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pigdemonart · 1 year

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Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices. - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too. - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling. - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace. - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together! - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

#depot agents #depot agents master post #my art #submas #submas adjacent ahaha #will probably edit as time goes on but who knows really #if you spot any typos no you dont kiss kiss #cameron #cloud #furze #isadore #jackie #ramses

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dizzyjaden · 2 months

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hihihi soooo. I want this to involve Kaeya, Xiao, and Dottore (heheh) if that’s okay. Pick whoever u want if only one ! But anyways

What if you’re a member of the armed forces (a knight of Favonius, a member of the millelith, and a fatui agent respectively). And you get injured on the job. Like, injured enough to warrant a hospital stay. Pretty *badly* hurt. What are those three doing, yknow? How do they react? Are they helping? How so? That type of stuff

✦ GENSHIN MEN WHEN YOU GET HURT ✦

Thank you for asking, let's find out.

Pairings: Kaeya, Xiao, Dottore x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: You got hurt and need medical assistance.

♤ Warnings: Severe injury (abdominal stab wound, broken arm, various bruises and cuts), slight yummy angst, soft Dottore

♤ A/N: I know this isn't exactly a request but I'm treating it like a request because I wanna get stuff posted. I'm also really not the best at Kaeya, so forgive me in advance if he's fugly. Enjoy!

Kaeya:

As a knight, you know that when an issue arises in Mondstadt, you’re going to stand on the frontlines for your city. It’s what is expected of you, and what you have accepted for yourself. You don’t mind it, your city is important to you. Your job is important to you. It’s actually how you met your boyfriend, Kaeya, who is also very important to you. Perhaps that’s why when the two of you were out fighting off abyss mages to protect a group of civilians, you threw yourself right in front of him as a shard of ice, summoned by a cryo abyss mage, was sent flying straight towards his chest. Instead of his chest, it impaled you in your stomach, right beneath your ribcage.

It takes him a moment to process what just happened, in an instant everything pauses and he’s focused entirely on you. Needless to say, when he sees you fall to your knees, holding your stomach in agony, he practically rips the remaining mages apart and hurries to tend to you.

Thankfully the wound is not horrifically deep, the distance between you and the mage prevented it from flying fast enough, but you are still bleeding from your stomach, which is rather alarming. He hides his panic though, not wanting to upset you further when you’re already injured. He ties his belt tightly around the wound and picks you up, you’ve never been stabbed before so obviously you’re quite concerned with your injury, because of this he chooses to gaslight you while he rushes to get you back to the city. “It’s fine, I’ve seen way worse! You worry too much.”

Kaeya wants to remain by your side when he does finally get you to a doctor, he is quite irritable when he can’t go back with you but ultimately waits, impatiently so. When you’re all patched up he rushes into the room and gives you a tight, slightly painful hug. When you remind him that you’re freshly injured his face falls and a hurried apology leaves his lips.

The two of you spend the rest of the day laughing and teasing each other about the unfortunate incident, Kaeya is glad it’s already something you can laugh about, but he truthfully feels guilty he let that happen to you when it was such an easy fight. He’ll get you whatever you need until you’re fully recovered.

Xiao:

Honestly, Xiao would just prefer if you called his name before you fought anything. Yes, he knows you’re trained. Yes, he knows you’re strong. But he’s an adeptus and he’s willing to protect you. Why won’t you just utilize that and not put yourself at risk? He doesn’t understand. But he doesn’t ask any questions when he’s called by you in your time of need. He teleports straight to your location, where he finds you gravely injured with multiple gashes and bruises on your body, and a small crowd of ruin guards encircling your fallen figure. He quickly stands in front of you, calculates how much time he has based on the severity of your injuries, and then tears them all to shreds.

As he fights he counts each second that passes, thinking about your blood loss. He manages to defeat them in thirty-one seconds, but he was planning on thirty. He teleports back to you, picks you up, and then teleports you to the nearest hospital. You’re too weak at this point to really register anything so he hands you over to the doctors wordlessly and then leaves you there.

When you’re fixed up and a bit more conscious, you quickly call his name and he meekly appears with a bouquet of flowers he’d gathered while you were getting treated. “For the single second that I let you bleed.” He explains his intention behind the small gift. He’s convinced you’ve probably been irritated at him since you got to the hospital, but you are entirely unsure of what he means. Xiao is such a perfectionist when it comes to keeping you safe, but you’re just grateful he came at all. When you take his gift, you express this and he isn’t sure what to make of it, but he doesn’t wish to make it a bigger deal than he already has so he simply nods and then lectures you for nearly an hour about not calling sooner.

Dottore:

When Dottore hears from an associate that you’ve been injured while out on a mission, he is right on it. He doesn’t ask any questions about your condition, he can figure that out when he finds you. And when he does, he is livid. Whatever opponent you faced completely broke your arm! It doesn’t matter if you were already about to receive treatment, he trusts nobody but himself to help you. As a harbinger, what he says goes so he’s going to take care of it.

While he’s fixing your arm he’s asking you questions about who did this to you. He’s disappointed to hear you already managed to defeat them. He was hoping to have the opportunity to make their death so much longer than the merciful quick bullet you gave them. But, at least they aren’t alive anymore.

Once that’s out of the way, he gives you gentle kisses and hushed words of comfort to take care of you. Really, it’s not that big of a deal to a fatui soldier like yourself and you find his reaction dramatic, but he likes taking care of you and he just has to smother you right now so, tough luck I guess.

He makes sure you take it easy for a while, not allowing you to do anything strenuous. If you happen to argue with him about it, he’ll simply order you to stay home and rest. He’s a harbinger, remember?

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #hcs genshin men #genshin x reader

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witchthewriter · 8 months

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I was inspired by @reiignonme, and I just HAD to do this. I'm so excited to write it. Also, I do know that dragons are aggressive creatures, but to their bonded rider, they're different.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍:

・The God of Dragons, is what his title should have been

・But to you, he wasn't the intimidating beast that everyone saw him as.

・To you he was a work of art, a creation so wonderous that your breath hitched whenever you saw him.

・You show your love to him by laying beside him, treating him with respect and dignity.

・You hate leaving him on his own, but you allow him his independence.

・Never in a million years would you put him in the Dragonpit, chained and waiting for you.

・And in turn, he shows you his love by fiercely protecting you. He will fly you anywhere, and calls whenever he's beckoned.

・Only obedient to you, he doesn't listen to anyone else but you. However, it's almost as if he's level-headed and can be reasoned with.

・The other dragons fall in line and let him lead - which means you're the leader as well.

・His roar is earth-shakingly loud. And it can be heard from miles away.

・All of your subjects bow to you, knowing your power.

・Because we know, that a dragonrider has the same traits as their dragon.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒:

・Is quite the adventurous dragon; she isn't one to be paraded around like Silverwing or Dreamfyre. She rather dislikes large crowds, preferring mountainsides and flying over oceans. She doesn't like small spaces either.

・Bonding with Meraxes was like bonding with a Border Collie - always has energy and curiosity

・But unlike Quicksilver, Meraxes is less energetic in a comic sense. She's more mature; more battle-worn.

・Will protect you unrelentingly.

・Hates sudden loud noises

・But loves hearing how much you love her and how much of a good job she's done

・Her teeth are smaller than the other dragons, but more pointed/sharp and there's more of them

・Her roar is also more high pitch and of a scream

・Meraxes' scales are pearlescent and seem to move in the sunlight

・Not many people know that, because she doesn't like being approached by others.

・That's why she isn't kept in the dragonpit.

・But she isn't as aggressive as Vermithor or the Cannibal

・You can tell that she wants a mate though, and often tries to woo Balerion - but he wants none of it.

𝐕𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑:

・She shows her love by waiting for you to sit on her saddle before taking off.

・You have to shout out the command to fly and then, she takes off.

・You have a very special bond with Vhagar, which clicked into place because you would spend more time looking after her than making her fly.

・For example, talking to her, brushing/washing her, stroking her face.

・For those who don't think dragons understand - you're wrong because they really do. That's why some riders have a bigger bond than others.

・Some just see their dragon as an animal, as a beast. But those that see them as apart of them, that's when the true bond clicks into place.

・And you knew that being pampered is everyone's dream - or just being doted upon. So, because you put in the hours for her, she does the same for you.

・She obeys your commands without question, because she trusts you.

・But she doesn't like anyone else touching her, in fact there's a few trainers with burnt hands because of Vhagar.

・She loves laying in the sun, and will fly you to a beach to lay in the sand. Often you're chastised by your family for bringing sand into the castle.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑:

・LOVES TO FLY

・She's the type of dragon to be like, "let's go faster! let's go faaaaasteeeer!"

・Isn't as aggressive as others, but would rather be away from people if able.

・Hates being paraded around

・But will do it if persuaded with food and belly rubs (although most dragons don't like to expose their stomachs as it is one of their most vulnerable body parts)

・When you introduce her to a friend or acquaintance, she does a big roar and then huffs a laugh at the person's scared response

・One of the more docile dragons like Silverwing

・Has similar colouring to Meraxes, but unlike her, Quicksilver is smaller but nimbler.

・One of the fastest

・Can beat anyone in a race

・And she LOVES to race

・Has to be ridden everyday otherwise she goes hyperactive and will lash out at the trainers

・Once when you were bedridden for a week, she flicked a whole group of trainers with her tail and then let out the biggest flame she had ever expelled.

・Tail flick = I'm irritated, Roar = I'm hungry or is trying to scare someone for a laugh, Fire = she is actually angry, Baring her teeth = scared

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋:

・No one is allowed to approach him, hell no one is allowed to look at him.

・He's an incredibly aggressive and temperamental dragon. One that hates everyone but you.

・Completely black, he's known for eating other dragons - which makes him an outsider. No dragon, no matter how mighty, doesn't feel safe around him

・Even Balerion keeps his distance

・You weren't sure whether to keep his name or not, since you did have an emotional connection with him.

・But you guessed that he like being intimidating

・You have to feed him yourself or he will go hunting for dragons or sheep. Hasn't actually eaten a person, but has killed many.

・As he's your bonded dragon, people are a lot more intimidated by you. Since dragons and riders have somewhat similar traits.

・Although he does like showing you his den. He looks at you like, 'it's nice, isn't it. Did you see the bones I placed at the front? Yeah...it's to scare people off...'

・You see him differently than others see him. You aren't afraid of him. It's how you were able to bond with him in the first place.

・There was something in his eye that you thought was vulnerability, rather than hostility.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑:

・His favourite form of physical touch is being scratched, like, really really scratched.

・Vermithor's back leg will wobble in absolute delight

・Especially when you get to those places where he cannot reach himself

・Doesn't like anyone but you doing it (or anyone but you being in the room when you do it)

・He's a very private & grumpy boi. Doesn't like being woken too early either. And likes to have an afternoon nap.

・And an angry/aggressive one too. He doesn't like being woken up early, and once you had to dodge out of his firing line. When he realised it was you, he made a really long upset face (that only you and his only other rider, Jaehaerys has seen)

・But he's incredibly loyal, and would die for you.

