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xmalfoyweasleyx · 3 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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cybernaght · 1 year 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 · 7 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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i-like-media · 11 months ago

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I imagine Donna to still eventually ask what the doctor has been up to. Maybe she does so while they're stuck doing a chore together like the laundry or dishes. And the doctor will try to avoid it like he always does, but caves under Donna's stare. He'd still keep it vague, speaking more about the companions the toymaker spoke of and cautiously daring to honour their memory like that while keeping himself away from the hurtful bits. He even jokes a bit about who he ended up becoming. He'd admit he had an obsession with bowties and had sonic sunglasses once, and Donna would laugh and say she'd LOVE to see that.

Then, after a pause, Donna asks if he's ever stumbled upon her with a different face, and with a hushed breath he admits he hasn't.

She grows a bit silent, grieving a thought she wished were reality. And then the doctor pipes up again.

"This isn't actually the first familiar face I've gotten...-WELL not another one of my OWN faces, but certainly something familiar."

Intrigued, Donna stops what she's doing and listens to him explain further.

"When I first got it I couldn't place where I'd gotten it from. I just, knew it was familiar...... -I didn't linger on it as long as I should've and I moved on rather quickly."

"Why?" Donna asked, a bit bewildered at the thought of it.

"I was careless and angry and sort of... Scottish.-ANYways one day me and Clara were dragged to this viking village that had gotten itself into trouble, and we helped them. But this village girl had, uhm... Well she didn't make it. I was so angry -I remember that anger really well. And Clara kept on asking if there was something I could do..."

"Well, was there?" By now both of them weren't doing their chores anymore and all they could hear was the singing of a couple of starlings outside.

"...Yes, but it would've broken some rules."

Donna already knew what exactly he meant by that. She would figure that's the end of it, yet the doctor kept on talking.

"But then as I was rotting in my defeat, I remembered this important day I shouldn't ever have forgotten. The day we were in Pompeii... And only then did I realise that face, MY face, was a reminder of something very important you told me. To just, save someone."

"...So you mean, your face..." The doctor nodded, and Donna couldn't help but finally release the breath she'd been holding with a smile.

"I did save her and she ended up living a long, long, longlonglonglonglong life... But even after hundreds of years, when I doubted myself and needed it most, Donna Noble... Your impact on the world and my life, persisted."

And I imagine the doctor to give her a big, proud smile, before Donna pulls him in for a big hug he wasn't expecting to receive. Because maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she needed to hear that day.

Then once they return to their chores, I imagine Donna to think about it a bit longer and make a comment. "Well you better never take on my face!" And the doctor would dissolve into a pouty ramble about how he has no control over it while also being a bit disappointed she's said no.

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vourequat · 7 months ago

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GENSHIN MEN courting you.

WARNING: This is a Filipino AU set in the Spanish Colonization period, so basically all of these are inspired by Filipino courting rituals.

Contains Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvilette, and Wriothesley (some of these men are hand picked because of the languages on the banner on top tehee.), fem!reader, age gap.

Diluc Ragnvindr (Manileño)

Being the son of a businessman, he was the highest regarded bachelor in all of Manila being that he was also rather good looking.

This man is not a big fan of romanticism and would often avoid it like the plague but his guilty pleasure was to read books in the romantic genre hidden away in the depths of his library, his trips to the book store was more often than usual and many thought that he's gone book crazy but that was not the case however.

You.

You were the reason that he's now the book shop's loyal patron, you were just a simple woman from another business oriented family. You were the typical Maria Clara to the spectators eyes, quiet and modest though that was not Diluc saw.

You were ambitious and rather messy at times but that's what he loved about you, your comfortability with someone like him made him feel that he actually was able to make friends of his own that his father had not told him to befriend for the sake of business.

That's when he started to grow feelings for you.

He was still stoic and expressionless at times but whenever he sees you, his ears visibly go red under his luscious red locks.

With the encouragement of his mother and the head maid of his estate, he mustered up the bravery in his entire blood line to go to your home with the intent of asking for your father's blessing to court you.

He was shocked to see that there were other men who were after you; from a Mestizo to a Sangley, they were all there waiting for your sweet yes.

But he had an advantage that didn't have; they didn't know you the way he did.

It started from flowers to love letters, he did everything that he learnt from the romance books he had read and basically copied every single gentleman in the books that women loved.

His very next move was to bring you by the lake that he had remembered that you used to go to as a little girl, it was a bit muddy though, ruining yours and his shoes but it didn't matter as he saw that you were obviously over the moon to see a childhood place again still intact.

He saw something that your other suitors weren't able to see nor willing to, they painted you as this innocent flower that needed corruption from them but to him— you were the most adventurous and the bravest girl he's ever seen.

"Yes." You laughed.

He raised a brow, "Yes what, binibini?" he asked.

"I want to be yours..."

Those very words made his heart race as if he just ran from his house to the nearest farm in the concrete city of Manila, he couldn't believe that his awkward attempts to act out the romanticism of men in books that women seem to love had worked.

"You're pulling on my leg..." He breathed out only to be wronged by her shaking her head.

And just like that, he ran to you and lifted you into the air. The adrenaline causing the two of you to fall into the mud, it was sticky and wet but it didn't matter to him even if his ivory white blouse that his maids spent hours on to perfect was ruined because his heart was now owned by the most perfect woman he could ever think of.

