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xmalfoyweasleyx · 7 months ago

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The new bakery - Azriel x reader

Summary: Y/N gets a little jealous when she meets Azriel’s ex-lover, someone she didn’t expect (because I wanted to write jealous Az but then I thought, why not reader?)

Warnings: jealousy and angst but mostly fluff, mentions of sex

“Ready?” you said excitedly while pulling your shoes on, glancing behind you to look at your mate.

“Ready” Azriel said softly, that subtle but sweet smile on his face.

You opened the door when you felt his scarred hands grabbing your waist, pulling your back against his chest. He nuzzled his face in your neck, leaving butterfly kisses on the warm skin. “Az, stop, we need to go", you giggled.

“We don’t need to do anything”, he mumbled into your neck.

“Yes, we do, I want to see that new bakery. Mor said they have the best cupcakes, and I want to be there before it gets too busy”

“Okay okay, let’s go then” Az sighed with a smile, grabbing your hand in his. You walked in comfortable silence through the streets of Velaris. It was beautiful this time of the year. The streets were busy and people laughed everywhere around you.

You looked up at Az to see he was already smiling at you. “What?” you asked. “Nothing, you just look very pretty today”, he said while putting your hand on his cheek and lips and kissing your palm softly. Your heart skipped a beat, the male still made you blush after all those years.

“Oh.. Thanks Azzie” you sighed flustered.

He smiled back at you from behind your hand, a blush on his cheeks too. You loved it when he gave you that shy and flustered smile. You were the only person who could make him do that.

“You can be such a cheesy flirt sometimes, you know that?” you joked, trying to distract yourself from the heavy feelings in your chest.

Az wanted to argue but shut his mouth when you squeaked. “There it is!!” you pointed at the bakery behind him.

You were were welcomed by the sweet smell of cakes and pastries when you walked in. The bakery was as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside. “Wow look at this Az, isn’t it wonderful?”

Azriel only nodded with an amused grin on his face. This was his way of communicating with you, silent, but still more expressive than he’d like to be. You love that about him, the way he reveals more to you than to others.

Behind the counter stood a young High Fae female, she had long dark blond hair and the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. She must be the owner.

“Welcome!” she greeted politely.

“Hello!” you smiled back.

Azriel turned around and you immediately saw his eyes widen when he made eye contact with the girl behind the counter. “Clara” he sighed in shock.

“Oh my god, Azriel! How are you?” she smiled.

“Good! Er.. this is.. this is Y/N, she’s my mate” Azriel smiled proudly.

The girl, Clara apparently, smiled at you. “Oh waw! I’m Clara, I own this bakery, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“The bakery is amazing. Now I’m so curious, how do you two know each other?” you asked, trying to remember a moment when Azriel mentioned a girl named Clara. If they were friends he would’ve mentioned her, right?

“Oh, we dated for a while a few years ago, it didn’t last that long.” She said nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Dated?” you gaped.

“Well, dated is a big word, we were lovers for a while, but it wasn’t more than just sex and two dates or something. Besides, I’m married now!” she beamed, showing her ring.

You watched Az, hoping he would tell you it was just some kind of prank. But he just stood there, grinning at her, obviously happy to see her again.

And gods… she was beautiful. And kind. And had a bakery. Shit.

You were speechless. This was the last thing you expected to happen today. Of course Az had lovers, you knew that, but still...

“Oh.. that’s, that’s nice..” you tried.

“Az..” you subtly tugged on his sleeve “I think we can go home now, right?”

Azriel frowned at you. “But don’t you want to try the cupcakes?” he asked worriedly.

“Maybe another time, I’m still pretty full from our lunch”, you hoped you were convincing enough, he was a spymaster after all.

He thankfully noticed the pleading look you gave him. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll come back another time then.”

You tried to hide your sigh of relieve and walked out as fast as you could. “See you next time, Clara.” You heard him say behind you.

When you walked back home you still didn’t know what to say. “Are you okay, honey?” Az asked. You only nodded.

You wouldn’t consider yourself a jealous person but… You were jealous. Az tried to reach for your hand again, just like he did when you walked to the bakery. But you quickly placed your hand in your pocket before he could reach you.

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The speechlessness quickly turned into annoyance and even anger. You knew Azriel did nothing wrong but you couldn’t help yourself. The way he smiled at her? Did he even notice the way it looked? You caught imagining the two of them together, going on a date, sleeping together.

You tried to distract yourself for the rest of the day. You read a book and cooked a nice dinner. When Azriel joined you for said dinner, you both ate in silence.

It was already late when you were in bed, reading a book, almost ready to go to sleep. Az joined you a moment later. He was still frowning at you when he undressed himself and brushed his teeth.

“Did I do something wrong?” he finally asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you mad at me?” he questioned.

“Not mad” you said while aggressively laying your book on the nightstand and pulling the covers over you.

“Then why did you just throw your book away?”

“I didn’t throw my book away, Azriel, I’m just going to sleep now”

He didn’t respond for a while, deciding to let it go. That was until he turned off the lights and took his place next to you on the bed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling your back against his chest. He wrapped his wing around you protectively and nestled his face into you neck. He always did this, so it was quite a shock for him when he felt you tensing against him.

“Okay that’s enough” he groaned and turned the lights on again. “Tell me what’s wrong y/n.”

“You should know what’s wrong. It’s your exes that are all around Velaris.” you didn’t turn around to face him. Okay, maybe you exaggerated a bit, but you couldn't get the look on your mates face when he saw her out of your head.

“Are you jealous?” he asked almost shocked.

“Of course I am!” you sighed while finally turning around to face him. He looked worried and amused at the same time. But the amusement faded when he saw how distressed you were.

“Y/N, she said she’s married, and besides, we are mated for years. You know I love no one else but you” he whispered reassuringly.

“Well… what if that isn’t enough?”

Azriel gently grabbed your face in between his familiar scarred hand, stroking your cheeks in that comforting way he always does. “You know I’ve had lovers Y/N, I’m a 500 years old, I wish i met you when I was young but sadly that didn’t happen.”

“It’s just… in my mind your lovers were just girls you met in clubs. I imagine them dancing there and drinking and you seducing them for only one night…But she? She has a godsdamn bakery! And she seems so kind, that’s relationship material!” you rambled

Azriel was silent for a moment and started placing dozens of kisses all over your cheeks, then forehead and eventually your lips too. You couldn't help but giggle "Az, stop distracting me with kisses, you bastard, I'm having a breakdown here, remember?", you giggled.

He pressed one last kiss on your lips when he looked at you again, “Well, it didn’t work out with her for a reason. And maybe that reason is you. Because somewhere deep down I knew. I knew there was someone out there, someone special. And I’m so lucky I found you, baby. You know that, right?” His hands were in your hair, stroking lovingly. “I love you” he sighed, kissing your neck now. You leaned into his touch, “I love you too.”

You lay there in silence for a while, his face in your neck and hands in your hair, your arms and legs wrapped around him.

“Was the sex good?” you suddenly slipped out.

Azriel laughed, “it didn’t come close to what we have, baby”

“Yeah?” you smirked. “Yeah.”

“Should I show you how much better it is?” he grinned. You slowly crawled into his lap. “Should I show you?” you countered. “Yes please” he smirked.

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#acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fluff

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topguncortez · 18 days ago

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For Her Hand - Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist || main masterlist

synopsis: Jake has always been cool and collected under pressure, but setting across the table from one of the Navy's most infamous legends to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage?? Well, that's enough to make anyone crack under pressure

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none? cursing, mentions of death, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of religion

Jake was sweating.

He probably had sweat stains on the underarms of his dress shirt, and he was now worried that he was going to have to use the bathroom before James got here. Tonight was the night that Jake was going to ask for Y/N’s hand in marriage. . . even though he already proposed.

Jake knew he was doing it all backwards. He had already gotten an ear full from his mother when they called her several months ago to tell her the news of Y/N’s pregnancy. Jake never wanted it to be like this, no, he was raised to be a true gentleman. He was supposed to court the girl for a couple of months, and then ask her father and the church for their blessing to get engaged, then there would be a big party on his family’s ranch to celebrate the engagement and then there would be a huge wedding ceremony that was more about showing off to his parents’ friends than about him and Y/N.

But there was something about Y/N, that made Jake throw all expectations out the window. From the moment Jake saw her from across the Hard Deck, he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with her. That moment he stepped off the carrier and went straight to her house to find her covered in dirt, he knew that she was going to be the mother of his children. That he would come home to her every single time. Every night he dreamt of the life they would have together, the names of their children, what they would look like, the big house he would build her, and the garden that she would spend hours out in.

Jake hadn’t always had a good reputation when it came to women, and it was pretty well known. Throughout the academy and flight school, it wasn’t uncommon to see Jake leave with a new woman. There was a part of him who had spent years searching for the person to fill the void in his heart that had been festering from years of striving for his father’s attention and love. And Y/N was the person who filled it in a very healthy way.

When James first heard about Jake’s and Y/N’s relationship, he was not thrilled. He had seen flyboys like Jake before. He knew what they got up to on postings and detachments, and didn’t want his daughter to join the club of broken hearts. He had also seen and heard the broken cries of their partners when an officer walked off the ship and handed them a neatly folded flag. James felt ill every time he thought about his daughter being in that position.

But then he saw how they interacted with each other at the Naval ball, and Vice Admiral James “Hercules” Parker was proven wrong. He could see the love that Jake had for his daughter. And even though nothing was promised in their line of work, James knew he couldn’t stand in the way of true love.

Jake wiped his hands on his pants for what seemed like the thousandth time that hour as he looked around the restaurant for James. He felt like dinner was a more professional way to ask to marry his daughter than doing it over drinks at the Hard Deck or a round of golf, or blurting out in the middle of a meeting (like Coyote had done with Warlock). What made his nerves stay somewhat at bay was that Jake was kind of doing this all backward. He had already proposed to Y/N when he came home from his last deployment and she had said yes. Blame it on the heat of the moment and being a hair's breadth away from death, but Jake couldn’t wait any longer without making her his forever. And she was already pregnant with his child, and James and Clara had already accepted him into their family.

“Jacob,” James said as he walked to the table. Jake stood up and greeted James with a handshake, “Missing Thursday night football for this.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Jake said and took another drink of his water. James eyed him suspiciously, seeing the young man's hands shake, as a waiter walked to the table.

“Anything to drink for you two, tonight?” The waiter asked.

“Top-shelf whiskey,” James nodded, “Make that two, neat.”

“Oh, I’m good with water,” Jake said. The waiter nodded and went to go get their drinks, “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“I can see that,” James said, “Didn’t think that the ‘Hangman’ could get nervous,” Jake cringed at the way James said his call sign as if it were some sort of dig. Some sort of pass to let Jake know that he wasn’t good enough for his daughter, “What’s on your mind son? How’s Y/N and the baby?”

“Good, they’re both good. She’s pissed, uh,” Jake cleared his throat, “Sorry, upset, that Clara won’t let her dig the flower beds.”

“It’s not good for pregnant women to be digging in soil,” James responded, his voice void of emotion and staring Jake down like he was an idiot.

“Right, yes! I knew that from the parenting books,” Jake nodded, remembering one of the only facts he had retained from those books, “Anyway, I uh,” Jake scratched the back of his neck, trying to gather his thoughts, “I love you, daughter,” James nodded, “A-and I did this whole thing backward and I apologize for it. My dad drilled into my head that you always ask for permission first before you do anything with another man’s daughter-”

“Or get her pregnant.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for that too. But sir-”

“James,”

Jake nodded, “James, I don’t ever want to see a day where your daughter is not by my side. When I thought I wasn’t going to make it back to her. . . well, it was the worst thing ever. I had to make a promise to her when I got back on solid ground, and I did. And now, I gotta make it right. If you would please grant me the blessing, I would love to marry your daughter.”