・What's important to you, is important to him (unless it's before 8am)

・Can sense when you're overwhelmed and will let out a huge roar so no one comes near

・Likes when you fall asleep with him. He may like his solitude, but he doesn't mind company (it depends on the company)

・Actually likes doing royal processions because he gets to show off how big and scary he is. He knows it's too remind the people of whose in charge.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆:

・The least aggressive out of all the dragons (but that doesn't make her a formidable foe.)

・It's almost as if Silverwing understands that dragons keep people in line, but an approachable dragon keeps the respect and admiration of the people

・If she's patient and sociable with others, then you know damn well she has all the love, patience and affection for you.

・She shows her affection by nuzzling into your open palm, her eyes closed and you swear her lips are in the shape of a smile

・Wherever you are - standing alone, or in a crowd etc., she has her body wrapped around you; shielding you.

・And when you're alone together, she'll lay down and let you rest with her, and/or on her. Then, she'll fully wrap around you to help you warm up.

・She absolutely loves spending time with you. Funnily enough, she's a very outgoing dragon.

・She won't let you come into any harm though. Either because she herself has placated the people who could hurt you (the common people) by interacting with them calmly and gently.

・And if anyone tries to hurt you, she's the first to react. Although her temperament seems calm, she is highly protective of you and will burn someone to ash if they try to hurt you.

・When you're in King's Landing and the King demands that Silverwing be put in the Dragonpits, you sneak down to sleep with her. You have a very tight bond.

・Otherwise, she takes you somewhere else to sleep; amongst the grass, so you can fall asleep underneath the stars.

#witchthewriter #dragon headcanons #house of the dragon headcanons #headcanons #preferences #dragon preferences #witch the writer's headcanons #witch the writer's preferences #balerion #meraxes #vhagar #quicksilver #the cannibal #vermithor #silverwing #dragon dictionary #dragon directory

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runnning-outof-time · 4 months

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You know I had to do another one! 💙🥂

From the 5 word list, #16 - “Please stay with me tonight.” - with John or Tommy (that's up to you!)

(2 of 2)

Thanks for sending this one in also, Bri! I went with John on it so that I could break to the little Tommy steak that was going on before this! I also may be bending canon a little bit here, but oh well. And I couldn’t resist the silly title. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Gangsters Have Feelings…?

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, smoking, one sexual reference

Word Count: 1017

Summary: John calls on (Y/N) when he’s having trouble coping with the decisions of his brother, Tommy. (Y/N)’s quite honestly surprised to see this side of him.

(Y/N) took the moment of pause in the conversation she was having to wonder just how in the hell she’d wound up in this position. She never could have expected that her on the fly befriending of John Shelby one evening at the Eden Club would have led to showing up at his hotel room because he needed someone to talk to.

Hell, this brought on a whole new question…gangsters have feelings?

She hadn’t thought of it before, but it was becoming clear that they did…or this one did at least.

From the second she entered the suite, she knew that John was upset. She felt it. The usual energy that he exuded whenever she was around him was missing, and he wasn’t paying much care to his appearance at the moment. His usual three-piece suit had been exchanged for a pair of slacks and a messily tucked in undershirt.

The reason for his calling became apparent the second she asked him what had been going on. A simple question opened the floodgates of complaints of how his brother had been running the business; putting a much younger cousin in a more respectable position while he and his other brother were expected to keep up with the unmentionable side of things.

“You know I never had any ambition to sit in an office and jerk around over some fucking papers, but it’s just that…that’s me own fucking brother making the calls. I mean…it’s gotta count for something, right?” John started talking again, making (Y/N) focus back in on the conversation.

“It should,” she offered a comment, letting him know that she was actively listening to his plight.

John sighed and carded his fingers through the longer parts of his hair before bringing the cigar he’d been smoking up to his lips. He took a deep drag and blew the smoke out in a steady stream as he peered through the window. “And now Michael’s in the office and Arthur’s in charge of London, and I ain’t got nothin’. Tommy doesn’t care though because all I am is some fuckin’ yes man who takes care of errands for him.”

“I…” (Y/N) stopped herself before she could continue. She didn’t really know what to say. Talking hadn’t been placed that high on the agenda of their previous visits. (Y/N) didn’t really know anything about John Shelby…other than he most certainly knew what to do in bed. So she wasn’t sure what type of can of worms she could open by giving improper advice. She could tell that he was looking for it though; advice. “I’m sure that Tommy cares about you, John. You’re his brother,” she started off with a vague statement.

“That’s about all I am,” John mumbled as he shook his head, his eyes focused on the floor.

(Y/N) sighed as she stood from the chair she’d been sitting on. She silently moved over to the window sill he’d been sitting on and took a seat on the corner of it that had been left open. “Look, John…” she paused again, trying to come up with how she was going to finish the rest of her statement. She hated that she didn’t know exactly what to say. “I don’t know much detail about the area of business that you and your family work in, but I do know the man that you are. I know that you care, that you give your all to what you’re doing, and that you’re damn good at it.” She didn’t take his eyes off of him after she finished speaking, watching for any little movement he might make.

Instead of saying anything, John just shook his head. It didn’t seem as though he was shaking off her statement, but rather shaking his head at the situation in general.

“John,” she spoke his name like a breath, hoping that he’d at least look at her. She was really struggling with what more she could add in to help the situation. There had to be some reason he called her to come over, right?

Thankfully, her attempt worked, and he lifted his downtrodden eyes up to match hers. The hopeless expression that was etched into his features made her frown, and she couldn’t stop from reaching out and cupping his cheek with her hand. She brushed her thumb against his skin while keeping eye contact, hoping that her comforting actions would make up for the fact that she had no clue of what to say.

Some time - (Y/N) wasn’t even sure how much - passed before she spoke again. “John, I’m sorry…I want to help, but I’m struggling with what more I should add,” she finally came clean, explaining her internal dilemma before she sent a sympathetic look his way.

“You comin’ here is help enough, love,” he answered her, leaning into her touch. His statement made the smallest smile form on (Y/N)’s face, and that alone helped him start to forget about his woes.

“I…um…” she stuttered over her words as she tired to think of what to say next.

“Please stay with me tonight,” John - thankfully - cut her off. The sentence, which was usually asked as a question, was spoken by the Birmingham gangster as a statement.

“You want me to?” she checked before giving her answer.

“I need you to,” he answered with a reworded version of her statement.

(Y/N) thought for a moment. This question - that John had been asked her many times before - sounded different now. He needed her in a way that he hadn’t before. The thought of that made her heart start to beat faster.

“Will you?” he asked after a few beats had passed.

“I will,” she nodded, sending him a smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, taking her by surprise as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t pull back from it though, immediately kissing him back. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he pulled away just enough to say before his lips were on hers again.

**taglists are added in the reblogs!

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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shuttershocky · 3 months

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what do you think of shu, new sui kid on the block? i like her design. the colors are very tasty looking :)

Shu's design is my favorite among the Sui siblings so far, very impressive given how much Ling was made to appeal to my personal tastes.

It's the Roberta in her eyes (same artist). Can't help but be charmed.

I also love that her whole theme is agriculture. All the Sui embody an artform. Nian does metalwork, Dusk does painting, Ling does poetry, and Chongyue does martial arts, but Shu's art is agriculture. Not to embody an Asian stereotype here but I love the respect towards rice farmers.

Now as for her skillset, Shu is a Guardian Defender, a bold choice when Saria has so thoroughly dominated the Guardian class (or just ground support units in general) that the last 6 star Guardian, Blemishine, steered clear of Saria and played a funky DPS/Sleep/Defensive Recovery support role just to be able to see play.

Shu on the other hand, returns to focusing on heals and support utility, meaning she'll actually be encroaching on Saria's turf. Let's look at her skillset.

So from her first talent, we see that Shu goes all in on utility, compared to Saria talent 1 bulking herself up with +ATK and +DEF stacks, or Maria's talent 1 letting her attack sleeping enemies. The "rice fields" give HP regen instead of heals (which means it heals unhealable units like Musha or Juggernauts) which greatly extends her versatility, and granting shelter to allies hiding in her sowed times is a nice bonus, but what I really value about the talent is that she sows the 4 tiles around a healed ally as well, meaning you can get great coverage on a map.

Her Talent 2 is kind of a meme. The Max HP and ASPD effects are really easy to get which is great, but the SP and ATK buff applied when four of Shu, Nian, Chongyue, Dusk, and Ling are all in the team is kind of a meme imo. That's 4/12 slots taken for a meh attack buff and a 0.25 SP/s increase, which is lower than the +0.3/s provided by Ptilopsis (although Shu's appears to work on all SP recovery types which is nice). The Sui siblings don't really have all that much synergy with each other (in fact Ling would rather fly solo to have as many deployment slots for her summons as possible) so trying to force the Sui buff by having 4 deployed seems to me like you will just be griefing yourself half the time on harder stages.

Now for her skills

S1 looks to be the exact same thing as Saria's and default Nearl's. I think Saria's S1 will remain the most valuable version of this since Saria stacks both ATK and DEF on herself over time and this S1 is mostly used to make a Guardian act as a tank. Shu's regen and shelter from ricefield tiles would have to be crazy high for me to consider her S1 when I already got both Saria and Nearl on S1M3.

Shu's S2 is interesting, it's basically an upgraded version of regular Nearl's S2 (which no one uses). I need to see the numbers on the boost to Talent 1 to properly judge this skill, but for now this could potentially open up new strategic options (due to being a ground unit-based shelter buff). It's manually activated and heals two at a time which can be a pain in the ass vs just using Saria's S2, but I'm looking forward to seeing how much it buffs her sow tiles.

And now for Skill 3.

Welcome to the rice fields motherfucker, you aren't allowed to leave. The bonus ATK and ASPD for allies inside her range is a buff no other Guardian can provide, but the really cool bit is teleporting enemies who have stepped on a Sow tile back into it if they end up walking too far.

I'm going to be honest, I have no idea if that is insanely broken for crowd control or if it's just a big meme, as you need to heal allies to plant sow tiles (so you can't plant ahead of your units to make an unescapable trap without using an Operator to create the Sow tiles). It is weird and creative and a very different take on Saria's S3 also being AOE crowd control and heals though, so I like it and can't wait to experiment with it.

