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thehighladywrites · 4 months

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The Airhead Chronicles

…and the surprise

pairing: cassian x bimbo reader, inner circle x reader, nesta

summary: Not being able to avoid his family anymore, cassian brings you to meet them, despite the new bond. You all get along great and someone particular catches your eye👀 does the night end as amazingly as it began, though?

warnings: tragic backstory, reader’s mysterious aura is finally explained, i’m so sorry but i’ll have to villainize Nesta in this but I love her and will make a fluff fic with her soon

amara’s note: i’m sorry this took a while, life was kinda hectic but it’s all good now. This is quite a short bc i’m trying to build up some angst…

part one part two part three

“Wha- Rhysie? What are you doing here?” Confusion washed over you as Rhys appeared, equally bewildered.

“This is mine and Feyre’s home, we live here, y/n. What brings you here?”

Your puzzled expression deepened. This wasn't adding up. You were supposed to meet Cassian's friends. Maybe you'd gotten the wrong house.

“I’m visiting my mate's friends. Look, I even baked a cake! Doesn’t it look so tasty?” You held up the cake as you flashed him your usual smile as he nodded absentmindedly.

“You two know each other?” Cassian's raised eyebrows reflected his confusion.

“Cassie, this is Rhys. He’s the friend I’ve been telling you about. You know, the one that helped me move and who I work for.” You introduced Cassian to Rhysand, unaware they'd been friends for half a millennium.

“Y/n, why don't you come inside? Feyre and Nyx are here too. I know they’d be thrilled to meet you,” Rhysand suggested, maintaining eye contact with Cassian, whose expression remained unreadable.

“Oh, I wish we could stay, but we have to like go. Gonna meet my handsome man’s friends, and just between us, they’re like super important people, so I need to prepare myself. But you might now them since you’re high lord.” You leaned in, whispering lowly.

Cassian squeezed your hands reassuringly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and say hi, I’ll just talk to Rhys for a second.”

With a smile, you kissed his cheek and skipped inside to greet with your dear friend Feyre and favorite little guy, Nyx.

Cassians pov:

“You want to tell me how the hell you know her?” Cassian struggled to process the revelation. The idea of you and Rhys already knowing each other left him in disbelief. He couldn't fathom how he was being vexed by your super amazing friend, only to find out he was Cassian's friend too.

“Listen, I didn’t know you were mated or anything. I’ve known her since we were faelings.” Rhysand raised his hands, signaling that he harbored no ill intentions towards you and hadn't done anything wrong.

Cassian backed away, hands on his hips, strolling to the drink cabinet. He grabbed two cups, plopping down on the sofa and ruffling his wings in a mix of frustration and contemplation.

“Rhysie, I’m not going to eat you up, unless you want me to. Come sit down and just talk to me.” Cassian huffed, a hint of amusement in his expression as he noticed Rhysand practically glued behind his desk. With a roll of his eyes, Rhys rounded the table and settled down next to his friend.

They sat in silence, downing their third glass of Rhysand's expensive scotch. A nod from Rhys indicated he was ready to explain everything, and he met Cassian's gaze as he began.

“Alright, so when me and my sister were younger, my father made us switch from our private education in Velaris to Hewn City. The bastard claimed he wanted us to toughen up a bit. It was pure evil if you ask me.” A disgusted expression crossed Rhys's face as he recalled the horrors the new educators put him and his sister through in an attempt to toughen them up. The treatment was truly horrible for all the children there.

“There, I met Y/n and her sisters. They were downright horrendous towards her, and so were her parents because she wasn’t learning as quickly as us. She was also highly sought after due to her beauty and kindness, something her sisters envied. Her father is the Master of Coin, so they're loaded, and they had us do classes together. All the masters' children had classes together, separate from the other children of the city, to showcase how higher educated we were, in my father’s words.”

Rhys sighed, taking a sip of his drink before continuing, “Me and Selene befriended her, and you should’ve seen how jealous her sisters were. As heir, I had a lot of ladies interested in my title, and her sisters were among them. So they spread lies, telling everyone how I was bedding her as mere teenagers when, in reality, I was teaching her the work our educator couldn’t be bothered to teach her. After the rumors spread, her parents pulled her out of school to stay at home and learn her place in the court—how to talk to suitors, how to dress and act in front others with higher titles. She was raised like some sort of prized horse, ready to be sold. It was disgusting, the number of times her parents tried to marry her off for the sake of a title. Every time they tried, I intervened.” He smirked at the memory of your parents angry faces as the high lords son interrupted yet another proposal.

Cassian was shocked, slowly taking in the information as he nuged Rhys to continue.

“So, what happened when you became high lord? Did she stay in the city or did she move?”

“After I became High Lord, I finally banned forced marriages and made it punishable. Her parents suddenly found no need for her, so they told her that she either found someone appropriate herself and convinced me it was love, or they would’ve gotten rid of her.”

Cassian's jaw tightened, his fist instinctively knuckling up. He was seriously one second away from flying there and taking matters into his own hands.

“So I told her parents that she was marrying a well-off lord in the Day Court and that she’d be well taken care of, not that they really cared.”

“And, before you jump to conclusions, yes, I did ask her if I should take care of them for her, but she's not keen on the idea. She's way more merciful than I am. Y/n actually asked me to keep my father as the Master of Coin and, believe it or not, she told me not to kill them. According to her, it's better to let them live and witness her thriving one day. Quite the plot twist, no?” Rhysand smiled at your words, thankful that he had a friend to help him survive back in the city.

His smile faded as he remembered the 49 years he spent away from his family friends and city.

“I got her a house in Aetherian Crest, and she has lived there ever since, even during Amarantha’s reign. The only ones who know she exists are Feyre and, well, Nyx too, but he isn’t old enough to understand that.”

A shared laugh echoed through the room at the mention of Nyx, the thought of the little one adding a touch of warmth to the heavy conversation.

Cassian, still perplexed, glanced between Rhysand and the glass in his hand. He couldn't quite grasp what you worked on and the role you played in his life.

“She says to work for you. What exactly does she do, and why did you have her swear to secrecy with that bargain tattoo?” Cassian's irritation grew as he contemplated the idea of you engaging in something so dangerous that it required an irreversible oath.

Rhysand took a deep breath, sensing Cassian's increasing irritation.

“Y/n handles delicate matters, specializing in extracting information from people. Her bubbly personality and openness make it easy for others to confide in her. Y/n oversees a team, playing a crucial role in our court. She chooses to stay hidden because she doesn’t want the weight of our responsibilities. The intel she gathers is extremely essential; I pass it on to Azriel, who acts based on her information. You know those thrilling missions you love so much? Many are based on her information. She is absolutely irreplaceable and knows everything about every court. I made her swear the same oath that you all have sworn for the protection of Velaris.”

Cassian was stunned, yet it all made perfect sense. It dawned on him that he had shared his childhood and spilled secrets to you in just a few weeks. It had taken him centuries to truly open up to the inner circle, and here you were, extracting information within a matter of days. You were so smooth; he hadn't even noticed it happening. Your ability to weave into his life seamlessly left him both amazed and, oddly, more enamored with you.

It would be insulting to express surprise. Cassian had a hunch that you were doing something extraordinary; he just didn't know the specifics. Now that he had the full picture, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride and admiration, realizing that you were even more remarkable than he had initially thought, if that was even possible.

“What? You thought we only had boring study sessions together? Me and Selene taught her how to spy, just the basics of listening for information; the rest is all her.” Rhysand snorted, raising an amused brow at Cassian while taking a sip of his drink.

Cassian sat back, absorbing the revelation. A mix of awe and admiration colored his expression.

“Damn,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on Rhysand. “I didn't know all this about her. Rhys, I'm proud of her. More than I thought possible. Fuck, I’m falling even harder for her, if that's even possible.”

Rhysand chuckled at Cassian's reaction and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations on the bond, brother. You'll find you fall for her in ways you never imagined. It's normal when you're bonded, trust me. The other day, Feyre showed me a new move she had practiced and I fell even harder.”

With a shared laugh, Rhysand and Cassian returned to the gathering, joining you and the others for dinner. The weight of revelations lingered but was set aside for the warmth of camaraderie, good company, and a meal shared among friends.

—

As he explained that the friends you had come to see were Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle, a blush crept onto your cheeks. The realization hit you – you had interacted with them so casually, forgetting for a moment that they were the most significant figures in the Night Court. But they were so nice to you, so did it really matter that you talked about ideal sex positions with the girls?

Seated at the dinner table, everyone enjoyed the meal together. You found yourself leaning into Cassian, the atmosphere around the table filled with laughter, shared stories, and the comforting feeling of being among friends.

Azriel had been sneaking glances at you, not really making much conversation, but occasionally cracked a dry joke or expressed his opinion on topics when asked. He found you interesting, not anything scandalous, he just knew there was more to you, his spymaster instincts picking up a mysterious vibe from you.

Amren just looked at you from head to to, nodding with a tiny movement, one you almost missed, and kept to herself the entire dinner, disappearing the second the food was gone.

Elain had been the most welcoming and openly discussed similar interests with you. She seemed to bond with you the most, appreciating your shared interests. You found her adorable and had complimented everything from her dress and hair to the flowers she planted on the table.

Later, in the sitting room, you and Cassian settled on the sofa, and Elain sat across the room. Eager to chat with her, you sauntered over, sitting extremely close.

Leaning in, you began, “Elain, I find you really, really cute. You remind me of a deer; I love them, they’re so adorable. And i heard tou killed the king of hybern. You’re soo brave!! ” Your words hung in the air, creating a bit of a nervous atmosphere, but Elain let out a small giggle at the proximity and the compliment.

“Ohh, thanks. You’re very pretty too. I like the bows in your hair. And it was nothing really, just protected my sisters.”

Your eyes widened at her cute stutter and the way she squirmed. Gods, she was sooo cute you thought you were gonna die!! You so desperately wanted to be friends with her.

You smiled at her one last time, leaving her with a pounding heart and a nervous smile. You skipped happily back to Cassian who looked mighty amused, ready to enjoy the rest of the evening with his mate.

—

Later during the evening, your arms wrapped around his massive bicep. Leaning your head on it, the warmth of the meal making you sleepy, you scooted closer to Cassian, placing both of your legs on one of his thighs as you rested on his arm.

In that moment, safety, warmth, and reassurance radiates from your mate.

“Cassie, I wanna sleep. M'soooo tired,” you mumbled against his warm skin. His rich laughter rumbled through his body, making you smile like a fool.

Holy fuck, you were so in love with him.

“It’s okay, baby. Do you want me to fly us back to your home or do you want to sleep in my old room?”

You perked up at the thought of seeing his old bedroom, filled with everything that defined him.

“Yes, please! Your old bedroom sounds super cool. Can't wait to see it. And, you know, maybe I could blow you or something?” you said, mundane, as if you were discussing the weather or the latest book you read

Honestly, like, who even cares if anyone hears you talking? It's totally okay to wanna please your mate, right? Ugh, people and their silly fucking rules, it was driving you crazy. If you wanna announce to the world that Cassian fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, then you totally should, no questions asked!

Giggles and laughs filled the room at your crude comment, everyone a bit tipsy after several bottles of wine were shared between you.

—

Cassian's strong and sturdy body carried you on his back as he gave you a piggyback ride through the house, providing a private tour before reaching his designated room in Rhysand's massive estate.

With your boobs pressed softly against his back, you tightened your arms around him, excitedly expressing your dirty wishes for what you wanted to do together.

His arousal was evident as his pants tightened around his cock.

His heart craved to cherish you eternally, eager to bring you joy in every way possible. In this short time, Cassian found himself wholeheartedly falling for you. Filled with a urgency, he yearned to share just how much you meant to him and the extraordinary lengths he'd go, wrapped in those three words and eight letters.

But life wasn’t a fairytale, especially his.

His body froze in shock as he swung open the door, completely taken aback by the unexpected sight of his old lover standing in the middle of his room. Her hands fidgeted nervously before a palpable wave of hatred emanated from her eyes as she shifted her gaze towards you, intensifying the unexpected and shocking nature of her visit.

You, still on top if Cassian, missed the tension in the air as he locked eyes with his old lover. The atmosphere crackled with unresolved emotions.

Cassian, with you still on his back, shifted uncomfortably, trying to gauge the situation.

He took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the unexpected encounter. “Nesta,” he said her name with a forced calmness that couldn't hide the turmoil beneath the surface. “What are you doing here?”

Nesta's lips curled into a bitter smile, and her gaze never wavered. “I heard you found someone new. Thought I'd see what kind of female you thought could replace me.”

Your heart raced, realizing the depth of the history between them. The room felt charged with a mixture of tension and heartache.

“Cassie, who is she?”

You hopped down, stepping back, a rush of emotions hitting you as you witnessed a scene too familiar. Many before had desired to take you to bed but had never chosen commitment, leaving you with a lingering sense of being used and discarded.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel the weight of past disappointments. Praying to every god, you desperately hoped this wasn't another painful chapter repeating itself.

Cassian wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t fuck you and toss you aside for a past flame, right?

You were utterly convinced that he couldn’t change that quickly.

So why did doubt and fear take root in you?

And why did his hand tense and curl in when you tried to touch it?

🏷️ taglist: @just-a-social-casualty-1 @wallacewillow0773638 @dominika20hella10black @pinksmellslikelove @hellsenthero @val-writesstuff @paasrin

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silaswritesthings · 11 months

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Scaramouche royalty au thing

Summary: You and Prince Scaramouche were lovers but you didn’t believe he was sincere with his feelings for you until he kissed you at some important ballroom event.

Starring: Scaramouche/Wanderer

Genre: Romance, royalty au, second person’s pov (you/your), angst to fluff

Warnings: There’s one kiss

Author’s note: I accidentally wrote something else about Scaramouche. I literally just sat down and decided to practice my writing style by describing his face? And then it turned into this. My bad. (Yes its possible to accidentally write almost 1k words). Proofread ONCE by me. Likes, comments (especially now because im experimenting with my writing style), reblogs and new followers will always be appreciated!

Word count: 866

(Adding a gif bc he’s pretty)

Rare magic shone from his wisteria eyes underneath the moonlight, his raven hair dancing around the figure of the mask that clung to his face. That mask… it was an unwanted barrier. You wanted- no, needed to see the man behind that mask. The man whose lips melted against yours not so long ago under the rush of the moment you shared, one moment among many, under the chandeliers that shimmered like stars above you in the ballroom. The same ballroom that was coated in silver and gold with people dressed expensively to impress the fine tastes of the prince, among those fine tastes was you (he would claim).

The same prince who was the man before you.

The same man who held you all those times you shared your burdens and responsibilities as the heir of one the many noble families. The same man who snuck out of the castle to see you all those nights. The same man who made you promises you couldn't bring yourself to believe yet you reveled in them, you spent hours every day dreaming about all those promises which, at the end of the day, would be sweet little nothings because he was a prince and you were undeserving to bound to him. His words, while sweet, were just weaved in delusion.

This is just a temporary fixation.

"Say something." His words were like shattered glass tearing at the doubt you harbored for all the time you’ve known you were in love with him. Was he truly in love with you all this time? Were you wrong for thinking he was simply drawn to you because of curiosity? That you were a phase?

“I don’t know what to say.” You lied, not daring to look into those eyes that always reflected the night sky like a mirror. Those eyes that were always filled with either malice (a facade he perfected as the heir to the throne), wonder or mischief and nothing in between; nothing outside of that either. Not until he met you. You were like a door to so many emotions that he embraced with open arms because it was you. It was always you. It will always be you. Even when you made his heart throb in despair, like right now when it looked like you would reject him and his love because you didn’t believe in his sincerity. He could see right through you and he wished he couldn’t but how could he ever blame you for this? After all, deceit was second hand nature to those of his bloodline.

But he’d throw away everything he had to his name to be with you.

“If you want… I could give the throne away to my sister.” Scaramouche stepped toward you, the hesitation in his movements did not go unnoticed by either of you.

“It’s not your title that’s the problem.” You swallowed hard, the night was cold and clear yet you found it hard to breathe. “It’s you.”

“Whatever it is about me, I’ll change it.” He did not hesitate this time.

“You can’t just throw away everything you have and everything you are just because you claim to love me!” You snapped, eyes narrowed at the prince before you but you were not angry at him. You were angry at yourself for letting things get this far.

“I do not merely claim to love you, I live it.”

You were angry at how he made it so easy to give him your heart.

“It is a part of my being and I do not wish to change that.”

You were angry at how he asked you to dance as his parents, as everyone, watched.

“Are you even listening?”

You were angry at how he held you, how he kissed you like you were more precious than existence itself.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” He trailed off when he realized that you were crying. He was crying.