"So... what should we call each other?" He asked.

Kaeya Alberich (Español)

Ever since he has set foot in the Philippines with his father who governed the Philippines in the reign of the Spaniards he has never felt the sense of nervousness, back in Madrid, he had an image to uphold as a government official's son but now he can just let loose.

His move to the Philippines was the very start of his rebellion, he now probably felt like a normal boy like he dreamt of back in Spain but his father wasn't having it.

So to set him straight, he put Kaeya in the supervision of a prayle.

The first mass where he served as the priest's assistant he managed to oversee the entire service from the elevated stage where statues of saints and Jesus were all shown in the altar made of wood and gold. One of them was you, a really pretty Filipina who was praying religiously and singing alongside the child choir.

After the mass, he was about to gather his friend of rebellious teens until he was stopped and called upon the priest he's under.

He mustered up his most innocent boy smile until he saw you approaching, turns out that you were the goddaughter of the priest and he wanted Kaeya and her to be friends since she was the best candidate of friends that could place a good influence on him.

He was beyond bored, accompanying you and other nuns and worshippers as you all prayed to the virgin Mary. There he realized that convincing you to join him to the dark side was a hard task to do, you weren't that innocent but you were the most pure and truest girl he's ever met.

Sometimes you were sassy and very witty but he felt as if you really cared for him despite just being friends with Kaeya so that his father won't worry about him while he's away, with you he learned a lot of things, mainly that he didn't need to rebel to be free.

Most of the things he did was disobeying his father but it didn't do him any good at all, with his friends he learned to become a womanizer and to drink at a very young age. But it was weird to admit that you managed to fix him.

From table manners to memorising the entire prayers in the book in Latin, he learned it all from you. You were the only friend that his father approved of however, despite being a girl and potentially seeing his son in a romantic way not that he minded having you as a daughter in law.

Kaeya soon blossomed feelings for you, it started from helping around the church like you did and almost took your job from you.

He was still cheeky as ever, his teenager instincts causing him to want to create discord but you manage to dim it down with a simple glance.

Everyone loved your pairing, almost every single one encouraged you and Kaeya to start dating already and with the blessing of his father and your father, he began to do the cheesiest things.

You were confused if whether he was doing this to sway you or just flat out piss you off.

One night, you were sleeping peacefully until you heard something from the open window of your room. Groggily heading your way there you saw Kaeya and his goons of friends who some you recognized to be the sons of the farmers in your father's hacienda.

"This is for you, cariño..." Kaeya and his poor ability to sway women with his voice began to sing you a popular Spanish love song, he was hurting your ears but it amused you.

You stayed by the window sill and watched as he sang while his friends played a guitar or a drum made out of a bucket, they were all in tune with the original song but Kaeya seemed to have his own version.

"Oh my dearest... will you give this lonesome and poor little Spanish boy your sweetest yes?" He said so dramatically, maybe you should've banned him from reading Jane Austen or Shakespeare.

You laughed at his advances before giving him the shockest shock of his life, "Sure... why not?"

He looked like was about to faint when he heard those words come out of you, his friends celebrating behind him like a bunch of buffoons while he was still awestrucked.

"R-Really...?" He had to make sure.

"Yes, now come in and meet my mother before I change my mind." You've never seen this usually spoiled man who had everything handed to him with a snap of his fingers run so fast into your house and to your living room where he met your mother and your father, ready to welcome him as their son in law.

His father would actually faint if he found out about this though. Who would've thought that his son would be able to grab a girl like you?

Neuvilette (Mestizo)

Like Diluc, he was not one to meddle in with romance since he was very busy as a foreign law maker and businessman.

He only found himself in the ports of Manila due to a business pact with a bunch of Sangley's that offered a good proposal, he never thought of soulmates because to him it was just another myth for the hopeless romantics but it was quite ironic as he was in the territory of the romantics of the south eastern islands.

Soulmates were just plain bullshit until he saw you.

A young merchant who was heavily business minded, though it was the 1800s so no one took you that seriously and that's where your brother came in. He was the perfect bridge for Neuvilette to get to know you better, to get to know what fuels that fire that made you glowing like the blazing sun of the tropics.

Neuvilette manages to strike a deal with your brother however when he asks of you, his eyes widened— you were only twenty two while he was already in his late thirties.

A blossoming flower and a mature tree stump was not exactly the most ideal to some but just like nature, it works in different ways.

In one of his tours to the factory of your brother when he saw you show your amazing leadership and logical thinking skills, he admired every single bit of what you've presented to an oldie like him and you were really pretty on top of that.

You would look perfect together, two business driven minds and great skills in making connections— but you were too sweet for him.

You were still too young for his taste so he just waited for you to grow older, not that he expected some sort of miracle from the heavens that was until one day you yourself aroused the idea of secret feelings. You may have had caught up on how he longingly stares at you and how much he admired you so you wanted to know if he wanted an amazing advice for you.

The businessman was blushing hard, it didn't help that he was pale either.

Then he just pulled out a bouquet of flowers towards you, you accepted them of course due to how pretty they were but why did he give it to you?