#arknights

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scintillyyy · 4 months

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a view at perceptions of dick's economic situation at the circus through the years

alright, we start at detective comics #38, the OG introduction. and, nothing is really said either way about what dick's economic station would have been, because really, the only thing it's there to tell us is that dick is an acrobat--which gives him the skills needed to fight crime by batman's side.

of absolute note to me, though, is the fact that his family was famous for their triple spin & what that potentially means for his upbringing. because, if you've been following this journey with me, means a lot. because we have a real life example of that to compare to get an idea of what may have been his childhood. i am of course, talking about the flying concellos && i did find another one and that would be the flying codonas (alfredo codona being the first man to land a triple somersault).

now, let's be clear--dick being the son of famed circus trapeze artists, especially ones who could land a triple, in 1940, means that he grew up the son of stars. they would have been center ring performers, and likely had amenities and pay that reflected that. now i won't deny that as circus performers they were likely 'othered'--there was likely a prejudice against what they perceived circus folk to be, but that does not likely completely reflect the actuality of what they may have had access to as a result of being entertainment stars. because they were othered--but at the same time, if they were famous enough for their skills, they were definitely adjacent to the rich and famous, not just poor, exploited workers. there was a lot of overlap between famous acts, longstanding families, and ownership. after doing...a lot...of reading on the most famous circus stars of the era of the 1920s & 1930s (especially alfredo cordona + his eventual wife lillian leitzel and the flying concellos), i think i've determined a couple of things:

one, these circus stars feel very akin to movie stars wrt their fame. and they were messy as hell. lillian leitzel in particular was a prima donna--she was the first circus star who was able to catapult her worth into luxuries. she was the first star to ever get her own private train car and personal dressing tent and was known to be the prima donna of the circus. she was also known for her temper--her personal maid would sometimes get fired and rehired several times a day. when she married alfredo cordona between acts in chicago, it was considered the royal wedding of the circus world. may wirth, a trick rider, was frequently in the gossip column of newspapers & had many, many admirers. lillian leitzel was voted the most beautiful woman in the world by american soldiers in wwi. like, these people were stars in every sense of the word.

two, these performers were not just meek, exploited poor people. with the right skills, they had power, they had ambition & they had money. they were center stage performers. arthur concello was huge in investing in and modernizing the circus--likely because of the money he made through the years of performing his act.

so frankly detective comics #28, and later batman #32, doesn't really delve into what dick's life experiences may have been on the circus--because that's not the point. the only thing those are their to do is establish dick as an orphan & and acrobat, and thereby skilled and motivated enough to work at batman's side.

but based on the era in which he was created and in comparison to similar acts of the time, it's easy to take a gander. because john & mary being able to perform a triple would have been huge. they'd be center stage acts, high in hierarchy. with mary being a young, attractive woman who could perform a triple, she may have had plenty of admirers & been in the gossip columns of the newspaper. her wedding to john may have been a whole thing to circus fans. i read a lot about those types of acts being invited to perform and star in european shows over the winters at old, respected circuses && they had enough international star power that they drew crowds there based on name alone. i know the impulse is to think that dick would have had no experience with the wealth of bruce's world, but conversely in that day and age and his parent's skillset it's highly likely he would have been exposed to the glitz & glamour of the famous high life. they may have been invited to do private performances for other rich & famous people & rubbed shoulders with them. alfredo cordona was in a few hollywood movies for his skills & arthur concello had connections to hollywood due to brokering the movie 'the greatest show'--is it out of the realm of possibility to believe that john would have had the same opportunities?

anyways, moving on. i find myself extremely intrigued by detective comics #484, which brings dick back to haly's circus. now there's some hilarity here in that dick has no clue if it's possibly the same haly's circus he and his parents worked for, and he meets linda--of the flying graysons! (get her ass for copyright infringement, dick). jk. linda is a very nice girl & it's just a stage name. dick confirms they were circle ring stars & says that haly's was the greatest show on earth (the ringling bros & barnum and bailey about to come for haly...)

now this issue is interesting because while it doesn't necessarily give us an idea of what dick's economic status would have been, it does establish that the flying graysons were famous enough that the evil stepfather conviced haly that by yoinking the name for his family they'd be able to draw in more customers based on name recognition alone & that the name would put him in the headlines/give him headliner credibility for his act and the circus to get sold to a bigger show & that he would be able to "ride the crest of the wave" and become very successful (and presumably rich). which definitely implies that the grayson name is worth something. now haly's circus is shown to be getting by with generous checks from bruce wayne, and i feel like here we start to get what i feel is a fairly consistent incongruency where haly's circus is often shown to be barely getting by (despite their full audiences), yet the flying graysons were famous.

so then on to secret origins #13, which has dick tell joey about his journey to robin, and...briefly goes into his childhood (he started performing with his family at 5), but again the focus is, as always on the acrobatic portion. there's an interesting opaqueness there about what his childhood was like. just acrobatics and loving parents. nothing is ever really suggested with regards to their fame, they're just vaguely famous & circus stars. nobody seems interested in interrogating that.

and then we get to year three & batman #436 and this is the first time we get any sort of nugget as to dick's potential economic status, and it's not bad? his dad references getting world series tickets and dick wants to go to a movie with harry so he can skip out on homework. the average price of movie tickets in the 70s (when this is implied to take place) adjusted for inflation would be equal to about ~11 dollars today and dick clearly doesn't seem to think this is a huge expenditure. i mean, i wouldn't say that they're rich here by any means (unlike the potential implications of his 1940 introduction), but they're clearly comfortable enough to afford small luxuries without worry. which, again, as a named, headlining act doesn't seem too out of the ordinary. as the headliners, they're probably making the most of all the acts, as they're the ones bringing in the crowd. mary is said to be a third generation circus performer, which. to me. implies some success, that the circus family continued on. a lot of the people i mentioned before were ostensibly part of circus families that continued the tradition as that's what they were raised in. alfredo was first brought on stage at 7 months. & i think the fact that dick was a part of a longstanding circus family that would have had deep ties not just to the community but also would have likely been very entwined and friendly with management due to the nature of a long work relationship together. there is a stability there that wouldn't necessarily be seen with. someone new, i guess?

anyways, honestly i feel like year three & later a lonely place of dying are really the stories that try not to stereotype circus life the most. there's no "wow circus people are so othered & weird", they're just normal people who work at a circus & are treated as such. even jack and janet stopping for a photo is treated like "let's show our son that these performers are just people like us under their costumes". which, honestly reads more like that time i was brought to a local haunted walk when i was like 7 and i was in tears because i was so scared and one of the performers took off their mask to show me he was just a normal guy underneath the costume.

devin grayson, of course, retcons this long-standing family history of his mother being part of a circus family in nightwing annual #1 and changes it to his father instead & is very, hm, married to the idea that circus workers are poor in her conceptualization of how she writes dick as evidenced by her interview in "dick grayson, boy wonder" where she says the following:

god. the racism. it's something. and now. i'll say i have no issue with the idea of clarifying dick as not necessarily white. i do have slight issue with the idea that because he was a circus performer, he was poor. because this is the first time someone i think has actually tried to take into account the childhood dick may have experienced, and she definitely inserted her own stereotypical biases into it. and is a bit at odds with how skilled, famous american circus workers who have his parents' skillset were treated back in the time of dick's conception. they traveled in the winter because they were stars and were invited to perform in prestigious european circuses due to their fame. i just. and i will point out that a lot of these famous circus performers were hot blooded and it had nothing to do with race and everything to do with the fact that they were stage divas. idk. obviously, conceptions of circus workers were likely not the greatest in the 90s. they were nowhere near what their fame was in their heyday. clowns were definitely starting to be seen as more creepy and by this point, circuses were far more criticized for their treatment of animals. but i feel like there's a bit of a leap here wrt devin grayson's assumptions of circus life because of the fact that they travel & doesn't do near enough justice to the worth of the skill of dick & dick's parents. because being able to perform a triple & a quadruple would have still been extremely rare and highly valued. so rare it wasn't performed until 1982 & can still hardly be achieved.

https://www.nytimes.com/1982/07/13/arts/a-quadruple-for-the-flying-miguel-vazquez.html

this article is a fascinating review of exactly how rare and dangerous it is. & hey, alfredo mention.

batman legends of the dark knight #100 seems to go along with this idea that a circus is a dirty and poor place.

and, like. okay so the graysons are still shown as an act important enough to have their own dressing/prep room, per usual, as expected for their skillset. haly's circus in modern day is usually shown in more modern comics to be a small traveling circus that's not doing...super well--at least in comparison to previously established show selling out lore, but the only thing i really take umbrage with here is that alfred describes it as decrepit. which. i feel like even if haly's is small and maybe not super profitable it should at least be shown as a well kept, nice place & the only reason for that is because if it was practically falling apart, there's no fucking way jack would have won the battle of 'let's bring our son tim to the circus' if it was falling apart. janet would have been out here on beyondthebump all 'help my DH wants to take our son to a circus and it's falling apart, located in a terrible part of town, and looks like it employs murderers, how do i tell him no?' and she would have been met with a chorus of 'stand ur ground girl, do NOT let him endager your baby like that!!'.

anyways, the new 52 also gives us almost nothing to go on either. dick's parents' trailer looks nice enough, indicating they do make enough money with their act to afford a semi nice trailer. john is an asshole, dick is out of character. lovely, thanks new 52. the secret origin is as least much better but does go into how the circus has no money--which, hm. doesn't really tell us anything re: the grayson's economic situation. the circus might be struggling and have to close down soon, but it doesn't mean a lot for what contracted rates they pay their acts. in fact, paying for an act as skilled as the graysons and not getting enough profit in return could be part of their money troubles.

and then finally we end with nightwing 82-83 by tom taylor, with the meili lin thing (and, while meili is nice enough, i must say i still don't like this whole thing because the point of zucco should not have been he had a longstanding grudge against the graysons, gdi-). which, again, all it confirms is that the grayson's were the star attractions and does nothing to interrogate what that might've been. it does focus a lot on the idea of they were free and happy, which. um. sometimes the focus on how happy people are is usually "despite the fact that they don't have x". then again i do feel like i will give tom taylor the fact that he also seemed to have just written the graysons as normal people, but he also doesn't seem interested in interrogating what dick being the son of the star act might have actually meant for him.

honestly, a lot of what i'm finding is that much like tim, dick's childhood is left frustatingly opaque--there's a lot of room for interpretation, honestly. it's not ever really said on paper if they struggled with money growing up. you have writers who have all but confirmed they wrote dick with the understanding that he grew up poor because he worked in a circus, but at the same time does ignore the fact that the grayson's had such a unique and special skillset that it's hard to say that makes sense. & is rooted in stereotypical biases. the only aspect of it that's ever considered is "dick's the son of the skilled, star performers and also has those skills ergo he has the skills to be a vigilante". they're cast in this light of famous & skilled!! but the circus they work for is poor and barely getting by, and you can only assume that because they worked for a poor circus dick was probably also living on the poverty line, wholly dependent on the success of the place they worked for because at times their wages were struggled to be paid (despite the fact that as a contract act, to underpay them would absolutely be a breach of contract). there's no confirmation or in-depth look at his childhood, only vague implications, throwaway lines & stereotypes. they want the grayson's to be probably the most skilled circus act in the world. they don't want to look at what that would realistically mean. because only the acrobatics is the important.

#anyways my deep dive into reading various versions of dick's origin really does show that dc doesn't really care #what his childhood experiences may have been #because they don't matter. only the acrobatics ever have #anyways i do think there's a lot of potential for dick to feel othered in his stories #his family would have been at the top of the hierarchy #he was used to fame but still was unable to fit in to bruce's world

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sugurusdiscordmoderator · 5 months

Text

Attack on Titan characters and where they would take you on a first date

MDNI 18+ not explicit but sexual encounters implied

Featuring Armin, Jean, Connie, Reiner, Eren, Levi, Erwin, Hange, and Mikasa

Armin:

Bowling! I feel like he cute and awkward and it would just be the two of you but little do you know a few lanes over are all his friends spying because he was sooo excited about getting to know you. He had an extra pair of socks in his car? in case you didn’t wear any so your pretty feet didn’t have to touch the gross shoes! Made out in his car when he dropped you off at your house then walked you to your front door blushing.