Not more than a moment later, his hands had cradled your face. For the dozenth time that night, you were lost in those wisteria eyes again. How long will you resist? Scaramouche did not wish to declare that he was yours in your stead forever.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a demand either. It was a fact… he did propose a few nights before the ball and you said yes but then you believed he was delusional. Then, his words were like the leaves in autumn which were bound to fall and disappear. But now? Things were a little different.

Your hands followed the outline of his mask which cast a shadow on the skin of his damp cheeks. After a gentle tug on the ribbon on the back of Scaramouche’s head, the mask fell to the ground with a quiet thud. Seeing his face fully has never failed to steal your breath in the past and tonight was no exception.

“I’ll marry you.” The words were as natural as the cold sting of the night breeze which was soon replaced with warmth as Scaramouche embraced you. You closed the distance between your lips to seal whatever fate you decided for yourselves.

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undead-supernova · 16 days

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Masterlist

plot: when you suggest that you and Eddie should quit smoking cigarettes, Eddie struggles to believe in his capabilities. but there's just something about the way you challenge him...

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

important note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! Somehow I can't get enough of Eddie and Weirdo and I can't help but come back to them. (this is six months before Part 1 of the original series!)

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff fluuuuuuuuuuffffff, talking about smoking, a small argument, Southern culture, country music, reader has an accent, (why are Eddie and Weirdo so horny as friends? shouldn't they have known sooner? idiots)

wc: 2.4k

thank yew @strangergraphics for your adorable dividers!!!!

It was unusual, the way it all started.

Just a normal Tuesday with the bitter cold of January and the crowded highways blocked off by unnecessary construction. Honks muffled by the sound of Guns ‘N Roses’ “Welcome To The Jungle” coming through your speakers. You were clad in a black turtleneck and jeans. Eyes lined in black, maroon-lipped. Spiked bracelets and nine shiny rings dappling light around the car.

Eddie was riding shotgun, sighing alongside you at how slow the traffic was moving when you first said it.

“I have a proposition.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “A proposition?”

You nodded. “Yeah, and I want you to hear me out.”

“Uh, okay?” he said, unsure as to what was about to come out of your mouth.

“I think we should stop smoking cigarettes,” you stated simply, looking back at the road as you inched forward. “A New Year’s resolution.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said, throwing his hands up, his rings reflecting off yours. “No way. Nope.”

“What! Why not?” you exclaimed, now throwing your hands up before promptly putting them back on the steering wheel.

Eddie had his own reasons, like how he’d been smoking for nearly ten years and the irritation of working at a dealership where rich idiots badgered him for just doing his job. The stress of bills and keeping his music career afloat. Not to mention how fucking sweet a puff of nicotine was whenever he got drunk or cross-faded. Nothing beats that feeling. Even you knew that.

“I just don’t want to.”

“Even if I did it with you?” you asked, voice growing soft.

He looked at you, confusion falling over his features. Your eyes seemed a little solemn, like you were disappointed by his refusal. And it was in your expression that he felt drawn to the idea. Because, yeah, if you actually could stop, maybe he could, too. But…

“We wouldn’t stop smoking weed, you know,” you added, cutting off his thoughts. “Just cut out the cancer sticks.”

“It won’t be as easy for me,” he said, sighing defeatedly. “I, uh, I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“You always doubt your own strength, I swear.” You shook your head. “You’re so smart but so, so stupid sometimes. I say that affectionately, by the way.”

Before Eddie could think about some witty comeback, he heard the sound of the next song starting. It was different from your usual genres. It was the picking of a guitar, all folky and twangy and…

Country.

“What is this?” he asked, eyeing you.

You smirked, cranking the volume up as you started singing along.

“Well, I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia Pine

and that’s home, you know

Sweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wine

where the peaches grow."

Eddie groaned. “Dude, what the fuck is this?”

You merely shook your head, your tone as playful as your expression. “It’s Zac Brown Band, god dammit! Show some respect.”

He was struck by your Southern accent popping up out of seemingly nowhere. And before he could even remotely process that or protest again, you cleared your throat and started screaming.

Not singing. Screaming.

“A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED

A COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT

A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT

AND THE RADIO UUUUUUP!”

“Please turn it off,” Eddie pleaded, dragging his hands down his face. “I think you’re killing me.”

“Nope,” you said simply. “My car, my music. It’s the least you can do when we’re stuck on this highway and you’re refusing to quit smoking without even trying.”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie huffed. “Like it’s that fucking easy.”

“Have you ever tried to stop smoking?”

Eddie thought about it for two, maybe three seconds before feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

There had never been a singular thought given to the idea of quitting. Not once. Smoking was just something he did. There wasn’t much else to it. No secret shame or guilt. No bargaining or grief. No, it was just something he did.

“No,” he admitted, avoiding your eyes.

“At least think about it, okay?”

Eddie nodded before glancing back at you. You continued humming along to the god awful song and tapped the steering wheel, as pretty as ever. And he was surely in love with you. Really, he was. But he thought he was going to explode from how much he hated this song. It wasn’t just the sound, but the lyrics and how you knew every single one.

If he didn’t want a cigarette before, he surely wanted one now.

By the time the bridge hit, you cleared your throat, straightened your posture, and threw up a salute.

Eddie stared at you like you were crazy. “What the—”

“I thank God for my life!

And for stars and stripes

May freedom forever fly, let it riiiiiiing.”

“Oh, I swear to god. I’m losing my mind.”

“Salute the ones who died

The ones that give their lives

So we don’t have to sacrifice

all the things we looooooooooove.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie decided to throw up a quick salute himself. “Aye, aye, boys. Yes, okay,” he sighed. “Can we please change it?”

You nodded then and Eddie was severely grateful to hear the beginning notes to “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill.

Thank god.

But you didn’t let up. “You can’t just live in the South for three years and not listen to at least one country song.”

“I did a reaaaally good job up until now.” That made you laugh. “I didn’t know you listened to country.”

“I contain multitudes, Eddie. Multitudes. Layers. Like an onion.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s in my blood. Don’t hate on country music just ‘cause you don’t get it. There’s more out there than just jeans, beer, girls, and tractors.”

“Don’t forget trucks.”

You snorted before exaggerating your accent. “Yeah, and I’ll run you over with one, boy.”

Despite his frustration at the grating music, Eddie stopped itching for a cigarette. No, the desire had disappeared entirely. He was looking at you, all giggles and lighthearted apologies, and couldn’t help but laugh along at how utterly goofy the encounter was.

And once he took a second to think about it, he realized that your accent had bled through the entire song. Your sweet little Southern accent that rarely popped out had been on full display for him and only him. That paired with your eyeliner and your spikes and your lips and your everything. It was…cute. Like, very cute.

You were always just so genuine. It was in the way you just fucking cared about things. How you just wanted to try and how it made him want to try, too. You always knew there was more inside of him than even he knew. How you did it, he couldn’t say.

It was hard to say no to you.

It was hard not to love you.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s do it.”

You gawked at him, rapidly flicking your head back and forth from him to the road as traffic began to finally pick up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And like every addiction, the first week was the hardest.

If Eddie was sitting, his legs were bouncing. If he had a moment to spare, he was drinking coffee and scarfing Red Vines. Kept a toothpick in his mouth as if it would do anything. Frustration ran down his limbs in shivers that turned into unprovoked anger. It was fucking killing him.

You weren’t doing too hot either. When you called, you complained about a sore jaw from the three packs of wintermint gum you’d gone through. Bitten cheeks and lips. Irritation from anything and everything that came across your path.

So, when you saw each other that weekend, Eddie said flat out, “I don’t wanna quit anymore.”

You dropped your scrubber back into the sink, turning your head to gawk at him in shock. Mouth wide open, showing off a pitiful piece of gum you’d been chewing on for maybe two hours.

“What?”

Eddie shrugged, suddenly intimidated by your gaze. “Don’t you think this is, I don’t know, too much?”

“Too much?” you asked, voice hardening.

“Yeah.”

“Eddie, you haven’t even tried yet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, that incessant frustration rising up his chest and into his mouth. “I have and it’s not working.”

“You have not!” you argued, placing your hands on your hips. “It’s been a week and, yeah, this is fucking hard. But it’s just temporary. Robin said it takes at least a week or longer for it to, like, detox. Probably longer for us.”

Barking out a bitter laugh, Eddie challenged you. “What if I don’t care what Robin thinks?”

“Then you’re giving up and you’ll spend the next however many years killing your lungs because it was hard for a week.”

“You’re one to talk! You’ve smoked for the same amount of time as me.”

“And yet I’m still fighting for it.”

He watched your chewing seemingly turn aggressive, knowing that you were disappointed in him. And it was actually hurting.

That first flare of guilt hit him then.

“Why do you want me to quit so bad?” he wondered.

“Because I know you can do it!” you exclaimed. “This shit sucks, Eddie. I’m literally gonna lose my mind some time soon. But it’s not forever.”

He rolled his eyes. But he realized it was most definitely a mistake when you stepped forward and put a finger to his chest, eyes locked on yours as your breath seemingly washed over his neck.

“Because after everything I know about you, your past, I know you wouldn’t be here right now if you were someone who gave up. If you didn’t fight just to try to have a better life.” Eddie stayed silent, watching your eyes grow soft. “And if you can get through all of that other shit, you sure as hell can quit smoking cigarettes.”

In that moment, Eddie couldn’t help but love you that much more. You were a challenger, a pusher. But it wasn’t unjustified and it wasn’t excessive. No, you were just a force to be reckoned with. When you knew something to be true, you hardly let up. Some called it stubbornness, but Eddie knew it to be determination.

Oh god, how he loved that about you. How you told him what to do and pushed him to do better.

And, oh god, did he have to try his hardest to stop getting a tiny bit hard thinking about it. This was not the time.

“Fine, I’ll keep trying.”

Your shoulders slumped, clearly exhausted from your argument. Leaned your head on his shoulder and heaved a sigh before stepping back.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll try. But don’t expect me to stop complaining about it.”

“As if I won’t. Hell, I’ll go first. Having an oral fixation sucks,” you admitted.

Eddie’s eyes immediately went to your lips. And, Jesus, even all bitten up and cracked, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. To call this argument to a close by throwing you up against a wall and devouring you until this bout of irritation dissipated from your bones.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re telling me.”

He could’ve sworn your eyes flickered to his, your own lips nearly quirking up into a smirk. And, fuck, did it seem like you were chest-to-chest, all sidled up and ready for the next fight.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“Like what, Weirdo?” he deflected, unable to keep himself from leaning in just a little bit further.

You pressed a finger into his dimples. “Like that.”

What, like I want to kiss you silly and massage your cheeks and then kiss you again and take that gum out of your mouth and make it mine and be gross and stupid? Like I want to say I’m sorry by taking you in this kitchen right now? Like I’m going to lose my mind from how much I fucking love you?

Eddie took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Took a step back.

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“Come on,” you said with a smile. “Let’s go get Taco Bell.”

He smiled back, feeling the heat start to subside from his face. And, most importantly, his dick.

“I could always use a Baja Blast.”

Things weren’t so bad after that first month. Or the second. Or the third.

And by the time you guys hit the six month mark, Eddie didn’t even crave it anymore. If anything, he couldn’t believe how much better his mood was. His chest felt lighter. Head clearer.

For once, life felt good without a cigarette.

He noticed the same in you, how smiley you were at any given moment. No need to duck out to get a quick smoke in or beg for one after a crying spell. It was like a weight was lifted off of you. He couldn’t believe that such a small thing made up of tobacco, paper, and cotton could have such a big impact on, well, everything.

In the past, you were always looking forward to a cigarette. So, the two of you devised a plan. Every week or every other week, you and Eddie would go to Jailbait Hemp and try out a new product. Split the cost. Go find something to do. Just let loose and see where the day took you.

Today you were at Piedmont Park, passing a joint back and forth as people filtered in and out. You were lying on your backs, a blanket beneath your figures. Both barely able to see each other through the blinding sun because, predictably, no thought to grab your sunglasses.

“We should try that THC syrup next Thursday,” you suggested.

Eddie turned his head, squinting back at you in the sun’s glare. Tried to see your pretty face the best he could. Sneaked another glance at how breathtaking you were in your sundress.

“Oh, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“Where do you wanna go to try it out?”

Summer lasted longer in the South. You’d have the Georgia heat to yourselves until mid-October. Eddie had no idea what you’d do until then. Drink, laugh. Play games, go to karaoke. Work.

Maybe things could change. Maybe he’d even get the courage to ask you out one of these days. It was funny what one could do with all of the money they once set aside for packs of cigarettes.

It was July and Eddie was in love. Had been for nearly four years.

And some part of him knew as he watched you search the clouds that he’d continue to fall harder every single day.

He knew exactly where to take you next week.

“No clue,” he lied, smiling to himself. “But it’ll be a damn good time.”

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader

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sepulchritude · 1 month

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I finished redecorating all my villagers’ houses! 🥳

Design thoughts/infodump under the cut!

So when designing these houses I had several goals in mind. Trinket is a movie production themed island and each villager has a role on set, so I wanted to incorporate parts of that into their houses. When possible I also tried to keep aspects of their original houses, and I tried to decorate them in fun and interesting ways while still keeping the space livable. That meant leaving plenty of space for the villager and a guest or two to walk around. Overall I wanted each house to be a comfortable place for the villager to live in! Last, I tried to give each villager their own little hobby or interest to add flavor. I did this a little bit on my first island with my villagers’ yards, but now that I have the DLC, I could go all out by decorating the interiors!

Individual notes (in order of the images above):

Quinn: I kept a lot of the original design for her, but I added most of the small flavor items. Quinn is the writer for Trinket Studios, but I decided she’s also a hobbyist chef! She experiments with new recipes for herself and her neighbors in her spare time

Jacques: I kept the underground music aspects of his house, but I gave him a couple of guitars too and some brick walls to spray paint. Jacques is the crew member who assembles sets and creates props, so I figure his music and art is where he gets to make things that are just for himself (and whichever neighbors want to come see!)

Phil: the main thing I changed about his house was the color scheme, I wanted to switch the red for cool colors like peacock feathers, to match Phil bc he’s a gaudy, big time actor. He’s one of the leads in the blockbuster museum heist/international spy movie that’s being filmed on Trinket. Small details but I love the pattern on his lamp, and the shell music box is playing KK Adventure, which when it’s played in a music box style ends up being a cute song for our action hero to relax to in his spare time

Ruby: okay I get that Ruby’s original room is space because she’s a moon rabbit and that’s her whole design but consider: cute little space themed cafe on a street corner. You see the vision. I had the song Space Cadette by Back to Yours playing on repeat for days when I made this. Ruby shares the lead actress role with Coco for the summercamp horror movie also being filmed on Trinket, she’s the alive version of the girl who comes back to haunt the camp

Jay: he is our other crew member, he’s in charge of plants and landscaping on set (very important given how many different nature sets there are). He also likes gardening and nature outside of work, and he likes to skateboard because… well because I had just gotten the item and it sounded fun! I wish there were more skateboarding items I could give him tbh, like a little ramp or something

Coco: this is one of the houses I kept the least inspiration from. Her original design is based in archaeology, but I wanted to give her something cute and sweet. Coco plays the vengeful spirit that gets awakened in the summercamp horror movie, but outside of acting she’s a very sweet girl who likes to make music! I think she and Jacques have both also developed some of the musical scores used in various movies

Sasha: I love this one so much!! I kept his house’s vibes and his stuffed animals, and I gave him a little stargazing spot and a firefly (bc if he’s gonna talk about the bugs whispering to him then I gotta give him a little bug friend). He’s the heartthrob lead actor of the summercamp horror movie, he’s very popular with the tween girl audience.

Monique: she’s a fancy, glitz and glam, well-known actress, so her home reflects that. I think I kept literally nothing from her original house. She has some record disks and a nice camera laying around, so she still finds some time for enjoying and making art in between all her fancy actressing. She’s currently the femme fatale in the museum heist/spy film.

Marlo: he’s an old old man who likes the simple things in life; building model toys and being an aircraft enthusiast. What’s the point of having a long successful acting career if not to spend it on lovingly crafting model trains and gundams. Once he (read: I) gets his hands on the model DAL plane, it’s over for you hoes. On set, he’s the Alfred to Phil’s Bruce Wayne.