"Can I... Can I court you, my lady?" Those very words started the long road to your sweet approval to finally call himself yours, he began to stop by the factory more and more to help around to make use of the time he had before he had to go back to France.

And when that dreaded day came, he didn't seem to forget you one bit. Every month your house was bombarded by boxes of love letters and other items that Neuvilette scoured the entirety of his motherland remembering that you liked them.

It took about three years before he finally got the time to go back to the Philippines to see how the joint business he had with your brother was going but mostly it was to see you of course, waiting by the dock was the familiar woman whose address he kept in his head like words engraved in stone.

Too much to his dismay he began to grow white hairs while you were just starting to greet wrinkles to your beautiful face. It made him insecure and made him think twice if he should greet you until you attacked him with a big hug when he was not looking, he took it as an opportunity to raise you up in the air to view that beauty he longed years for before hugging you back even tighter.

To the spectators, it was rather weird to see an unmarried duo be this intimate but it did not matter. Neuvilette didn't suffer two grueling years of courting her without even getting to see her in person just to be ashamed of showing his love for her.

"Sinasagot na kita..." trans: "I'm going to answer your question."

And just like the first time he showed his love for you, he grew pink and became more bashful by the minute.

He tucked your stray hair behind your ear before he leaned down to admire your beautiful eyes that he'd be lucky to see every single morning when he wakes up and night when he goes to sleep, he wanted you to be his and wanted his entire being to be in your hands, that was how much he loved you.

"And I'm not too young anymore..." Your witty comment making both of you chuckle before his laugh died down as he continued to look into your eyes.

"And I won't get tired of loving you everyday of the rest of my mortal life." He was about to continue his very sappy and sweet dialogue when your brother butted in with an all too familiar smile on his face, "So can I have my business partner now?"

Right, as much as you wanted to greet your suitor and now nobyo, your brother also was here to greet his business partner. Maybe you two will talk this out later on when you two have the time but for now, you were here for business.

Wriothesley (Probinsyano)

Being the eldest of his family, Wriothesley was sent to work at the Hacienda of a rich businessman near the city.

He didn't mind the work at all as he himself wanted to do something to help around the house in many ways possible, being family oriented and too busy raising his younger siblings, love wasn't exactly his first priority in mind until he saw you.

Your father was touring him and other new workers around the farm when he saw you passing by and conversing with your friends, so this was what all the craze was about city girls.

Every time you visited the farm while he tended to the horse stable he made sure to use that as a chance to converse with you, as you were in one of the shaded benches and reading he suddenly decided to approach you.

"Hi, ma'am... that's umm... a cool looking book" he started but he was a bit nervous, you seemed to be a smart collegiala while he can't even admit his illiteracy.

You couldn't fault him that he couldn't even read or write, after all, he came from a different life than you so you offered to teach him the basics and have him full access to your library.

He was a rather fast learner and you liked that as an impatient woman, that tutoring however slowly turned to a flirting session. You had to admit that Wriothesley was a sweet guy but he just wasn't your type though he was keen on changing that.

From a bag of apples he gathered from the apple orchard to a wheel of cheese that he and his fellow workers managed to create from the left over cow milk they harvested, he did everything he can and did what he knew to sway a woman just to change your mind.

You loved his attitude and insistent nature, you were starting to like him but you just wanted to play with him and pretended to not be so impressed until you surprised him with a surprise visit to your father.

The man was shaking like crazy when he met his boss in a more relaxed setting, it was just him and your father all alone.

"So you like my daughter?" Your father started.

"I- uh...—" Before he could even answer, your father cut him off.

"And I want you to be my son in law."

Wriothesley had to check twice if he heard his boss right, he had been working under him for about a couple years now and your father saw his hardwork around the farm and trying to woo you to accept his offer of love.

"But... you need to make that cheese you made again last time, it was delicious..." Now, with your father's blessing, he gathered his friends to create the same wheel of cheese for your father to further prove that he was serious with you but he did most of the hardwork as he was motivated by you.

While he was busy molding the cheese into shape, you decided to pay a visit and stopped by his friends who were watching him from afar after helping him gather excess milk from the cows.

"That man's head over heels for you, ma'am" one of them said.

You laughed, "I know... the feelings are mutual."

"Creativity comes from those who have a lot of responsibilities but refuses to do them" — Veritas Ratio, the philosopher, probably.

A/N: I am not swaying my feet while writing this, never. And I'm running out of ideas so I may make more Filipino AUs of characters I like to make fanfics of and will probably make text AUs because I'm getting obsessed with the ones on Tiktok.

Trans: Good morning, my love. Go and eat breakfast mwah!!!

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin men #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #neuvilette fanfic #genshin neuvillette #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #filipino AU

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maddascanbe-blog · 8 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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k1ngpin42 · 17 days 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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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 days 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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nonbinarypirat · 11 months 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 · 7 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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nanowrimo · 1 year ago

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Writing Tips for Every Age and Mental State

Not every piece of writing advice will apply to you — and that’s okay! Sometimes, your writing strategies will change as you go through life or learn more about yourself. NaNo Participant Clara Ward shares writing advice that they've learned over time.

There’s no right way to write. Writing—like life—is about finding your best fit. What follows are tricks that worked for me. Please borrow what works best for you right now. (Then save a few ideas for future you!)