James looked at him for a moment, the silence becoming so thick between the two men. Jake felt a cold sweat go down his spine, but then he saw a smile break out across James’ face, “I knew this would come sooner or later. I was hoping for later, but,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black ring box, “She used to wear this around the house as a little girl. It was my mother’s.”

James placed the box on the table and Jake gingerly picked it up. Inside sat a beautiful diamond attached to a silver band. The diamond had to be nearly three carats and had smaller diamonds around it. Jake looked up at James, tears brimming his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask-”

James shook his head, cutting Jake off, “I did the same thing nearly thirty years ago,” James chuckled, “I lost my wingman and almost burned in myself. The moment I got home to Clara, I told her that I could not go back up into the sky without knowing I was going to have her forever. Then she dragged me to the courthouse that same day,” James shook his head with a smile, “I knew this moment was coming at some point in time, when 'dad' stopped being the only man in her life. The only man she looks at with those eyes. No dad is ever ready for that day, and one day, hopefully, you'll have the same experience."

Jake could only imagine the day he would have a little girl and hoped she’d look like Y/N. He could see it now, a beautiful daughter that had her mother’s beautiful eyes and smile, and her personality. If she was born with Jake’s. . . lord help them all, she was going to be a firecracker.

“Does this mean that I. . .”

“You have my blessing to marry my daughter.”

— — —

After dinner was over, Jake probably broke every traffic law to get home to Y/N. He smiled as he noticed the lights in the backyard were on and the sound of her giggle was in the air. He could hear the small barks of the German shepherd puppy he had gotten her as a companion for when he’s gone on deployments. Jake grabbed the bouquet of pink carnations and basically skipped to the backyard.

“Bring it back, Steve!” Y/N called as the puppy hustled his way back to his owner, “Good boy!” Steve’s attention turned the second that the gate to the backyard was opened. Even for a puppy, his barks were still loud, startling Y/N. She turned around, seeing Jake standing there with a goofy grin on his face.

“What are you-”

“Marry me,” Jake said, cutting her off.

Y/N giggled, “Sweetheart, I already said yes. Did you hit your-”

“Nope,” Jake shook his head and walked over to where she was kneeling on the ground. Steve growled a bit as Jake got close to his mother, “Hey, I was the one who adopted you and let you chew on the seatbelts in my truck.” Steve gave Jake a look, before trotting off into the backyard, “Animals.”

“Be nice,” Y/N playfully scolded, and sat down in the grass. Her hand rested on her growing bump, which had popped a few days ago, and had become Jake’s latest obsession to touch, “How did dinner go?”

“Went great,” Jake said, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his lap. He rested his large hand on top of her’s, “He gave me his blessing and gave me this,” Jake pulled out the ring from his pocket.

Y/N gasped, “My nana’s ring! Oh my god, I thought I lost that!”

“Your dad kept it and gave it to me,” Jake said. He grabbed Y/N’s hand and took off the fifteen-dollar ring he bought at Target that was slowly starting to turn green, “Now, we can make it official,” Y/N turned her head to look at him, “What do you say, Mrs. Seresin?”

Y/N smiled and turned in his lap so she was straddling him, “I think you should’ve told him I’m already Mrs. Seresin, but. . .” She tilted her head back and forth, “Baby steps.”

“Yeah, yeah, baby steps,” Jake smirked as he wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped them over. Y/N’s giggles filled the air as Jake pressed kisses all over her face. Her ring glittered in the moonlight.

note: happy Valentine's Day or whatever

taglist: @sio-ina-bottle @kmc1989 @soulmates8 @averyhotchner @fandom-life-12 @jazminlahey20 @jessicab1991 @reidshearts @princess76179 @dizzybee03 @dempy @kellyls04 @daddymack01 @beautifulandvoid @noonenuts @bradleybeachbabe @its-the-pilot @buckysteveloki-me @shibble @a-library-ofmy-own @fanfictionismyhobby @emilyoflanternhill @seitmai @moonlessnight14 @hardballoonlove @sgt-barnesveins @vhkdncu2ei8997 @1nterstellarcha0s @krispybearbouquet @a-serene-place-to-be @seresinslady @na-ta-sh-aa @milestomaverick @itsmytimetoodream @topgunslut @yuckosworld @angelbabyange @pedrohoe04 @midnightmagpiemama @lynnevanss @ummjustfics @thegoddessc @mrsevans90 @mjsvinyl @luversgirl @silenthappyplace @buckysvinyl

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cybernaght · 2 years ago

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The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe.

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”.

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours.

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we?

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals.

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation.

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth.

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space.

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality.

Part two. Microanalysis

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling.

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season.

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal.

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal.

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works.

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time.

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever.

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding.

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs.

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain.

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To.

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another.

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership.

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another.

Three, Intentionality

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed.

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media.

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic.

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way.

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness.

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here.

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all.

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo?

I do.

#fandom thoughts #fanon #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc sherlock #merlin bbc #think piece #it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag #conspiracy theories #fandom content #all fandoms

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genderqueerpond · 10 months ago

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You know, I think Clara knew about Amy.

Not at first, of course, but Clara grew up with her --- that is, grew up reading Amelia Williams books. And they were precious to her, books she's read many times over the course of her childhood -- how else does she know exactly which chapter holds what in the book she gave Artie? Perhaps she has always felt connected to her, this moderately obscure children's fantasy author, following in the footsteps of E Nesbit; this contemporary (and sometime friend (oh yes!) ) of Edward Eager's; although not nearly as widely known as either of these. Perhaps because of her choice to publish openly under a "woman's name", thus, in the time in which she lived, relegating her books to the inferior realm of "girls' books", despite the more than equal balance of male viewpoint characters.

But Amelia Williams is different from these authors too -- often fantasy, but sometimes more like early science fiction, a barely- recognized pioneer in both genres. Her views were feminist and daring. In so many ways she was ahead of her time, and the innovations she imagined! almost as if she knew what the future would hold.

And if Clara knows and loves her books so well, she can hardly fail to recognize the most frequently repeated character archetype in them. especially after she rereads a few on a subconscious hunch, during that summer after the Maitlands found a permanent nanny and she insisted that before anything else, she go off and fulfill her original travel plans from 101 Places To See. (The Doctor purported to leave her alone to forge her own way with this, but was in actuality very bad at that, and kept popping up nearly every place she went.) She's Clara, she's clever, how can she fail to look up from her book and notice that the person who's just appeared out of nowhere to stand in front of her with a plate of jammie dodgers and a goofy smile has stepped directly out of the pages?

And then of course, there are the dedications. Sure, there's normal stuff like "to my daughter", "to my loving and patient husband", and "to my parents, who are children now" which is rather weird and whimsical, but fits in with the fantasy author's signature style of dream-like imagination.

But the majority of Amelia Williams' dedication pages say things like "to You", "to My Doctor", "to My Raggedy Doctor" "to my raggedy man" (weird but clearly connected to the other variants), and, cryptically, over and over again: "to you", "to you", "to you", "to you (wherever in time and space you are)".

There's "to my imaginary friend" and "to my imaginary friend, and to all children who have an imaginary friend" and "to my imaginary friend, and every child in the universe who's ever met him, or ever will". Nerds and English teachers have occasionally debated what, if anything, she meant by all this, and now Clara thinks she knows, but she can never say....

And then there are the nights that the Doctor wakes up crying out for "Amy!" and then refuses to talk about it when Clara asks, refuses to acknowledge ever even knowing an Amy, "well everyone shouts random things when they're asleep, it doesn't mean anything" and "I don't remember." if pressed for details about his dreaming. And later he might go off somewhere and cry quietly, reading a book he never lets Clara see.

And then he regenerates, and calls out for "Amelia!", "the first face this face saw."

There's newborn twelve, with his Scottish accent, letting her name slip. It's the first - and only - time he's spoken of her while awake and not actively dying. And Clara is too busy with the immediate threat to their lives to think about it in the moment, but at this point she at the very least has a hunch about the connection between him and the Scottish-American author with the rather opaque background --- that as far as anyone can trace it (although to be fair, no one really cares enough to try very hard) she and her husband just kind of appeared out of nowhere in pre-WWII New York. It seems kind of obvious, now, that the doctor would have had a hand in that.

And now with all the books everywhere, the library gradually migrating into the console room, what else is obvious is that he owns every single one of her books. multiple copies, first editions, last editions, signed copies, mass paperbacks, everything. There's a TARDIS key hidden in a well-worn, well-loved, tear streaked copy of The Cuckoo And The Doll's House, which Clara finds when she's cataloging all the locations of TARDIS keys, just in case she should ever need that information one day.

This all is enough for Clara to know. There doesn't really need to be any more proof, but there is. What totally and fully clinches it are the pictures. Tucked in the pages of another tearstained book (The Beast Below this time), are photographs of Amelia, looking just as she does in her black and white author photos, but younger, and in 21st century clothes. Elsewhere, later, she finds photo booth polaroids of a still younger Amelia, goofing off and smiling. Some of them feature another young man Clara doesn't recognize, and some of them feature the Doctor. He's wearing a tweed jacket instead of his purple wool, and no vest, but otherwise he is exactly the same as the Doctor she first met. The three of them hang off each other like old friends, like family.

idk how to end this.

#clara oswald #amy pond #augh i just! so many feelings about post-TATM writer Amelia #she made the doctor up and then she grew up to Make Him Up professionally #she created him she created him she created him #lavender thoughts #dw #ndw #doctor who #meta #ANOTHER dw ficlet/meta in one day i am on a roll #like six half finished ones in my drafts too btw #lavender writings

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msfandomsblog · 2 months ago

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Alastor x fem!ballerina-reader

This is my first alastor x reader fic! I don't know how many parts imma make but it will be somewhat a slow burn.

Also this is mostly your backstory

Hope you enjoy!

warnings: use of y/n, being laughed at, implied death, blood, readers insane like Al, guns, suicide, kinda short anddddddd yeah

In life you were one of the greatest pointe dancer in the world. In death, eh, not so much. Yes you danced but this was simple practice, hell wasn't exactly known for its refined~ practice. Your demon form was simple, you were tall (charlie sized) pale and had small wings on your back. Swan wings, that you could enlarge in and out at your will, not that you usually needed to. You mostly had them compact to your back. Most of your friends wondered why you were in hell to begin with, you were always civil to most characters. There was ofc the off-hand time where you'd threaten any demon who'd dare touch you or close friends, but... who's keeping count!?

As for the reason why you were there well... yes being a dancer had its purks but, it had just as many faults.

More then once at a young age in life you were cast for the villain rolls of dances, plays, etc.

You asked you teachers why and their answer was always, "the way you play it y/n! your body language, face and being on stage! you just do it so well"

As you progressed through as an actress and dancer you were never the 'princess' or the main heroin. Only the dark, cold villain. The black swan, The mouse king, Maleficent. How you longed to be the beauty and not the beast.

Not only did this anger you but soon after a while many other dancers would avoid you because of your 'villain' demeanor on stage. This caused you to grow a hatred for your fellows. It all became too much one day.

It was dress rehearsal, your last one before your last show, and the boys got a wise idea for a prank to play on their black swan. When rehearsing your first entrance you moved over to stage right when suddenly a type of slime/glue pored on you, burning your eyes and ruining your clothes. Then the lead boy shot what looked like a party popper at you but instead of confetti, landed black feathers. The boys were on hunched over laughing, 'childish' you thought while glaring at them.

Every other dancer turned their heads or ran over to see what was oh so funny. Once they all started laughing or turned their head to hide smiles, the director yelled at them all, "oi! that's enough, this isn't a baby recital that you did when you were 5! this isn't mature! Boys, help y/n and run 40 laps around the stage ey?" But it was too late, you'd decided right then and there.