Tiffany: this was the last home I decorated! Her home already had a kind of bar games theme, so I amped it up into a full club and bar! She’s the supporting actress for Monique, they’re a dastardly, hyper competent, internationally wanted, honestly pretty gay pair of art thieves. But in her spare time she mostly just wants to host huge parties for all her friends ❤️

And that’s all of them! They all also have their own yards that reflect more of their personalities and interests, and the rest of Trinket is covered in movie sets and cameras for both the two movies currently being filmed and several others from the studio’s past. It’s a very fun project that I’ve been working on for the past year or so 💞💞💞

#i also like all my little outfits #i think only some of the houses will be visitable when i post the dream address which SUCKS so i’m posting all of this here #but they’re all in their own little neighborhoods too and it’s so cute #if you read all this thank you ily i love trinket so much!!#acnh #trinket #sepulchritudinous #undescribed

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wyllaztopia · 1 month

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My question is: let's imagine that Nightmare had a childhood friend, his one and only childhood friend, and that she was a little girl who liked to fight to protect him and who literally had scars because of that because she literally fought every day to defend him, let's imagine that she survived the "incident", After the corruption of Nightmare how would he be with her? Would he be distant because he doesn't want to remember his past and the fact that he needed someone to defend himself, would he be tsundere with her or would he have a soft spot? Because I mean, his brother did not protect Nightmare because he was not aware of the others who harassed him, but she was the only one who had protected him, in part in any case. sooo.. would he be able to hurt her as much as he would be able to hurt Dream? After all, it's not as if she had protected Nightmare from absolutely everything, because as you said, it's not the only reason why Nightmare became corrupt and there were many others who added up.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ (i love that enoji-)

I really love your version of Dreamtale! Joku doesn't give any more news so I have trouble orienting myself with Dreamtale’s story, but you show a whole new vision of things with Soulsborne! The philosophy you gave to Nightmare is much more complex than that of the original but I really hope that Joku will develop Dreamtale in the future! And we're counting on you for Soulsborne and his development 🫵🏼

thank you for such kind words omg this version of dreamtale literally came to mind when me and @neotxnic were reading the original dreamtale comic after we had a session of elden ring - it was also around the time i was delving deep into the dark souls trilogy lore. i wanted to add more depth and tone to the world of dreamtale and fromsoft games have really good story telling and lore so i wanted that to reflect on our revision of the story. note that i'm not trying to compete with joku and the original dreamtale. i think the original is good as is and very fun + heartfelt to read. on anotherrrr note - this will be a really long response to the initial question so buckle up because i will lore dump.

For this specific scenario, I won't make this character's insertion into the lore canon yet - I actually want you lot to share your opinions on the addition of Nightmare having a childhood friend.

Nightmare and Dream were both born from the roots of Motus Arbor (the Tree of Feelings, the very being of Nim or what's left of her). The two of them are task to guard the tree - Dream guarding the negative apples and Nightmare guarding the positive ones.

Dream sought out to the people, he believes that through guarding the tree, he also has to guard the feelings of others. Thus, he often travels around the kingdom where he does his best to help his people have a brighter day.

Meanwhile, Nightmare keeps to himself and guards the tree while Dream focuses on their people to keep their emotions stable. He usually sits by the bed of motus arbor and reads books under its huge shade.

Because of Nightmare guarding the positive apples and the stereotype people have formed of him being the guardian of negativity (despite Dream's attempts to let people know that Nightmare isn't a bad person), many other kids would go behind Dream's back to harass Nightmare and accuse him of taking advantage of the positive apples.

This happens often but Nightmare never paid mind to these claims or mistreatment. Because of his pessimism being influenced by the positive apples that he guards, he's more of a realist (pessimism-leaning) - and so he doesn't see much value in the bullying.

However, a young girl around his age would stand up against the bullies, speaking up about their prejudice and unfair treatment. She called them out about how their judgement held no merit because they didn't know Nightmare personally, what right did they have to come to such conclusions about a person?

As the kids went away, Nightmare told her that there was no need for her to stand up for him since he wasn't affected by the mistreatment. He was perfectly fine simply ignoring the flock. She shook her head at his statement,

She told him her belief that passiveness won't progress society to a better environment. If we simply ignore the bad, does that make us good? Does that stop the evil? Does that stop the dishonesty? How will a wrong become a right if nothing is done for it to be so?

This philosophy was quickly dismissed by Nightmare; "Fighting fire with fire never bears any good fruit."

Despite their opposing ideals, this girl would pursue a friendship with the dark prince. She was true to herself despite how different their worldviews are but somehow, some of their morals were seen to overlap - such as their respect for intellect and honesty. The two both found enjoyment in books and being less social. It was a blissful friendship where they didn't feel the need to be someone else and the other was perfectly fine with it.

However, the conflict between Dream and Nightmare happened. Nightmare saw that Dream was being mistreated by the other kids, that they were abusing his kindness - and he hid his feelings from his very own brother, Nightmare. The guardian of negativity slowly realized that Dream's ignorance and selflessness - whilst spreading happiness… it was happiness given the wrong way. It was a clear imbalance.

And for the first time, he'd heed his friend's words: something had to be done. - and as for how nightmare would treat this friend of his in the present time? well, he holds no attachments. he had already stripped himself for any positive feelings towards anyone - including the very friend that pioneered his current ideals. however, deep down, he respects her integrity - a thought lingers within him that she'd understand his plans if one day she were to find out. however, if he finds reason to, he'll kill her with his own hands.

#lore dump #way too long waaay too long #long post #agdt #ag dreamtale #ardent gospel #wyllaztopia rambles #dreamtale au #nightmare sans #dream sans #ask

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Text

The Boy in the Window 17 ~ (Tommy Shelby X Reader Series)

Chapter Summary: With Tommy still missing, Lizzie and Ada take matters into their own hands

Notes: Poor darling Charlie- he really broke all our hearts. Let's see if we can do something about that. This is another set-up chapter, I suppose...the end is near. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 5253

Part 17

[Previously]

That night she got not a single second of sleep, with her throat closed up and her eyes burning as she thought of nothing but him, Lizzie's words echoing in her head like the charge at the final judgement.

Only now did she truly understand the meaning of drowning in guilt, because that was what she was…drowning.

Everything she either heard, smelled or felt was muted, all these sensations unable to pierce through the cold darkness that had surrounded her which swallowed everything but the pain.

She had expected the children to forget soon, that the price or parting would have been hers alone to pay but Lizzie’s words had driven the truth like a dagger into her heart and ever since then, she had felt herself bleeding out slowly, drip by agonising drip.

When (Y/N) knelt down to pray in church, the old wood made her knees ache, but she welcomed the pain.

After all, it came from the outside for a change.

Closing her eyes, she prayed for the boy - that he would soon forget her.

When she rose, her knees were red with the promise of turning blue very soon.

Father Callitch had looked at her with pity, and asked if she wanted to talk, but what was there to say?

During the second night, despite the exhaustion, she fared hardly better, staring up at the ceiling and yearning for a reprieve that never came.

Mrs Cook greeted Emma with a smile and offered her a sweet as they entered the house, but that smile soon turned to a frown when her eyes met hers.

She looked her up and down and then she sighed.

But (Y/N) knew she’d get no pity here, not that she deserved any.

She was a good, kind woman, but she had heard the rumours and seen the aftermath. And Mrs Cook had her principles, about virtues and honesty, and she hated the Peaky Blinders with a passion.

No doubt, she had formed her own opinion, but she kept it to herself.

“You look bad.”, she told her bluntly, as she put the basket down on her table.

I feel worse, (Y/N) thought.

“I’ve got more time now,”, she said, “I can get back to my usual workload.”

Her lips tightened.

“Now that Charles Shelby no longer lives with you.”

Mention of his name felt as if someone had rubbed salt into an open wound, it’s burning bite lingering long after the words had disappeared into thin air.

“Yes.”, she only said.

What point was there in lying?

She did not miss how Emma’s head raised at the mention of his name.

“Start with this.”, Mrs. Cook told her, adding a new pile of clothes into the basket.

“Only remember not to sew in razor blades.”

The old woman seemed just as startled as (Y/N) was, as if she had accidentally said her words out loud.

She half expected it to hurt, but somehow any slight dealt to her couldn’t even begin to compete torment she was already suffering.

And when (Y/N) just stared at her, her cheeks began to burn.

But she did not want to torture the woman and so she took her child, her work and left.

They were halfway down the main road when a car stopped next to them.

It was black and shiny, with a little silver figurine on the front.

The man held the steering wheel with white gloves, his uniform hat reflecting in the window.

“Hello (Y/N).”, she heard the familiar voice of Lizzie Stark. “Hello Emma!”

“Hello Lizzie.”, Emma replied, waving back at the woman inside the car, who’s head peaked up from a fur coat.

“Picking up work?”, she asked, leaning forward slightly to see better.

“Yes.”, (Y/N) said, avoiding to look into her eyes, afraid of what next horrid revelation she might share with her.

For a moment there was silence, before Lizzie spoke up again.

“That basket looks heavy, why don’t I give you a ride?”

She was about to turn her down, but she turned her attention to Emma and opened the door.

“Would you like to sit next to me, Emma?”

That gripped hold of her and she darted towards the car.

(Y/N) thought about calling her back, but her little girl had been so unhappy these last few days, she didn’t want to take away this little joy.

Every part of the car that was leather was soft, everything that was not was so shiny she could see her reflection in it.

She saw the driver look at the rearview mirror and Lizzie nodded.

The engine sprung to life and Emma leaned forward curiously, watching how the man moved his hands to steer the machine.

They were supposed to pass the church but instead the car turned into the courtyard, circled around and back out again, into a direction different to the one she lived in.

Her head snapped around only to see the other woman smirk.

“Lizzie-”, she said impatiently.

“You at least have to look at it.", she quickly said, stroking over the back of Emma’s head.

"I don't want to, Lizzie.", She sighed, rubbing her pulsing temple.

"You have to.", She argued. "Even if you decide to sell it.'

I don't want to sell it. I want nothing to do with it.

She swallowed hard and glanced down at the floor of the car.

I wish none of this had ever happened.

What good were a few weeks of happy moments against the misery she felt now? The one she'd carry with herself forever?

But she was also too drained to argue.

So she leaned her head against the side of the car and let things be.

Lizzie was a natural with children and so it was easy for her to keep Emma occupied during the drive, while she watched the world go by.

The dark grey snake line streets slowly evolved into red brick buildings, with cleaner facades and larger windows.

Soon there were small gaps between the houses that grew as they left the city behind them.

Then, there were just green plains and trees, as cottages and farms replaced factory buildings and worker’s housing.

They had driven for the best part of an hour when they left the main road and into a village.

"Look out now, Emma.", Lizzie said, almost in an announcement for the driver to slow.

(Y/N) too opened her eyes again and glanced out.

"You have to be joking.", She whispered.

The car left the road and immediately began to drive up to the house on the gravel road.

One could have fit half her street on the distance it had to the gate, and all the houses in it, but here it was just green grass lined with neatly trimmed bushes.

The chauffeur stopped the car just a few feet in front of the entrance to the house.

And what a house it was.

It was white as snow, which made the pale lilac of the wisteria which had grown on parts of the facade shine even more clearly.

On either side of the pitch black door and on each of the two stories, she could see large bay windows reaching out into the space.

There were no other house next to it, instead just more greenery and trees.

“Welcome to Warburton House.”, Lizzie told her as they got out, sounding very pleased with herself.

“Look, Mummy!”, Emma cried out and pointed at the door. “A lion.”

She was right - on either side of the steps that led to the front door, two small stone lion figures were resting, like dogs awaiting the homecoming of their owners.

What in God’s name is this place?, (Y/N) thought as she barely glimpsed the brass lion door knocker before it swung open.

Evidently, they had been expected.

“Mrs Hale!”, a middle aged woman greeted with a warm smile.

She wore a modest, plain black dress which went past her knees, black stockings and black shoes. The only thing not black about her clothes was the white lace collar.

Her dark hair was combed back and tamed into a neat bun.

“My name is Frances.”, she introduced herself. “I am Mr. Shelby’s housekeeper at Arrow House.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Over her shoulder she could see a far younger woman wearing a pale grey dress and w hite apron. She also had a white cap in her hair and a wide smile on her lips.

Cautiously she stepped inside, but she did not get far.

“Let me take your coat.”, the older woman offered.

It felt strange to have another person, especially an older woman who was owed respect by her age alone, do that for her.

She handed her coat to the girl who had already taken Lizzie’s and Emma’s.

“Would you follow me?”, the older woman asked and led them beyond the small entrance space into an open room.

The first thing that caught her eyes was the wide staircase which lead to the upper story with steps so large Emma could lie down on them without touching wall or bannister with either head or toe.

Instead of being narrow and straight, it almost leiserously curled its way up into the house.

Despite being in the inside of the house, light fell in from upper windows, ensuring the room didn’t suffer the darkness of her own corridor in Small Heath.

At it’s centre stood a round table which didn’t seem to have any purpose but to display the large array of flowers which had been placed in a porcelain vase at least a foot tall with two arched handles. It was painted so delicately and with such detail she knew it hadn’t been produced in a factory.

(Y/N) felt her eyes widen as her heels echoed thanks to the high ceiling.

Doors lead both left and right and in between them she saw cushioned benches and smaller mahogany tables under landscape paintings and glass lamps let into the wall. On them were smaller vases with flowers, or little staturettes.

There was hardly any time to do much than let her eyes drift through the room though, as the woman continued.

“I’ll just make a call.”, Lizzie said, placing her hand on her arm as she walked past her and through one of the side doors more towards the back of the door.

So there’s a telephone too.

For a moment she saw a glimpse of a sofa and a wall filled with books, but Frances opened another door for her.

Only after a moment of silence did (Y/N) realise she was waiting for her to enter first.

So she hurried to do so, muttering an apology as her cheeks burned.

The room also had an impossibly high ceiling and windows so big she wouldn’t be able to reach the top with her fingertips even if she stood on a stool.

Each one was framed by two floor length curtains that were from the same pastel blue colour as the rest of the room, which fit perfectly with the white stucco decorations on the ceiling and at the wall.

The fireplace was decorated with equal craftsmanship and on the mantlepiece a large mirror hung, capturing the light and doubling it.

There were armchairs in front, and sofas with cream upholstery. But there was not a single mark on them, no chip in the painted wood, no thread loose in the decorative stitching.

Everything was impeccable.

The whole room - the whole house felt so light, not just because of the paleness of the walls which weren’t stained by the smoke of factories, or because of the natural light that fell in from the high windows.

From the windows she could see into the gardens where she was met with flower beds, a terrace and delicate white garden furniture.

The house seemed completely furnished and even decorated and yet it was clean - too clean. It lacked not dirt but the marks of use, of life.

On a second round table, covered with a white tablecloth, had been set for tea.

The étagères held slices of cake and petit fours.

“Mummy look- chocolate!”, Emma said.

Her excitement made Frances smile and she drew the chair back for Emma to sit on, before doing the same for (Y/N).

It made her heart thunder in her chest in the worst possible way.

It - all of it - didn’t seem right.

Especially not when the older woman remained standing.

The plates were smaller than the ones she had, specially made for tea, so were the spoons. They shone and sparkled and on the ends they had delicate engravings.

Sugar was served in a little white box but instead of a little knob to lift the lid up, it had a swan on top, matching the design on the little can which one could pour the milk from.

At that moment, Lizzie returned, who seemed far more at ease with being helped to her seat than (Y/N) had been.

That left two more places that had been set.

“Have you explained the situation yet?”, Lizzie asked Frances.

“Not yet, Miss Stark.”, she told her.

Lizzie nodded and turned to her, her business face on.

Frances cleared her throat.

“This is Warburton House, also known as the Dower House for the Dowager Countesses of Arley.”

“Oh?”, (Y/N) said simply because she did not know what to say, halfway stunned into silence.

“Arrow House used to belong to the Earl of Arley before Tommy bought it and the whole estate.”, Lizzie explained.

Frances nodded.

“It is custom that when a Lord dies, his wife moves to a widow’s seat, a Dower House, not too far away and with all the comforts befitting her station, yet with as much distance as necessary.”

(Y/N) mumbled a stupid “Oh.” again as Emma nicked one of the chocolate petit fours and placed it wholly into her mouth, glancing around to make sure no one saw.

“You’ve already met Lisa.”, she continued.

“Although she is very young, she’s the head housemaid. She is a hard worker and very good with children. Mrs. O’Sullivan is the cook and the gardeners are from the House but will come once or twice a week depending on the season of course. There is also a driver at your disposal whenever you shall need it.”

She understood the words Frances was saying but there was still a blockade in her mind that didn’t allow her to accept them, like a wall she could not see through.

“They are all already hired and it’s taken care of.”, Lizzie said under her breath as she reached for a slice of cake herself.

(Y/N) leaned over and placed her hand on her arm.

“Have you lost your mind?”, she hissed. “This is too much - far too much.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“No, I won’t…he won’t want me to have it.”