Jean:

Taking you to the movies! Total sucker for the yawn & put his arm around your shoulder move. He’s get you whatever popcorn/drink/candy whatever you want. Depending on the movie, if you got sleepy or scared and laid your head on his shoulder and he’d kinda smirk to himself and he thinks he’s got it in the bag. Would try to make out with you in the theater if nobody was there like total teenagers. If reader was willing, definitely would go home with you but would be very respectful to let you know he wants you but doesn’t want to fuck on the first date

Eren

I think maybe a nice walk in a park. On a cold morning and you both bring your dogs after you get coffee at a little cafe his girl friend recommended. He’d give you his scarf if you were cold and I feel like he’d give you the cutest forehead kiss before the most intimate sparks flying kiss on the lips that you forgot it was winter. He wouldn’t end the date until you guys decided when your next date or time he’d see you would be. Second date is dinner at his apartment :)

Levi

I think he’d take you to like top golf or some type of sporting outdoorsy thing? If not top golf maybe a soccer or baseball game? He would help you if you’ve never golfed and like line himself up behind you to show you. He’d “accidentally” brush his lips against your ear/neck to see how you react. Would ask you to grab a drink or something after and would say suggestive things the whole time to watch you blush and squeeze your thighs together! After a few drinks you go back to his nice ass apartment and fuck for hours. You’re attached at the hip after that day and there isn’t even a question about a second date.

Connie

I feel like he’d take you to a basketball game and he’d prepare and buy you a tshirt or jersey ahead of time to change into and then he’d keep telling you how good you look in it <3 he’d ask you if you want to hold his hand & he’d buy you an expensive sports arena drink. You guys end up on the kiss cam and Connie blushes so motherfucking hard you can’t help but giggle. He tells you after that he’s sorry your first kiss was in front of all these people. You have such a good time and neither of you want the date to end so you end up walking around after and back at your place you stay up late all night talking! You make out in between deep conversations and you make popcorn and watch movies. He ends up falling asleep on your couch even though you told him he could sleep in your bed. Sexy ass morning sex and takes you out to breakfast.

Reiner

Study date! Your first date is a little “lame” as other people would put it but you meet him in one of your college courses and he asked you to study biology with him at the library. Asks you for your coffee order ahead of time and brings it to you!! You flirt and giggle a lot while you go over course materials and he walks you back to your apartment after. You tell him you’re ordering takeout for dinner and asks if he wants to join and he does, super lowkey and doesn’t even kiss you. But he does ask for your second date to not be school related

Erwin

Museum or book shop date, something educational! It’s such a cozy vibe and he pushes a piece of hair behind your ear while you’re reading. He asks if you want to meet up with his friends for a happy hour afterwards and thinks it’s funny how polite you are to Hange and Levi. On the walk back to the car he notices you’re chilly and gives you his coat. You end up talking about some book you have and invite him into your apartment to find it. You end up on his lap in a steamy couch make out session but he doesn’t let it escalate even though you want it so bad. He stares so intensely in your eyes and tells you he’s borrowing the book and you will have to see him again to get it back <3

Hange

They ask you to go to a candle making class or some type of crafty workshop. They’re so silly and messy and you both can’t stop laughing. Your pottery/candle/painting whatever you made turns out pretty messed up but you both had fun. They hold your hand as you walk to grab some lunch afterwards. After lunch you go your separate ways and you get a text as soon as you got home saying “can I please see you again?” Hange wouldnt do anything on your first date I feel like but the second date they’re going to kiss you as soon as they knock on your door for the second date.

Mikasa

Asks you to a concert! Some indie artsy person you haven’t heard of at a small venue. She will stand behind you and wrap her arms around your shoulders as you guys sway to the music and she kisses you at the slow songgg. Car sex on the way home. She makes sure like 10 times that you’re okay with it though. She plays with your hair after.

A/N my app is being so stupid so I gave up trying to edit this I’m sorry if there is typos lmaoo

#aot #levi ackerman #snk #attack on titan #reiner braun #armin arlert #connie springer #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #erwin smith #aot x reader #levi x fem!reader #levi heichou #armin x reader

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evanchantingpeters · 5 days

Text

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind.

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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some-pers0n · 2 months

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Okay fuck it Sunny disability metaphor time.

Sunny's arc is about her infantilization and being perceived as weak and incapable of greater feats due to her disabilities. Throughout the books, she's seen by others as being a nonthreat and unable to do so much as even lay a talon on another. Even by her closest friends and family, she's seen as somebody to protect. Somebody who cannot fend for themselves and is just a soft, optimistic soul in a cruel world.

Sunny was hatched without a barb and is significantly smaller than other dragons. Despite her still being capable of fire and able to go toe-to-toe with the other DoD members like Clay, she is often perceived as weaker and the "little sister" of the group that everyone needs to protect. They talk over her when planning and oftentimes. They don't consciously do this, they definitely don't mean any harm, but they are convinced that Sunny is powerless and inable to fully contribute to the group in the same way Starflight can with his intelligence or Tsunami with her strength.

Sunny doesn't like this. She's kind and gentle about it, but she is sick of being treated as a little kid. She's almost an adult by the time her book happens. For all of her life, she's been seen as a tiny little ankle-biter. Because of her disabilities, she's often held back and seen as less valuable of an asset to the group. By others outside of the DoD, she's seen as completely harmless (and in Scarlet and Burn's case, a perfect little subject to kill and put on display)

Her book is about her, for the first time, being alone without the DoD by her side. She's able to open her wings and fly freely. It comes after the heartbreak of the prophecy reveal, but she persists. She has hope for a future where she can still end the war.

I think it's why it's important that the first friendly face she saw in TBN was Six-Claws, a character who also has physical abnormalities. Somebody who was just like her in that sense. She's met somebody like her. A dragon hatched with things they had no control over. Despite all of the challenges and hardships he faced, Six-Claws is a well-respected dragon. Somebody who she herself looks up to.

Sunny spends the book struggling with how others perceive her. They think she's weak. Even Thorn, her mother, sees her as helpless and incapable of fending for herself. Though, over the course of the book, she eventually builds herself up in the eyes of those around her as a dragon more than competent enough to handle the situation presented to her.

By the end of the book, she's made her peace. She's told the DoD how she feels and, in turn, they respect her more. She doesn't hold anger towards them– she's not the type of soul to have grudges or be angry– but she is happy that they've changed for the better. She is capable. She should be taken as seriously as any other. She's, well, Sunny. Not some tiny baby to pity.

#If I see one of you people call her an uwu cinnamon roll I'm going for the jugular #sp-rambles #wof #wings of fire #sunny wof #Also pspspspspss I love reblogs on these somewhat longer rambles #It does mean a lot if you can do it :]

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fuckyeahsufjanstevens · 7 months

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I don’t know if this is the right thing to say because English is not my first language, but some people fly too close to the sun. When I think about Sufjan Stevens or Ryuichi, Terry Riley, Frank Ocean, I feel like their music is great, but you love them because you can really hear their suffering, their agony, their pain. They have been given a role to filter not just their own feelings through music, but other people’s suffering and pain, too. I always feel so sad for them. Like, why them? Why do they have to bear that role of witnessing so much hardship and the difficulty of just being alive in this world and then translate it through music? I have endless respect and support for this type of artist. I went back to Japan for the first time since the pandemic and there were changes in my parents’ lives. I had to help my father change his living situation. It’s never easy to prepare them for the next chapter, the next chapter, the next chapter, and then you die. Yet I’m so grateful for that and to return to Japan and still feel like it’s my home. Sufjan and I share the same birthday, maybe one day apart [Stevens’ is July 1, Makino’s is July 2], so we’ve spent two birthdays together by his place in upstate New York. He made it so special. I was quite shy, and maybe being the same sign is why he’s just as shy as me, but I really appreciate his way of carrying himself. He wears super colorful clothes, he’s super different, and I love the way he’s not shy of being shy, like he just kind of stares at you and then doesn’t say anything. Everything about him hits close to my heart. He was obsessed with the fireworks then, almost like a child, and even though we didn’t talk much, I felt so much tenderness, intimacy, and warmth from him and his partner. Now I think about Sufjan and his surroundings quite often. His music has been helping me quite a bit: Carrie & Lowell, Call Me By Your Name, his recent piano work that sounds massive. I listen to him in the middle of nowhere in Japan, trying to clean up my parents’ shit. I’m amazed by his responsibility when dealing with very difficult stuff. He’s the type of person who flies quite close to the sun. I hope he’s doing alright, I hope he’s happy, and I hope he’s gonna manage. Because some people just have a very difficult role to feel things so intensely, and that’s not easy. It’s a big ask—even of someone phenomenal like him. - Kazu Makino (Blonde Redhead) on Sufjan

#sufjan stevens #quote #sufjan

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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La Petite Mort - C'est Comme Ça

Summary: The repercussions of RJ's return hit hard

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Language

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by boygenius, specifically Phoebe Bridgers because she has ruined me. You asked for angst. Remember YOU ASKED FOR THIS. There's a little TLOU2 easter egg in there for you fellow Ellie lovers. I have to say, I can't believe this story is the result of an ask about a girl getting head for the first time...writing is weird.

LPM - Part I LPM - Part II LPM Part IV LPM Part V LPM Part VI

The tension in the air is palpable. You can feel the moment strung taught, a high wire of social choreography forcing you to tiptoe carefully. Truth be told, it was your own fault. You were the one fucking RJs girlfriend. And you were the one flirting with Maxine. You’d made your bed, but you were determined not to sleep in it.

You motion to the hay bales behind Maxine, “Ma’am if you don’t mind?”

She turns, her eyebrows raising as she realizes she’s in your way, and slides over to the edge of the tailgate. Into the exact spot Lorraine had just vacated. The significance of the moment is not lost on you, but you brush it off and reach for the hay. You pull it down and lug it into the barn, breaking a sweat that has little to do with exertion. A wolf whistle rips out from behind you, and you drop the hay and turn to find the source. A man in aviators and a white cowboy hat is leaning against the truck next to Maxine, a toothpick rolling around his lips.

As you approach, he slides his sunglasses down his nose to look at you, “Howdy darlin,” he says, his voice thick with amusement.

You raise an eyebrow at him, reaching for the next bale, and nod in greeting. Something about him screams con artist, and you immediately decide you don’t like him. Maxine giggles and pulls at his shirt sleeve, swinging her legs. You’re acutely aware of Lorraine in your peripheral, glancing over at the interaction as RJ talks at her, his hands waving around excitedly.

The con man pulls the toothpick from his mouth and clears his throat, “Names Wayne,” he says, his unnaturally white teeth gleaming in the sun, “You ever thought about bein in movies?”