So they saw you as the villain hm? You'd be happy to oblige.

The next day you played your part amazingly well but it was your next audition that excited you. It was for the seasonal part in the nutcracker. As always you were given the part, The mouse king.

When you met the lead playing Clara, the young girl heroin, you saw she was a perfectly civil young dancer. She met her end quickly enough tho.

When you came around to auditioning for The Sleeping Beauty and once again did not get Aurora, you found it quite enjoyable to get rid of the blonde broad that played her.

Then there was Romeo and Juliet. you never did audition for this one, reasons unknown to you. But when you did you somehow found that you felt no sadness you got the email saying that you didn't get the part of Juliet. You instead found joy when you cracked a wide smile as the blood of the girl who did get the part flowed down your hands.

Pretty thing she was, good dancer too. poor thing. ah well.

After about 3 years of of getting away with this little 'hobby; of yours you were found out and surrounded by a large S.W.A.T team. The team leader spoke softly to you.

"Miss y/n, please put your hands up, and drop the gun."

You were so annoyed by this, you'd had to use the damn thing to kill a small African-american girl who was playing Coopelia. You didn't like using guns but this was supposed to be quick. You'd even bought a silencer for the job.

"No officer, I don't think I will." You said back. you smiled as you turned to face the 20 guns pointed at you.

"You won't make it out alive L/n" He said trying to convince you.

"I don't plan on it," And smiling you flipped them off as you shot the gun at your own neck.

OKKKKKKK that was part 1! I hope ya'll like it and stay tuned. I don't know if you could tell but I am ballet dancer, I'm not professional yet but I know quite a bit.

y/n might be oc just a warning but again my first fic sooooo.

Anyway!!!!!! have a good day/night little humans!

part 2!

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #hazbin x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin au #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #ballet dancer

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sc0tters · 1 year ago

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Stay For A While | John Marino

summary: you’re all John wants so it’s about time he made a move on you.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), drinking, swearing, slight spanking.

word count: 2.43k

authors note: I know I’ve left this with a part two it’s just the request for of felt like it needed to be separated so I promise I’ll get the second part up soon! @babydollmarauders I’m a woman of my word so here is the John smut I said you’d be getting! I don’t know what it was about this one but I actually really did like writing it.

part 2

Mississippi summers were always your favourite.

Endless amounts of sweet tea and bonfires with friends were exactly what you needed to cleanse your soul from the stress that the rest of the year brought you. Usually you just saw these nights as time to have fun, as a girl who wanted nothing serious intent on living out your twenties to the max.

But that all changed when you saw John, he had every girl in town weak in their knees as nobody could say no once he flashed his smile. Yet the real thing you loved the most about him was that he only seemed to have eyes for you.

From ignoring girls to wrapping his hand around your waist to show people that he wasn’t interested in anyone else. All of that was good yet you had gone to week three of knowing him and nothing had happened yet.

Lingering glances meant nothing as they were compared to the intricate thoughts that you had which ultimately ended with him in your bed. Part of you wanted to feel guilty as you thought that you liked him more him than he liked you.

Yet those worries washed away when his eyes lit up seeing you walk into a room “y/n you made it!” he’d cheer opening his arms up to pull you into a hug. Even as people fawned over him he still just remained the calm John that you knew, the John you grew to love.

No red flags appeared as you knew nothing about him besides for the fact that his name was John and he lived in New Jersey. Despite the little you knew about him it seemed to set your heart on fire as it all felt so freeing.

Tonight was just like all the previous nights as you all sat out looking onto the water “I think that’s my cue to go in too.” Clara yawned as she was hot on her boyfriend James’ tail “I’ll come in later.” John called out as he had been staying with them.

That left you two out on the camp chairs with nothing more than a cooler full of beers and the roaring fire. It made you shut your eyes as you rested your head in your chair letting the sounds of crackling wood soothe your mind “you’re so far away from me.” John’s complaint made you open your eyes again as you looked at him.

He sat six seats away from you with his fingers tapping on the rim of his beer battle “you could come over to me.” You proposed with your teeth catching your lower lip as you smiled.

It turned into a staring match until John sighed “I need to learn how to say no to you.” He murmured pushing his hands through his curls as he got up not letting his eyes leave yours as he made his way over to you.

You turned your body to face his as you stared at him “but where would the fun be in that?” You teased sending him a giggle as your fingers rubbed your arms attempting to get you warmer “c’mere.” John croaked out pushing the blanket that was resting over his legs as you two had gotten cold as the wind picked up.

Even though you wanted to play hard to get, the idea of missing out of the knitted blanket and the excuse to take in his cologne was too good for you to say no to “you sure?” Your voice was soft as you got up not wanting to seem desperate as you feared scaring him off.

John shook his head “wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure.” He was serious as he sent you a look ushering you closer to him.

His shorts were soft against the back of your legs as you smiled “you comfortable?” The hockey player asked wrapping his arm around your back.

You nodded looking down at him “you look pretty tonight.” You blurted out noting how the moonlight lit up his face “just tonight?” The boy quipped back causing your red cheeks to warm further.

Your silence was met with laughter “I’m just fucking with you y/n.” John smiled rubbing his thumb against your waist “you look gorgeous too.” He added using his free hand to grab his beer.

He noted how you watched him lift the glass to his lips “want some?” John offered tilting the glass in your direction. You accepted it a little surprise as you watched him bring it to your lips “trust me?” There was amusement in his voice as he waited for your answer “of course John.” You knew it was crazy as his eyes took in the sight in awe as he watched the beer go down your throat.

The hockey player let the glass go back into the pocket of his seat “what?” John noticed the way that your lips had opened letting your top teeth show through “I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna be gone soon.” You knew he was heading back to New Jersey for work soon so the concerns of losing the opportunity you hoped to have with him were weighing on your mind.

It made him laugh “I’ll keep in contact with you baby.” John cooed brushing his thumb over your cheek “can I kiss you?” You blurted out causing him to nod. He let his hand move the back of your neck as he brought your head down to his.

His lips were soft against yours as your eyes shut. John pulled your legs causing you to straddle his lap making your skirt bunch up by your hips as he ran his tongue over your lower lip “Johnny.” You moaned driving your hips against his.

The boy nodded letting out a groan “fuck baby.” John pushed his head against the backing of his chair as he looked up at you.

You smiled sending him a devious grin as you could see that his cheeks turned flustered when your movements didn’t slow “you’re gonna be the death of me.” He murmured drawing circles on your bare thigh looking at you like you were the only girl in the world in that moment.

Surprisingly your confidence didn’t waiver as you leaned down running your tongue over your teeth “and what are you going to do about it?” You mumbled hovering your lips over his as your noses touched.

John let out a soft gasp as his pants began to tug when his bulge pushed against the fabric “let you do it.” He groaned capturing your lips in a kiss once more.

The two of you stayed like that for a while until John’s hand moved to your ass squeezing the soft cheek between his fingertips “John please.” You begged resting your forehead against his.

Your panties had turned wet with him beneath you “look who is the needy one now.” The hockey player teased as you had now stopped your hips movements against him “now what is it that you want me to do?” His voice egged you on as it hung bait in front of you.

It made your eyes screw shut when his lips nipped at the skin on your neck “anything-” John clicked his tongue at your words “going to need you to be more specific than that now princess.” You had grown flustered as you stared down at him.

He smiled as he awaited your response letting his hands pinch at your hips “your cock or even your fingers fuck I don’t-” your complaint was short lived as John took the opportunity to cut you off as he kissed you.

It felt like a drug you needed becoming your new oxygen “I don’t think I can make it back to yours.” John confessed letting out a low laugh as the feeling of your lace panties against the pads of his fingertips.

Even as the sound of the water and the fire went through your ears, the idea of sleeping with John out there brought a whole new layer to the desire you already felt “I want you, right here.” You mumbled into his ear causing him to groan.

If you were anyone else John would have been ashamed for what came out of his mouth next but as you seemed to be in a similar mindset to him he truly didn’t care “god I need you.” The hockey player grunted as your hands reached beneath you to undo his shorts.

The soft traces your fingers made were agonisingly slow “move faster before I make your speed up, fuck y/n.” John’s eyes screwed shut as you pulled his cock from his boxers “like it when you threaten me.” You teased sending him a dazed smile as you ran your hand up and down his cock pumping it a few times.

Wind whooshed around you both but neither one of you seemed to care as you were both focused on how you pulled your panties to the side with too much alcohol in both your systems to even care about using a condom. Which was probably for the best because John had made the mistake of not bringing any along for the trip “god you’re soaked!” You rubbed the head of his cock against your clit letting it spread your wetness up your slit “all for you.” You gasped teasing yourself as you only let your cunt swallow half of his cock.

But John didn’t like that as it caused him to use his hands that were on your hips to guide you through bottoming him out “fuck!” You cried as you were forced to quickly adjust to his size.

That noise was your face scrunched up was the best ego boost that he could have ever gotten as you tapped his arm “please J,” you whispered beginning to move your hips again.

It felt perfect as though you were made for him as your body began to loosen up “there’s my pretty girl.” John cooed smiling as your eyes opened causing you to look at him.

His cock felt good as it stretched out your cunt letting him hit spots that not even your vibrator knew existed “so big.” You whined bringing your hips against his as you began to speed up “you’re taking me so well.” John let out a grunt as his teeth nipped at your bare collar bone.

Your outfit was standard for the summer, a cropped vest and a skirt “surprised I stayed away from you for so long with you in these.” His tone came in a growl letting his hand slap your ass “you don’t know how much I just wanted to bend you over any table when I see you in these stupid skirts.” Those words made your cunt clench around his cock as you gasped.

John moaned at the feeling “that’s what you wanted me to do wasn’t it?” His question didn’t have long to weigh on your mind as he used his free hand to lock onto the back of your neck “yes John.” You whined as the image of him fucking you on the kitchen counter of your lake house came to your mind.

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him and he knew that but with how responsive you were John truly couldn’t let the opportunity go “god this pussy is perfect.” He confession as you leaned down to kiss his neck in an attempt to suppress your moans “like it was made all for me.” As his hand went to lay another slap to your ass you moaned “all yours John, all for you.” You repeated as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to bring yourself more support.

His tongue ran over his lips when he realised that you were close “I’m gonna-” your cunt fluttered around his cock as you were dangerously close to your high “you’re gonna have to beg to come baby.” John blurted out making your eyes go wide “you’ve been a bad girl wearing these all week.” Somehow when you put on your skirts each morning you truly never thought that you would land up like this.

John showed you that he was serious though as he wrapped his hand around your jaw “please John.” You cried making him click his tongue in disappointment “it’s like you don’t even want to cum.” Those words made tears form in your eyes as the fear began one that could be real.

You shook your head “I do J, please.” You whined as the lace of your panties wasn’t helping your case rubbing against your clit “then beg properly.” Each word came out fully enunciated even though he would have barely enough energy to walk back to the house.

It didn’t take you long to start as your legs began to shake “I’ll be your good girl John I promise.” You offered pursing your lips together “please just let me come and I’ll make it up to-” you were cut off as a shaky moan left your lips.

John decided to finally have mercy on you in that moment “you can let go baby.” His words were soft as he realised that he was close to “right there John.” You pleaded using all of your energy to help yourself get closer to your high.

Even as you were outside the sound of your skin slapping against his roared in your ears “god shit!” You gasped as your body stuttered causing your head to collapse into his shoulder “fuck there.” John grunted as his come coated the walls of your cunt causing your vision to go cloudy.