Not now that she had broken with him.

She still remembered the cold, empty look in his eyes when he had taken Charlie away, as lifeless as a stature.

“It’s already yours. By law. No one can take it away from you.”, she reminded her.

“It’s yours, and the rest is taken care of.”

She shook her head and glanced around the room.

Frances had said so herself- this was built for a great woman, a countess, and not meant for a nobody to live in.

It wouldn’t be right.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here.”, she insisted.

And most certainly not against her will and with Emma, who would undoubtedly ask questions now.

Lizzie’s eyes remained without a trace of remorse.

“Why? Because you were having such a fun time in Small Heath of late?”

She had no answer for that and Lizzie clicked her tongue.

“It won’t get better, you know? They never forget, so you might as well start anew here.”

Just as Lisa, the head housemaid, entered with a tray, they heard the door bell ring.

“Just in time for tea.”, Lizzie said.

“I’ll let them in, Ma’am.”, Frances said and bowed her head slightly before leaving.

(Y/N) hoped against hope that she meant Lizzie with that.

But then her heart tightened painfully as she stared at the door.

She had no clue who else they could be expecting and was entirely unprepared.

The uncertainty made her stomach drop.

The door flung open carelessly and revealed just a flash of the boy before he came running at her as soon as his pale blue eyes caught sight of her.

Without a moments hesitation he pushed himself into the narrow space between her chair and the table, scrambled into her lap before she could even hope to offer a helping hand.

He flung his arms around her neck and clung to her, still wearing his coat.

His blond hair was a mess from where his little cap had fallen off.

(Y/N) was too shocked to speak, to even react, but on instinct her arms had wrapped themselves around him and held him tightly.

His hot breath brushed over her naked collarbone, frantic and uneven from the running he had done, as his hands coiled into the fabric of her dress, twisting it so much it was likely to leave marks that would have to be ironed out.

As she leaned her head against his, his soft hair brushed against her cheek.

She inhaled the smell, not of his soap, or his coat - but of him, and she leaned into that smell, into the weight of him on her lap, the sound of his breath.

Desperately she tried to blink away the hot tears that came to her eyes-

“Let me look at you.”, she asked, cupping Charlie’s face with both her hands.

It had only been a week or so, but she had thought she would never see him again, apart from glimpses in the distance when he would drive down Small Heath streets in the shiny cars of his father, one day, when he would have long forgotten the old woman watching from a window.

And now she held him again.

“Oh my darling boy.”, she whispered, unable to keep her voice steady. “I am so, so sorry.”

Charlie looked up at her with pouty lips and shiny eyes before burying his head into her chest, just above her thundering heart.

Her fingers ran through the long blond hair on the back of his head as her other hand found his back, rubbing soft circles.

She had missed his weight, his touch, the way he always leaned into her.

“Hello (Y/N).”, she heard the familiar voice of Ada Shelby, and so she had to look up again.

The only Shelby sister looked divine in a dark red dress with a matching brooch shining on her chest.

“Come on Master Charles, you have to take your coat off if you want to have tea.”, Lisa said sweetly.

Only cautiously did he pull back far enough for the girl to take his coat. But he still remained in her lap.

Every time he had to remove one arm for the girl to take his coat, the other hand held onto her, digging through her dress into her flesh as if he feared a moment’s weakness would see him taken from her.

It was the sweetest pain she had felt in a long time.

“Charlie, if you stay there neither you nor (Y/N) will be able to have tea.”, Ada reminded him after a while, having taken the spot next to Lizzie, leaving the chair to (Y/N)’s right free.

“There’s chocolate cake- your favourite!”, Emma told him.

They had tea in painful silence.

Charlie had pulled the chair as close to hers as possible and watched her every move cautiously, his free hand clutching her dress.

Since she had no appetite for much, she stroked over his fingers under the table where no one could see.

But then they were done and Ada leaned over.

“Charlie, do you want to show Emma the garden?”, she asked with a wide smile.

“Not really.”, Charlie said, nuzzling into her side.

“We will go with you.”, Lizzie suggested and they got up, leaving the table with the dirty dishes as it was, even if it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Frances and Lisa brought them their coats and helped them into them before they went out into the terrace.

What she had seen earlier was but a glimpse of the size of it.

The terrace was larger than the ground floor of her home, with the delicate garden furniture.

There were flower beds and a patch where roses could climb up the facade.

Further to the back she could see a vegetable patch.

A small stone pathway led to a sundial situated on a small pillar.

There was a bench under one of the trees while the other had swings hanging from it - two swings, she realised.

It was twice as large as the church green and thrice as beautiful and that was before the flowers were in bloom. She could only imagine how stunning it would look then.

“Swings!”, Emma cried out and took off running.

For a split second, Charlie twitched as if he wanted to run after her, but then his hand clutched hers painfully.

(Y/N) crouched down and stroked the side of his face.

“Go ahead if you want to.”, she assured him. “I’ll be right here.”

He glanced to Emma on the swings, then back at her.

“Promise?”, he asked.

“Promise!”

He went, but only when looking over his shoulder from time and time again, to make sure she hadn’t disappeared.

As she watched him go, she sighed heavily.

“You did this on purpose.”, (Y/N) told the both of them, who had watched her with hawk eyes.

“You’re just as bad as Tommy with his pathetic blackmail attempt. The both of you.”

“Of course we did.”, Ada scoffed. “And it’s not an attempt. He will follow through, you know. So be a good girl and stop being difficult.”

She glanced from one to the other as she rose.

“Ada, I can’t. Why can’t you just accept that?”

Ada stopped and turned to face her.

“This is a very simple situation. Good things rarely happen to good people. This is a good thing, for you, Emma and Charlie. So either you accept this house as the new reality of your life, or you don’t. And every time you hear gunshots in Small Heath, or your cough gets bad from the smoke, every time you can’t let Emma play in the street or have to walk forever just so she can see a patch of grass, every time you wish she would have gone to a better school or yearn for quiet or the sound of birds, every time you miss Charlie, you will know that it is your own fault.”

She opened her mouth to argue but Ada was far from finished, even as her face burned.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Will you just come off of your high horse of self punishment, not only for your own sake but that of the children too!”

Her words cut deeper than (Y/N) was comfortable admitting.

“Or you can go there right now and tell them that you chose not to do this because you were too busy revelling in your own created misery.”, she added.

(Y/N) wanted to answer but no words came.

“Then we’re in agreement.”, Ada said, before turning her back, leaving her alone with Lizzie.

“If that doesn’t convince you, do it for Charlie.”, she said softly. “You know how Tommy is even when he’s supposed to be around. And right now, he’s all alone in that big house up there.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

“He needs some place he can go to, a person he can go to. Otherwise the boy will drown in loneliness.”

When the tears came to her eyes this time around, she couldn’t stop them from falling, even if Lizzie’s handkerchief soaked them up.

“Emma can stay here while you and Lisa go back to your house to pack up the necessities. The rest of the move should be done in time for next monday.”

“What’s monday?”, she asked.

Lizzie smirked slightly.

“You first day at work. Be ready at ten. I’ll pick you up.”

She almost felt ashamed bringing Lisa back to her home. What would the girl think after all?

It was in such a dark and grimy place, especially in comparison to the house they were just leaving. Perhaps it was due to that comparison, but Small Heath had never seemed so dirty to her.

On the way the girl had told her about herself and her family. She was a local girl. Her father and elder brother worked as gardeners for Mr. Shelby. Her whole family had been in service and she was so excited to have a little girl to look after.

She even told (Y/N) that she had been practising braids for Emma.

It was difficult not to like Lisa then.

Within a few days all the things she wanted to take to the house had been packed, the house cleaned form top to bottom (which Lisa found strange that (Y/N) insisted on helping with herself) and the furniture covered with white sheets.

She had not decided what to do with the house yet, just as she had not yet truly accepted that the other house was now her and Emma’s home.

There was the drawing room, which they had taken their tea in, as well as a room called the library, which included hundreds of books, a grand piano and softer sofas, which was supposed to be a living room.

She had a dining room as well, with an oval table large enough to seat a dozen.

Upstairs it was just as airy and beautiful as downstairs, with a master bedroom, complete with an own bathroom and a dressing room, which alone was bigger than her old bedroom had been.

In addition to the office and the three other bedrooms, one of which was Emma’s, they had a nursery- an entire room filled with toys.

(Y/N) did not fail to notice that they were all new, from the rocking horse, to the small table for drawing, to the doll house by the window.

What a strange thing to find in a house meant for a widow.

There was also a kitchen, which probably was the only room (Y/N) was not welcome in, as the cook, Mrs O’Sullivan was very diligent in fulfilling her duty.

(Y/N) wasn’t used to anyone cooking for her. The last person that had done that had been her mother and all Mrs. O’Sullivan had asked of her was to tell her what meal she wanted. It was like living with a restaurant.

It was all a lot to get used to, but Emma had done so easily, and whenever doubt crept in, she thought of Charlie.

Since Tommy had not yet returned from his holiday he came to visit every single day, arriving in the afternoon and leaving only after dinner, and then most reluctantly.

He had worked out however, that he would be allowed to sleep there from Saturday to Sunday so that he could be there for Sunday breakfast.

Like all other breakfasts and meals, they didn’t take it in the dining room, but rather in the drawing room at the smaller, rounder table.

What use was it to sit at the large one when they could be much closer.

There had also been an arrangement that saw Emma taking riding lessons together with Charlie. (Y/N) hadn’t been sure at first, since she didn’t want to cross Tommy, but apparently that had been part of his plan as well.

Those lessons were at Arrow House, Tommy Shelby’s residential home with a size fit for a king.

She had seen the red brick walls, the high gates, the long driveway, but stayed clear of that place he and Charlie called their home, even if Emma had seen it inside to get changed after her riding lesson.

It wasn’t just getting used to a new house, but an entirely foreign way of life.

Lisa and the others did not want her to do any work, not even if it meant carrying a tray back to the kitchen, while (Y/N) felt uncomfortable not doing it.

They still had a lot to figure out, but sooner than she would have liked, monday came, which had given her its own share of sleepless nights, even if playing catch with Charlie and Emma had truly worn her out.

Lizzie had arrived just as she had expected and they drove back to the city together.

The board of the Shelby Family Foundation included, apart from them, Polly, Ada, who was absent, Linda, who was very much present and Arthur. Although it ought to have been presided over by Tommy, his chair remained empty.

“Still on holiday then?”, Linda asked, pursing her lips, disapprovement radiating from every inch of her skin. It was almost as if one could smell it.

Beside her Lizzie shifted.

“What is it?”, (Y/N) whispered under her breath as she saw her paled cheeks.

“Not a single word, not for two weeks now.”

Her hushed words made her stomach coil as a chill no one else could feel made her shudder.

Something wasn’t right, she felt it. But there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Nothing at all.

“How are you liking the house, (Y/N)?”, Arthur asked with a lopsided grin under that thick moustache of his.

“Yes!”, his wife said, her tone sickenly sweet, “how are you liking it?”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks burn as she cleared her throat.

“Emma loves it.”, she quickly said, averting her eyes.

“I wonder though - if it really is appropriate for you to be sitting in on this meeting.”, she continued, clearly not content with her embarrassment.

“After all, this is a family foundation and even if she has become…familiar with Thomas, she is not family!”

(Y/N) felt like all the air had been knocked from her lungs.

She had heard it in whispers and openly, from Mrs. Laddler and Jackson, from Mrs. Cook even. But somehow here, in front of his family, who had every reason to doubt and look down on her, it stung so much more.

Was that what she would be forever now, Tommy Shelby’s whore?

Lizzie had warned her it wouldn’t go away.

And the house now given to her and Emma not a place they could make into a home but payment for a service well provided?

It made her want to throw up…and to disappear from the face of the earth, although from the meeting would have been enough for now.

“She’s here,”, Polly Gray said, blowing out smoke in Linda’s direction, making her cough, “because she knows the community and has worked with it in the past.”

She glared at Linda as she brought the cigarette to her lips once more.

"Choose your words carefully, Linda. One could almost think you were jealous."

End

Part 18

So we got one of our boys back!

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!

I chose Winkenhurst Manor as inspiration for the exterior and now I want to move there.

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy @books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore

Tommy Shelby Taglist:

@knowledgefulbutterfly

TBITW Taglist:

@kaitebugg03 @esistmon @chlorrox @theshelbyslimited @budugu @woofgocows @orkwardx0 @judig92 @100percentamess @kabbuu @esposadomd @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @starsnsecrets @lady-loves-a-lot @katiepie67 @acoolnight @chaotic-onigiri @ohshititsfenharel @muhahaha303 @globetrotter28 @xoprincessmel @shittingonyourgrave @pessimisticbiitch @elisa20beth @simran-preet19 @majesticcmey @akiisbae @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @vodkainthecoffee @pearlstiare @jk-acc @cutecurly-hair @lovecleastrange @kishie8 @kirenia15 @burninggracesandbridges @nervousmumbling @babayaga67 @mbv2361 @butterfly-skinnylegend @pheitvsx

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Thomas Shelby Imagine #The Boy in the Window #valentineswritings

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anteroom-of-death · 2 months

Text

Teacher's Pet part 13

Synopsis: After exams, the two meet up. Is it a simple meeting? Or does it develop the game further...

A/n: smut, domestics and more, and oohh look the Doctor falls even darker down. And look at me, 3 fics in a week. We're so back baby. Thanks to you all. Now I go deal with my migraine!

As he stargazed on his walk home, the Doctor had a lot to assess. As far as little tests went, this was a success. Missy’s presence and nature was a good metric for physical responses to real danger. His little fawn passed with flying colors!

Her mind surged with chemicals in a way that was palpable. Her body flooded itself with just enough hormones to shrink itself to deferment. Her heart raced like a small prey animal being hunted for sport. It was a good sign.

He felt insane. What had he come to? Was this his plan to groom a companion he held in his past, before Rose? Or was this a new game for him to play?

He felt high. Was this how Missy always felt in her amoral schemes? No wonder she always pulling these acts…

It felt wonderful, in a sick way.

How much could he push this all and stay the Doctor?

He felt like he needed to go join her for that night cap she mentioned. Not that he could particularly get drunk of whatever liquor he would consume, but off her mere presence!

Anything physical would just be an added benefit…

He did go into her mind, she was planning on telling him about her profession. She just didn’t know the correct way. Or that he already knew. Her mind was a fascinating place to rest in.

He was going to hold her to his promise of not letting any boogie-men come for her, or chance at changing this body. Or take her off planet. He respected her for not wanting to risk her young-ish life.

He felt it on an egotistical level.

He reflected on those past companion he did take to bed. There had to be a common thread between them! What pushed a person from ‘traveling companion-familial bond’ to ‘romance and sensuality’? What traits was he drawn to? It had to be some link across regeneration.

He further anthologized and went to pathological levels.

He couldn’t find a true common thread.

This all drove him insane.

He looked to the stars. He could name all of them, and when he saved them and their planets. He could see everything so clearly.

Except this pattern.

Part of him wondered if past incarnations of Missy were correct…he had been spending too much time amongst the human race. He was acting and living and rewarding himself like one.

A God Walking With Apes.

He deserve to be punished as much as rewarded. He knew that much.

But alas, he was taking his reward. And his rest. Sweetly.

The Doctor was owed that much.

He went back to his office and busied himself with the starts of exams. He infinitely preferred the paper exam. Kept students more honest. Kept them more creative.

Oh, sweet irony.

Soon the days of exams came. And he promised (y/n) after a drink. At hers. They’d not seen much of each other with all the fuss and confusion of the time.

It was all arranged.

The wolf to devour the fawn. Again.

And he would.

He met her at the front door of her flat, with a bundle of flowers. And a note scrawled, ‘You survived.’ She took them and inhaled. Her smile widened. There was something hiding in it. Something that he’d like to uncover very much.

Despite the dedication he’d put into knowing her mind, the specialties of her neurology left him often scrambling for control. Maybe the human race in some swathes of the population developed a small evolutionary protection against higher beings with advanced psychic abilities, but of course viewed it as disability.

She welcomed him to her flat. It was a bit cramped, and recently looked like it had be purged and deep cleansed. She was obviously trying to make the best impression.

She took his coat and laid it on her chair as she ushered him to her small corner of kitchen.

As she went to the cupboard to get some glasses, she pointed to her fridge.

“I have wine, tea, vodka, arak, rum. A bit of Jameson left. I’m not an alcoholic, I swear.” She stopped listing.

“I’ll take the Jameson.” He figured the whiskey would be a good choice. Matched his current body.

“Yeah, cool.” She got a wine glass out and an Ikea tumbler from her cupboards. After she poured the wine and got out the Jameson.