You squint at him, your hands wrapped in the rope keeping the hay bound and shake your head, “No, actin ain’t exactly my strong suit.”

Maxine snickers, and a devilish grin spreads across Wayne’s face, “That’s okay. Actin is not high on the priority list for my movies.”

Your eyebrows fly up your face as you realize the implication. In all the fuss, you had forgotten the type of movie RJ had been filming with them. The realization comes with the knowledge of who Maxine must be, and suddenly her flirting makes sense. You’re flattered, really, at the proposition, but you’re also mortified.

An involuntary laugh slips out of you, bubbling up from your belly through your chest. You heave the hay off the truck and shake your head, “I respect what y’all do, but I’ll stick to what I got goin on, thank you.”

Wayne puts his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. I’d be a fool not to try though, especially since Maxine here has been eyein you. Jackson and Bobby-Lynne over there would probably agree that you’d be a welcome addition, but suit yourself,” he points to the two making out against the van.

You look in their direction and laugh again, seeing them dry humping each other, “I think they have their hands full as it is,” you say and turn toward the barn.

As you make your way back out, squinting in the sun, RJ’s raised voice catches your attention.

“I’ve been gone for a week Lorraine. You can’t spend one night with me?”

You note the change in his tone, dropping her nickname to say her full name in irritation. She mumbles something too quiet to hear, and seeing her cower in front of him makes your blood boil. She always made herself small for him, careful to stay out of the way and quiet. She was a quiet person by nature, but even more so in his presence. Watching her with him is like seeing your favorite flower wither, her beauty shriveling in his wake. You ball your fists and clench your jaw.

“Aaaah, you got a thing for brunettes, huh?” Wayne’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You frown and shake your head, “What?”

He gestures toward Lorraine with his head, “I don’t blame ya, RJ caught a fish way too big for his reel there.”

You scowl at him, fighting the urge to knock his lights out. How dare he even look her way, much less speak about her. Your composure is rattled, and the conversation between RJ and Lorraine is growing more agitated by the minute. You turn back to them, ready to start a brawl, but you’re halted by a look from Lorraine. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye and shakes her head, asking you to stay out of it. You grit your teeth, feeling wild and out of control.

“Baby let’s go, I’m so tired of farms,” Maxine whines, blinking up at Wayne.

You feel like you’re an extra in a movie that’s in the wrong shot. Stranded between keeping up appearances and doing what you really want to do. Which is to sweep Lorraine off her feet and kick RJ in the teeth. Deep down, there’s resentment building toward her too, but you’re not ready to deal with it. The bed you were trying not to sleep in was pulling back its blankets, welcoming you to the mess you’d made.

When Maxine brushes past you to return to the van, she runs her fingers from your shoulder down your arm and winks at you, blowing you a kiss as she walks backward. You make eye contact with Lorraine, and it’s like the whole scene blurs around you. The pornstars chattering in the background, RJ having his meltdown to the side, and the two of you, front and center. An unspoken moment passes between you, and you can feel the delicate balance shatter around you. It hurts you more than you have words to describe. If that moment hurts, it has nothing on what you feel when she turns around and climbs into the van with RJ.

——

One of your favorite things about Mr. Day is his ability to work in comfortable silence. He doesn’t press you for small talk or waste time preaching to you. He’s a quiet, peaceful man, and you can see Lorraine’s got it honest. When he does speak, he says what he means, and that’s that.

The two of you had saddled up and ridden over an hour to his back pasture to repair the fencing that had been neglected over the season. There were several feet of fence that needed replacing, and it was laborious work. The two of you drudged along with the chore in silence, occasionally grunting or grumbling when the wires pierced through your gloves and cut your skin. It came as a shock to you when he left his post and came over to yours, leaning against the wood, clearly wanting to talk.

You wipe your cheek with the back of your glove, pushing your hat back off your brow, and squint at him, “How you doin sir, comin along alright down there?”

He sighs, his black and silver mustache rustling with his breath, “I’m gettin too old for this mess y/n.”

You chuckle, “That’s what you have me for. I can finish this up if you want to head in.”

“What do you think of that boy, RJ?”

You jerk your head back, the wire in your hand sinking into the skin of your palm, making you wince. You gulp, unsure of how to answer.

“How do you mean?” You ask, willing your voice not to waver.

He tilts his head at you, his expression so shockingly similar to one Lorraine would make it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“I mean, what do you think of him?”

He doesn’t give you any further context, his tone is neutral and steady.

“I think,” you pause a moment, “I think he’s fine.”

Mr. Day watches you for a moment, clearly evaluating you. “Try that again, and be honest.”

You set your pliers down on the fence post and pull your gloves off, your palm stinging from the fresh cut there. This man has known you since you were a child, and you should have known better than to try to sugarcoat your opinion in front of him.

“I think he’s a pretentious asshole. If you’ll pardon my French.”

When he smiles at you, Lorraine is there again, in the crinkle of his dark eyes and the curve of his mustache hidden mouth.

“That’s more like it.”

He pushes off the fence and hobbles over to his horse, pulling two warm PBRs from his saddle bag. He hands you one as he leans back up against the fence and cracks his open, gulping it and eyeing you. You open yours and swig, relaxing your posture and turning to lean back with him. His presence is calming, and you feel grounded for the first time since you’d seen the van pull into the ranch driveway.

“I just don’t know what she sees in him,” you tell him, your honesty shocking you.

He takes another drink, “I was hoping you’d tell me. Seems like you know Raine better than most, I’d say.”

The knowledge that he’d almost caught you having sex with his daughter several times now makes you hesitant to reply. You can’t know if he knows, but from his tone and the way he’s eyeing you, you’re beginning to think he does. It’s surprising to you that he doesn’t seem to be upset about it if he does know. You proceed under the assumption that he is ignorant of your situation, thinking it the safer option.

“I couldn’t tell you. Guess you could ask her.”

He grunts, “I could, but Mrs. Day would have my head. She says I ought to leave Raine be. She’s an adult and all.”

You hum, drink your beer. He grunts and drinks his. You both stare off into the distance, watching the high grass rustle in the gentle afternoon breeze. You find your mind wandering, thinking about where Lorraine might be now and what she’s doing. You wonder if RJ ever takes her out for ice cream and if he notices the way she closes her eyes when she eats it, or how she taps her fingers against the cone in quiet excitement. The thought makes you feel sick, leading from the ice cream to what they’d do in private. His hands where yours had been, unaware of the now faded marks you’d left there.

You chug the can and crush it, forgetting you were with company. You’re not lucky enough to have escaped his notice, and he watches you with careful eyes. You’re flooded with shame at your own anger and the sadness that weighs in your bones. You had no right to be upset, but that didn’t make the sting any less painful.

Mr. Day sighs, the lines on his face almost sorrowful as he watches you, “Love is a pretty strange thing. Wilder than a feral mustang, and even harder to control.”

You don’t answer, his words settling over you. You think he must be referring to his daughter, but you get the tiniest notion that he’s not talking about her and RJ anymore. Unwilling to open Pandora’s box, you nod silently and pull your gloves back on, dropping the crushed can at your feet and returning to your work. He thumps you on the back affectionately and finishes his beer.

“Well, would you look at that,” Mr. Day grumbles, “Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.”

You frown in confusion, still twisting the wire around the post. You clip the end and turn, following his gaze to a dirt cloud in the distance. The Day’s truck is rambling down the dirt cut toward you, kicking up dust behind it. It must be Lorraine because in all the years you’d worked for them, Mrs. Day had never graced you with her presence further than her backyard. Your stomach flips in excitement, and it makes you roll your eyes at yourself. Even in the depths of heartbreak, your body still reacted to the mere idea of her being near. Another beer is pushed into your hands, and you take it eagerly, knowing you’d need it to keep your cool as the truck nears and you see RJ in the passenger seat.

You exchange a look with Mr. Day and pop the can open. Lorraine parks the truck and slides out, shooting you a shy smile.

She beams at Mr. Day, “Hey Daddy! Momma told me to come out here and pick you up.”

He grunts, but you can see the smile behind his mustache, “She gonna come out here and patch this fence then?”

“I can help!” RJ chirps, rounding the truck, a small camera in his hand.

It’s quiet for a moment as the three of you stare at him in disbelief. You look at his soft hands and smirk, knowing full well, he was incapable of doing manual labor. You don’t miss the chastising look Lorraine shoots you.

“You gonna do that with a camera in your hand?” Mr. Day asks him, not unkindly, but his tone isn’t warm either.

RJs steps stutter as he looks down at the camera. He appears to be afraid to part with it and hangs it around his neck with the lanyard. He puts his hands up to show they’re free and smiles. Your lip curls involuntarily, his mere presence putting you in a bad mood. You decide it’s best to keep your mouth shut because if you speak, you’re going to say something that will upset Lorraine. Instead, you take a few healthy gulps of your beer, the warm liquid fizzling in your stomach and calming you.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea RJ,” Lorraine says, “Mending fence ain’t easy.”

He scoffs, his spine straightening. He may as well beat on his chest with machismo. He looks so self-assured. “I can do it Lorraine.”

Lorraine shrinks, nodding. She avoids your pointed gaze, keeping her eyes trained on her shoes. You tilt your head, feeling surly knowing you can’t do anything to help her without making the situation worse. Then an idea springs forth in your mind, making you smirk. You pull your gloves off, leveling RJ with a challenging stare.

“Here you go RJ, take my spot. I need a break anyway.” You hold the gloves and pliers out to him, daring him to refuse.

You can see the indecision warring in his eyes, not expecting you to call his apparent bluff. You shake the gloves at him with impatience. If he wants a masculine display, you’re going to allow him to try. Lorraine raises an eyebrow at you, warning you to tread lightly. You find that you no longer care if you upset her at the moment. You flash her a brilliant smile as RJ takes the tools from your hands.

Mr. Day nods and finishes off his beer, “Come here then boy, let me show you how to tie the lines.”

You lean your back against the grill of the truck and cross your feet, sipping your warm beer and waiting for the inevitable. Lorraine slides over next to you, her arm brushing yours. You try to ignore the way it makes your stomach cartwheel. As upset as you were with her, something in you enjoys the sensation of your forbidden, secret intimacy.

She leans her head toward you, whispering, “You know this is not gonna end well y/n.”

You snort, tip the beer can to your lips, “Whatever makes you say that, Lorraine?”

She turns her head up to stare daggers at you, but you keep your eyes trained on RJ and Mr. Day. She doesn’t push the conversation and looks toward the fence again.

It takes all of five minutes for RJ to hurt himself. You sneer, hearing him cry out over the wire in his palm. Mr. Day shakes his head at him and looks to his daughter for support. Lorraine pushes herself off the truck, quickly making her way to fuss over RJs bleeding palm.

He brushes her off, “Don’t touch it! I don’t need your help. Just get me a bandage.”

She jerks back, startled by his harsh tone. You step forward, ready to stand between them if he says anything else. Luckily her father takes the lead in handling the outburst.

“Young man, you’d do well not to speak to my daughter like that. Get in the truck, I’ll drive you back to the house for a band-aid.”