You stayed pressed against his chest for a few more moments as you caught your breath “you up for round two princess?” John joked pressing a kiss to your lips “not on this chair.” Upon sitting on as your adrenaline dropped you realised how truly uncomfortable it was.

“I’ll go wherever you want me.”

Seven weeks later

It couldn’t have been like this. You had gotten a new job during the summer in an attempt to get a fresh start and this was not a fresh start at all “shit!” You cried out seeing that the tests came back with two clear lines.

That meant that not only were you pregnant, you also hadn’t spoken to the baby daddy in six weeks.

So now you were left with the giant task of finding your John when you had no way of contacting him.

#john marino imagines #John Marino smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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maddascanbe-blog · 11 months ago

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Part 2 of the life-swap series! Oddly enough when I asked those close to me, none of them anticipated that I'd swap Chloe and Luka. Honestly it made more sense to me? Both have sisters, have at least one obscenely rich parent, and have crushed on the two leads?

Now onto the plot-

After finding out about the twins Jagged decided to battle for custody. He managed to get full custody of Luka, but not Juleka, and out of spit decided to cut the twins off from each other, causing Anarka to move to the the US. But despite having a young son now, this didn't stop Jagged from touring, often leaving Luka behind in Paris to be looked after by whoever was available. Even when he was in Paris he often avoided Luka, instead leaving Penny to watch him.

Luka grew up bitter at his fathers lack of care for him, and took it out on everyone around him. Mostly the staff of both Le Grande Pari, where he lives, as well as whatever caregiver his father/Penny had hired. When he went to school, he immediately began taking his anger out on everyone there too. Once Adrien's mom passed he took a special hatred to the blonde, in some ways seeing himself in Adrien. Both now children of single fathers, but Gabriel is in his sons life (whether that's good or bad doesn't matter to Luka).

And Luka, being an empath knows exactly how to get under ones skin. Because even if you don't show your emotions outwardly, he still can tell when he's struck gold. The only person he doesn't hate is Marinette, his childhood friend and the only person unaware of his attitude.

And yes, we are going for Cannon Chloe swap here, so no redemption for Luka. Sad. I'll draw Akuma-Viperion later.

Onto Chloe, once Andre found out about Audrey's infidelity he gave her two options. The first, he expose her and her career be permanently marred. Or she give him full custody of both Chloe and Zoe and the could divorce peacefully. Chloe hasn't seen her mom since she was 3 and quite frankly had no interest in her. Zoe only being a half sister to Chloe is a carefully guarded secret, one that Zoe thinks even Chloe doesn't know.

Chloe, not wanting to emulate her mother grew up with a very different mindset. Instead being taught that being both too aggressive and a pushover will lead to a mess. So she instead learns to govern her hive with a firm but steady hand. The staff of Le Grand Paris greatly respect her, and she is often the one sent to head off a Luka temper tantrum, as the only person unimpressed by both him and his father. She's more of an Clara Nightingale fan anyways.

She fast tracked her way through school, and decided to take Highschool online as to give herself more time to work both at the hotel and at her event planning company. As Queen Bee, she is fierce but kind. The favorite of the secondary heroes, since she is not only efficient at stopping the akuma, but will stick around to comfort and reassure both the victim and the civilians who were caught in the attack.

Due to her calm voice and good advice, Ladybug and Chat Noir have turned to her many times for comfort on both the chaos hero life and civilian troubles. She's always willing to listen when they need her. As such Hawkmoth sees her as the most beneficial to target. Only he seems scarred to akumatize her for some reason...

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #Lifeswap Au #snake miraculous #bee miraculous #luka couffaine #chloe bourgeois #I'm obssesed with this Queen bee design btw

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 3 months ago

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Protective Gale Dadkarios Thoughts

A/N: I am once again thinking about Gale being a father and it's giving me emotions. This man makes me soft guys!

Okay, first things first, this is more in keeping with my Single Mom!Tav, Gwen, headcanons (found here)

Basically Gwen had a tiefling child, Clara by a previous marriage. She and her husband divorced and after Gale and Gwen got married they had a daughter named Morgan

As I've kind of dove into here; Clara and Morgan have a hard time conceptualizing their father as an adventurer

Yes, obviously, he was, but to them he's just their dad; the one who makes bad jokes and cooks and reads them stories, it's not necessarily real to them

So imagine for a moment, Clara walking through the market with a little Morgan in tow

Clara old enough at this point to go by herself, but Morgan is obessed with her big sister and Gwen insist Clara bring Morgan with her

Clara begrudgingly agrees, taking the coin Gwen gave them to buy some things for dinner while Morgan tugs on her sleeve asking if they can get a treat

Clara is too distracted to notice at first the sound of horses hooves galloping toward them. The store keeper in front of them suddenly drops with an arrow to the chest. The rest is chaos.

Clara doesn’t know what to do except grab Morgan and start running back towards home. Morgan is scared though and too little to run properly.

Clara then ducks them between a few barrels just hoping nobody notices them. She only is just able to catch her breath when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

She starts to yell ready to start biting just like her uncle Astarion told her when she sees her dad kneeling down next to them.

Morgan throws her arms around him and Clara isn’t that far behind

Gale hugs them both asking if Gwen is with them. Clara tells him she’s back home. She then sees something in her dad’s eye she hasn’t seen before.

His jaw is set and there is something calculating in the way he looks out at the choas on the other side of the alley way. He then kisses them both of the forehead and tells them very calmly to stay hidden, he’ll be right back.

Morgan starts to reach out to her dad, but Clara holds her back. Something in how he said it makes her actually feel the necessity to do as he says.

Still, she can’t help it take a peak as she sees her dad step out of the alley with nothing but his staff.

The next thing she sees is a display of magic she’s only heard in stories.

The fire that rains down isn't done out of fury, but cool precise calculation

Time might as well have stopped

Gale isn't being extravogent or showing off, this is a wizard at full power cleaning up the mess in the most efficient way possible

When the dust clears, Gale stands in the middle of it all without a scratch on him

He then turns back to see Clara and Morgan peaking out of the alley way

He wants to chastize them for not hiding properly like he said, but he can't bring himself to do it, espeically when Morgan comes charging into his arms

Clara isn't far behind and he gathers them both to him

Everything is alright now, time to go home

Morgan is really too little to understand what she just saw, only that it was scary and the safest place she can think to be is in her father's arms

Clara honestly can't help but stare at him; she didn't think he was that...well, cool

Of course, this illusion is shattered the second he makes a bad joke in some attempt to get them to smile

At the end of the day, he's still their dad; soft, safe and warm

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dadkarios #gale x tav #gale x oc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x gwen

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k1ngpin42 · 4 months ago

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𝐹𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝒷𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽 o𝓌𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇

Part 1: If you guys like it I can write part 2 (with smut)

@osteologistimpostor

@mitski-lovesems

A/N: Despite my VERY frequent Abby x female reader stories, I actually write original pieces too. This one isn’t an original piece- the character is still Abby, but I’m pushing outside of my comfort zone and I’m doing Abby x OC. It's also modern(ish) day Abby

So without further adieu:

Light drifted across the room, pouring onto the table where a rather unimpressed and not-very awake girl was seated. She chased the letters of the paper in her hand, paying more attention to the lack of colour more than how interesting- or rather, uninteresting- the words were.

The view from the balcony was gorgeous, it’s serenity drifting through the house and offering enough “fresh air” to cure a lifetime of hangovers. And still, it was lonely. Not the cleansing kind people often searched for when investing in large areas of land just to have 5 unneeded bathrooms with pretty tiles to be admired; but the desolate and painfully boring kind that was becoming all the more prominent to a woman new to adulthood with her whole life worth of dreams and ambitions with no aim or prospects to go about pursuing them.

Of course any talk of leaving the nest was disregarded as swiftly as it was brought up by her rather reserved, single father, who was more protective of her than anything. This was unsurprising of course. She had great beauty and wit who would be sure to have people swooning over her had she been raised in the city, and this prospect was what scared him the most.

“Good morning Clara.” Spoke a tall, scrawny brunette who grabbed the paper off of the table and sat beside her. “Anything interesting?” He questions, more to the paper than to her. The girl shrugs, using just as much energy to remain neutral as she did to bury the rather obvious deep seated resentment she held towards him. With most guilt, of course.

“Nope.” She replies quietly, getting back up from the table and walking over to the kitchen.

“Coffee, dad?” The man is unresponsive, eyes drifting happily over the page. Clara rolls her eyes.

“Coffee-“

“Huh? Oh yes, yes thank you sweetie.” Clara nods, walking over to the machine and pressing a button, the espresso machine pouring out the rich smelling liquid with a loud and familiar noise.

“Oh, I hired a new ranch hand…by the way.” Explains her father in an awkward mutter. Clara turns her head with a force which very nearly gave her whiplash.

“A ranch hand?” She exclaims, already forcing herself to believe it was just her mishearing over the sound of the coffee. Her father sighs.

“Why don’t you bring that over here?” With a pounding heart, she obeys, bringing the coffee to him and sitting in the chair in front, fiddling with her hands and noting how the two textures feel as she rubs her hand on one another. The man takes a deep breath.

“I figured we could use the help just in case you…end up going to college. Sometime soon, maybe. And I saw this girls ad so I thought…” Clara doesn’t say anything, partly due to her state of disbelief but mostly because she believes saying something will break this reality in two, and that her dad would instead, change her mind and ask her to stay forever.

“Anyway, it’s just a trial run-“ Clara leaps over and hugs him.

“Thank you dad. When does she start?” The man lets out a short laugh.

“Tomorrow.”

***

Clara had spent the morning cleaning the dishes she had put off doing last night, watching TV in her bed and chilling on her balcony naked. She had been painting something out there and had lost motivation for it recently. As for the lack of clothes, she had a tendency of spilling paint on her clothes to a point she had decided just not to wear them since she was home alone. Or at least she thought that until she heard a loud thud in the barn.

Flinching so high she almost saw the heavens, she knocks the painting, causing the stranger to reveal themself at the noise.

There she was. A beautiful, unfamiliar woman with long blonde hair braided ever so nicely down her back, black tank top revealing arms bigger than on any man she had seen, and a face so stunning Clara was blushing even before returning to the realisation that she was butt naked.

The woman immediately covers her eyes with her hand and turns away from her.

“I…I…am sorry-“

“Who the fuck are you?!” Demands Clara, picking the painting back up and hiding as best she could behind the frame.

“Uh…I’m Abby. I think your dad hired me. I take it you’re…Clara?”

“Fuck.” She says, taking a stabilising breath. “No, the new hire is coming tomorrow.”

“I decided to drive in early, I was going to start organising the barn to make it easier for myself when I start tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to look.”

“No…No it’s my fault, I’m sorry Abby.”

“I can come back if you want to…keep painting.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “Naked.” she adds. Clara laughs softly.

“No I uh, think I’m done with that. Let me put some clothes on and I’ll come down.” Abby blushes, head still glued to the floor like the most interesting object she could fathom was there. “There’s no need for that miss-“ Abby blurted out, but Clara had already returned to her room.

The second those doors are closed, Clara is hitting her hand over her head in dismay. Of course this would happen to her. Her first god damn impression with some tank, godess-of-a-woman stranger was that she’s some sort of farmer hippie who paints in the nude. It was only somewhat true, but regardless it made her want to move out and start a life as an actual hippie some place where no one will find her. In a scramble, she grabs a dress from one of her clothes piles on the ground. She couldn’t be sure it was clean, but it certainly looked better than her other shit. Thankfully she spotted a coat on the rack behind her door. Mind you, mildly clashy, but better than nothing.

“Abby?” She asks warily. Abby steps out of the barn, face bright red.

“Still here Ma’am.”

“Oh. Yes…good.” Clara says, mentally kicking herself at each word. Abby nods, words failing her too.