I wrote my first novel four decades ago, when I was thirteen. I’ve written while juggling three jobs or zero. I’ve written as a kid, a parent, and an empty-nester. I’ve learned from my own neurodiversity and mental health challenges along the way.

Each struggle taught me how to customize my writing practice. Here’s a list of what worked for me at different stages. Adapt as you see fit.

Stage 1: Meet Yourself Where You’re At

Outline - For my first novel, I sketched furtive notes on the back pages of a school notebook. I created headings for each page that became section or chapter titles later. Numbers helped me order the scenes and letters delineated details.

Note: Leave extra space for fun facts or snippets of overheard dialog. Years later, I heard a NaNoWriMo buddy joke, “Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.” My apologies to my high school geometry teacher, who received no such warning.

Avoid Distractions - I needed a closed door to write at first. I couldn’t read other fiction during the week or two when I frantically converted my outline into a rough draft. Luckily, I wasn’t in charge of meals back then!

Stage 2: Find Your People

Give Yourself Permission - I first heard about NaNoWriMo in 2004, when I was parenting, working, and volunteering as if there were two extra days in each week. I hadn’t written a story, an outline, or notes in over a year, but I knew exactly what I wanted to write. I signed up for NaNoWriMo and opened a family meeting by showing the webpage to my spouse and kids. I explained how I’d budget four hours a week for writing in November.

Note: I didn’t complete 50,000 words that first November. But the next year, my kids enthusiastically joined the Young Writers Program!

Enlist Support - Eventually, my kids and I designated one hour each day for writing. There were many distractions, but it felt great! We attended NaNoWriMo write-ins at a donut shop to build community, and my kids each persuaded a friend to join. (Yes, donuts are a sometimes food, but at least they weren’t asking for coffee!). With support and determination—and for me, a bit of sleep debt—we all met our writing goals most years!

Stage 3: Embrace Your True Strengths

Emotion Mapping - In the last couple decades, as attitudes and terminology evolved, I’ve learned a lot about my own neurodivergence and mental health. Oddly enough, the self-knowledge I gained by masking and compensating before I knew those words, informed both my writing and the tips given above. As I became more honest with myself, I brought more emotion to my writing.

Note: Sometimes it helps to skip scenes I’m not in a good headspace to write. I jot down key plot and character points inside curly brackets and skip to a scene that suits my current feelings. Since I don’t used curly brackets anywhere else in my writing, they’re easy to search for when I’m ready to go back.

Fascinations - After years of being warned about “info dumps,” I realized that my own fascinations (neurodivergent or otherwise) were assets that could serve my writing. At the beginning of 2020 I did a deep dive into researching sea creatures and ways to protect our oceans. At the back of my research notebook, I gradually outlined my 2020 NaNoWriMo Novel, Be the Sea. Parts of that outline cross-referenced pages of ocean research or articles I’d saved online.

Note: The system above worked well enough for me that I now have a book deal for Be the Sea, which will be published by Atthis Arts in early 2024!

Seriously though, this isn’t a post about how to get published on a 40-year plan. By matching your writing practices to your ever-changing self, you give all your stories the chance to be told. I wish you and your stories that success!

Clara Ward lives in Silicon Valley on the border between reality and speculative fiction. When not using words to teach or tell stories, Clara uses wood, fiber, and glass to make practical or completely impractical objects. Their short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Decoded Pride, The Arcanist, and as a postcard from Thinking Ink Press. Clara’s 2020 NaNoWriMo novel, Be the Sea, will be available from Atthis Arts in early 2024. For updates on this and other projects, follow Clara on their website. Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva from Pexels

#nanowrimo #writing #writing advice #writer's life #neurodivergent writers #for parents #inspiration #by nano guest #clara ward

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evans-endeavors · 8 months ago

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D&D NPCs

Was reminded I should share more of my D&D NPC art

NPCs the party has met through the campaign.

Character info below the cut!

1. Alder Montgomery (he/him)

Dwarven king of the capital city. He's a legendary warrior who gained the title by defeating a necromancer and his undead army many years ago. He's stubborn, analytical, and brave.

2. Lawrence Montgomery (he/him)

Human cleric and husband of King Alder. He's the emotional intelligence of the couple, and tends to be the one citizens interact with most. Kind, caring, and wise.

3. Elma Honeyhand (she/her)

Halfling alchemist and mentor of one of the party members. Elma is a potion maker who serves the bustling farming town and remains joyful despite the town's terrible history. She's fiery, jovial, and boisterous.

4. Rosemary Tolld (she/her)

Human priestess of the Inventor. The party met her while she was tending to victims of a plague in the farming town. She's diligent, but a little morose, and quiet.

5. Andrick the Gold (he/they)

Half-elf cult leader, and prophet of the goddess of life. Andrick took over leadership of a failing cult after the previous leader's demise and has acted as a minor antagonist for the party very early on. They've grown in power significantly since the beginning, even becoming a "hero" in the capital city. He's manipulative, charming, and obsessive.

6. Aries (he/him)

Aries was met as a prisoner of a fey king. He bonded with the party, and they agreed to help him escape the Feywilds. Aries later turned out to be a black-gold dragon, and Prince of the Summer Court. He's tired of the rules and expectations of his mother, the Queen, and is rebelling by exploring the mortal plane. Angsty.