RJ glances back and forth between him and Lorraine, fear apparent on his face, “Oh no sir, Raine can drive me, can’t you baby?”

She opens her mouth to answer, but she’s interrupted by her dad, “I said get in the truck boy. Rainey, ride Shimmer back to the barn. Give her a good gallop before she sees it, though, don’t want her goin barn sour like old CB over here.”

“Hey!” You yelp, “My son is not barn sour!”

Mr. Day chuckles, “Kick him in gear then and see who gets back faster. You can finish the fence tomorrow.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, thinking he’s made this decision on purpose. He’s setting you up for an hour alone with Lorraine, and it’s transparent to you. The love you have for him grows even further in that moment.

The truck rolls out of sight while you finish packing up your tools, Lorraine adjusting her father's stirrups to fit her legs. You fill up your saddlebags and buckle them closed, patting CB on his rump affectionately. You turn your head to watch Lorraine, her hands on her hips, trying to work out how to climb on top of Shimmer without a step stool. You lean your shoulder against CB, crossing your arms, content to watch her struggle until she asks for help. Shimmer is at least three hands taller than Lorraine’s quarter horse, so she’s slightly out of her depth. You stifle your laughter as you watch her try to hike her leg high enough to get her toes in the stirrup and fail. She turns and glares at you, her pride too large to ask you for help yet.

After a few more minutes, you can’t take watching her struggle any longer. You saunter over to her and kneel down, silently offering your bent leg as a step stool. She huffs, hesitates a moment, and steps on you to swing her leg over Shimmer’s back.

“Thank you,” she grumbles, gathering the reins in her hand.

You tip your hat at her and stand, “My pleasure ma’am.”

She pulls the reins, so Shimmer turns and smacks you with her head, stomping in irritation at the command. You stumble backward, laughing, and jog back to CB, hopping up into your saddle with ease.

The ride back is anything but relaxing. Lorraine is quiet, introspective. You peek over at her every few minutes, trying to find a way to start the conversation you desperately need to have. A conversation a part of you does not want to have because it requires a terrifying amount of vulnerability.

“So,” you start, leaving the word hanging in hopes she picks up where you left off. She doesn’t.

“So, how…how was your night?” You don’t really want to know the answer to this question, the possibility of her giving you an answer that will gut you being very high.

She gives you an impassive glance, “Just ask me what you want to ask me.”

You screw your face up, the accusation hurting your feelings, “I asked you what I wanted to ask you.”

“No, you didn’t.” She turns her head to watch you, her body gently rocking with Shimmer’s slow steps.

You clench your jaw and purse your lips, “Did you…did you-“

“No,” she interrupts, relieving you of asking the question that was making you feel like you were sinking.

You visibly relax, and you see her smile from the corner of your eye. “Did he-“

“Now that is none of your business,” she stops you.

You frown, then let it slide from your face when you realize you’re being petulant. Just take the win that she did not have sex with him yet. Yet. The word weighs heavy on you.

“What does this mean,” you ask quietly, looking down at your hands, “for us?”

She sighs, “I don’t know yet.”

There it is again. Yet.

You nod in acceptance and keep your eyes trained on the horizon.

——

You decide to camp by the pond for the night. You didn’t want to feel trapped in your apartment. The walls and ceilings would make you feel caged. You ride CB out to the clearing and pull his saddle and blankets off his back when you get there, letting him roam freely. He never goes too far and knows to come to you if you call. A small campfire burns in a dirt patch, your sleeping bag rolled out next to it.

You settle in and lay on your back, your hands under your head, and get lost in the stars. As much as you’d like to not think of Lorraine, your brain just can’t seem to help itself. It was a small comfort to know she hadn’t slept with RJ the night prior, but every passing day meant you were inevitably closer to the moment when it would happen. You’re unsure of how you should feel about it, but you know that it makes you sick to your stomach. How you’re going to manage this is beyond you. Would she leave him? For you? You snort a cold laugh through your nose, knowing that situation was impossible. You had nothing to offer her that RJ didn’t have. In fact, his being a man made Lorraine’s life easier; being with you would mean a lifelong struggle against adversity. You want to want a simple life for her. You want to want for her to be happy with him. But you don’t. What you really want is simple. You want her.

Trees rustling off to your side draw your attention away from your thoughts, and you sit up on your elbows. Your shotgun is at your side, and you eye it warily. Branches snapping and bushes being pushed aside gain CB’s attention as well. He picks his head up and stares into the brush with you. Your body grows tenser the closer the sound comes, and your fingers inch toward the gun.

Lorraine bursts through the trees on her little quarter horse Pearl, her white coat shining in the moonlight. You breathe a sigh of relief, and CB drops his head back down to chomp at the grass when he realizes it’s his barn companion. She doesn’t remove Pearl’s saddle when she climbs down, telling you she doesn’t intend to stay. She walks around the fire, and you move off your sleeping bag into the grass. You gesture at it, telling her to sit on the fabric.

“Hey,” she says as she drops down next to you.

“Hey.”

“I thought I’d find you out here. CB’s stall was empty.”

“Yeah, I figured we could use some fresh air for the night.”

She nods thoughtfully and reaches her hand out to rest on your leg. You look down at her fingers and fight the urge to lean into her. Your spine goes stiff with the effort of it, and she notices. Her teeth worry at her bottom lip, and her eyes wander everywhere but on you. She’s here for a reason, so you decide to wait for her to tell you what it is. Even if it’s not something you’re prepared to hear.

“So. You like Maxine?” She says, moving her hand from your leg to pull up blades of grass from the dirt.

You laugh, your expression appalled, “What?”

“I saw how you looked at her. Kissed her hand.”

You shrug, feeling guilty, “I don’t like Maxine.”

“Why not?”

Irritation flares up in you, simmering in your veins. How could she ask that? As if she doesn’t know that you don’t like Maxine because you only have eyes for her now. You hold your tongue, not wanting to lash out at her.

“Come on Raine. You know why.”

She turns her head away from you as if that was the last thing she’d wanted to hear. You’re sure it complicates things, having her know you wouldn’t move on so easily.

“RJ is a good man.” Is all she says back, and it stings.

Your anger is building now, becoming unmanageable. “He’s not good to you. He’s a self-righteous prick Lorraine.”

She tips her head back, blinking quickly, “That’s not fair. You don’t know him.”

“I know him well enough.”

“Maybe he’s what I deserve.”

The words hang in the air, and to you, they look a lot like a noose. A hangman’s collar for the relationship built between the two of you.

“You deserve more than him.”

You can see her jaw clench; she’s becoming irritated with you now. “Tell me what I deserve that he doesn’t give me?” Her voice shakes, tears brimming in her eyes when she looks at you.

“Love,” you say gently, “The ability to know you better than he knows himself. Taking the time to learn that you like the smell of jasmine more than roses, that you’re adventurous and kind, that once you gave that homeless woman in Austin your shoes because she didn’t have any.”

She lays down on her back, her hands at her side. She’s silent for a long time, longer than you’d like, but you let it settle over you.

“You never asked me what my dream was about. From the other night.”

You turn your head to look at her, and her expression is so soft, her smile weak, and her eyes watery. It’s like a javelin to the gut.

“I just assumed it was something to do with what we’d done the day prior.”

She sighs, turns her head back toward the stars, “No. No, it wasn’t that, I have real life for that.”

You roll toward her and prop your head up on your hand, “Well, what then? You said you dreamt about me.”

“I did. You were little again, five, maybe six. Like the day we first met. Overalls and pigtails and everything.”

You chuckle in spite of the growing despair crushing your chest, “You remember that?”

She scoffs, “Course I do. You shoved that boy Rance into the sandbox and kicked dirt in his eyes.”

“He called your freckles ugly. He deserved it, I’d do it again.”

She laughs, the sound tinkling from her lips and wrapping itself around you like a snake made of nostalgic joy.

“I remember that too.” She turns her head and looks up at your face, “That was the day I told my Momma I loved you.”

A genuine chuckle escapes you, and you fight the urge to reach for her, “What did she say to that?”

“The same thing she told me today.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, “You told your momma you loved me today?”

She nods, blinks a tear from between her lashes. Your hand slides over the grass toward her, but stops just inches from her elbow.

“What did she say?”

“She said Atlantas was beautiful, and now it’s gone because they built on unstable foundation.”

You blink, taken aback, “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs.

You’re struck with the idea that she does know, but she’s afraid to say. The look in her eyes is so mournful, you feel like you know too. You swallow hard, your throat constricting painfully.

“What happened in your dream?” Your voice cracks, betraying your calm exterior.

She closes her eyes and smiles, “You offered me a candy from your pocket. It was covered in sand, but you were very proud of it.”

You lie back, turning toward the sky again, staying silent.

She continues, “When I took it from you, you grew up, and we were on the ranch. You climbed up on CB’s back, looked at me, and said, ‘I was looking for you,’ and then you turned and rode off into the sunset. I stood there and watched you until I woke up.”

You nod, the grass rustling under your head, “Well, your dreams got that part right. I’m always looking for you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, and her hands press into her stomach. When she opens them, tears brim at the lids but don’t fall.

She sighs and sits up, looks down at you.

“I better get back.” She pushes herself to her feet, and you don’t watch her go as she leaves you there.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #lpm #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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tourneys-by-me · 9 months

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Welcome to the Element Specific Character Tournament!

This is a tournament is to see which character that specializes in a specific element is the best!

There will be 10 different elements represented in this tournament, and they are:

Pyromancy (fire)

Aquamancy (water)

Aeromancy (wind, air)

Geomancy (earth)

Phytomancy (plants, vegetation)

Electromancy (lightning, electricity)

Cryomancy (ice)

Ferromancy (metals)

Umbramancy (darkness, shadows)

Luxomancy (light, holy)

There will be 10 different brackets to decide which characters of each element is the best of their respective elements. Then there will be a final showdown of all ten characters to see who is the best overall!

RULES

Be nice and respectful please. I don’t want any insults thrown at anyone.

Characters have to use the element that you submit it as (ex you submit Zuko as a fire character, not a water character).

If the character uses multiple elements, submit them under an element they’re best known for/most proficient at (ex Soren fire emblem can use multiple elemental tomes, but he is a wind mage and only he can use SS rank wind tomes).

You are allowed to submit as many characters as you want but it has to be one form at a time please.

No submitting the same character multiple times please.

Please specify where the character is from and please no acronyms!

Propaganda is allowed and encouraged but no anti-propaganda (aka character hate).

My time zone is EST and I won’t be active all the time to answer questions (sorry I got real life stuff to do).

There will be certain guidelines on certain characters and media (I’ll get into more detail later) this is because specific media can be weird on how they classify what power is what element. Especially with certain elements being more vague and loosey-goosey.

I don’t particularly mind who you submit as long as they stick to the guidelines, but I might have polls if I’m unsure about a certain character.

Anyways I’ll edit this post as it goes on if more questions are raised.

Elements, Characters, and Media clarifications

Do they have to be magical

Toph is going to be put as a geomancer. I know she invented metal bending but she’s better known as an earth bender and I don’t want her on both earth and metal brackets.