“My…dad said he saw your ad. That…you stayed with two seperate families from a young age.” Abbys expression bears much interest, allowing Clara to take her time with what she's saying.

“They kept you on for years so you must be pretty good at what you do. Why’d you decide to take this job instead?”

“Change of pace. Mr and Mrs Harkin are lovely people but, both well into retirement. It was their families farm and they had a lovely house up their when they were newly weds. Had their own jobs on the farm. I guess now that they’re older, they’re less able to enjoy the space. Plus Mrs Harkins has a lot of medicine she needs to refill and…well there ain't many hospitals nearby and if I do it every day the sheep don’t get fed and…well they’re movin in to their sons house.”

“Must have been a shame…” Clara offers, eyes drifting up and down the taller woman. Abby nods.

“Yeah. You know, I’m surprised you live out here. Most of em’ farmers are old folk or entrepreneurs.”

“My dad’s an entrepreneur. Sort of. He sells like IT to big companies. He leaves often for work trips.”

“Leaves you here? I can’t imagine many babysitters being willing to drive all the way out here when you were younger. Did you go with him?” Claras eyes soften and she shakes her head.

“My mum stayed with me. When she was alive.”

“Oh…Miss I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be. And yeah it is pretty lonely but, on the plus side, I can’t imagine painting in the nude being appropriate in whatever city you come from.” Abby laughs.

“Utah.” Claras eyes widen.

“Utah?” She nods with a smile that makes Claras whole body tingle.

“Salt lake city.” She explains. Clara nods.

Each breath that left the muscular woman seemed to ripple in the space between them, and Claras own breathing mirrored it, as if they’d fallen into a rhythm only the two of them understood.

“I hope the painting can still be salvaged.” Abby spoke after some time. Claras eyes widen.

“What?”

“Well, you kinda knocked it when you…”

“Yeah.” Clara interrupts, not needing the memory of her naked body being exposed to be rehashed. “Though I wouldn’t care if it was ruined. I’ve never been much into art. Too impatient. I paint when something drives me to. A feeling or something inspiring but, I’ve felt that less and less of late.”

“Hm.” Abby responds, examining Clara as if to squint in between the lines she had placed.

“If not art, then what? Surely a sweet thing like you has some big ambition. Art school maybe?”

Sweet thing like you. Repeated the voice in Claras head. Each word lingered in the air, thickening the atmosphere between them, drawing her in closer as if to shield her from the world. It was a delicate label, yet it bore an unexpected weight, making her feel seen in a way that both thrilled and unsettled her, like stepping into the sun after a long winter.

“Have I said something…?” Abby asks, her own nervousness becoming obvious as she talks. In truth she hadn’t expected such beauty. An old man and an already married daughter was what she had expected when Claras father had accepted the ad, not a scrawny, decently young man and his perfect fucking daughter. One who, from what Abby had seen on the balcony, had a physique that mirrored that of an angel itself.

Fuck. Thought Clara at the realisation that she had no recollection of what Abby possibly could have asked her.

“No…sorry I, what did you ask?” Abby smiles reassuringly.

“I was just asking about your plans for the future, but…well I should probably get back to work. I’ve already wasted enough time as is just gettin’ you out here and…well I shouldn’t waste your time any longer.” Clara nodded shortly.

“I’ll be in the house…my rooms just there if you need me.” She offers, stepping away from Abby this time.

***

It had been days without contact from her. Or at least, face-to-face contact. Clara had found herself on that balcony more often than ever. Waking up at dawn to the sound of tools being russled in the barn and the sheep making happy “baas” in response to Abby feeding them. She would look out and see her tending to the crops, sweat on her skin illuminated by the morning sun and bringing a colour that painted her like one of the finest artworks in creation. She had Claras mind coursing in ways that she would warrant was unhealthy. Daydreaming. Fantasising. There was a yearning that words couldn’t describe.

She wouldn’t face her though. Their first conversation had an unspoken definitiveness to it. Like they would speak only as formalities when situations required them to. Plus it’s not like Clara had that kind of confidence. No, that kind of confidence was only discovered at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol most of the time, and thankfully her dad was away for yet another weekend trip, leaving his stash of expensive bourbon unattended to.

There was some point into her night where she had stumbled her way into the barn. It was her hiding spot when she was younger. Nothing much to do on a farm as a kid other than force your parents to play games, and now Clara found it offered her some comfort. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for when she opened up those barn doors. A quiet place to chill out that wasn’t the same four walls of her room? Or was it Abby? She couldn’t be sure.

Clara climbed up the ladder to the top level of the barn, heading over near the small window where a desk and a beanbag was. She clambered onto the beanbag, forming a small ball and closing her eyes. That was till the a haybale dropped, pulling an audible noise of shock from Clara. Abby gasped.

“Shit, fuck Clara?? Are you in here?” Clara simply laughs at the reaction.

“Calling me by my first name? Not very professional-profess?” She asks, continuing to stumble around. “I profess myself in banqueting to all the rout…”

“I…Miss I don’t-“

“It’s Shakespeare ‘Miss’ Anderson. You know, Cassius? Othello?”

“Oh.”

Clara’s voice, playful and teasing, had an ease about it that left Abby feeling unmoored and unsteady. She could barely keep up with what Clara was saying, but the mystery of it, the way her name sounded from Clara’s mouth, filled Abby with a raw, delicate ache.

“What are you doing in here?” Abby asks gently, walking over to the ladder. Clara shrugs.

“I live here. What are you doing in here? You know my dads away right? What if you were like a burglar who…burgled.”

“Are you drunk?” She asks, though the tone lacks any sort of accusation. Clara sighs.

“Come, look at the stars with me.” She hums. Abby sratches the back of her neck.

“Uh….well I really shouldn’t be…”

“Oh come on. You gonna leave a ’sweet thing like me’ up here by herself?” Abby laughs at her words, giving in and climbing effortlessly up the ladder.

“You can do that one handed? That’s hot.” Clara remarks. Abby just tilts her head with confusion.

“What did you just say?”

“I said that out loud?” Clara asks with a tone of genuine confusion. “Oops.” Abby blushes as she sits on the floor beside her.

“You usually get drunk like this? Just you?” Abby inquires. Clara shrugs, her smile fading a little.

“That over there, that’s Saturn.” Clara explains, shifting a lot in the beanbag. Abby looks at her, surprised.

“Saturn? You sure it’s not a star?”

“Nope. Saturn is m’most….mmm” Abby laughs, using her middle finger to push some hair out of your face.

“You’re so drunk.”

“Do you like me?” Clara asks, a rather sudden and drastic shift in both emotions and conversation.

“Well, sure Miss you seem uh, real nice.” Abby says simply.

“No I mean…you saw me. Naked. Did you like what you saw?”

“Wh- I…I wasn’t looking. Honest.” She states, parting the wisps of her blonde hair framing her face away from her eyes.

“Oh.” Clara replies, feeling the drunken urge to start bawling appear.

“Why do you care what I think anyway?” Abby asks, noting her expression and relaxing her tone as she spoke. Clara shrugged.

“I’ve been alone a lot. Thought I liked it, but…I watch all’em mmm….romances and the sit coms…never once been desired like that. Or desired…” Her words trail off, as if Clara is on the verge of sleep. She quickly snaps back into it.

“Anyway…I don’t know why I’m sayinallthis t’you. You’re…big…muscly…pretty. Sure you’ve had your fair sure of desir-ara-bles?” Abby laughs harshly at this.

“I think we should get you some water…”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Abby’s gaze softens, confusion clear.

“My apologies, Miss. What did you ask?”

“Don’t give me that. You saw me, even if you said you didn’t “look.” what’s wrong? Y’don’t like girls? Or do you just not like me??”

“Clara, it’s simply something I don’t want to talk about while you’re not sober enough to know what you’re saying. I think you’re very beautiful, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about how I…looked at your body without your consent.”

“Fine.” Clara says, unbuttoning her comfy red flannel. Abby gasps, immediately covering her eyes with her hands.

“Jesus, Miss-“

“I consent now, just look.”

“I’m not gonna-“ Abby starts to say, the corner of her eye betraying her as she sees the outline of a lace, purple bra.

“Wanna see something else?”

“NO- no just…wait here, I’m gonna get you a blanket mkay?” Abby stammers, getting up in a rush. A solid grip quickly stops her.

“I’m sorry.” Clara says. Abby smiles softly, turning to look at her face, (as well as she could) with reassurance.

“Don’t be. Being drunk alone is…well, I’ve done that once or twice should we say.” Abby says, kind blue eyes staring into Claras green. “Tomorrow morning we can talk as long as you like.”

“You’r staying here?” Clara asks, bewildered. Abby shrugs.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Yes.” Clara responds at an embarassing speed.“Though we are in a barn, don’t you want to go to my room?”

“Miss, I’ve worked here less than two weeks. What would your father think if he finds me on your bed with you?” Clara rolls her eyes.

“Fine, but you better grab me that blanket.”

“Be right back, your highness.” Abby teased.

Claras eyes drift closed in Abbys absence, hearing faintly the sound of her heading down the ladder. Even while in a state of almost sleep, she can still sense Abbys presence return beside her—the steady rise and fall of a chest, the delicate sigh of a muscular and yet still soft form settling in. A stray strand of hair slips across her cheek, stirring as she breathes, and she reaches up with barely a thought, brushing it aside before realising she’s also touched the woman beside her. Their hands meet, fingers resting in a quiet, unplanned tangle.

That’s how they wake up, too. Clara, who is usually as opposite to a morning person as one could fathom, wakes up before Abby, feeling dehydrated and disorientated. She moves to get up before feeling a body. A muscular body that builds her with the fear of the reality that she hadn’t simply dreamt of coming onto Abby while in the comfort of her bed, but rather that she had done that, and that it was rather thick, barn air she was smelling.

“Fuck.” Clara cursed under her breath, waking the other girl who calmly rubbed her eyes.

“Morning.” Abby says.

Fuck.

#tlou2 #abby anderson #abby tlou #oc #wlw post #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #joel miller

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lyralu91 · 3 months ago

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Oneshot: James Delaney

hoodeddreams13 asked:

"Hi! I'm not sure if you're requests are still open for James, but I was wondering if I could request something based off the following:

"Did you care?" + "I wanted everything."

From the prompts list: dialogue prompts: three words by @/promptsbytaurie

No pressure and thank you 🖤 (it does not need to be a James × reader fic if you do write it)"

A caring confession

James admits he has feelings for a childhood friend. ❤️ (James Delaney x Fem OC) Warnings: none (just a bit of intimacy and light sexual tension). Dialogue prompts are highlighted in red. Word count: 1951.

“He’s been lying to me this whole time! I cannot believe it!”

She stormed past James, leaving him to hold the front door open with a stiff expression. He stood there, pipe in hand, blinking like he wasn’t particularly pleased to have a visitor.

Saying that, he wasn’t at all surprised to see her.

He closed the door with a grunt and moved his head, far too slow, to follow her march into the front room.

“I just met Clara for a walk and she told me the most awful things about him! Things I refuse to believe! But then there’s this, she brought me this,” she said, half shrugging her coat off, half waving the morning paper at James as he came to stand in the doorway. “Written proof of his bloody lies! Right there for everyone to see.”

About time, James thought but waved it over with an uninterested noise, brows drawn together, puffing on his pipe. He had already guessed what she wished to show him: the announcement of a certain engagement.

Angelica claimed the old armchair by the fire, sighing hard as she sat, then leaned down to undo her boots, only to stop midway to pull off her “bloody hat!”. Her chestnut curls were heavy and wild around her face, her cheeks all rosy from the bitter spring cold.