7. Clara (she/her/they/them)

Clara is the big secret of the Resurrectionists (a secret monster hunting group)

Clara is a young emerald dragon who keeps a hoard of knowledge. Magic items, books, artifacts, historical treasures. Their psionic abilities grow more and more, but she's still a child at heart so enjoys having fun. But most of their time is spent watching the world through a crystal ball. She loves to learn about the world this way, but it also helps the monster hunters get the jump on undead activity.

There's way more NPCs than this, but I don't always get the time to draw all of them. And before you ask. Yes. I do have a problem with filling my world with dragons masquerading as humanoids. I just LOVE DRAGONS

#my art #dnd #elara campaign #npcs #npc #dungeons and dragons #character design

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 1 month ago

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More than worthy

Iruma stares at you. Tears trailing down his cheeks. "I... I'm sorry. You're probably disappointed having a son like me." Your entire body froze. What? You snap your head towards him. How could he possibly think that?

You just stare at him for a moment. Your silence led him to burst into sobs. "I'm sorry, you don't need a useless child like me."

Your body springs into action. Cradling the blue-haired boy close to your chest. "What are you saying?" You wipe away his tears.

He looks at her with nervous eyes. "W-well i... I'm not... i mean..." He trails off. You stop him. "Iruma, don't put yourself down like that. Don't you know how special you are? You are the most important thing in my life."

Your voice is soft and gentle. Brushing his bangs out of his face. "Don't you see how loved you are?" You asked, pressing your forehead against his.

"B-but i just cause problems for everyone!" You raised an eyebrow. Watching the teenager struggle with his inner conflict.

You let out a small chuckle. He looks up at you, stunned. His blue eyes filled with tears. You rubbed his cheek.

"Oh sweetheart, you don't cause problems... well, not on purpose. It's not your fault you attract trouble. Besides, you've also helped a lot of people, wouldn't you agree?"

"I..." He pauses. You take advantage of his hesitation and continue. "Clara would still be taken advantage of, Soi would still have stayed invisible. You've changed a lot of things and helped a lot of people. I guess you've made a lot of changes to this world."

He furrowed his brow. You watched that cute pout form as he thought of your words. "And you know something, Iruma?" Your eyes meet. "This world has changed you a lot too."

He looks at you in shock. Those innocent blue eyes bore into your soul. You smile warmly and nudge him gently.

"Look at you, you've come so far. Once brought here as an innocent lamb. Terrified and alone. Now you stand with others. I can see the pride in your eyes."

He holds his breath. "You are amazing, my son. Watching you grow is a joy. I think everyone can agree. We're all eager to see the future you'll create."

"The future I'll create?" He asks. "Yes." You agree. "I will be proud of you no matter what. So never say anything negative about yourself again."

"I..." "You're my child aren't you?" You asked. "Y-yes." He stutters. "My child should never be ashamed of who they are. My child is a child who should be as greedy as possible. Our previous world took everything from you, so be sure to take everything from this one."

You squeeze his shoulders. "Iruma." "Yes?" You take a deep breath. "No matter what anyone says, no matter what happens. It's not you who needs to be worthy of anything."

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #reader #iruma suzuki

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charlottecutepie · 9 months ago

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☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 5. Desire

Surprisingly, Wiliam behaved restrained, but inside him everything was on fire, he wanted to take you here and now, harshly and rudely, do things with you what he had long dreamed of all this time, but he knew perfectly well that if he snapped now, you'd be even more scared, cut with him all connections and will avoid him, and maybe even do something to yourself, because you're nothing but a little frightened lamb. A little creature who grew up alone, not needed by anyone, who didn't receive the proper amount of love and attention from her father. And that's why Afton thought he was the perfect source of all these feelings for you.

Perhaps, to some extent, he felt sorry you. However, his mind ignored such thoughts.

“William,” you spoke to him. “Is there no one at home?”

“Yes, Clara with kids left, I don't know where. She said she wouldn't be back until the morning.”

…

The Afton house is still same as it was before. Only coffee machine bought by the father of the family has changed. Although he earned a lot of money, little of it went to home improvement, Afton always invested only in the pizzeria, trying to make it as visible and attractive as possible.

It was also impossible to ignore the couch that was in the living room of the house. For you as a child, it was the most favourite object in Afton's house, you sat on it with Michael in the evenings and watched cartoons. When you had sleepovers with other kids, you hid under the covers because of Michael's scary stories. You often fell asleep on it late at night, without waiting for your mom, although she promised that she'd pick you up from the guests, but sometimes she never showed up because of scandals with her husband.

This couch evoked hundreds of emotions and nice memories.

But now, one more thing will be added to all these early memories: the way you lie on this couch under man who you saw as father, no matter how strange it sounds.

“You're so… beautiful,” he hovered over your body, his eyes running over it. “such delicate skin, like an angel's.” he took your hand, interlacing your fingers, kissing them. All thoughts in your head gathered into one big ball, you tried to analyze the situation somehow, but useless, because of his actions, you felt lost. William breathed out your name and greedily pressed his lips to your neck, showering it with light kisses.