“Neat or on the rocks?” She called over.

“Neat.”

“Cool, cool.” She replied, echoing the previous reply…

She also got a vase and poured in some water and jammed the flowers in. It was placed on the table.

“Thanks!” She smiled.

She took a large sip of her nearly-full glass.

“Okay, so, first things first. I’m sorry…yeah. I am…uh…a sex worker. I work in the local brothel. I get tested every three weeks. I’m clean. Yeah, no needs to worry for you. If you can or can’t get diseases. I don’t know.” She confessed and looked down, rubbing the stem of her glass with her thumb and index finger.

“Next, I think…I’m actually in love with you?” She said. “I’m not going to quit the job yet. I need money, and…things are getting so pricey these days…it’s easy-ish money. It allows me flexibility for school. Yeah.” She nodded her head some more. Unable to make eye-contact.

“Lastly, I’m fine with the everything.” She flapped a hand out and pointed broadly. “Yeah, I never thought life…would go this way…aliens are real. I’m with one romantically. And I can work on the incredulity bit. I’m very flexible…yeah…” She nodded her head.

Now this was interesting! A declaration of love and her baring her soul.

He already knew, but opted out of telling her. It would clash with his byline.

Honesty created more secrets…

He cradled her hand in his. “It’s all well and good. We all have our lives. I travel in space and time, tinkering. You, escorting.”

She flushed deeply, he could feel her pulse racing through his hand.

Her face went through an array of emotions before settling on confusion and hope.

Very good.

“I was so worried, what with the stigma, especially after Missy and you talked about your species.” Her other hand curled onto her chest over her heart. “Google isn’t exactly awash with…you know…advice. And I don’t have particularly a group of girlfriends to ask anymore….mnnn.” She smacked her lips together and bit a small piece of dry, scabbed over skin off. It let out the smallest price of blood.

“I’ve put you in an impossible situation.”

She pursed her lips together and sucked in a bit of air. “Yes, you have.” She ended it with a small laugh.

“Just don’t get me killed like the others…” She pleaded in a serious tone.

“Yes, I’ll try.”

She smiled.

“Any plans for the summer?” She did a one shouldered-shrug.

“Probably London for UNIT. Get Nardole to guard the mad lady. I was thinking of taking my TARDIS. But she has a mind of her own. She might drag me off planet…if you want, when you want. I’ll call a car. I’ll hold myself to that promise for you.” He levied.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I miss Petronella.” She blinked.

“Don’t…not go off planet for me. I’ll be good here. Just work and all. Preparing for next term…” She smiled and offered the metaphorical olive branch. “You are from there.” She pointed skyward. “It’d be cruel of me to tie you down.”

“I’m semi-retired.” He reassured her. Then he shifted the frame. “And you? What about you? You deserve a bit of a trip. Where could you go off. The kids love Ibiza! I could use some of that useless money I’ve been-“ He was cut off.

“No, don’t. That makes things between us…tricky. Trickier than now.” She took her free hand and placed it on top of the hand that kept her other hand clasped. “You’re my boyfriend. Question mark. Not my sugar daddy. I’d get a sugar daddy if I wanted one.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Yeah.” The singular word came out of her mouth with an air of authority and behest. Her brows shot up, upper lip on a curve.

“Are you going to the big end-of-terms party that the student union is hosting?” The Doctor probed. “I’ve been asked to play guitar!”

“No, I got to work. I didn’t take that shift week before last. I’m…behind on my finances. I’ve taken up a longer shift next week.” She untangled their hands and pointed at a cork board across the way over her desk. “Bills don’t stop because my boyfriend takes me to London.” She scratched her brow with her ring finger.

“That dress and those shoes were…out of budget.” She rested her chin on her now propped-up palms.

She was always in motion even when she wasn’t.

He felt that on a deeper level.

How alike they has been in regards to that! Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the universe giving him a gift as his reward for countless times saved.

He felt himself believe.

“I do want to hear you play guitar.” She postured and let out a little hitched huff of air.

“Want me to whip up something? Do you want to go out? I can order takeaway too. I should have planned this drink better.” She took a large sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to…entertaining people at home.”

Her eyes got very large, “I think outside of the landlady once, this is the first time anyone’s been here besides me since I moved in…wow.” She fluttered her lashes in a quick, palpable realization.

“I have an air fryer!” She bragged. “Horrible noises, but it makes good food.” She enticed.

“I once made a silent pen for Ibn Rushd. He hated the noise of all writing tools he had. Your air fryer should be a piece of cake!” He got up and started towards it.

“Wait until dinners done.” She said opening up some frozen bags and dumping them in.

She also got out a cast-iron skillet, and began making something in there, delicate chopping and spicing.

“Hey, could you like…heat up the pitas, they’re in the bread box. I usually just toss them in the oven for 5 minutes both sides.”

The Doctor did one better. He used a heating system he pulled from his jacket.

“I can help serve.” He offered.

“Plates are…there.” She pointed as she pulled out the air fryer drawer and tossed it in the pan.

He set the perfect table, all arranged around the flowers he gave her.

He had repeatedly told many before her that he didn’t do domestic. Alas, he was here playing house, assisting in the dinner. Setting the table…

She unceremoniously dumped out.

“I’m no chef. But it’ll taste good. And sustain life.”

“All that matters!” He grinned up at her.

It was a great meal, the Doctor mused. Very good measure of spices and ingredients.

Clean up was her (also unceremoniously…) dumping them in the sink.

“So, dear Professor Doctor. How else will we celebrate.” She sat down in a comfy, squashed chair and tapped beside her on the small chair that faced her. He followed.

“Well, ideas!” He swirled his hands around.

“Ideas.” He mused.

A very human idea came.

He sprung up and kissed her on her neck. He grasped her waist and started to drag her against the side of the chair.

“A good idea?” He pulled back.

“Doctor’s orders.” She quipped as her heart accelerated and she looked at him, her (insert your eye color here, dear reader.) shining with eagerness.

She started trying to rip off his clothes. Kissing his nose and trying to motion both of them to the bed at the other side of the flat.

The mess of limbs found themselves there as they removed clothes and shifted over to the bed.

The tactile nature of this was how he learned that this was the first time she’d had anyone in this particular bed. This was special. It was her sacred space. Her safe place to sleep.

This felt delicious and perverted. He was furthering this all. However, this choice was all her idea. No interference on his part.

She’d chosen him…

She laid herself down for him. She was propped on her elbows and leaned her torso such. Her mind was racing.

He jumped onto the bed. She jumped up.

“Wait.” She went to a bag and got a bottle of lube out. She jumped back on the bed. She squeezed some out onto his shaft and massaged it down to base. She place a small bit in the palm of her hand and slicked it in her folds. She slid back under him and banged the bottle onto her bedside table. Amongst the clutter and the giant water bottle.

“I’m ready, fuck me.” She begged. “Fuck me, please.”

He entered her. His tip surged and reached her cervix. Kissing her forehead as he did the first big thrust, he grasped at her wrists and palms.

She slid herself further down, allowing him to get a better angle. Letting him go deeper. Further. Harder. She moved her arms to a place he could grasp them better.

“Such a good pet.” He grunted. “You’re so good to me, my fawn.” He praised. She wrapped her legs around his ass and thighs as response.

“Th-th-thank you.” She let out.

He hid his smile in a kiss in her hair. He snuck his face down and grazed her jaw with his teeth as he continued to give her firm, hard, quick thrusts. Their stomachs brushing against each other, he gave her breast a grab and teased her nipple with tongue and teeth.

She let out a moan and curled her lips over her tongue and her eyes reactively shut tightly. After a few moments her eyes fluttered open, lashes brushed against lids.

She used her now-free hands and grabbed his face and the waves of his hair. She brought her face up and kissed his face and bit his neck. Suckling gently before making her way back up. She placed one final kiss and let herself go limp and him to take over.

And that he did!

He arched his back down as her eyes rolled back into her skull. The pace picked up and her arms found themselves naturally above her head.

He took the opportunity to bind them in his hands and wrapped his pinkies around her bed frame to keep them both steady.

He felt his cock being worked by the muscles of her walls. Her stomach arched up and over as she worked him with her delicate, well-toned pelvic muscles.

“I’m asking your permission.” The Doctor found himself saying, not entirely of his own volition. “May I fuck you harder? Show you what this old body can do…as an alien?”

She nodded her head and swallowed. She looked a tad unsure and confused. “Sure. Yeah?” He was trying so hard to not enter her mind. Just let her be for once. Enjoy the moment unbridled. But this opportunity was too good not to take…

He saw the verbal cue pool out of her mouth and he entered her mind, flooding it with an overproduction of those precious chemicals: dopamine, oxytocin, adrenalin, endorphins. The entire lot of them…

He kicked his body into high gear. Playing her body with his cock and lips. Brushing, kissing, biting, claiming. He kept her wrists in the manacles that was his hands.

Fucking her so deeply and making her now somewhat-dependent on him.

How could she not become dependent on him now? She was radiating these precious hormones and chemicals that pudding-brained apes needed.

His little fawn, safe by his side. Now his for all eternity. Even if she would never by any volunteer-ship leave Earth. Or risk her life.

Good!

Perfect. More than perfect. This one will never die by his blooded hands.

He could continue moments like these until her heart stopped.

More than good! Perfect!

She was quickly cumming underneath him, her legs still wrapped around him. Her breathing was becoming very shallow and her moans had turned to grunts and groans. Like the animal she was, in rut. Maddened by hormones and thrashing to get him deeper in.

And how could he not be obliged?

He let her have it and when he finally came she started crying.

He felt a stab of regret. Did he go too far?

The Doctor let go of her hands and she immediately grasped in for a hug as he pulled his now-flacid cock out of her cunt.

“No need to cry…” He smiled, kissing her hair. “You did so good for me.” He repeated that line a few times until she became more lucid and he retreated from her mind.

“What was that?” She asked in earnest.

He lied, “I kicked my body into high gear. Like a rabbit wand. Only better.” He would never come clean about his mind games. Not now, especially now…

“I’ve been going easy on you. You’re so…breakable.” He ruffled her hair. “The whole lot of you.” He clarified. “I could go harder, but I won’t. I know the limits.”

He did. And yet he was crossing them even more.

He once asked Clara if he was a good man. He felt like he was at one point, even an excellent man. But now, not so much.

But did it matter?

His little fawn was soaked in sweat and radiant in her hormonal flush. Glowing from her fresh fuck.

Or did they make love? He wondered.

Was it love? Obsession? Or both?

Maybe it was both, on both accounts. From both ways.

He laid his naked body next to hers and she instinctively folded herself into his arms. She grabbed his arms in return and started tracing little patterns on the Doctor’s arms.

She let out a small hiccup.

“Obviously, we can’t do that all the time. But it was great. Yeah?” She concluded.

“Anything you want…” He murmured into the crook of her neck. He planted a small breathy kiss on it.

She drifted off to sleep, still grasping him in their cuddle.

Perfect is as perfect does.

And the Doctor felt he did perfect.

#personal #doctor who #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #12th doctor x you #you x 12th doctor #reader x 12th doctor #self insert #self indulgent #fall from grace #but make it good #me need a lobo #doctor who fanfiction #peter capaldi

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hillbillyoracle · 1 year

Text

Journal Hacking

I’m not sure if this will make sense to anyone else but I wanted to document something I’ve been trying lately with regards to planning/bujo/journaling type things. Even if only so I can go back and see what I did lol.

So I have been bullet journaling in some form on and off since 2014. So it’s been a minute. And while I like it on the whole, it’s just not been working out for me lately. I tried a Hobonichi weeks mega and while I really like some aspects it’s just not enough room for me. My handwriting is not that small.

I ran across a simplified GTD-like system called Ugmonk Analog and I liked the principles (even if I didn’t like the price tag) so I adapted it to my new journal.

Ugmonk’s Analog system has three cards - Today, Next, and Someday. I’m just using notecards I have for this. I put the Today card on my cover with washi tape so I can see it without opening my notebook and easily write things down (my pen is in the loop to the side there).

The Next and the Someday cards - along with some others are in the inside. I made the pocket by taping one of the notecards horizontally and taping the two outside sides.

The long bit of text on the inside cover is the Heart Sutra. I like to write it on notebooks I’ll be using regularly so I pause and reflect on it more regularly.

In addition to Next and Someday cards, I have a blank one for scratch paper and one with my ideal timelines for doing home and personal tasks. The personal side is lacking, I’m kind of in a state of transition on that so I’m unclear what I want to do regularly. The house stuff never happens all the way but I like knowing what I’d like to do when I’m adding tasks to my Today card.

I think my favorite part of this system is the memory keeping part. It’s not super elegant or pretty but on the pack of each today card, I record any notable things about the day on the top (period, mood, fights, symptoms) with a hashtag, the weather, and then I fill the card with what I did that day. It’s been very helpful so far for jogging my memory throughout the week. I like that I can pull them out and see as many as I’d like throughout the week. I plan on digitizing them at the end of the year and keeping the last year as a hard copy.

I keep the card in this little green box. Might decorate it soon.

I don’t really feel like sharing my finished cards so hopefully this gives you an idea. I like that I can see what happened in a day and what I got done on one card.

So yeah, I’m really liking it so far. I still do long form journaling (Morning Pages type things) in the notebook itself. I actually turn it so the short side is on the top and it’s kind of like writing on an A4 sheet of paper. I do that so I don’t start auto rereading old journal entries when I’m flipping through for other stuff. I index and thread anything that isn’t journal entries like I would a normal bullet journal. Right now I have some random notes for subject I’m studying, some pen and paper games I’m playing, and writing notes.

I’m also going to add either an A6 monthly calendar or print my own calendar set up to add to the back pocket for scheduling things in advance. I know everyone uses Google Calendar but I never check mine much. So people can schedule things with me on my Google Cal but my source of truth will be the hard copy.

Some resources I took inspiration from in setting all this up:

- OG Bullet Journal - I’m surprised by how many people I’ve met who don’t know that bullet journaling isn’t just making your own pretty planner but an actual system (no shade to the art journaling folks, I’m just not one of them). When I say I use bullet journaling, this is what I’m using. Check for some of his more recent videos if you like it, he’s updated it.

- Ugmonk Analog - slightly expanded to-do list system on paper; the product seems nice but they’ve actually been very supportive of people making their own knockoff versions for personal use which is cool to see

- Everbook - I think if I had more to juggle, I’d upgrade to something like this system. This guy has so many neat ideas sprinkled throughout the channel. He also really supports people making their own version. Love a good open source ethos.

Anyways - hope this helps someone!

#journal #bullet journal #studyblr #journaling #bujo #ugmonk analog #analog #everbook #index cards #memory keeping #organization #sorry for the lighting #i literally live in my parents basement

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noonmutter · 2 months

Text

Development

DWC Feb 2024 Day 2: Suppress/Pastel

Stromgarde Keep--Terry mused that they probably ought to start calling it Stromgarde Castle, these days calling it a keep felt a bit like calling a dreadnaught a boat--was still new enough that parts of it almost shined under the afternoon sun. He'd spent just long enough in the gloomy, rainy climate of his homeland that he wasn't used to that anymore, and it took him a minute or two to figure out why. He had nothing against the place, its people, or anything else; the brightness and the odd newness of all the construction just set him on edge. As he strode along the walkways toward one of the buildings just off the keep itself, he reflected that he was probably going to feel that way about most of Gilneas in the coming years.

His boots clicked audibly on the cobbles of the pathway, and that added to the unease. Terry Ambroce was farm folk, a street slag, a degenerate; his boots should've been awful, worn, silent things that looked moments away from a trip to the rubbish bin but did their job beautifully. Instead, the fuckers announced his arrival before the secretary had a chance to stand up. The nondescript building had been converted, or possibly just actually become used for its intended purpose as a clerking office, and people dressed in their finest inexplicably-drab-even-under-direct-sunlight Gilnean suits bustled back and forth between one anothers' desks. Stacks of papers in all sorts of quality and condition were everywhere, but Terry noted there were no single sheets drifting across the floor, and no ink spatters on anything.

It was chaos, but it was organized chaos. Sort of, anyway.

"Sergeant Ambroce to see you, Mister Rumpole."

Terry suppressed a snort at the name. It was aggressively Gilnean, teetering on the edge of being too silly to say aloud. Or hear, in his case, but he was not immune to being a childish idiot. He was saved by the sounds of shuffling paper growing suddenly much louder as a fellow who carried himself like a much larger, heavier man rose from his desk to approach.