Since Aang is the avatar, he can use all four bending styles, but he started off as an air bender and the show is literally called “the last air bender” I’m going to put him under aeromancer.

Korra on the other hand, won’t be in this tournament at all. Even though she is apart of the water tribe, she doesn’t really have a bending style that’s she more attached to (I mean she was able to do three of the four bending styles much earlier than Aang).

Todoroki won’t be in this tournament. His fire and ice powers are basically on the same level of importance.

I’m going to in-act the same rule I did for Korra and Todoroki for characters like Kirby and Arceus. Just because they can do/become that element, doesn’t mean they are going to be in the tournament. Their whole shtick is they can be any type (arceus) or copy abilities (kirby).

The exception to this rule is Ben 10 with his alien forms. This is because the aliens will be considered as a representative of their species, since 1. people are more familiar with Ben’s names for the aliens 2. Not all alien species have an official canon name.

NO DEMON SLAYER CHARACTERS WHO USES THE BREATHING STYLES! The breathing styles aren’t actually summoning elemental powers, it’s a visual metaphor. Submit only those who can summon actual elements!

Both rock and ground type Pokémon will be considered geomancers

Umbramancy regarding dark and ghost type Pokémon

Luxomancy regarding psychic and fairy type Pokémon

Aeromancy regarding flying type Pokémon

Ferromancy and robots

Magnetism: Ferromancy vs Elctromancy

Why I am also calling Luxomancy “holy”

If the character is a god that doesn’t mean they are inherently a Luxomancer. They have to have something holy about their attacks.

Please don’t submit necromancers as umbramancers. Being able to raise the dead≠umbramancy, if the character can raise the dead ON TOP of general shadow/darkness manipulation they are allowed.

Have fun and let the submitting begin!

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petcr3 · 7 months

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something to rely on | chapter one

series masterlist (coming soon!)

summary: despite being separated, bob floyd is there to support his wife and their son after she sustains some injuries in a car accident.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: separation/divorce, reader is frequently referred to by she/her pronouns, is called bob's wife/ex-wife, mrs. floyd, etc. bob and reader have a son, but i have tried to be as inclusive as possible with regards to appearance and the type of family! (meaning, if i've done my job correctly, charlie can have been adopted, not necessarily carried by the reader, etc.) non-graphic reference to a car accident, non-graphic description of injuries. chapter one is set entirely in a hospital. readers parents are present in the story, still married, and have a good relationship with reader because this is fantasy lol

a/n: lads, it's here. some of you have been hearing me blather about this story for fucking ages and chapter one is finally done. i'm proud of it, i think, but if nothing else i simply cannot keep sitting on it, so here it is! very excited for this story's future <3 i hope you love charlie as much as i do lol

It’s a rare occasion that one hears Bob Floyd before seeing him, but you suppose your getting into a car accident is a special enough occasion.

Things feel hazy–– with two broken wrists and a broken leg, you’ve been given quite the painkiller. You’re not sure how long you’ve been awake, exactly, but it can’t have been very long. There’s a digital clock on a small table next to your hospital bed, but your neck is too sore to turn far enough over to see it. A thick wooden door is shut against the buzz of the floor outside: the ringing of phones, the click of computer keys, and the clatter of patients being wheeled to and from scans and tests and specialists.

Even amidst all that, the sound of Bob’s words cuts through. He’s raising his voice, you realize. That’s not like him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse says on the other side of the door, “but outside of visiting hours I can only admit family, and––”

“I am family,” he says, impatient.

“I understand that, but when a patient is separated––”

“Separated,” Bob interrupts, “not divorced. That is my wife and the mother of my child, so will you please let me see her?” It sounds much more like a demand than a question. The nurse sighs, clearly frustrated.

“Let me go speak to her.” She steps out from behind the counter and cuts Bob a severe look. “If she is awake, I’ll let her know you’re here. But given that rest is one of the most crucial things for her right now, I will not be waking her up. You can wait.”

“Thank you,” comes his clipped reply. The nurse approaches your room, only a few steps away from the front desk–– Bob would have just gone straight in, had he known— and when the door creaks open, he can be seen standing over her shoulder–– a respectful distance behind, at least.

“Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you,” she says. You can tell it’s taking everything Bob has not to run to you, but he’s smart enough to know that showing this nurse any more disrespect isn’t wise. “He says he’s your husband,” she continues, “but if you don’t want to see him, I can tell him to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, “he can come in.” She turns around only to discover Bob right behind her. He squeezes quickly past, murmuring a hurried thank you before practically flying to your bedside. All his frustration quickly dissipates as he leans over you, a deep furrow in his brow. Over his shoulder, you see the nurse shake her head, exasperated, and leave, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey honey,” Bob says, hand lifting to brush across your cheek, as if it’s two years ago and nothing has changed. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m okay, Bobby,” you reply, tired. You surprise yourself, though, using his old nickname like that. Since you two broke up, you’ve only ever called him Bob. “Someone lost control of their car in the rain, apparently. You owe that nurse an apology.”

“And I’ll give her one later. First I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I just said that I’m okay,” you laugh softly. “Bob, I’m fine.” Reluctantly, he nods, leaning back to grab at a chair. He won’t even stand all the way up, refuses to take his eyes off you lest you run off somewhere else to nearly get yourself killed.

“How’s Charlie; is he with your parents?” You nod, heart clenching at the thought of your son, how distressed he must be right now.

“Yeah,” you say, voice getting a little watery. “Yeah, I got to talk to him a little while ago. He wants to come visit after my surgery tomorrow.” Bob’s brow furrows.

“Surgery?”

“Just my left wrist. The right one and the leg only need braces, but,” you sigh, “yeah, the left one took the door pretty hard, so.” He nods.

“How about your head? All okay up there, no bleeding?”

“I have a concussion, but that’s all. They know what they’re doing here, Bob. Don’t worry. I’m gonna be just fine.” He studies you for a moment, then sighs, nodding his head again. “Not so fun being on the other side of it, huh?” you say without thinking. It isn’t meant to be cutting, but blue eyes snap up to your face, a faint expression of shock on Bob’s features.

Still, you have a hard time feeling too guilty. How many times have the roles been reversed? How many times have you held your baby boy to your chest murmuring reassurances that you can’t promise are true? How many times has Bob been gone, unable to tell you he was okay or even alive? Or looked up at you under the harsh white light of a hospital room on base and told you there was nothing to worry about when you both knew that there was?

Bob schools his expression into something a little softer and gives a curt nod. You can’t decide if that was over the line. But that had always been the problem, hadn’t it?

Neither of you had known how easy it would be to push each other over their limits. You’d thought love and a thick skin would be enough to survive the looming fear of losing your husband. Bob had thought it would be easier to outrun the guilt he always felt leaving you behind, the way it weighed on his chest like an anvil. Eventually, your wounds were rubbed raw and his ribs began to crack beneath the pressure.

The times when he was home were supposed to be precious, but they had become tense, uncomfortable. It wasn’t good for either of you, and it certainly wasn’t good for three-year-old Charlie. Splitting up had been the best choice, even though it pained you both to admit it.

Bob had been adamant about a separation rather than a divorce. Ex-spouses of the military were still entitled to some benefits, but for Charlie’s sake and yours he wanted to remain legally married. You’d both agreed that if you met other people and got serious enough, a divorce would be back on the table. It hadn’t been the easiest decision, but now, laying in a hospital bed, you can’t help but feel grateful. And how many people can say their ex husband came rushing to their side in an emergency?

Regret is already creeping up across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, reaching to touch the back of his hand. Your fingers brush awkwardly against his skin where they protrude from your brace, but you can see the gesture means something to him–– his eyes shine a little sadly when he looks at you. He gives a faint shake of his head.

“S’okay. Me too.”

Despite your best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Bob stays the night in your room, sleeping with his legs slung across a second chair the nurses had been kind enough to provide for him. (He’d apologized to the nurse he spoke to when he arrived, and she’d taken it rather graciously, all things considered. In her place, you’re pretty sure you would have had him thrown out.) You fall asleep fairly easily, exhaustion having taken its toll, but you wake up in the wee hours needing the bathroom. You press the call button, hoping it won’t wake your sleeping companion, but Bob rouses when Jermaine, one of the nurses, comes in. The whole bathroom song and dance is a process you certainly don’t enjoy, but you’ve gotten used to it over the past several hours.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Jermaine quips, walking to your bedside.

“I keep guzzling water when he’s not looking,” you say, nodding towards a still groggy Bob. Jermaine only laughs and pulls back the covers.

“All right, ready?”

“Yep.” You grimace as he braces his hands beneath your armpits to help lift you up enough to get into your wheelchair. You sigh as Jermaine rolls you to the bathroom and braces an arm around your waist to help you onto the toilet. The door stands open, but you’re too drained to care–– besides, this isn’t anyone’s first rodeo.

You don’t see the way Bob’s eyes widen with worry. How he watches each maneuver carefully, filing it away in the back of his mind. The decision had been made before he walked through the door, really, but seeing you struggle only cements it. He doesn’t say anything as Jermaine helps you back to bed–– only a quiet thank you as the nurse leaves the room. He can talk to you about his plan tomorrow.

A low murmur of voices filters into your consciousness as you wake that morning, your eyes flickering open to see Bob standing with Dr. Alvarado, who will be performing your surgery. She notices you shifting in your bed and comes to your side, Bob following suit on the opposite, returning to his seat.

“Good morning, Mrs. Floyd,” she says warmly, “how are we feeling?” Your mouth is dry and you swallow thickly before responding.

“I’ve been better,” you rasp, wincing at the scrape of your voice. Bob is holding out a cup of water before you even have a moment to think, and you start to reach for it before faltering. In the fog of waking up, you’d almost forgotten.

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, bringing it to your lips. You drink, far too worn out to protest.

“Your procedure is scheduled for 12:30 this afternoon. It’s about 8:15 right now. That’ll give you some time to rest before pre-op. I’ve also been told you have a special visitor, if you feel up for it.” Your heart lifts, and you can’t help but look expectantly up at Bob.

“Charlie?”

The hopeful lilt of your voice splinters something in his heart. He smiles, tight-lipped but genuine all the same, and nods.

“Uh-huh. I know you said the plan was post surgery, but your mom called saying they were up and ready to go. I figured you’d want to see him.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice high and thin, “yeah I’d like that.” Dr. Alvarado smiles.

“I’ll let them know. They’re all very anxious to see you.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. Ordinarily, you try not to let Charlie see you crying. With the separation, you’ve been doing everything you can to be his rock. You remember how scary it was when you were a child to see your parents upset, or worse, hurt. But today, you don’t know if you’ll quite be able to manage it. Gracelessly, you swipe at the tears on your cheeks, but before long, Bob is at the ready again, tissue box extended toward you. You nod your thanks and clasp one in between your fingers. Blotting is much easier.

You’ve just about gotten it together when the door opens again.

“Mommy?” Charlie calls, and you hate how you can hear the frightened tremble of his voice. He makes it a few steps over the door jamb when he sees Bob.