“I hate hats, I hate gloves, and I hate men,” she said, tugging her gloves off and slapping them on the dusty footstool like she’d given all men in London a collective slap across the face. The poor piece of furniture was then shoved aside, making room for Angelica to kick off her boots, only she pushed it dangerously close to the fire.

“Careful…” James muttered with a cautioning glance from where he was pouring them both a brandy.

Angelica carried on like she couldn’t care less if she set the whole house on fire.

“Clara even said she had ‘had her suspicions’. Can you believe that? All winter she kept it from me. And now he’s off to marry some Louise or Louisa I haven’t even heard of! She should’ve just told me!”

She stood up and nearly knocked the glass from James’ hand as he stood there, calm as ever, offering her a drink.

“And would you have cared?” he asked, composed amusement coming through his deep voice.

“Of course I bloody would - it’s all I’ve cared about for months! - all I’ve been able to think about!”

James watched her drink, nodding like he knew that to be true, while his grunt seemed to say “but that wasn’t what I asked”, then moved to sit on the sofa. He lowered himself with a groan, slurped around the rim of his glass and kept his eyes on her. Leaning back lazily into the seat, he sought her gaze with his head tilted to the side, blinking deliberately as if ready to prove a point.

“And did you care for all the things I told you about this man? Hmm?”

Angelica scoffed from where she stood by the fire, back towards him, cradling her drink in both hands.

“I was there, if you care to remember,” James said, voice lowered in a story teller’s lilt, eyes lit by something wicked and patronising. “On that very night…”

Angelica rolled her eyes at the way he clearly intended to mock her first meeting with Mr Homburg, the handsome Swiss merchant she had fallen in love with.

“Watching you dance… Acting as if you were already - ”

“Yes, James, I remember very well how you stared and sulked and followed me around, behaving like a right -”

“ - yees, like someone who cared for you,” he rasped, like it had been the right thing to do and like he’d happily do it again. “Yes,” he nodded. “I cared. And I tried to tell you. I did.”

This was concluded with another nod and a hefty swig of brandy. It burned its way through his chest and he sucked air through his teeth, lulling his head towards the fire.

He sighed. He seemed tired, but there was something restless in the way he studied the flames, eyes twitching imperceptibly, as if touched by hidden frustration.

For a while he stayed quiet, then said:

“But did you ever care to consider why I was there in the first place?”

Angelica frowned, confused and caught off guard by the question. She knew he hated those parties, of course she did. So what - did he want an apology? Was he trying to make her feel guilty for going?

As if his question wasn’t actually meant to be answered, at least not yet, James continued.

“The things I told you that night, and the things I did, I did because I could not stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

This only deepened her frown and she glanced in his direction, increasingly uncomfortable, as his voice had gone darker and his gaze suddenly felt like a physical hold on her. Like hands on her waist.

Angelica took a steadying sip of brandy. Swallowed hard.

His words almost sounded like a confession.

“Why care for anything that was said or done that night…” she said, quietly into the fire, as if the flames had brought her back to something forbidden or pleasant, or something questionable in between. Something confusing. “None of it matters now anyway.”

“But it does,” James said, sweeping his glass of brandy through the air for emphasis. “Because you’re here, yes? In my house. Caring for a man who does not love you.”

Angelica snorted, knocking back the last of her drink, screwing her eyes shut. It angered her to feel a tear tumble down her cheek. She brushed it off like nothing had happened, turned around to face James and spoke with fragile conviction.

“And what do you know of love?”

She eyed him stiffly up and down, chin raised like a shield of spite, then stomped past him to pour herself another brandy.

James caught her wrist and snatched her down on his lap. He ignored her half-hearted thrashing and the snappy “let go of me!”, holding her in place as he calmly set his glass down next to him, on the sofa.

Sprawled beside him, almost mockingly, was the morning paper. He crumpled it slowly into a composed fist and raised it in front of Angelica’s face, narrowing his eyes like she better listen carefully.

“I know that this… this isn’t love.”

He lowered the paper a little, searched her face for a reaction, then grunted a nod and let it fall to her lap. Angelica didn’t flinch and kept her eyes forward, too stubborn and too startled by the way he held her.

“I also know,” James continued, speaking close to her shoulder, very aware of the rise and fall of her chest, “- that whatever that man did to you… or however he made you feel -” now he loosened the grip on her wrist, thumbing the soft skin over her vulnerable veins, “- was not out of love.”

She could have sworn he glanced at her lips then, and the part of her that felt trapped seconds ago, no longer wished to move away from him.

“Power - and lies…” James whispered theatrically, so raw and soft at the same time, like he was relieved but sorry to tell her the truth about dear Mr Homburg. “That’s all it was, Allie.”

He watched her swallow, chin still raised as she refused to look him in the eyes, but the skin around her collarbones flushed at the use of her childhood nickname.

James kindly lowered her wrist onto her lap and withdrew his hand to lean back into the sofa. With a grunt he clasped his hands high on his chest, as if making a point of keeping them away from her. His eyes however, were locked on her. Unblinking, unwavering. Knowing.

Angelica didn’t move from his lap. Maybe out of spite or stubbornness. Maybe for other reasons.

The sputtering of the fire seemed louder, closer, as if the room had turned into a giant hearth, enveloping them in teasing, flickering heat. James found himself contemplating - no… admiring - her beautiful curls. They suddenly looked softer, heavier, there for him to touch, as they moved up and down with her chest.

His eyes shot to her hands as she scratched the spot on her wrist where he had touched her. James inhaled slowly through his nose and Angelica opened her mouth to say something, and when she spoke, her words were as breathless as she looked.

“Why were you there, James?”

“Hm?” he grunted, deeply absorbed by her fingers, stroking her wrist now rather than scratching.

“Why were you there in the first place? At the party?”

He scowled and made a noise that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to answer. It made her feel like he wanted, and waited, for her to figure it out on her own.

She glanced at him sideways, his gaze flicked up to meet hers, and her neck flared up again.

This time James couldn’t help himself.

Head tilted slightly to the side, he reached out to brush a thick lock over her shoulder, humming a noise of approval when she visibly shuddered at his touch.

“I think you know…” he said, letting his hand ghost along the length of her hair, so very tempted to swirl a lock around his finger.

“James, you -” that’s when his other hand came to rest on her thigh, his palm all warm and heavy.

She closed her eyes and another unexpected tear rolled down her cheek, brimming with anger and relief at the same time. His touch had made her clutch her knees, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands or needed support to sit up straight.

“You should’ve told me,” she breathed, cursing the way her dress felt restricting with each rise and fall of her chest.

“But I did,” he said candidly, his right hand coming to rest on her upper back, thumbing her shoulder blade as if reminding her of all the years he’d cared for her.

It was a calming gesture that did nothing to calm her, as their eyes met briefly and James began to sit up. Eyeing her chest and neck, he claimed her space, weaving his head like a patient, curious snake in no rush to proceed.

“No,” she said, gripping her knees and looking ahead of her, refusing to acknowledge how close he was and how she wanted him even closer. “It’s not fair, I’ve… I never knew what you wanted. How you felt or -”

“Oh I wanted everything…” he murmured in a dark lilt and slid a soft palm up the back of her neck. “Mhm?” He looked up at her under raised eyebrows, forehead creased as if asking for permission to continue, or to tell her there was no going back after this confession. “With you.”

James thumbed the back of her neck, nodded and added: “I still do.”

Without startling her, he brushed the newspaper off her lap. There was nothing intimidating to the action, only conclusive, like it was no longer of any use and had been sitting there for far too long.

“Why don’t you, put that on the fire, then come back here, and sit with me.”

When Angelica didn’t answer, he pressed his palm against her lower back, urging her to stand up. To make a decision.

As if James had been waiting all this time to say it, he dipped his head towards her ear, so close she could feel his breath, and whispered:

“Go on now. Burn it.”

#fanfiction #my fanfiction #oneshot #request #tom hardy #james delaney #james keziah delaney #taboobbc #taboofx #james delaney x oc #fem oc #friends to lovers

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stardustradiofm · 2 months ago

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Winter Wonderland • Misfit Class x GN Teacher • Platonic

The fearsome teacher Naberius Kalego is out sick and you are subbing his beloved Misfit class.

The time for Deviler is right around the corner, but the students have a special request since the grounds of Babyls are covered in snow.

-•-

Despite the Royal One being the perfect classroom, it was fairly cold, even inside.

November had just ended and this was one of the last few days of school before the students and faculty would all have their well deserved break for the remainder of Deviler.

You were asked to teach the Misfit class this whole week as Kalego had called out sick.

You knew the Misfit class had their antics, but you didn't know that the majority of the class had really impressive puppy-dog eyes.

"Please Senei?" Clara whined as she clung to your leg. "Please take us outside!"

Your plans for the day were fairly simple. The students had a few tests for each class before the break, so you opted to turn their class period into something of a study hall.

The students were all hard at work, as most of them still had yet to raise their rank before the Music Festival.

About halfway through the class period, it began to snow outside, adding to the soft blanket of white that had accumulated over the past few days.

A few students noticed it at first when they took a short break, but nonetheless kept working.

Once Clara noticed though, she was the first to jump at the chance to go outside.

"Clara, you'll have two whole weeks off of school to play in the snow," you tried to reason.

"But my family throws a big party and I won't have time!" She pleaded again as she slid down your leg.

"Sensei, we've been studying all week. Are you sure we can't take a break for a little bit?" Lied spoke up from his seat.

"Yes. A break from intense studying is good for the mind," Allocer chimed in.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Asmodeus snapped at his classmates. "We have multiple tests in just a few days. We should use our time wisely and focus on our ranks."

"Shut up, Azz-Azz, you're Daleth (4)," Clara retorted.

Asmodeus simply looked on in shock before he stood and pointed at her, "You're the worst of us all! You couldn't even help Master Iruma study properly!"

You raised your hand and the two stopped bickering.

"Asmodeus has a point. You all have tests in a few days and you need to score high if you want to rank up enough to keep this classroom."

The students all looked back down at their papers, though Asmodeus looked rather smug.

Clara slumped back into her seat and the students returned to silently studying for a short while, though Jazz eventually let a smirk cross his face as he thought of something.

He leaned over to Allocer and whispered to him, not exactly quietly, "Hey, you wanna start a bet on who could hit Iruma with a snowball first?"

This not only piqued Allocer's interest, but the others around them as well.

Allocer nodded and replied, "I'll put my money on Sabnok."

Sabnok, who was seated behind them, puffed out his chest proudly and simply replied, "Challenge accepted!"

His outburst was what drew in your attention just as the students began chatting amongst themselves.

"Sensei!" Elizabetta raised her hand. "All of us here on this side of the room would like to go outside."

"Elizabetta-" you were cut off by Jazz.

"We know you said we should focus on studying, but we'd like to make a deal."

You narrowed your eyes at the cunning boy and Devi help you as you asked, "What are you offering?"

Jazz smirked at your response, but it was Allocer who spoke up. "I have calculated the time that we've been studying over the last few days and determined that the perfect amount of time for a break would be thirty minutes, no more and no less."

You raised an eyebrow at him, this class in particular was an hour long, and it had been nearly thirty minutes already. "Go on."

"If we were to go outside within the next ten minutes, then not only would we have achieved the ideal amount of break time, but it would also positively effect our minds for the next two days as our tests begin."

"We would also end our class period while outside," Jazz added.

You looked over the class that was all now intensely staring at you with wide eyes filled with anticipation.

And Asmodeus as he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Listen closely," You spoke sternly which caused the class to tense up. "You have ten minutes to study, then we're getting coats and we'll go outside until class ends."

The whole class erupted in cheers very briefly before all of the students returned to their books, now with more motivation.

-•-

After the ten minutes were up, the students all scrambled to gather their winter gear and mingled at the door to the classroom.

You grabbed your own coat and winter items and made your way through the students to open the door for them.