Much like everything else about his day so far, Terry was not accustomed to being greeted by an outstretched hand rather than a fist holding a weapon. It took him just a second or so longer than the average person might have to react the appropriate way, and he still fumbled a little bit when he grasped the man's wrist instead of his hand. It was a painfully soldier thing for him to do, but Terry had, despite himself, become a soldier at some point.

Mr. Rumpole rallied easily enough and responded in kind, then huffed a short, but nonetheless genuine, laugh. "Of course, I should've thought about that. I promise, you'll find no knives on me, mate, but if you notice a fountain pen anywhere, do let me know. I've been trying to find my favorite and I'm all but certain Jenkins stole it. Egg'd be on my face if he didn't, but at least I'd have it back, eh?"

Terry chose not to tell him he'd spotted six different possible missing inkpens sticking out of all the bits and bobs on the desk he'd left behind, and simply nodded. "'Ave y' considered filin' cabinets, by any chance? Fer th' mess?"

"Oh, surely!" Rumpole turned and led Terry back to his desk, lifting stacks of books and scrolls and parchment out of his way and setting them gingerly back down exactly as they'd been before. "And by the time we actually get them here, we'll be hearing a few offices have finally been cleared up in the city proper, you know how it goes. No, no, we're making do with what we've got, same as we always have, eh?"

He didn't want to, but Terry was already starting to like this man, and that seemed dangerous. He was clearly a lawyer, maybe even a proper barrister once upon a time, and likeable lawyers were tricky. Coming to a stop at the edge of Rumpole's apparent desk, Terry almost asked whether he was supposed to sit, but Rumpole answered that question for him when he grabbed a thin file from another stack and gestured to be followed again.

They made their way to the back of the building, a thankfully much quieter part of the building, though Terry saw that as a warning as much as anything. Not many ways out if this really was all some elaborate ambush. But, Rumpole shouldered open the door at the end of the hall to reveal nothing more insidious than a simply-appointed private office. Which, really, was insidious enough on its own. The light coming through the windows was pleasant enough, and the smell of old paper was mild enough to actually be appreciated, rather than feeling assaulted by it. The furniture, unlike almost everything else in the keep as a whole, carried the air of age around it, despite being immaculate and polished.

Rumpole set the file down and gave the dark, gleaming wood a fond pat, grinning as he nodded Terry toward the chair on the opposite side. "Gorgeous, isn't she? I may not have been the richest man in my firm, but you can bet I went for the niceties when I could afford them! Sadly, she's not my old one. I suspect that's been wrecked along with the rest of the firm, but we'll cross that bridge when we chase the monsters out from under it, eh?"

Terry could only nod. He wasn't quite as unnerved as he'd been when he arrived, but that left him heading directly toward confused, instead. What the hell was he doing in a barrister's office?

"So! You've already got my name, and I've already yours, and we both know you got our Queen's fascinating correspondence or you wouldn't be here, so I won't waste your time going over all that again. I do still have to observe the usual niceties and thank you for your time, of course; I've been doing plenty of reading about you, Sergeant, and nothing seemed more offensive than taking up your time away from your expansive family, eh?"

Ah. This. Terry had seen this plenty of times from the outside, when people were talking to blue-bloods or high ranking officers and the like. It was downright wierd to have it aimed directly at him: The man was buttering him up for something. "I appreciate th' speed-through introduction, mate, but as y' so clearly already know, I was kinda keen on surprisin' my kids by pickin' 'em up from school t'day. No offense t' you, o' course, but kin y' skip t' th' point?"

Another bark of laughter preceded a small flurry of movement as Rumpole untied the twine binding the file, withdrawing a surprising number of sheets from the battered leather folder and spreading them out not unlike a casino dealer would playing cards. "Fair play to you, Sergeant! Well, let's see here..." Turning his back to his guest, he reached up to the sparsely-filled shelves behind the desk and pulled down a much larger, rolled-up scroll that was easily recognizable as a map. As he spoke, he unrolled it to reveal a large portion of Gilneas, laid out in odd, mostly-rectangular shapes with numbers and notes all over each one.

An estate map? What are they trying to pin on me now?

To his frustration, Terry couldn't make out the legend properly from where he was seated without moving the map himself, and Rumpole was already--still--talking.

"As you're obviously aware, Gilneas was finally declared a safe zone, though of course there are still all those pocket skirmishes and little border incursions…"

And now the confusion was giving way to annoyance. "I 'elped clear a fair number o' those pockets. Yes, I'm aware."

"Right, well!" Rumpole had the decency to look suitably chastised, recognizing he was starting to prattle even after he'd skipped a good portion of the prattling already. "Straight to it, Sergeant: My colleagues all across the kingdoms have seen the writing on the wall and, more importantly, on paper, and gathered all the records that still remain intact enough to have standing." He waved one hand toward the closed door to indicate the mass of papers and fellow lawyers just beyond. Then, he placed one finger squarely on a specific point on that map.

Terry's eyes widened as he sorted out where precisely it was.

"I was given the unique honor to be the one to inform you that your family's stead is one of those lucky few. If you wish to claim it, of course. Our recently crowned queen has declared anybody that shows valid claim has, in layman's terms, dibs. Standard post-war repatriation; there's a bit of a shortlist for whatever's left of the noble houses, the officers, and the notables. I suppose you can sort out where you fell on that list, eh?"

"I--my--...wot? Notable?"

"You are the Lighthound, aren't you?"

Terry blinked.

"Sir, I am a barrister. I do research."

"Right, yeah, sorry, I... 'oly shit."

Terry's thoughts were going entirely too fast for him to catch up with, but when they all went in circles, they all eventually wound up in the same place. It was just a matter of waiting them out, and Rumpole, sensing an opportunity to give his prepared presentation, seized on the moment. Though he was still technically listening, Terry spent the majority of that time studying the map. Now that he had a reference point he could work from, the other plots around his family's ranch clicked into place. His neighbors, to the best of his knowledge, were all dead.

Except for the two.

Declan Diggs' father had run a respectably-sized distillery, owed mostly to Big Diggs' love of vodka, of all things. Made him a bit wierd to everyone else--Gilneans were mostly scotch, whisky, and bourbon people--but growing potatoes had only been the start. They were easy to grow, hard to kill, and turned into strong booze, so Big Diggs was all over it. Terry remembered hearing his buddy talk about how his dad was looking at getting a few fruit trees transplanted to try and branch out--gods, Diggs thought he was so fuckin' funny--into wine, but then everything had gone to absolute shit, and Big Diggs didn't make it out alive.

Smits' parents had devoted a ton of time and effort to clearing their own land of stone before he'd been born. The Mathers family had made a killing selling it to various quarries and sculptors, and then turned around and got that crappy dirt worked into good growing soil. By the time Smits was old enough to walk, he was already an accomplished stone-picker, and by the time they were going to school together, Smits already had tons of ideas and plans to get out of Gilneas, see the world, and most importantly, make tons of money and make a name for himself. Much like Terry, he hadn't been clear on what sort of name he wanted to make, he'd just known he'd wanted to make one.

They were all supposed to be big shots, making big shit happen, together. But they weren't, and only some of that had been Terry's fault. He'd already known, from the moment he'd found out what they'd done to him--what they'd tried to do to his family--that they didn't deserve to be forgiven.

But the people they'd been, the friends he'd once known, didn't deserve to be forgotten, either.

"...wish to re-stake the claim, the Crown would be happy to purchase the land back from you for a tidy sum. You could also grant ownership to another party, if you've got someone in m--"

"Where do I sign."

"Eh? Oh! Of course, just here, here, and..."

"And I want first biddin' rights on any o' th' adjacent steads, if their owners give 'em up or don't 'ave sufficient records. These two 'ere," Terry thumped his finger down on the Diggs and Mathers steads in turn, "Their last livin' fam'ly members are in prison fer treason, among other thin's. I doubt they'll want or be able t' claim it. Let me know about those as y' can…"

Terry and Rumpole spent almost an hour discussing the details. After that, Rumpole took advantage of Terry's damn near photographic memory to help sort out some plots they'd had a lot of trouble identifying. By the time they'd gotten too close to the cities for him to be of use anymore, Terry realized another hour had gone by on top of that, and he'd long since missed the window to surprise his kids at school.

It was time to go home.

( @daily-writing-challenge )

#and so arrives terry #my writing #dwc #waxing crescent #stay tuned for the fun part

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stardancerluv · 7 months

Text

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Part 5

Summary: Prince Paul is married.

Notes/Warning: I read and I imagined the wedding…and celebrations that would commence. I also added a dash of what I’d like to imagine. Please do not take it for at all historically accurate. I used Almond Blossoms for fertility, Red Lilies for Passion & Love, Peonies for Marriage. Dated concepts of marriage.

You can still imagine the dynamic between Paul and reader. I just thought it would be cute that now without shoes and/or boots, that she is a lot shorter

18+ only please. Consensual. P in V sex. Paul takes reader’s virginity. I make reference to how he may eventually be more dommy & his temper.

Once again…ty so much for reading. ❤️s and reblogs are very appreciated. Along with any comments/feedback! Enjoy!

His fingers grazed your gloved ones. His breath caught in his throat at this brief moment that transpired. Your pinkies entwined. Your eyes met, exhaled and your fingers separated.

“May safety and health be on your side as you travel home.”

You turned, your lips gave him the gentlest of smiles. “Your words bring warmth to my heart. They will help in travels.”

*******

The air was crisp, leaves chased each other like the letters the two of you sent each other.

….with this being our final letter my beloved.

I look forward to the day, when I am able to finally lift your vail on our wedding day.

May these final days fly on the wings of a hawk.

With relish, he put his quill back into the inkwell. A smile played on his lips as he sealed with wax and had it sent off.

The next few days did indeed fly by. The last stitches were made in his wedding coat. The buttons were polished. His boots were as well.

Soon opulent banquets, balls were held. The festivities were held. All of it was terribly exciting, yet he yearned for the day; you would finally be man and wife.

******

As he laid against the bath, his heart thudded hard in his chest. His excitement consumed him. The warm stones pulled a sigh from him as he allowed himself to relax. The eucalyptus filled the air, clearing his mind. A small smiled played on his lips. He would be fresh and clean for you, his wife. He looked forward to this new chapter in his life.

******

He combed down his unruly short curls, while eyeing his reflection. Everything, looked sharp. This would be a good look for a portrait. He will have to call on the artist and have him do a portrait of you and him in the grand hall.

******

Murmurs filled the air. They grew louder when he turned and saw you approach with your mother and father. Relatives, dignitaries and various members of the court filled the room. Though, you stood truly apart from all of it. You were so beautiful.

Soon the priest led the two of you. Your hands were bound and the crowns were placed, the ceremonial prayers were spoken. His promise you from the depths of his heart were finally said aloud. Hearing your promise and words of loved filled him with joy.

Lifting your veil, his heart beat even faster as his eyes met yours. He would never tire of looking into them. Gently, he lifted your chin and inhaling he placed a kiss on your lips.

******

The rest of the night was a blur of food and vodka. You both had twirled about the room. He had relished the feel of having his arm finally wrapped around your middle. Your warmth and softness felt so good against him. You giggled and shared smiles the entire night. He was also grateful that your ladies in waiting, finally appeared to be enjoying themselves.

*******

In the blur of the vodka and all the food, voices of excitement bounced off the walls of the estate. During, which he was grateful that during the festivities he had been able to loose his bothersome wig. He hated pinning it to his short curls. It was a touch of formality that irked him.

His friends and servants formed their own little group as did your friends and servants and together they bounced the two of you around. Smiles, twinkles in the eyes and laughter joined and became one between you and him.

As the candles melted to half strength, half their height, he found himself along with you and all your companions being moved to his private chambers. He gad been warned this would happened. He hoped you had been too. The pain was still fresh when he saw how violated you had felt after the physician had seen you. He would never want you to experience that ever again. He didn’t know exactly when the time came, but it was time to head to his chambers.

He drew close to you, in the fuzziness of his vodka and food, he whispered you what he had been told was expected. He brushed aside a wisp of your hair.

“Love, we climb in and pull the blankets up to our waists. That should be more then enough.”

Your eyes shone and your cheeks, was dusted in a darker hue of red. He knew some was from the merriment. But it was also from the words he spoke.

“Ya.” Your German snuck out for the briefest of moments as you said yes. But then soon glancing away before glancing back him you nodded. “Yes, that shall be fine. Our life is on the cusp of several new traditions.”

He nodded. Inwardly he sighed. You spoke of what both of you knew as your future together. “Maybe if you allow I shall give you a kiss and then they all with hope in my heart finally leave and give us time finally for just the two of us. If that is alright with you?”

“Yes, that would be wonderfully pleasant.”

*******

He let his entourage of companions move him. Your hands finally parted and soon you met each other’s eyes over the expanse of the large bed. His and your personal servants pulled aside the blankets. He took a breath, his life would never be the same after this. He would be a husband, one day a father and soon king of his great nation. Russia is and always will be above all else.

Sitting down, his servant stopped him and removed his boots. As he felt the bed give as you sat down on the other side of the bed, he glanced at you over his shoulder. His heart thudded harder.

Soon, both of you sat back he noticed they had undid the laces on your shoes as well. You both sat with your backs against the headboard. He reached out and took your glover hand. A sigh came from him as he felt you interlace your fingers.

Looking at you, he was about to speak when his door whispered open. Young women, he recognized from court and the like carried baskets filled with flowers. Then a silence fell over the room like a candle’s light being snuffed out as his mother walked in.

“May your marriage bed be blessed. May these flowers bless my son, Paul and his wife.”

Soon he watched as the young women with a gentle air scattered the petals of peonies, red lilies and almond blossoms that he had all seen being grown in the various gardens. Some were new transplants in the gardens. They had prickled his interest but figured it had been something his mother fancied and didn’t bother asking. Now it all made sense.

The petals fell here and there. Some fell on him, on you. Though neither of you moved to shrug them off. Though it certainly added an more colorful array in the room.

Once the girls were finished scattering the flowers, his mother clapped her hands the sharp sound, like thunder brought all eyes to her once again.

“Now, be loving and fruitful. May you consummate your wedding, your union.”

With a swish of her dress, she left and soon did the others. It was his private servant who he had for as long as he could remember give the final bow and closed the door.

His heart was beating harder then when he was crowned prince. He never had to worry about another. Now he did. Not letting go of your hand, he turned towards you; he saw how the flower petals had definitely fell upon you.

As your eyes met a soft laugh came from you. You brought a hand up to try and stifle it. Its sound and the twinkle in your eyes made his stop racing and it skipped.

Reaching, gently he pulled your hand away. “Don’t I like the sound of your laugh.” His voice after all the merriment and cheers was just above a whisper.

You flushed. “As you wish, my dear husband.”

He felt a tremble course through you as he still held your hand. He pressed his lips together.

“Beloved.”

He stopped. The word blossomed in his mouth but felt very good. Glancing, he saw the familiar pink dusting your cheek he had grown to enjoy seeing. He continued.

“If you wish to call me that you shall but you can call me Paul as well.”

You smile and nod. “I will enjoy hearing you call me beloved.” Your smile grew. “I shall see what comes from my heart.”

“I shall look forward to seeing how your heart speaks to me.”

He found himself moving closer to you. Some of the petals, fell in front of his eyes. He gave you a half smile, raising his eyebrows.

“Am I covered?“

You nod and you finally move closer.

It wasn’t long before you both were gently removing petals from here and there. Sharing a look, you both smiled as you realized how the petals had truly been rained down on the two of you.

As he looked at you, more then ever before did he want to kiss you. During the ceremony, it had not been enough.

“Beloved, would permit me to kiss you ?”

“Please.”

Gently, he cupping your soft cheek he easily caressed it with his thumb. “You are so beautiful.” He murmured and brought his lips to yours.

Soon he felt as your body was pressed against his. It felt so right, far better then anything he could have imagined.

With not a thought he reached up and winced. One of your hair pins pricked him. You parted, and she took your wounded hand.

“Oh, I am so sorry. Those pins can be horrible things.” His heart skipped once more as you placed a soft kiss on his wounded finger. “Shall I remove these dreadful things?”

He nodded. “Yes, though I do enjoy you holding my hand so.”

“I shall not be long.”

Going to one of his small tables he watched you. It dawned on him you were shorter then he realized. Your shoes had given you some height. It made him chuckle when he did, you paused.

“Yes, my dear husband ?”

Getting up then, he strode over. Seeing the difference then, he was amused.

“I never realized how much taller I was.”

“Oh? Oh!” You glanced at the mirror. “Yes, you are quite tall.”

“I am.” He was very amused.

Glancing down at your hair, he saw just how twisted and twined. It was lovely but now that he focused on it. He saw the complexity of it. “Shall I risk being wounded again and help you?”

“Only if you wish it? My lady in waiting showed me how to do and undo my hair.”