You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side to give him more space, trying to relax, it seems you were succeeding. But unexpectedly for you, you felt him bite your neck.

“Oh!” bursted out of you, your free hand burrowed into his hair, trying to pull him away. “William, it hurts…” he looked up at you.

“I’m so sorry, bunny,” he smiled warmly at you. “I’ll be gentle.” he moved closer, gently kissing you on the corner of your lips. You leaned forward, hoping that this innocent kiss would turn into something more, however, Afton had other plans, he grinned and straightened up. “So impatient.”

He unbuttoned first three buttons of his purple shirt, which was enough for you to see the strange scars covering his body. You couldn't help, interest took over and your hands tentatively touched the bare area of his body.

“Where are they from?” you asked softly, causing him to chuckle again.

“It doesn't matter now, sweetheart.” he loosened the belt of his pants, after which he kissed your neck again, this time he kept his promise: you felt his tongue licking little wound he made. William took you by the hips, moving your body closer to him. “Y/n, you want this, don't you?”

“I… uh, I don't know.”

There is silence in response. William could tease you and your body for hours, nibbling and kissing it, making you sigh languidly, but this night he wanted to satisfy you first. He wanted to make you dependent on him, so that you couldn't live a day without his touch, so that you took the initiative yourself, so that you were head over heels in love. Corrupt you. However, he didn't know you were already so dependent on him, you want him to love you like in fairy tales about princesses, you want him to give you all the love that you were deprived of as a child. You just wanted someone to save you from loneliness.

You felt something hard pressing against the inside of your thigh, but you didn't want to look at what it was because of your wild embarrassment. Afton took something out of his pants pockets.

“Here, I see you need it,” you saw him holding out his hand to you with some kind of strange round pill. Confused, you looked at him, waiting for some explanation. William only laughed and ran his finger over your lips, opening them. “Yeah, and here it is, good girl.” he said, pushing the pill deeper until, due to the urge to vomit, you grabbed his wrist. “I'm sorry, baby, I just don't have anything to wash down the pill with.”

“What is it?” you winced at the unpleasant taste.

“Tranquilizers so you don't get nervous. Actually, they're mine, but I can tell by the look on your face they'll be useful for you too.” his hands carefully, as if afraid to scare you even more, undid the clasp of the dress, lowering it from your shoulders down. Unable to contain your shyness, you tried to hold the fabric on your body until William looked at you, as if mentally saying “don't.” Then your grip loosened, there was nothing you could do but obey. “that's it, good girl.”

When he wanted to take off the dress completely, you still grabbed on it, not letting it slide off your hips.

“Princess, if you keep doing this, then we won't succeed.” William looked into your eyes, putting your hands behind your head. “I won't hurt you.”

You nodded, trying to lose yourself in your feelings again. It seemed to be easier with the help of a sedative. You didn't even notice how you were only in your underwear in front of him.

“Damn, you're incredible.” he threw the dress somewhere on the floor, kissing you on the cheek while his hands caressed your hips and waist. You bit your lip to stifle a groan. Fuck, no one has ever touched you like that, especially in places like this, and when William ran his hand along the inside of your thigh, inadvertently touching your crotch, you arched your back. “it felt good, didn't it?”

William repeated the movement, but now paying more attention to your clothed pussy. The excitement took over, forcing you to move your hips towards his movements. A shudder of desire went through your whole body, Afton saw it perfectly, he kissed your collarbone, going lower to your breasts.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I've been dreaming about this.” those words echoed in your head, but you didn't pay attention to it. “Honey, you're just so beautiful.” William ran his hands over your breasts, pinching your nipples hard with excitement.

“William…” you got the courage. He looked at you questioningly, damn, you hoped you said it so quietly that it would go unnoticed. “kiss me, please.”

He laughed. In a moment, his lips are on yours, like a predator. At that moment, you forgot absolutely everything, giving yourself completely to him. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his long fingers touching your pussy through your soaked panties. With one imperious movement, he pulls off the last piece of clothing, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“And now? Not so scary anymore?”

“I don't know what i feel…” you were in turmoil, all fears and thoughts disappeared, a wild desire came to replace, no, not of intimacy, not of sex. But his affectionate words and compliments, the way he touches you, his gentle kisses and hugs, the way he treats you.

His fingers gently touch your labia, slowly and smoothly they move in circular movements along clit, getting another moan from you. With his other hand, he holds your legs, preventing you from moving away and closing them.

“And now, honey?”

“It's weird, but…” you avoided his gaze. ”feels good…” you answered unsure. Smiling contentedly, he removed his fingers. You noticed that as soon as his hands left your body, his movements in relation to himself instantly changed: he roughly, jerkily took off his belt and unbuttoned the fly of his pants, pulling them down. It’s like he was controlling himself when touching you.

“Lick them.” Afton said in a commanding tone, running his fingers over your lips. It was terribly embarrassing for you, but you did as he said anyway. You watched his actions with a note of sweet and naive excitement, the way his fingers penetrated deeper and deeper, pressing on your tongue, again caused unpleasant sensations to vomit. “Sorry, but there's no other way, I don't have any lube.”

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, quite considering how wet they were, you felt uncomfortable, but probably if you tell him about it, he's unlikely to listen and stop. The only thing left to do was to lie under him like a doll and enjoy.