"Before we leave," You caught Clara and Lied about to book it out of the Royal One, "Stay in the courtyard just outside the door. Do not go into the forest, do not run off to any other part of the schoolgrounds, and no flying."

"Yes, Sensei!" They all chimed as they began to head outside.

Right next to Clara and Lied, Sabnok was itching to get outside as he now had something to motivate him in the snow.

Iruma, Asmodeus, and Clara all seemed to be building a snowdemon, as they each had small balls of snow that they had already started packing together by the time he got outside.

Jazz and Allocer were already gathering bets and spreading their devious plan to the other students as they spread out across the yard.

Sabnok readied his snowballs and set them in a surprisingly neat pile.

"Iruma!" He called out to the blue-haired boy, who looked up from his half-assembled snowdemon just in time to dodge a snowball that was aimed at his face.

"Ah! Sabnok?" He looked back at the much larger demon in shock.

"How dare you throw a snowball at Master Iruma's face!" Asmodeus yelled to him.

"Yeah! Iruma-kins is playing with us!" Clara joined in.

She leaned down to grab a snowball and chucked it at Sabnok who dodged just in time.

Sabnok let out a roar of laughter at the girls attempt to hit him. "Three against one is it? I like a good challenge!" He reached for a handful of snowballs and launched two of them at Asmodeus and Clara.

The one aimed for Azz hit him in the chest and he scoffed, meanwhile Clara caught hers with her mouth and broke it.

"Clara, don't eat the snow. You don't know where that's been..." Iruma warned her.

"Augh-" Asmodeus groaned as he wiped snow from his clothes. "Now you've done it Sabnok!"

He reached his hand out and casted "Cherusil" on the snow in front of him to create a pile of snowballs.

"Hey! You can't do that!" Sabnok complained.

"All's fair in love and war!" Azz yelled as he launched two snowballs at Sabnok.

"Agh!" He barely dodged the first one and the second one hit his arm. "Why you-"

"I wanna join too!" Lied shouted as he stole some of Sabnok's snowballs.

"Lied! How could you betray us like this?" Clara cried at him.

"Sorry Clarin! No hard feelings but I've got a bet to win!"

The group of students fought out their snowy battle for a short while, blows aimed back and forth with others joined in as stray snowballs hit them.

Eventually, one of the stray snowballs flew and hit you in the back of the head as you were helping Elizabetta put the horns on a snowdevil she was building.

The whole class stopped what they were doing and turned to look at you.

"Sensei, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Lied was cut off by a snowball that landed in his face.

You stood there with another fresh snowball in your hand, making all the students pale.

"Who's next?"

A few kids screamed and tried to run away as you began chucking snowballs at your students, others started throwing snowballs back.

Alliances were formed and broken as the rest of the day went on, and the battle only stopped when Asmodeus accidentally hit Iruma with a snowball.

He began to fret over Iruma as the blueberry boy promised he was alright.

Jazz and Allocer walked around in shame as their winnings were all for naught.

At the end of the school day after the screaming bells rang, the whole class laid in the snow together and laughed, with you right there with them.

-•-

The End <3

Thank you for reading!!

I'd like to turn this "Winter Wonderland" into a series with the characters and the reader. Some would be platonic and others would be romantic, it just depends on if I actually do it or not TwT

#mairuma #mairimashita! iruma kun #canon x oc #m!ik #mairuma x reader #welcome to demon school iruma kun #iruma suzuki #sabnock sabro #asmodeus alice #clara valac #shax lied #andro jazz #allocer schneider #ix elizabetta #this show makes me crazy

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nixon-stars · 4 days ago

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ooooooh you wanna yap about Clara so badddddd (please yap about her please please please please please)

HI YES I REALLY DO

I dunno how much I'll talk but I'm putting in the lil read more antway

HIIIIIII SO

For those not in the know, Clara is my sweet evil baby girl also the main antagonist for my oc world and story, rn going under the name 'Pakshapuram' (definitely going to change it tho, also 'paksha' coming from Sanskrit for wing and puram being a common suffix for towns in south india, like Kanchipuram)

She was born and raised in Pakshapuram, a city town thing that is one of a few cities around the area (this area is pretty isolated the only people that come through were born and raised or shifty guys working through black market sort of trades).

She was born the only child to Amara, who with no partner and no other kids and a big expectations on her, put everything into raising Clara. She's a pretty typical Indian mum though, rarely giving affection or praise, but it works, and Clara knows she's well loved.

She is also a bharatanatyam dancer!! Which doesn't help with the pressure but whatever, Clara's life is good, she has her mum, lots of friends, people all around her that want to help, and most importantly she has Xavier.

Xavier, I could talk about him forever, but what you need to know is that he and Clara are CLOSE. Always together, never separated, all the aunties look on and call them "heart and soul" (ഹൃദയവും ആത്മാവും) they don't leave each other's side right

But there's no good character without a touch 🤏 of trauma so, yayyyy

While dancers learn bharatanatyam, after they learn everything and stuff they get this big ceremony debut into their official career, it's called an Arangetram, and it's a bigggg deal okay?

Also like a year before this, Amara find out she's expecting!!!! Gives birth to a baby boy!!!! Very healthy!!!! Nothing will happen to him promise!!!!!!

Anyway on the day of Clara's Arangetram, she goes to her aunty's house to get dressed quickly in her saree (if you've ever tried to put on a saree you KNOW this isn't quick in the slightest)

She comes back and 😱😱😱 her mum is a statue wthhh?????

And her baby brother is gone?????? (It has nothing to do with amara's old wlw situationship that ended terribly and sourly and left a lot of unanswered questions and lingering feelings whattt)

She's confused af obviously and angry and WHO TF TURNED MY MUM INTO A STATUE y'know very justified, and she overhears some people talking about how Dragons???? might be responsible????

You need to know that dragons are heavily venerated in Pakshapuram, the religion of the city revolves around how important dragons are too the world right and how they shouldn't be touched or anything yeah

An old guy came up and said that he had known about a prophecy that something like this could happen and blah blah blah Clara's in charge now

But like she's sixteen so that's alottttt of pressure to put on a literal child you would think? NOPE they said make her queen now

So now Clara's in charge and also A GRIEVING TEENAGER and she is stressed

And woahhhjj perfect timing famine through the land!!!!!!!

Every one is really hungry and Xavier, who is now general, asked her what she wanted to do about it and maybe just maybe let's use the food we had stored just in case something like this happened????

Clara goes "no girl im using that"

And Xavier's like "what why we don't need to use those???"

And Clara like "yeah we do thats what I'm referring the troops I sent to go find a dragon for me to kill to get revenge for killing my mum"

And Xavier's like "you crazy bitch people are starving can you be insane later"

Clara throws a temper tantrum and exiles him woooooop #girlboss

Years pass and Xavier's making a under ground resistance against Clara because she has moved on from killing people with her ignorance to just killing them if they disagree with her which isn't cool

Clara goes very insane with the grief and stress and everything she's soooo unhappy and very evil about it she's talking to the statue of her mum and she's not doing well

And here's about where the main story starts, and I haven't even talked about the protagonists

Anyway I wonder what happened to that baby brother????? 🤔🤔🤔 I guess we'll never knowwwwww

#shut up nix #oc clara #oc amara #oc xavier #yeahhhhh thus is a lot i knowwww j needed the yap #i could go on into the real story but ive decided against ittt id rather keep that in my brain until its done cooking #but hi com hope you like this

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nonbinarypirat · 1 year ago

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I promised to do a break down on Azz's and Clara's relationship specifically since the initial post was so long (Iruma's relationships within the love trio) so here it is! This is long compared to my initial post breakdown of the relationships since I am just focusing on these two. And I wanted to do these two right since so many people think Azz doesn't like or appreciate Clara.

As we know, in the beginning the two of them mostly revolved around Iruma. Azz was very much annoyed with Clara's personality, there wasn't much to tie Clara to Asmodeus besides playing, and as they mention in the manga, more than likely they would have never met and/or become friends without Iruma. Iruma was very much needed for the initial start of their relationship. However, that doesn't mean that by this point in the story we don't see they both care deeply for each other outside of just getting along for the sake of having Iruma.

Similarly to Iruma, Clara has enabled Azz to experience more playfulness and childlike fun than he ever experienced previously. Clara is not just some afterthought within the love trio. She is necessary for the two of them to open up more emotionally. Especially Azz. Asmodeus in general is a very closed off person by nature, stemmed from a fairly isolated childhood of no one wanting to interact with him. We see this when the soulmates are first seperated because they have to join other clubs. Azz basically never interacted with the other members unless he had to. It's hard for him to open up and let his excitable, lovely side shine through. Clara is one of the people that inspired that in him because even with just Iruma, Asmodeus wouldn't know how to just let himself be playful. Sure, the first time him and Clara played together was because Iruma asked him to, but that was more than likely the first time he has ever done this.

Additionally, Clara gives Azz an extra challenge. She's not easy to understand and is someone he feel like he must compete with for Iruma's affections (of course that has changed drastically in the latest volumes and chapters). Asmodeus is used to being the best, outshining anyone and anything in his path. He's a young genius. But that means he didn't have something to push him to grow. Clara is someone who is so widely different from him that it causes him to have to strive towards understanding her. When they have to work together for the hell dance, Azz realizes that yeah, she thinks about the world in an entirely interesting way compared to him. And he can learn from this new perspective. Azz has really grown to care about Clara because he knows she can open up sides of him no one else can.

Clara on the other hand learns about more structure then she ever had before. Clara has been on a character development of realizing that yes, unadulterated chaos can be great. But it can also just cause trouble for yourself and for others. She can rely on Azz to shut down some of her more outlandish ideas, not because of meaness but because the situation doesn't call for it (though he'll shut it down in the sassiest way possible of course). She lives beyond the comprehension of most people and that's what makes her so wonderful. But she can go overboard and doesn't tend to second guess things. With characters like this, you need somone/something to stop them before something ends up being a giant mess.

And Clara felt the same as Azz too about the way he thinks. To Clara, he also makes zero sense. That's why she also needs to strive to understand him and be more considerate of his feelings. She understands that emotions and care doesn't come easy to Asmodeus. And she gives him room to express them however he can and gives him the encouragement he needs. She truly is the best at understanding the emotions that Azz and Iruma are experiencing. Her role as the emotional challenger/instigator pushes Azz to understand why he is feeling that way.

Like I said, Clara is very much needed in the group. I'll fight anyone who thinks she isn't. Because without Clara's brazen approach to feelings, these two boys wouldn't push themselves. Like, sure she group in her toy box because she could see something is wrong with iuma, but it was as much for Azz as it was for him. Because she would also know when he's feeling down about something too. I saw someone call her their safe place on twitter and its true. She's someone they can go to when they just need to talk to someone or vent to. And like a trained big sister, she will pet their hair and listen.

I really hope we get to see just these two interact more as the story progresses as well as Clara Iruma solo time. Because I care about the love trio so much, they are basically free therapy for me. Oh and in case you were wondering, yes I am obessed with Azz wanting to take a picture of Clara in her cute swimsuit. He's so in love with his soulmates it's so cute. I know he has the best icloud service and still has to backup his photos often from how many pictures of Iruma and Clara he owns.

#iruma-kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #m!ik #wtdsik #mairuma #the love trio #iruclarazz #clara valac #asmodeus alice #character analysis #relationship dynamics

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axcel-lucci · 1 year ago

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For the next Full Moon request, female reader asked the ASL trio to babysit her children. How would Law react to that? Would he be jealous or comically annoyed? Whenever female reader is busy, or Law is on important meetings, she'd always ask Luffy, Ace, and Sabo to watch Corazon and Clara. Everytime Law's on a business trip, the ASL trio would always stay by female Reader's side to company her. Yes, Ace is very bad influence, always give Clara and Cora tons of sweets and 🍬. If you want, you could make Law 'punish' her by having rough sex in his wereleopard form, which would not only make her pregnant, but also carry either triplets or quadruplet! Damm, Penguin's not kidding when Law's in his time of the moon cycle.😂😊

Full moon

A/n: so like-- idk how to do some parts of it, but yeh- but don't worry, I'll try the other half.