“Handy for when she is not around.”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Soon bejeweled pins, silken ribbons were in a small pile. Your hair fell in soft waves down your back. It was a lovely as the rest of you.

Gently, having seen it in paintings and even read it in stories, he pulled you close. Soon your lips met once again. So soft. Distantly, he could taste the sweets you had enjoyed over the course of the celebrations.

******

Easily far easier then he had expected he shed his most of his clothes and found himself laying beside you. Clad, in only his undershirt and breeches he marveled at finally seeing the silhouette of your curves that were a shadow under your chemise.

His passions had been steadily growing, though he didn’t want to cause you any distress. The afternoon, when the physician had inspected you in such a cold, reserved manner still caused a chill in him.

He eased himself up onto his elbow. “Beloved. It is not because of our duty or even tradition, though I do hold those very dear.”

He gently ran his fingers along your arm that rested on your side. “I wish I could have learned, grew along his side but I did not. However, I do wish you to know that ever since I saw you. My heart took flight.”

“Oh, Paul it was the same for me.” By surprise you took his hand and your soft lips on his knuckles made little blossoms of pleasure bloom within in him.

“Then shall we became one tonight and forever?” He tilted his head and met your eyes.

“Yes, till the end.”

He climbed and settled between your legs. With your help, he brought your chemise to your waist. Once you were free of your undergarment, you gently shook. He paused.

“Beloved ?”

You looked away.

“Don’t look away from me. I am your husband.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. His voice came out harsher then he expected.

Your eyes were big as you looked back at him.

“I had not meant to sound so angry.” He grimaced. “I am just as nervous as you are. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I understand softly. I am just scared it will hurt.” You admitted.

“I won’t let happen or last. We are together forever, I us to have a union of love.”

The hatred and angst his mother had rained down on him was not what he wanted with you. He was already so fond of you

“Then, yes let us become one.”

He shook himself as he finally opened his breeches and released his arousal. His stomach knotted the more as his need for you grew.

Bracing himself on the bed beside you, he leaned in close. “Perhaps, if we share a a kiss, our union won’t bring as much pain.” He softly suggested, meeting your eyes.

The kiss had felt so good. It would surely lessen any effect of him filling you and making the two of you one.

“Yes, lets try.” You whispered back.

Gently, he rubbed himself against you. Thoughts of coming undone right there was almost possibly. It was by far of the best things he had ever felt in his life. Distantly he became aware that you clung onto him made him feel so powerful.

It only made the sensation of him gently sliding into you better as he kissed you. Blinking, he looked at you as he felt you tremble; your breathes were hard and hot but they were followed by eager kisses he tried to desperately meet. Once he was enveloped by you he paused to gather his breath and make sure you were ok.

“Beloved.” Though he meant it to be a question it came out more of a statement for the pleasure that throbbed around his arousal.

“I’m good. It hurt but its much better now.”

He rested his forehead against yours gently. “As you wish.”

He began to move then. Sounds came from you and him, they also became one. He felt as you tightened below him making him really see you once again through the haze of his pleasure. Your grip tightened before fluttered around his member, and soon he lost what little control he had managed to hold onto, and he soon called out a mixture of your name and the pet name that became so normal for him in such a short amount of time. He emptied himself inside of you. Gasping he melted against your softness. And soon with a strangled, pleasure filled breath he managed to then settle beside you for worry of crushing or hurting. He laid their panting. His curls and body soaked in sweat.

*******

Later, the candles having burned low. He found you nestled against him and soundly asleep. It was alien to him but you were so soft, and beautiful and he enjoyed the sight, it made his heart swell. He managed to pull up a blanket and cover the two of you before falling back into the velvety blackness of sleep.

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @amethyst-serenade

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callmelyc · 10 months

Text

Written for Twitter julance:

#2023JuLance

Week 1: Sharpshooter, Part 1- The Birth of a Name

If anyone on this planet had looked up they'd think lance was a shooting star. Blue lighting up the night as she hurled down to the planets surface to crash-land like a meteor in the night

And now here lance was hiding in the desert rock formations watching galra swarm the wreckage. It's just his luck to not only be separated from the others but to also have fallen smack dab into the center of a galra invaded planet.

"Shit-" lance curses watching them poke and prod at his baby blue from a safe distance but he knew he wasn't in any shape to fight right now and he sure as hell didn't want to be a prisoner. He'd barely spotted them to begin with with his head injury and all making his vision spin.

Just when he thinks the soldiers might turn to come his direction lance feels a small hand touch his own. It takes everything in him to not full body flinch and risk blowing his cover so he holds his breath.

He glances down slowly.

And is surprised to come face to face with a small....gecko?...looking closer lance thinks they remind him a lot of the Geico mascot but large enough to be a small child. They're about three feet tall, pastel yet colored like an oil spil when the sunlight bounces off their scales. It's honestly pretty mesmerizing to look at he could admit, if only his head wasn't swimming and everything hurt-

Stop it lance ur getting off track!

"Uh...hello?" Lance whispers warily only earning a smile from the little creature.

"Hello! I am selkie!" They say brightly "please follow me"

"W-wait I don't even kno-" but his protest fall quiet as his hand is taken in a surprisingly strong grip and he's pulled through tunnels that exist through the cliff sides. Selkie stays quiet throughout their trek and though lance had the second thought to fight the alien off he felt it was safer to trust this geico mascot over the galra anyday.

So here he is in a tightly fitted cave following behind someone smaller than pidge noting that every change in lighting causes selkies skin to shift both in pattern and color. It's....very distracting and it's not until they come to a stop that lance realized he didn't watch their path here.

"You are safe here!" Selkie says proudly looking up at lance with the cutest smile drawing him out of his own head and back to attention.

He glances up to take survey of the location only to find them still inside the cave system it's just a dead end "where are we?"

"The caverns" a new voice announces causing lance to finally be more on edge yet turns to see another small gecko alien of the same height as selkie "it is the only place the galra cannot navigate. Their large stature causes them to get stuck in the tunnel systems."

Oh. Well that makes sense lance thinks "and you are...?"

"I am Lorix, I am the leader of the Gekkota people." Lorix squints at lance taking in his stature "are you of the crashed vessel?"

"Oh you mean Blue? Yeah a mission gone wrong I was separated from my team and crashed here" lance watches how Lorix reacts to this for a moment deeming him a little trustworthy "My name is Lance, I'm the Blue Paladin of Voltron"

Lorixs eyes widen just a fraction "Voltron is real?"

"Yep! And it's our job to help where we can so-" lance kneels down to be eye level with the two "why don't ya tell me a bit about your galra problem."

As it turns out the skin shift wasn't just for show nor their small stature. The Gekkota people are known to be able blend into their surroundings through color reflection off their scales. That paired with their ability to fit into small tight spaces meant they could be practically invisible intruders and the galra wanted them for forced spy work.

"When they overtook the planet most fled into these caverns to hide-" selkie added before turning somber "they have started to flush us out through poisons, we fear they may result to other means soon"

As he watched these two share their story lance had already known hed help them but looking at them now only solidified his resolve.

"Hey-" he says into the silence gaining both their attention "how far up do these tunnels go?"

~*~

Lance finds himself learning the cave tunnels over the next day and a half because if his plan was gonna work he needed all the pieces in place perfectly. As it turns out the tunnel systems go all the way to the top and deep into the ground below the base surface level. It reminded him a lot of how ant farms or burrow systems might look: tight passageways, circular dead ends, and hundreds of interconnected pathways.

The point is it's easy to get lost and he doesn't wanna die down here especially if he's aiming to help these people by fending off the galra as they come.

So he's memorized the paths he needs, he knows the positions he'll switch between like the back of his hand. The galra won't ever spot him and they'll be falling before they get the chance. It's more ruthless than he's used to being, but lance was alone here and he had an entire planet of innocent people to help. you can bet your ass he was gonna do it by any means necessary.

Lance sit here now waiting for his moment to act. There's specific times the galra will send out people to do the rounds in an attempt to capture more of the people here and with blue close by they might even be looking for him. Little do they know lance won't let them get that far.

He's crouching in his first position atop the left cliffside just out of sight, Bayard drawn and formed into a sniper rifle. When the first galra patrol comes into view he lets them get a little too close just to make sure they don't catch on too quickly.

A deep breath

In and out

Three shots fired in quick succession followed by three bodies hitting the ground. The bombs they'd had in their hands go off but this time no one in the caverns is fighting the poison.

Score 1 for Lance and 0 for the Galra.

This continues over the course of the next three days, galra appear each group growing larger than the previous and lance strikes them down one by one from altering positions so they never spot him.

He rotates the choices, ya know to spice things up a bit, really lay on the confusion and he knows he's winning because they've grown increasingly more frustrated.

The galra attacks grow more violent too, they've gone from smoke bowms filled with poison to flat out trying to crumble the caves themselves. Eventually they switch it up from simple small patrol groups to full on fleets of galra and sentry combined, both more heavily equipped.

So he switches his tactics too, lance doesn't let any get close if he can help it. He's shooting from further away now, further than he thought himself capable of hitting his mark, but with every shot fired he never fails to hit it like a bullseye. The moment he sees them in the distance, the moment he can tell it's an enemy and not an innocent bystander he lines his rifle and takes his shot.

His cover provided Selkie and Lorix with the time and safety to gather more of their people into the same tunnels as well as gather more needed provisions. It also allowed for Intel gathering.

"They have grown weary of you Paladin Lance" Lorix says one day during a down period "you have taken so much of their forces here they had to request for backup"

Lances alien sandwich falls from his hand "backup?"

"Yes! They seem to have contacted a secondary fleet in a neighboring galaxy-" he says between chews "we are a dead zone, the only life in this galaxy exist here so they did not think to send more aid until you arrived."

"Yes yes!" Selkie adds "there is much radio chatter about the missing blue paladin. They do not have the equipment to move your crashed vessel but with the backup they seem hopeful in gathering it"

Lance let's that information sinks in while continuing to eat his previously dropped sandwich-dont judge him!- before his mind zeros in on one part "did you say there was radio chatter about me?"

"That is correct, from various sources it seems" Lorix confirms with a nod "some galra some otherwise-"

Lance grips lorixs tiny shoulders "otherwise?? Did you happen to catch any names or descriptions? Do you know what they were saying?"

"Ah- well," he says seeming to think it over "there was a mention of a coalition? And a princess Allura looking for a blue paladin"

"Oh thank god-" he sighs "that's my team, if they can get a signal they can give us backup."

Selkie and Lorix exchange glances before frowning "how will we do that?"

Lance looks back at them pausing to think it over for a minute and smirks "actually....I have an idea"

~*~

It's nightfall when they choose to act, lance knows for a fact they've stationed a heavily armed set of guards around Blue and he also knows she has her particle varried up and loaded. So all he needs to do is get in just close enough to phase through it, run in, set off her emergency signal for his team and hightail it out of there.

First things first though, the guards.....

There's surprisingly only three sentries but for some reason this really sets lance on edge. Something doesn't feel right about this but he can't back out now. He takes his stance, sends a small hang signal to Lorix and Selkie who are on standby and runs out into the open guns ablaze.

It's the first sentry getting shot down that tells lance what's wrong. They were decoys, once shot they send off a visual signal while simultaneously blowing up, which lance found out the fun way.

Aka getting thrown back a few hundred feet and gaining yet another head injury.

Fighting to get back up he knows he has to work fast, that signal couldn't have been anything good, so lance runs. He runs as fast as he can dodging the best he can when the remaining sentries charge towards him because if he can just get to blue she'll let him in.

He feels her weak energy reach out to him and smiles.

He can do this.

Throwing himself into a clean slide he slips right under the final sentry and luckily right through blues partial barrier that flies back up the moment lance is safely inside.

"that's my girl!" Lance cheers climbing back into the safety of her hull.

"I know your hurt baby girl but don't worry-" he pats her side gently while sifting through things to get to the emergency panel "I'll get the team right on it"

Lance works the fastest he can through the dizziness, sets off the SOS signal and does a repeat of his initial fight only this time to leave. It's a narrow escape made possible only by the help of Selkie who manages to trip a sentry into another just long enough for them to get back into the underground.

They move quickly for a bit only deeming themselves safe once back to the center "what do we do now paladin?" Lorix ask worried "the beacon the sentry sent us worrisome-"

"I know" lance sighs "the only thing we can do now is wait. I'll take watch, hold em off as long as I can and hope my team catches the distress signal fast enough..."

Selkie puts a reassuring hand on his arm "you are not alone in this fight paladin lance, we can do what we are best at-" she smiles at him and it clicks "if you are a ghost to them, then so shall we be"

The battle that ensues is a tough one, lance positioned at the highest possible point sniping down enemy after enemy while the Gekkoas work from the ground camouflaging themselves so quickly it confuses the galra enough to be taken down by them. Together they make a deadly team, moving in silence and to the galra invisible the waves that hit them go down like rain.

By the time daylight has arrived on the final day, Voltron arrives and gives a helping hand. They're quick to pickup on lances strategy and in less than an hour they've finally freed the planet Euble and all it's people.

And with their victory lance can finally rest.

~*~

"Sir, we have a report" a large galran says to his commander.

The commander turns, his frown a permanent fixture yet he doesn't glance up from his small device "What is it Vox?"

"It's about Euble, the ghost won sir. They have been freed with the aid of Voltron."

The device in the commanders hand snaps in his crushing grip, the frown turning into a snarl "What?!"

Silence hangs heavy before the commander turns to hit his fist angrily on the nearest wall "we have to report this to the main fleet-"

A com system appears, a video transmission going through before a higher ranking officer picks up the call "what is it Commander Krox?"

"Euble has fallen, The Ghost Rite won"

An angry tsk can be heard through the screen "and who is this Ghost Rite that took down all your men?"

"The sniper of Voltron..... The Blue paladin"

#lance vld #vld lance #voltron #bamf lance #julance #this came from twitter im sorry if it reads weird #im teaching myself how to write fics be gentle with me

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skittlewaffle · 9 months

Text

Different Flavors of Daycare Attendants (WIP maybe ??)

PLEASE NOTE that I do not read fics a lot and certainly don’t know everything. These are just general headcanons about the Daycare Attendant placed into categories! Personally my view is a mix of a good handful of every category

But yes this was all made for fun because I have brainrot. I’ll keep adding to this post or make a part two if this is something people enjoy, and I’m happy to accept any help! I know there are plenty more headcanons that I don’t have under categories yet.

… Some sections were rushed because I just wanted to post this before Ruin comes out and the Biblically Accurate section gets muddled.. haha. JUST,, enjoy !!!

Canon

Sun

Unhinged

Potentially partially virused, though it’s generally assumed not

Theatrical antics

Probably overdramatic on purpose / playing his theater role but in a child care setting

LIGHTS ON!!

Overbearing, offputting, and loud

Stickler for rules and cleanliness

Keeps daycare clean and organized, but not himself or his room

Might not be restricted to daycare out of frame, but implications are present that he may be lonely

It’s unclear if he and Moon have a connection in their headspace, but it is sometimes assumed they don’t

Probably unaware of Moon’s virused state

Moon

Silly gremlin

Fully virused

Theatrical antics amplified; evil stage persona is more literal

Naptime protocol amplified; what feels to him like putting people to sleep is actually killing people

Childcare and entertainment programming still seems functional

Creepy

Loves to stalk, dance, and play pretend

Shares Sun’s obsession with rules and cleanup

Strong enough to knock out a Glamrock

Seems quite lightweight

Sounds like he has a built-in, broken music box ??

* HEADCANON: Has a different mode meant to reflect the gentler character he appears to be in the Moondrop candy advertisements, instead of his theater villain role

Anxious boys

Sun

Restricted to daycare, refuses to take even a single step out

Doesn’t know what he’s doing

Scares or hurts the kids on accident, proceeds to freak out over it

Weak to compliments and praise; he just wants to do a good job

Needs affirmation, stat

Will 100% fall in love with anyone who is consistently nice to him

Acts like a kicked puppy when spoken to sternly, lectured, or yelled at

Lets people walk all over him

Constant fidgeting

Stutters a lot

Stressed OUT

Constantly at his breaking point; help him

Moon

Self-conscious about his naturally creepy looks and mannerisms

Bad first impressions

Often keeps a distance, watching from afar

Uses few words

Wishes to be liked

A kid likes him? His child now.