“You're an obedient girl, aren't you?” his fingers went back to your glistening pussy, caressing your needy clit. Your breathing stopped instantly.

“Yes…” you whimpered when you felt his fingers, wet with your own saliva and grease, smoothly, insanely slowly entering you. William is building up the pace, not too fast, but enough to make soft sweet moans come out of your mouth. “Daddy…” you drawled languidly, feeling your soft walls tighten around his long fingers.

“Yes, princess?” Afton kisses your neck while his free hand wraps around his cock that was already out of his trousers, hard and dripping with precum. “Tell daddy what you want.”

“Please, want more…” you whispered in his ear, this time trying to be as seductive and sexy as possible. William found it funny.

“You'll get more, baby,” his breath tickled your skin. “Daddy will make you feel good.” Afton pulled out his fingers, causing you to moan in disappointment, oh, how he enjoyed it, it felt like he was ready to cum just from your angelic voice.

William tilted his head, being between your legs. The whole picture made you dizzy, you glance at him in surprise, trying to predict what will happen next. William grins, seeing how your curiosity plays tricks on you when he gives your clit a tender kiss.

“Ohhh, daddy,” this word is so vulgar, it sounds completely indecent on your tongue, but right now you don't care, all that matters is William Afton and the wild need to be needed by someone, loved, appreciated. “Yeah…”

The release builds up with an unfamiliar, wildly pleasant feeling in the lower stomach, making you want to close your legs, but his hands continued to hold them apart. His tongue feels too good, slowly moving in circular movements over your cunt, paying more attention to your clit while two fingers slowly and smoothly fucks you, forcing you to switch from moans to sobs and soft screams.

William accelerates, his movements getting faster and rougher, but no less passionate, making you arch from pleasure. With one hand buried in his dark brown hair, you try to set the pace, but he can do fine without you, so it's useless, he's much more experienced. He explored you with his tongue until the trembling left your supple body. William could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. His free hand continued to jerk himself off with increasing movements, while he was eating you out.

You sighed desperately when Afton stopped stimulating you with his tongue, lifting his head and looking at your reaction, his fingers still inside.

“Do you want to cum for daddy?” he asks, you just nod quickly, wishing of putting an end to these sweet torments that drive you crazy. “No, I need you to say it, honey.”

“Yes, yes, yesss,” you say brokenly. “I…” an uncertain pause. “I want to cum, daddy, please!” oh, it was so humiliating, but what was more terrible that you liked it.

“Good girl.” William increased the intensity of his movements, hitting all right sweet spots of yours. You moaned loudly, feeling everything tense in your lower abdomen, which means an imminent orgasm. “do it, cum while I fuck your little pussy with my fingers.” William growled, his hand that was touching his own cock stopped, now squeezing your neck, pressing on the carotid artery, but hearing your wheezing, he his grip loosens.

Your moans, which are more like crying, turn into loud, piercing “oohs”, your head's spinning, your brain's melting, everything is like in a fog, you can't even see Afton's face. The long-awaited release is catching up with you. You cum, you cum so hard that you feel ecstasy running through your whole body, you feel that your breathing becomes ragged, and your pussy clenching on his fingers.

“Such a good girl,” because of orgasm, you don't even hear what he says, and you don't want to, you need time to regain your strength. “it's my turn now, baby.”

He takes his fingers out, brings them to his mouth and licks them, studying your reaction. William touches his member again, his heartbeat quickens, his eyes now closed, apparently he's thinking about something. Yes, he's definitely imagining something in his head.

“Tell me, do you love daddy?“ he asked, his voice hoarse from excitement. He isn't even looking at you.

“Yes,” you responses quietly. Taking advantage of the moment, you look at him in detail while he doesn't notice. Damn, how handsome he was, his long, such aristocratic fingers that played with the tip of his cock, rubbing cum along entire length, his slightly disheveled but insanely beautiful brown hair like milk chocolate, his sharp cheekbones, it was stupid to deny that he was unattractive. “I love daddy, I love you, William.” you didn't even fully understand what you were talking about. You was just saying what he wanted to hear.

He pumps his cock faster, you see how he shuddered, like saying your name or something else, you can't understand. But you catch yourself thinking that it's damn beautiful. If your mom found out what you were doing, she probably wouldn't be happy.

He cums on your stomach, with a loud groan, and then, breathing heavily, falls on the couch next to you, staring blankly at the ceiling. What is he thinking about? Is he even thinking now? You're lying obediently by his side, trying to figure out what just happened, but your brain doesn't want to think, your head is aching, your temples are throbbing. William turns to you, then looks at the crumpled dress on the floor, then back at you.

“Let's go to the shower, bunny, I'll help you wash up.”

…

The next morning came for you only closer to 12, when you were suddenly woken up by the sound of the door opening. It was Clara with Michael and Elizabeth. Confused, not even realizing that you were in their house, you jumped up from the couch.

“Michael, give Elizabeth that hoodie, you're not wearing it anyway.” woman's voice was heard somewhere in the hallway area, which means that she was nearby.

