buckle knocks against the wood with every thrust. This forceful, commanding side of him is one she’s never seen before, but she loves every second.

The slap of Tom’s skin against hers echoes through the empty pub, his grunts of exertion mingling with her breathy moans. His hand leaves her hip to palm at her breast and she can tell he’s nearing his end when as he pace begins to falter, his jaw clenching.

“Play with yourself.” He grits out. “Need you to finish with me.”

Doing as she’s told, she places her hand between her legs, circling her pearl. The added sensation serves to intensify Tom’s movements inside of her and after a few hurried strokes she finds herself tensing around him as her climax builds.

“Oh, fuck, Tommy, I’m gonna-”

Her sentence is cut off as her peak crashes over her in white hot waves of intensity, barely registering it as Tom lets go with a groan, spilling inside of the condom.

They stay like that for a few moments, leaning heavily against each other. When he eventually pulls out, and they begin to redress, there’s a part of her that worries that this is the part where he’ll make an excuse and leave, and it’ll go back to how it’s always been.

He surprises her when he begins to move around the pub, collecting up the empty glasses.

“What else needs doing before I walk you home?” He asks.

She can’t help the warm smile that spreads across her face at the gesture. “Just the ash trays.” Comes her response.

His fingers interlock with hers as they walk home in comfortable silence, the darkness lit by the cherry red ember of the end of Tom’s cigarette.

“Leave the lamp on for you tomorrow?” She says softly, once they reach her front door.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Tomorrow I’m knocking the door and taking you on a proper date.”

She grins. “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah. Bag of chips and a bottle of pop, only the best for my girl.” He says with a wink, beginning to head off across the street.

“Oi!” She calls after him. “No kiss goodbye then?”

He chuckles, hurrying back to her and spinning her around in his arms as he kisses her, before setting her back down.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“And I love you, always have.” He tells her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Read on AO3

More Tom fics

#tom bennett #world on fire #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #world on fire angst #world on fire smut #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fan fic #world on fire fanfic #ewan mitchell

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whitehairandtraumatized-bracket · 1 month ago

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White Hair and Trauma Brawl Round 1; Poll 1

remember, voting is based on swag, trauma, and favoritism!!

trauma and propaganda under the cut!

Trauma!

Klaus: Classic haver of Dead Wife Disease

Sage:

-parents' fate unknown but for some reason he and a friend took a boat to the coastal city Porrima, possibly hoping for better life conditions

-only to end up living their childhoods as orphaned wharf rats stealing to stay alive, a fate shared by many of their kind (aka the ilephta) who weren't born into nobility

-get caught red handed one time but it's okay bc there's this stranger who vouches for him and takes him under his wing

-together with his childhood friend (Balsam) and their new friend (Lucan), they start a gang called the griefers, which provided a community for the ilephta who suffered like them, while also becoming the muscle that protects the city when the knights were preoccupied with war efforts against the Lord of ShadowsTM

-the leader of the Starsworn knights (Gramme) recruits Sage to spy on the griefers because he has reason to believe there's corruption running amongst them, and Lucan allows it so that Sage can spy for him while pretending to be a spy for the Starsworn. So basically a double agent

-he gets a cool magical sword out of it

-much to his dismay, Gramme was right; the monster dubbed by the people as the Red Wraith ie the culprit behind the murders happening in town was no other than Lucan

-he wanted to cleanse the town of the unjust leaders and cops, but under the influence of magical corruption he turned into a monster that tore into anything in his sight, and that included Sage when he confronted him

-Sage is forced to drive his sword into his longtime friends heart, a scene that will haunt him for the rest of his life, and puts a target on his back--his own friends now turning on him for killing their leader

-so now he's on the run

-without a leader, the Lord of Shadows easily swoops in and takes control of the griefers promising them vengeance if they fight for him... only to get them addicted to the same corruption lucan was suffering from

-not only did Sage's found family turn on him, but now even his Starsworn buddies hate him for running away from the battle where they /will/ defeat LOS but not without losing all their soldiers but two

-and on top of that Lucans sister Elowen is out for Sage's head, thinking that he was the Red Wraith the whole time and that he killed her brother for the hell of it

-Sage is forced back into adventure after the LOS returns 5 years later but his sword--which once resonated with his desire to protect the people he loves--is broken and no longer answers to him

-trying to investigate Elowen and her connection to LOS, Sage finds his old friend Balsam, who still believes that Sage was a traitor and under the influence of corruption, tries to attack Sage and MC. Sage has to kill yet another friend

-this whole time Sage has been getting magically corrupted too, he's just been avoidant about it

-eventually he'll watch the LOS "kill" MC before his eyes, which only furthers his deterioration

Propaganda!

Klaus: Most traumatized version of Santa Claus that I could think of

Sage:

-middle-aged chronically-drunk bisexual cat-wolf-man with a magical sword

-flirts with anything and everything but gets awkward when the energy is returned

-will chase a laser pointer

-allergic to shirts

-haunted by the memory of the friend he killed

-has a blacksmith adoptive sister that he first met when they were homeless kids fighting over a street cake; how he went from that to adopting her as his younger sister is beyond me

-everyone wants him dead and the one person who doesn't want him dead thinks he's already dead, almost beats his ass when she finds out he's not dead

-gets a cool emo makeover with an eyepatch after he reaches the final straw of trauma, along with a monster transformation <33

#white hair and trauma round 1 #polls #klaus #klaus movie #sage last legacy #sage lesath

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chuubian · 9 months ago

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childhood friend ningguang

A/N: This is just a little drabble, my Chuuya one is taking so long but i wanted to put something out anyways and i'm a lesbian before anything else so ofc its about my wife.

cw: bullying, slightly suggestive, fem reader

Childhood friend Ningguang who grew up in a similar situation to you: poor and struggling to survive. At first, it was hard to get along with her. There was no way you could ever accept another girl who was the same age as you, she was taking everyone's attention away from you! As a child, the only solution in your mind was to ruin her hair. Putting gum in her hair, stealing her brush, and pouring out her shampoo were not off the table. Of course, Ningguang was too proud to show how it affected her. She has never done anything to you before, there was no real reason she could think of for you to start to terrorize her. When Ningguang finally got her revenge, it only made you more angry. The ‘pranks’ only kept escalating and getting worse.