My masterlist

Full moon og series

"Don't worry sweetie, uncle Shachi and will take good care of you." (Y/n) said as she comforted Clara.

Meanwhile, Cora refuses to let go of law. Hell, he'd have to take off his clothes if he wants to leave.

Then again, it's the first time the two toddlers would be away from their parents for the night. Considering they're now five.

"Hush now... We'll be back in the morning, we promise..." (Y/n) smiled as Clara pouted.

"How come papa can come and we don't!" She huffed

"You little-!!" Law groaned as he tried to pull Cora off him only for the kid to grip his shirt even tighter

"No." The boy muttered.

"Hmm... What about this..." (Y/n) smiled, "me and papa will bring you and Cora to the aquarium next week, what do you say?"

"Aquarium... And pool!" Clara says happily

"Mhmm, we'll take you there as long as you two be good little babies for uncle Shachi, yeah?"

"Okie! Cora! Quick! Papa and Mama will bring us to the aquarium next week!" Clara said as her brother immediately let's go of Law and hoped down.

It was now clear who Cora listens to other than his parents...

Giving the twins a quick kiss, Law and (y/n) left to go and have their date.

It's been a while since they had a date...

Totally not because of the twins being born.

(Y/n) had to physically restrain Law from anything when it's his time of the moon cycle...

And right now, Law is restraining himself in order to get this date the most romantic it's ever been.

"You are so unlucky" (y/n) laughed, "it's full moon. But you ARE lucky the kids aren't home. So I guess that's a win win"

"Stop teasing me..." Law groaned, "or else I'll turn this car around and just fuck you senseless. Fuck the reservation."

She just chuckled, "I know... But it is quite nice that... You know..."

"I know..." He echoed with a small smile.

They soon arrived at the restaurant with a small chat.

One that would distract him from his urges to just pounce on her at the parking lot.

It was a blur after that, really... Them eating, having a great time, Law handing her a bouquet of flowers, and they're on their way home.

But as soon as the front door was closed and locked, Law let out his tail and ears that begged to be let out the whole evening, he sighed in relief once they were out.

"It was so suffocating..." He groaned and he wrapped his arms around her waist as she removed her make up.

"Why didn't you tell me? We could've left early" she laughed as he nuzzled his face against her neck.

"I want you to have a good time..." He pouted and was on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

"Anywhere with you is a great time, Law..." She smiled as she turned around in his hold and placed her hands on his cheeks, "how's your moon cycle taking a toll on you?"

"Oh right"

Before she knew it, she was being thrown on the bed roughly as law crawled over her. "You teased me all night long" he growled as he took off his shirt

"Technically, just 4 hours worth." She laughed softly once more as he huffed and pulled all her clothes off, "law... You're that hungry?"

"What can I say? My beautiful wife is just as beautiful as no one because in my eyes, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen" he smiled softly and kissed her deeply while squeezing her mounds of flesh.

"You've always wanted to this, Huh?" She chuckled, knowing he loved to stare whenever she'd breastfeed the children.

"I wonder if there's some milk left..."

"Are snow leopards like cats? Really?" She smiled as he lowered his head to her right mound

"I don't know what you're talking about" he huffed, the thought of being compared to a cat astounds him.

He licked her nipple just a little and squeezed it, seeing some milk leak out.

"Law... If you're really going to drink that..." She groaned before mewling at the feeling of him biting it, "... Fuck... Be my guest..."

He smiled a little before sucking the ever living shit out of her nipple, milking her until it's gone for now and switching to the other, all while (y/n) made small noises as she blushed slightly.

Law eventually had enough and sat up, licking his lips.

It was evident he was happy by how his tail was standing up.

"Law..." She smiled as he took off the rest of his clothing and leaned against her

"Yes, love?" He asked with a smile.

"You..." She chuckled softly, "you're kind of a cat."

"Oh please-"

"And I love cats..." She smiled

"Mmmhh... You better do." He huffed before placing a hand on her thigh, sliding it inside and up to her wet folds.

He sat up slightly just to pull her legs far apart and see her glistening entrance just waiting to be played with.

"Come on Law..." She whined a bit before gasping at the feeling of his thumb rub against her clit and his tattooed fingers plunge inside her.

His fingers played with her insides, rubbing, curling them, and even squelching them against that spot inside her that made her see stars.

"L-law...! Please..." She gasped as he pulled his fingers out and observed them.

She watched as he licked his fingers clean.

He eventually settled between her legs with a chuckle, "my apologies if you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow... Like usual."

"Oh shut up" she huffed

He rolled his eyes playfully as he placed her legs on her shoulders and aligning himself to her entrance.

"Now be a good girl and just keep moaning for me, alright?"

"Mmhhhm..." She whined a little before gasping and arcing her back when Law plunged himself inside in one thrust. "Law...!"

"My bad... I forgot it's also been a long time since we had this..." He chuckled, he clearly intended that to happen

"You little-!!" She groaned but moaned loudly when law pressed her legs down to her shoulders and started to thrust deep inside.

The position let him be as fast and as hard as he can without any trouble, in which he immediately did once he realized that.

(Y/n) soon turned into a moaning mess, pleasure filled tears streaming down her face and her eyes rolling back as Law continues to bully her sorry cunt.

"That's right baby..." He smiled, "moan for me..."

He thrusted even more after that, determined to make her come at least twice before he leaves his seed deep inside her womb. The tip of his dick pressing against her cervix every thrust.

The first time she came, she was still sensitive and Law kept going. Not letting her rest, overstimulating her to the point of her second orgasm.

"L-law...! I-i cant-" she gasped and moaned loudly.

"I know, I'm close..." He groaned, "just a little bit more."

After a few more, Law came deep inside her. Against her cervix.

She can feel his warm seed planting deeper than her womb.

"L-law...! Ah..." She gasped.

"Oi... Don't sleep yet. I'm still not done... Remember... It's been 5 years since we last done this." He smirked darkly, "we're finishing it. Tonight."

"Oh dear..."

Next day...

"Mama... Why do you look so tired?" Cora shyly asked as the two watched Clara annoy the hell out of Law by climbing on his back.

(Clara is a little gremlin)

"What...? Oh... It's just uhm..." She hummed, thinking of an answer to an innocent of a toddler.

"Papa just put a baby inside mama. You'll have a sibling in a few months" Law smirked as (y/n) glared at him

"Huh? But then... How does a baby get INSIDE of mama?" Clara said as she paused for a moment

"Ah- well..." (Y/n) hummed

"Se-"

"Law."

Extra:

Ace and Sabo wanted to meet the little ones, only for them to be more behaved than Luffy who's literally chewing his now much more durable leash.

"Mama... Why is he wearing a leash...?" Clara asked

"He's... Uhm... He's uncontrollable sweetie..." (Y/n) answered.

"Mama..." Cora called, "where is he...?"

"NOT AGAIN!" Sabo and Ace yelled.

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seramilla · 10 months ago

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God that must be so hard and nerve wracking for Carmilla. Finally knowing what happened to the baby she lost and feeling slightly relieved cause now here was her baby safe and here in her arms again where she belonged damnit but they were all in hell and her baby had already lost an eye and had to fight every day...

But also...how are Clara and Odette handling the news that they found their baby sister and just who she is?

Carmilla takes a few days to determine if she wants to inform Odette and Clara about what she'd gleaned following the most recent Extermination. In the first place, her girls had been working overtime extracting all the angelic steel left behind near the Hotel; it's a veritable treasure trove this time, and they'd been so excited to get started. Second, Carmilla needed time to process recent revelations herself, and figure out how to delicately broach the subject with her eldest two.

How is she supposed to tell her daughters that their sister, whose existence they'd barely even registered back on Earth, had quite literally come back from the dead? Not only that, they'd missed an entire childhood together; growing, playing, bonding, fighting, and loving one another -- all things Clara and Odette had the opportunity to do. How is Carmilla supposed to just go up to them and say, "Surprise! You remember that child I was pregnant with when we all died? Well, she's still around! She's an ex-Exterminator, killed hundreds of our people, and I don't even know if she wants anything to do with us!"

Would Odette even accept her? Clara is usually the more open-minded of the two. That's another question she can't answer. With how many times Vaggie's "sister" Exorcists have tried to kill them over the years, would her other daughters even want to have anything to do with Vaggie? She thinks they would...Clara the most likely of the two...but they are fully grown women with their own thoughts and feelings. She wouldn't blame them if they...well, they'd have every right not to want that kind of relationship with Vaggie, at any rate.

Carmilla is still stewing in these thoughts, having practically worn a path in the middle of her bedroom floor by walking back and forth so many times, when she feels a vibration in her pocket. Pulling out her phone, Vaggie's name flashes prominently on the screen, like a fresh piece of graffiti on the side of a building. She almost drops her phone in surprise, but manages to keep it together. She taps the answer icon in trepidation.

"Ye-yes?"

"Carmilla?" Vaggie's voice on the other end sounds so...tired. Carmilla recalls she's been home for a few days now, but she wouldn't have been able to tell by the sound of her voice alone. Her tone is so...ragged and laced with anxiety; a spitting image of her own, if she's honest.

"Vaggie! Umm, yes! How can I help you?"

There is a definitive pause, one that makes the distance between them seem more metaphysical than real. They are just across the city from each other, but in every other sense, Vaggie is undoubtedly existing in her own plane of reality right now. She seems so much farther away than Carmilla could possibly reach by foot. It must have taken her a lot to call Carmilla. The arms dealer puts her patience to the test, and waits intently for Vaggie to find the words to voice what she needs to say.

"Carmilla..." Vaggie finally starts, a voice much shakier and insecure than she remembers; a far cry from that determined, brave girl that challenged her at her compound all those days ago. "Can I...come over?"

Carmilla's heart jumps into her throat. Her ears start ringing, and she almost needs to sit down on her bed before she collapses.

"Yes!" she says, flinching as she sounds a little too eager for her own ears. There's no helping that now. "Of-of course! Whatever you need, mi querida. My door is always open. When do you want to come by?"

"Ummm," Vaggie hesitates, as if she fears she's asking too much. "Is right now okay? Are you...busy?"

Odette and Clara will be back soon, but that is the furthest thing from Carmilla's mind at the moment. She'll deal with it when the time comes.

"No, that's perfectly fine! Absolutely, I'll be here! I'm not going anywhere today."

Vaggie sounds a little relieved, but also like she hadn't expected her question to be answered so quickly, so freely. Carmilla hopes she doesn't sound too eager...but she is. How can she not be? This is her daughter, for goodness’ sake, her child, wanting to see her.

"O-oh-okay!" Vaggie says, a little more eager this time. "Gi-give me an hour? And I'll...I'll be there."

"Text me once you're close by," Carmilla says, trying to push away any further doubts and hesitation from her mind. Vaggie wants to come over. She needs to be strong for her. She needs to keep it the fuck together. "I'll come out and get you this time."

"Okay," Vaggie responds. "Thanks...thank you, Carmilla."

Vaggie hangs up. Carmilla stiffens. She stands up, putting her large hands over her face, wiping her forehead down to her cheeks from the stress of it all. Vaggie is coming back, coming here, right now. She tries so much not to freak the fuck out.

Now to figure out what to do about Odette and Clara.

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #fan theories #ask #anon #vaggie carmilla related au

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