“Daddy!” For a heartbreaking moment, wide eyes dart between the both of you, unsure of where to run.

“Go say hi to Daddy, sweetheart,” you say, heart swelling to see the reunion. Charlie beams and runs directly into Bob’s arms.

“Hey, big man!” he says, scooping Charlie off the ground in a strong embrace. “I missed you so much, little bear.” He presses a big kiss to your son’s cheek and is rewarded with a delighted giggle that has you crying again. Hurriedly, you dab at your eyes once more.

Your parents enter the room behind Charlie, your mother’s smile wavering and your dad’s brow furrowed. The braces make hugs awkward, but your parents’ presence is an enormous comfort.

“Charlie’s been very brave,” your father informs you. “And we’re all very glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you say wetly, wishing you could hold their hands. “I love you guys.”

You cast a glance over to your left, where Bob and Charlie are engaged in conversation, faces close together and voices hushed. Watching Bob parent has always made your heart ache, even now when things have fallen apart. He was meant to be a father, plain and simple. People who don’t know him might expect a Navy man to be gruff, tough on a child, especially a son. But Bob is all gentleness when it comes to your Charlie. He is patient and invested and even though you two aren’t together, it’s difficult to imagine parenting Charlie with anyone else.

You tear your gaze away to talk with your parents, explaining what happened and asking about how Charlie has been coping over the course of the last few hours.

A few feet away, Bob has his son cradled close in his arms.

“I was really scared,” Charlie confides in him, “but I gotta be brave for Momma.” Bob’s heart breaks just a little, and he smooths a hand over Charlie’s hair. Perhaps this instinct to protect is just built into the little boy– knowing you and Bob, that’s a distinct possibility. But Bob can’t help but worry it’s a result of the split.

“You don’t have to be brave for Momma, honey,” he says softly. “That’s our job. Parents get to be strong for their kids, not the other way around. It’s okay to be scared when someone is hurt. And it’s also okay to express that. Especially with me and Mommy. And being strong doesn’t mean you can’t feel your feelings. In fact, being able to feel your feelings is a part of what makes a person strong, because some feelings are really hard.” Charlie listens to his father with rapt attention–– he always has. “But it’s important not to ignore them. Does that make sense?” He nods sagely when Bob is done talking.

Bob can’t help but smile, heart swelling with affection. It’s moments like these when he thinks he could leave it all if it meant getting to spend every second of every day with his baby boy.

“Should we go say hi?” he asks, bouncing Charlie gently against his hip. Charlie nods, his gaze flickering over to you.

Though you’re talking with your parents, you can’t take your eyes off of your son. Call it selfish, but ever since you’d been able to think straight you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him. You’re reaching out for him the second Bob starts towards you, but he gives you a look.

“With your leg?” he asks quietly, even though Charlie is right there in his arms.

“I still got one good one,” you quip,” and I think a hug is gonna help me get better much quicker. Besides, all my problems are below the knee— I’ll be fine.”

Bob has always had trouble saying no to you.

“Be gentle, okay bud?” Charlie nods.

Carefully, he sets Charlie down in your lap, positioning him mostly on your uninjured right leg.

“Hi baby,” you beam, the pain you’re in practically forgotten. “I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie snuggles immediately into your chest, eyes impossibly big when they look up at you. Tucking him under your arm is awkward, but you do it anyway.

“Hi Mommy,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid talking too loudly will hurt you.

“Hi,” you say again, matching his hushed voice, smile wider than it’s been for the duration of your stay. Bob stands slightly off to the side, feeling a little bit like an intruder. Still, he can’t help but watch the way your eyes sparkle when you look at your son. He’s never seen anything like it.

A gentle hand on his shoulder catches his attention, and he turns to see your mother, her expression warm. He counts himself incredibly lucky that your parents don’t hate him. Sometimes he hates himself for what happened, and yet they still treat him like one of their own. The three of them exchange hushed greetings, each thanking one another for taking care of the two of you.

Over in your hospital bed, you’re playing with the ends of Charlie’s hair. He’s been telling you about everything that happened between yesterday afternoon and now, cheerily informing you of how much he cried and how he got to choose what he and your parents had for dinner last night. You drink in every detail with enthusiasm, grateful as ever for his enormous heart and his resilience.

“I was really scared,” he says softly after a moment. You nod.

“I bet. I was scared too.”

“Daddy says it’s okay to be scared.”

“Daddy’s right, baby. It’s more than okay to be scared. It’s important— it’s how our brains keep us safe.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. You know how I’m scared of snakes?” Charlie nods. “Well, not every single snake is dangerous, right? But there are some that are. And because my brain remembers that some snakes are dangerous, I get a little scared when I see them. That fear is my brain telling me to be careful and stay safe.”

“So I was scared because it’d be dangerous if you got hurt?”

“Kind of! It can also be scary to not know what’s happening, right? Because if you don’t know what’s happening, it’s hard to get ready to deal with it. And it can be scary to know that something sad might happen, because it’s hard to feel sad.”

“I don’t like feeling sad,” Charlie says, nodding his understanding.

“Me neither, baby bear. But today I’m not even sad, because you’re here.” Your son’s cheeks turn pink and he hides your face in his chest. Heart swelling with fondness, you cross your arms over his back in an awkward embrace and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Is it okay if I’m a little sad?” he asks, voice muffled by your hospital gown.

“Of course it is, sweetheart. You gotta feel your feelings. And feelings don’t last forever; they change all the time, right?”

“Right.”

Out of sight, Bob swipes a few tears from his eyes. He’s always proud of Charlie, but he’s proud of you, too–– with three limbs freshly out of working order, you would be well within your rights to be out of sorts, but there you sit, still parenting admirably. Beautifully, even. Your father squeezes Bob’s shoulder and he looks up, almost a little startled. Your father smiles and the two men exchange a nod.

Your mother steps over to your bed and pets a hand over Charlie’s hair.

“I think me and Grandpa are gonna go home for a little while, honey,” she says to him before looking at you and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Someone gave us a good scare yesterday and I don’t think either of us slept very well. We’re both a little worn out.” Suddenly, she seems to catch herself. “Unless you want us to stick around and––”

You shake your head and reach out an appreciative hand to cover hers.

“Go get some rest, Ma.” She nods.

“We will. But we’ll be back when you come out of surgery. Bobby told us he’d keep us updated.” Too tired to even think that far ahead, you nod.

“Thanks for looking after Charlie,” you say, tangling your fingertips with hers.

“Well, that’s my pleasure,” she says, pressing a loud kiss to her grandson’s cheek. “And we can figure out next steps, we’ll find someone—“

“Mom,” you say softly, “let's just— can we take things one step at a time for now?” She nods–– the anxiety of it all reads clear on your face.

“You know, you’re right. Let’s get you through surgery first.” You nod, grateful. “We’ll see you soon, then.” Your mother smiles and turns to get her bag. Charlie giggles as his grandfather comes over to playfully jostle his shoulders.

“Be good for your mom and dad, okay kiddo?” Charlie nods eagerly.

“That’s my guy,” your dad says fondly, giving your son a hug before turning his attention to you. “You give ‘em hell in there.”

“What,” you laugh, “in surgery? Dad, it’s just my wrist; I’m gonna be fine.” He shrugs.

“Can’t hurt though, right?” he says lightly, but you can see a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes. He leans down to kiss your cheek and you return the gesture.

“Right,” you affirm, softening. “I love you, Dad. I’m gonna be okay.” Your dad gives a final nod and links arms with your mother as they leave the room.

It’s so easy to forget that to him— to both your parents— you are still a child. Charlie is still so young, it feels impossible that he’ll ever be as old as you are now. Of course, you still marvel at the fact that he’s as big as he is; that he can walk and talk and do math equations and paint pictures. But it’s easier to manage how much he’s grown because you can still bundle him up in your arms and count on one hand how many birthdays he’s had. Maybe if you were having less of an emotional day, you’d be able to imagine what it’ll be like when he’s grown up, but you can feel tears welling up in your eyes again so you push the thought out of your mind.

“Mommy?” Charlie asks, bringing your attention back into the present.

“Mm?”

“Did Grandpa use a bad word because he’s very stressed?” Laughter sputters out of you before you can help it, and Bob raises an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby,” you say, “I don’t think he was thinking very hard about which words he was choosing. He just meant that he wants my surgery to go well, that’s all.”

“It’s like telling someone to give it their all,” Bob explains, coming to sit down at your bedside again.

“It’s what Daddy does when he’s on a deployment,” you offer, curling your arm into something akin to a flexed muscle, “he gives ‘em heck.”

“And that’s what Momma’s body is gonna do when she’s in surgery. It’s gonna do everything it needs to do to keep her safe while she’s asleep.” Charlie looks between you two, worry creeping back into his features at the mention of the surgery.

“Hey,” you murmur, “I’m going to be okay, Charlie-bear. I promise. Sometimes things can go wrong during a surgery, but the likelihood of anything bad happening is very, very low.” Charlie nods, wide-eyed. “So there isn’t anything to worry about sweetheart. But it’s still okay to be scared, right?”

“Right,” comes his hushed reply. Your heart aches not to be able to soothe his anxiety, but you know there’s no sense in trying to talk him out of it–– especially in the wake of what you’ve been trying to teach him. Still, it seems to you that the rules shouldn’t apply to Charlie, with his delicate soul and enormous heart.

Bob lays a comforting hand on your son’s back and his little form immediately relaxes into the touch. The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a little while, but soon the door creaks open and Jermaine enters with a wheelchair.

“Is this Charlie?” he asks brightly.

“It is!” you chirp. The boy in question looks up shyly. “Charlie, this is my friend Jermaine. He’s been helping me since I got to the hospital.”

“Your mom is a tough lady,” Jermaine says warmly, squatting to be closer to Charlie’s eye level. “I promise we’re gonna take very good care of her.” Charlie nods.

“Pinkie promise?” he asks, heartbreakingly earnest. Jermaine smiles.

“You got yourself a deal.” He locks his pinkie with Charlie’s and stands up. “I’ve gotta take Mom for a couple of tests before her procedure, and then we’re gonna take her off to surgery. But you’ll get to see her in a few hours when she wakes up, okay champ?” Charlie holds on to you a little tighter and peers up at his dad, who nods encouragingly.

“Okay.”

“Mom is very lucky to have people that care about her so much,” Jermaine says. “You should be proud.” A little divot of determination forms between Charlie’s brows and he nods. Bob starts to stand and Charlie clambers around to give you one last hug.

“I love you Mommy,” he says. You squeeze him as tightly as you can and press a big kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, baby bear. I’m gonna see you so soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, a heartbreaking waver in his voice. You give him another kiss before Bob scoops him up again, and before you know it, Jermaine is wheeling you off into the hospital halls.

Back in your room, Bob has Charlie wrapped up in a tight embrace.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby bear,” he coos, “everything’s gonna be okay.”

#something to rely on #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun reader insert #bob floyd reader insert #bob floyd x you #quinn writes #petcr3 writes #my writing #bruh im sweating #lewis pullman x reader #robert floyd x reader #ok fuck it we ball

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