It all came to a stop one day when you found her curled up under a tree, crying her little heart out. You had just stolen the little bit of mora she had painstakingly saved up over a month. It wasn't meant to be that serious, but to her, all her hard work had gone to waste. The scene of her watery eyes and red cheeks made your heart ache. You couldn't help but feel guilty. The only thing you could do was try to make things better- to give her back the money and apologize. Surprisingly, despite all you had put her through, she forgave you. Letting you comfort her, holding her chubby little hands in yours.

From that, a friendship blossomed. As teenagers, you both used to walk from Yaoguang shoal to the south wharf, feet burning from the hot sand on your bare skin, gathering what little money you could to scrape by. Laughing and joking the whole day together. At this point, you both spent more time with each other than with your own families.

The hard economic times growing up, only made you and Ningguang closer as you get older. Moving in together as she started her business made you realize something- you can't breathe while she's around. It's so irritating. You hadn't felt so angry at her in a long time. Her stupid face in the morning- while she was still a little sleepy, drool drying on her chin- was still annoyingly beautiful. When she came back home from a long day, she would melt into the couch. Her body was relaxed and open, sighing softly, pink lips parted and letting out little groans of exhaustion. Did she have to be so loud?

Ningguang noticed your frustration, and she tried her best to appease you. She would clean the dishes before you even asked, baking you your favorite treats. But unfortunately it didn't help much, you could still feel that hollow and fiery aching in your chest.

As her business took off, she moved out, leaving you more alone than you had been in years. You still met up and tried to be civil but it wasn't that same anymore. Ningguang had come to care for you, there was no way in hell she was letting your friendship, something so dear to her, fade away. Extravagant dinners and expensive diamond jewelry were things frequently given to you by her. Trying to deny her gifts only made her insist more. There was a stack of presents from her building up in your closet, making it almost impossible to even shut the door.

Thinking back on how you treated her as children made you feel worse. A dull pain gnawing in your chest from how cold you used to be, and are again. Something definitely needed to change. So you start giving her small things back- what you can afford to give her anyways. Little hair clips are her favorite things to receive. Something small, made by your own hands, inexpensive but thoughtful. She knew it was hard for you to save up and buy her gifts, so it made her appreciate what you managed to give even more.

Every Saturday was now set aside to spend time with your best friend, you both dressed up and went out to have dinner and drinks. Ningguang always insisted on paying for these outings, she was so generous with her money when it came to you. Something made her strive to see you happy and healthy. Every time you sat across from her, her cheeks flushed, her lungs felt compressed, and her hands would get shaky. If you asked, she would probably build you your own mansion right there in Liyue harbor.

As you beg her to stop spending so much money on you, she can't help but smile. She would never stop, you're the most important person in her life. When you invite her over to your place afterwards, her smile fades. This is how you're living? You both had worked so hard to escape the poverty that had confined the both of you as children. Your ‘house’ was an empty studio apartment. You could barely afford furniture so there was only a small couch and coffee table in your living room. This time it was her who felt guilty. She was the one who didn't bother to ask about your situation. So she asked you to move in with her again.

At first you refused. There was no way you were doing this again. Not only would tensions rise again- but it was embarrassing. Needing help from your millionaire friend just to survive is humiliating. When Ningguang asked why, you didn't know what to say. It sounded childish but it was true, you were unnecessarily upset at her just for existing when you used to live together. But Ningguang is nothing if not persistent, so you finally gave in- gathering your things, everything she had gifted you over the years, and boxing it up. Moving it over to her house- the lavish jade chamber.

Living with her again was hard. Your heart was throbbing in your chest, your skin felt hot anytime she would come near you, and she had suddenly decided that it was acceptable to walk in on you while bathing. She didn't even take a second look, talking animatedly while you were flushed and embarrassed, trying to cover yourself. Nigguang seriously had no sense of boundaries. Day through day, Ningguangs hands would brush against your back and waist, pulling you closer. Her breath would fan over your neck, making your stomach flutter. Recently, at night she started climbing into your bed, searching for your warmth, claiming to feel cold in her own room. You saw the dirty looks her staff would give you after they saw Ningguang leave your room. Seriously, what got them in such a bad mood?

Ningguang didn't seem to notice how weird this all was, she was getting so clingy. Forcing you to sit on her lap while she works, and now, deciding it's okay to shower with you. Without asking first. When you let out a scream, asking what has gotten into her, she seems confused. It's just a shower. nothing else. Things are awkward the next morning. You don't know how to act around her, what can you even say? After she forces you to sit down and talk to her, she admits her feelings for you. It makes you realize you felt the same way. The dull ache in your heart wasn't from irritation. It was love. Love for the girl you had grown up with. Love for the generous woman she had grown into. Love for the women who to this day, refuses to give up on you.

After the confession, you started officially dating. Surprisingly, Ningguang could be even more liberal with her money. You couldn't even go a day without Ningguang doing something completely unnecessary for you. You could feel the maids glare at you when they walked past, but unfortunately for them, you were the one Ningguang picked.

#genshin impact #wlw #ningguang #ningguang x reader #ningguang genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic

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