“Mom, these are my things, and just because I don't wear them doesn't mean that—”

Michael entered living room, but when he saw you, he froze in place.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“Who are you talking to?” Clara’s voice sounded, but as soon as she appeared in the room, her emotions immediately changed. “Oh, hello, honey.” woman affectionately called your name, coming up to you and sitting down on the sofa. “Elizabeth, go say hello to Y/n!”

Girl immediately rushed over, you noticed a plush toy in her hands, it seems it was the same robot girl drawing of which Elizabeth recently showed you. She greeted you cheerfully, all you could do was say an awkward “hello” in response, still trying to remember how you even ended up here. Clara stroked your head, her gaze fixed on your face, on your tousled hair and lost expression. You knew that you had to say something in your own defense, why you were here.

“Sorry for such an oversight, I had some problems with my mom, and Mr. Afton told me to spend the night here.” you lied, and then mentally slapped yourself. Damn, this is so dumb. The Afton family knew that you had the best relationship with your mom and that you had never argued. You doubted how truth your words sounded, but judging by Clara's reaction, everyone believed you.

“Honey, I'm glad that you have somewhere to go, you know that we'll always welcome you with hugs,” she said tenderly, with maternal love. “You must be hungry. I'll go to the store and cook breakfast, what do you think?”

There was no point in lying further, you really needed something to eat, so you silently agreed.

Mrs. Afton went to the nearest grocery store, taking Elizabeth with her. You and Michael were left alone, you gradually began to remember what happened, and with the realization that you and Afton had something, you were overtaken by a sickening anxiety, causing your toes and hands to go numb and shake, and your heart to beat faster. You two were sitting on this damn couch watching TV, however, neither of you was interested in what the old screen was showing. You were sitting hugging your knees, wondering whose clothes you were wearing: they were of a child surely, with some kind of cartoon print, a t-shirt and, as it seems, Michael's pants. He didn't hesitate to look at you from head to toe, which slightly annoyed you.

“Michael, stop staring.” You hissed, tucking your face into your lap.

“I'm just trying to figure out,” he paused, thinking about something. “why are you wearing my dead brother's t-shirt?”

“What?”

“Well… I'm not accusing you of anything… it's just…” he scratched his head, clearly not knowing what to say to you. ”Okay, forget it. It's just my shit in my head.”

“Michael, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” you looked at him. Why did William choose his dead son's clothes out of all? “There must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“It's nothing, y/n, you shouldn't worry so much about it.”

You looked at the TV, trying to come up with some kind of ridiculous excuse, but in vain. And how long can you lie?

“Speaking of my brother… today, Elizabeth, mom and I went to his grave.” Michael muttered, you knew perfectly well that this topic of conversation wasn't the best, because the he blamed himself enough for what happened. You decided that the best thing you can do now is just listen to him. “You know… it's already overgrown with grass. We had to work hard to get the grave back to normal. Oh, and there's also a lot of webs.”

You knew that only people who cared for Evan's gravestone were Clara and Michael. William, after his son's death, never visited grave, and even more so, didn't attend the funeral, citing the fact that he had a lot of work. And when Evan was in a coma, with minimal chance of survival, Michael came to him almost every day, crying and begging for forgiveness.

You knew that Michael was just a traumatized guy and it was useless to blame him for all this, he had already heard a lot about himself from his father, so you just moved closer to him when you noticed him dropping tears on the couch and hugged him.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Afton returned from the store. Michael wasn't in such good mood as before, but as soon as his mother crossed the threshold of their house, he seemed to put on a mask of happiness, meeting her and helping to carry bags into the kitchen.

For breakfast, which smoothly turned into lunch, Clara served macaroni and cheese and caesar salad. Your stomach, which hasn't received normal hot food for a long time, rejoiced and you ate all two portions in a few minutes. Elizabeth talked most of all at the table, telling you something about robots and toys again. Yes, once upon a time Michael, and Clara herself, told you that she took after her father. She's also interested in mechanics and loves animatronics.

Looking at this whole family, you felt guilty about yesterday. Probably, to some extent, you even hated yourself. Mrs. Afton, the nicest woman you've ever known, after your mom, of course. Michael is a devoted and faithful friend, as well as a caring brother, Elizabeth is just the sunshine of this family, cheerful, everyone's favorite. And William is a charming and likeable man who was ready to do anything for his family and work. At least that's how the family seemed to you in your head.

You're lost in your own thoughts, stopped listening to Elizabeth's babble. The damn guilt was eating you, making you sick of yourself. How could you do that? How dare you drag a married man, the head of the family, into bed, and then sit at the same table with his family, smiling innocently at everyone. What the fuck is wrong with you? Mrs. Afton will definitely find out, Michael will find out and Elizabeth will find out, and then you will become a disgrace to the whole town. You will become known as a little slut who seduced a married man. Not just a man, but William Afton himself.

“By the way, honey, did William tell you where he is?” Clara asked, and you squinted, trying to remember what Afton had told you before you dozed off.

“He said he was going to the pizzeria to work.” you said, it was true. Clara's face changed.

“What?” a rhetorical question. “he never worked on that day, he always had a day off exactly… today.”

Meanwhile, William was already at the pizzeria.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf x y/n #william afton x reader #william afton #steve raglan smut #dilf william #fnaf smut #fnaf william afton #william afton imagines #william afton x reader smut #Fnaf movie

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