Sad to see them go :(

Rather graceful, slow movements that give him eerie vibes

Tends to word things in ways that sound like red flags (like offering candy in a shady area), but doesn’t quite realize it

False reputation amongst patrons

Many complaints from parents for his bad vibes

Heavily misjudged; really means no harm

Wet napkin

Likes to dance on his wire; keeps him busy when he can’t socialize

Will perform many tricks for people who do become his friend

Never forgets anyone who is kind to him in even one instance

Confident boys / high experience DCA

Sun

Practically built for childcare; knows what to do in pretty much every situation

Loved by all the children

Social towards everyone, no matter how stubborn or closed off they may be

Manages to put a smile on all faces

Really not afraid of drawing attention or being embarrassing if it means making a child happy

Always knows just what to say

Very helpful to new employees

Might step outside the Daycare from time to time

Reads faces very well, in adults and children

Capable of disobeying protocols for more serious reasons

MUCH more observant than you think

Roasts Karens lol

Moon

Is both the Naptime Attendant and a nighttime security bot

Many children want to cuddle with him during nap time

Has a ton of patience

Especially loves getting to hold babies

Very protective of the little ones

The most feared security in the entire Pizzaplex

Takes his job as security bot very seriously; loves his job as a childcare worker

High Tech

DCA has many upgrades

Still very versatile and could be upgraded more

AI advanced enough to be considered eligible for human rights

Movements, speech, and feelings are very realistic, almost not robotic at all

Can experience human senses (smell, touch, etc.)

Softer casing to simulate a more human feel

Can blush and cry tears, but not bleed (unless it’s oil in their machinery)

Feels pain and temperature, and is ticklish

Can get overstimulated and feel disgust at certain textures

Has certain mannerisms that could classify them under certain diagnosable human conditions or mental disorders (which they technically aren’t; the diagnoses are worded for us humans to better understand and relate to)

Cannot get sick and doesn’t need to eat or breathe, but can pretend to

Has eyelids, lips, tongue, and movable facial features to emote better

Acts sleepy or drunk when low on battery, and genuinely feels like that

Has a simulated heartbeat and breathing

Waterproof

Multipurpose

Perfectly capable of obtaining a PHD

Seems to have built-in tools for almost anything, mostly for human health and first aid purposes

Might need some recovery time after P&S visits, similar to pain after human surgery (tight screws, rearranged wires, etc)

More capable of fighting viruses and defending themself and others

Low Tech

Basically a stereotypical cartoon robot

Still sentient and can learn, but still operates mostly on programming

Still have the basic qualities of Sun and Moon’s original personalities (cheery and loud; calm and quiet)

States what they’re doing out loud (processing, downloading, initiating protocol, etc.)

States warnings and errors out loud (low battery, update failed, null object reference, ERROR!!)

Static smile

Uses prerecorded lines often; new lines sometimes sound broken like AI or TTS

Might not understand certain topics

Might mishear you

Sometimes treats other everyday machinery like they are alive, mostly holding grudges, fearing them, or being jealous of them

Cares much more about the feelings of others than their own

Less capable of fighting viruses or preventing other unwanted actions towards them

Whores

Aimed towards the more mature side of the fandom

Bastards / smug / absolute sluts (affectionate or derogatory, whatever you feel lol)

Wear suits, ties, suspenders… fancy stuff

Shirts are often only partially buttoned, ties loose or just draping over

Also may wear feminine clothing, depending on the type of storyline

Can drink and smoke somehow

More laid back and flirtatious

Occasionally / casually threatening

Might have cool hats

Sometimes have guns / some kind of weapon

AWOOGA

Often involves suggestive implications

Call you nicknames you probably love but your Y/N often hates

Plot involving high stakes and serious danger

Simp material

We are attracted to any red flag they may have /hj

Animalistic

Sun

Dog

A big dog who thinks he’s a lap dog

Probably fell in love with you immediately

Separation anxiety / abandonment issues

Loyal; will always wait for you no matter what

Whines if you’re gone for too long :(

Misses you sooo much

Begs a lot

Head tilts

Extremely attentive, affectionate and excitable

Might tackle you

Loves playfighting

Always weak to praise and cuddles

Is a good boy, the best boy

Full of energy; loves to play

Rays fold backwards / retract when guilty, angry, or defensive

More apologetic than really necessary

Would probably be very sorry if you called him bad, even if he did nothing wrong

Easily excited / distracted at particular things or favorite items

Highly possessive of favorite items

Hides his favorite items in random corners of your house

Gets the zoomies (and may or may not accidentally break something from jumping over / running into furniture and stuff)

Very aware of people

Likes to sunbathe

Got muddy and needs a bath .. again

Has stim toys, many of them squeaky

Doesn’t sit on the couch right

Wants to protect you

Loves the outdoors and going for walkies

Always sleeps on your bed / somewhere in the same room

Wakes you with a complete ONSLAUGHT of smooches

Moon

Cat

First meeting was likely him hunting and pouncing at you

Still likes to stalk and prowl for fun / as a game

Likes to rest in elevated places, including the top of your fridge

Loafs

Hisses

Interested in silly / shiny little trinkets

Gremlin; knocks your stuff down on purpose and runs away

Has claws, could be retractable

Eyes dilate / shrink

Might flinch when touched, but still leans into it if he wants the attention

Slinks away from touch when distracted by something else

Likes to fall asleep on you; you can’t move (he is aware of this)

Likes laser pointers and dangly thingies

Enjoys sneaking up on you

Purrs (or has some robotic equivalent of purring, like whirring or broken music box)

Gets 3AM zoomies

Elegant s t r e t c h

Changes from bipedal to quadrupedal when he feels like it

Likes the window

Hates water, but likes to keep clean and tidy

Movements are fluid; he is liquid

Tries to fit into small spaces, twists his animatronic body to do so

Has favorite hiding places

Territorial

Hunts pests in your home if he’s bored.. might even bring them to you

Stares at you. Slow blinks. Affection.

Head bonks while sitting next to you

Lazy / sleepy bitch disease

Prefers to stay inside, but likes to explore occasionally and go for nighttime walkies

Always curls up beside you at night

You wake up to him kneading at you or rubbing his face on you

* DCA may have tails and / or beans

Brothers

Mostly tends to be a separate bodies view

Inseparable either way

Chaotic duo

Quite the opposite in a way they still have a close bond

Lots of playfighting

Sometimes actual fighting

Care a lot for each other, but have a sort of friendly rivalry

Never one without the other

Not afraid of speaking their mind plainly, to their benefit or detriment

Great teamwork on their better days

Immature pouting / silent treatment on their worse days

Do most everything together

Often competitive

Disagreements are most often more comedic than serious

Their fights are childish and silly; you can’t help but laugh

Sometimes complains about who the “big brother” is

Get into the silliest shenanigans; it’s trouble, but endearing all the same as they love having a story of adventure to tell

Know each other better than anyone else can

Look very closely after each other, especially when someone else gets close

Favorite colors are what the other wears most often / is themed after (Sun: blue; Moon: yellow)

Applies to their eye colors, especially if chosen by them for upgrades

While both are very different, both also exhibit certain behaviors that directly parallel / mirror the other

Lovers

(NOT brothers at the same time. Fuck off)

The most wholesome shit you’ve ever seen

Fluff, comfort, cuddles, words of affirmation… the dream

Tons of celestial nicknames, phrases, and metaphors

Very poetic; immerses you in calm, dreamlike scenery, like a storybook

Emotional support partners

Each often doesn’t take care of themself until the other notices and helps them

The cutest little dates (tea parties, art sessions, and sleepovers are common)

Still prone to angst, but has a happy ending

I hope

AUGHH

That is all for now; I hope you enjoyed!! If we have a continuation of this, I have category ideas, such as a Cartoonish DCA, a DCA with very very many features, Sun and Moon as enemies, or any other types of DCA you have in mind! Thanks for reading :D

#sundrop #moondrop #fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #daycare attendant #k rambles #k’s writing #???#man it’s 2:38 AM

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riboism · 2 years

Text

frontier psychiatrist- [discontinued]

pairing: yunho x f!reader genre: angst, thriller, suggestive? still not sure yet

warnings: mentions of mental illness, reader is a psychiatrist and yunho used to be her patient, abduction, stockholm syndrome if you squint, themes of violence

wc: 0.9k

disclaimer: the actions portrayed in this story are NOT reflective of those who suffer from BPD, depression, or anxiety as a whole. please do not generalize people suffering from these illnesses based on what you read in this story. this is all purely fictional.

a/n: I’m still not sure how many parts I will be adding to this series, or if I’ll even continue it. this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now so I’ve decided to post it. feedback is much appreciated! I don’t really know what I’m doing with this.

series m. list

“that boy needs therapy”- the avalanches

Yunho placed your dinner plate in front of you. White rice, grilled asparagus, and what looked like a grilled chicken breast, were all carefully placed onto the plate.

“Tried out a new recipe for the marinade,” he said as he filled your glass with wine, “thought maybe you were tired of the lemon basil so I thought I’d change it up tonight. I hope you like it.”

Yunho shuffled around you, carefully adjusting the small floral arrangement at the center of the table before taking a match and lighting the tall candlesticks that stood next to it. The soft jazz ballad filled the dining room, a nod to when you told him how much you enjoyed jazz music during his therapy sessions. He always put a lot of effort into making these dinners special for you; he wanted you to know that you were well cared for and that everything you could possibly need was right in front of you.

He finally sat down and placed a napkin on his lap. “Please,” he said, motioning you to start eating. You picked up your utensils, still getting used to the feel of the cool metal against your fingertips. Usually, your hands were restrained in shackles and Yunho would have to cut your meat for you and feed you himself. You remembered spitting out every morsel of food, making him huff in frustration before he’d storm out, leaving you all alone in the dark and cold corner of his basement.

After showing some changes in your behavior, Yunho allowed you to join him for dinner upstairs. The dining room was small but comfortable. The warm glow from the candles and the yellow lightbulbs from the wall sconces gave you a false sense of security.

You chewed on the chicken breast, savoring the fresh taste of rosemary along with the sweetness of maple. You had to admit, he was a fabulous cook.

“It’s delicious Yunho. Thank you.”

Yunho blushed at your compliment, pleased that you enjoyed his hard work. He made sure to be extra attentive to you, noting what you liked and disliked so that he could adjust his menu accordingly.

Suddenly, you saw a flutter of white in the corner of your eye. Your eyes darted to the window, alarmed to see snowflakes falling. Yunho followed your eyes, chuckling when he saw the flurries collect onto the windowsill. “Look at that, the first snow of the season.”

You frowned a little. It was already winter and you had no clue. You couldn’t remember when you stopped keeping track of time. All you remembered was thinking that it was useless and that there was really no point in knowing if it was a Saturday or a Sunday. The days just blended into each other and Yunho had become your clock. You knew it was morning when he’d come down with your eggs and coffee. And night time when he’d wish you goodnight from behind the basement door.

“Dr. Y/L/N? Are you alright?”

Your head snapped back at Yunho. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, sorry…It’s just been a while since I’ve seen snow.” You raked your fork over the rice, playing with your food as you thought about your favorite snow days. How badly you missed going outside and feeling the cold air against your cheeks. You hated shoveling out your car after a bad storm, but now you thought there was nothing you’d rather be doing than plowing snow off your driveway.

Yunho shot you a worried look. You reached over and placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “Really, I'm okay.” He wasn’t sure if he believed you but your warm smile melted his heart and he soon forgot about the whole thing.

After dinner, Yunho walked you back to the basement. You hopped off the last step, looking down at the sad, dusty old mattress before you. Yunho had tried his best to make your space as homey as possible, but nothing could make the eerie environment any more comfortable than a prison cell. You turned around, looking up the stairs at where your captor stood.

“Yunho?”

“Yes, Doc?”

“Can I…”

Come on, you thought to yourself, you’ve been holding back for weeks, just do it already!

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to continue on. “Do you think I can sleep in your room tonight?”

You tried hard not to shiver at the thought of Yunho’s bedroom. It was the one room you never wanted to unlock, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Yunho’s eyes widened at your request.

“M-my room? You want to sleep in my room?”

“Yes.”

He looked as nervous as a teenage boy on his first date. You watched him fiddle with his fingers while he weighed the pros and cons.

“I don’t know Doc…”

“Please,” you moved up a step, careful not to get too close, “It’s just…It gets so lonely down here and sometimes I can’t sleep. And I like it upstairs, I like being with you. I feel safer when you're nearby.”

Yunho’s heart fluttered. He took a deep breath as he mulled over your sudden request. Of course, he trusted you more now, but he still had his doubts. He worried if escape was still on your mind. The first few months were tough for him and you, but then there was a shift in your behavior. You were more caring, thankful, and accepting towards him. He figured you finally understood that this was for the best. He couldn’t have been happier.

After a short while, Yunho finally gave in and nodded his head in agreement. “Okay. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

taglist: @hyuckilstan @ateezsatinysworld

please let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist. if you would like to join the taglist, please make sure your age is visible on your blog before asking me (18+ only).

chapter 2 →

#yunho x reader #yunho angst #yunho smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #yunho scenarios #yunho fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut

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bun-lapin · 7 months

Note

nyahoo~ i saw ur reqs are open. i was wondering if you can write cater diamond dealing with gn!reader insecurity with their small, monolid eyes (established relationship, romantic)? feel free to disregard if you are not comfy writing it, thank you!!

Nyahoo~ Thank you for this very thought-provoking request and I apologize that it's taken me a while to get to this one. I honestly wasn't sure if this was a prompt that I had the skills to write. But it felt like the kind of request I would have sent myself so I knew I had to give it a try. I hope I did this idea justice! I put some more of my personal thoughts on this request at the end of this post in a little note~ <3

CW: established romantic relationship, gn!reader, reader is only described to have monolid eyes, mention of dissatisfaction with physical appearance

Sitting by the sunlit bedroom window with a book in your hands, you slowly turn a page and let out a small, comfortable sigh. A softly singing voice floats over from the direction of the bed and you look up from your reading with a warm expression on your face. You smile affectionately at the sight of Cater lounging on the soft bedspread, aimlessly scrolling on his phone, and singing a quiet love ballad.

As if sensing your gaze, Cater suddenly looks up from his phone and notices the way you are looking at him. With an alluring and adoring smile on his face, he slides off the bed and walks over to your side. Leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your cheek, Cater whispers, “Hey there, you.” For added emphasis, he playfully rubs his nose against the side of your face.

You laugh at the tickling sensation and plant a kiss in retaliation on Cater’s cheek. Glancing at the familiar phone in his hand, you smile and ask in a slightly teasing tone, “What kind of Magicam mischief are you getting up to today?”

Cater flashes you a wink and a charismatic grin. “Couple selfies are trending today! Which is great news for us because we’re a couple of top tier cuties!” Pressing his shoulder against yours, he raises his phone in the air in front of you both and excitedly asks, “How about we take a selfie too?”

You gently smile at his enthusiasm and look up at his phone expectantly. Looking at Cater’s reflected image on the screen, you are immediately, as always, drawn to his large, green eyes. Wide open, his eyes shine with an excitement that touches your heart. Your gaze then shifts over to look at your own face and, when you see your monolid eyes next to his double eyelids, your smile quickly drops.

Cater immediately notices the drastic turn in your expression and turns to look at you with a worried expression. “What’s wrong? Do you not want to take a picture right now?”

Seeing the strong concern on his face, you swiftly stand up from your seat to face Cater and you rush to alleviate his worries with a lighthearted excuse. “Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s fine. I’m okay.” You give him a small smile but Cater looks unconvinced and his worried frown stays in place. Feeling touched by his evident care for your emotional state, you sigh and reluctantly admit, “I was comparing my eyes to yours. They look so small next yours.” Looking down and off to the side, away from Cater, you whisper, “Sometimes I wish my eyes didn’t look like this.”

The two of you stand in thoughtful silence for a few seconds, until you suddenly hear a soft clack as Cater deliberately sets his phone, screen down, on a nearby table. Taking both of your hands in his, he lets out a soft sigh and you look up to see that he’s smiling sadly at you, like his heart is on the verge of breaking a little. In a low voice, soft with devotion, he says, “I wish you wouldn't think like that. Your eyes are beautiful.”

You begin to speak up in protest, but Cater gives your hands a gentle squeeze and shakes his head. Once you fall silent again, he continues, “You are a beautiful person, inside and out, soul and body. Your eyes are beautiful because they're a part of you as a whole. I fell in love with the real you, all of you. Truly loving someone isn’t about taking just the parts that are convenient. It’s about receiving everything without conditions. And that’s how I love you.”

Leaning towards you, Cater lays a soft kiss against your forehead. Placing his cheek against yours, he lets out a dreamlike sigh next to your ear as he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace.

“To me, the way you look is like a song without words. I can't describe it in a way that would really cover everything I feel. All I can do is sing the melody in my heart. It’s a song that I sing of how much I love every single part you and I hope that will be enough to reach you. Some days you might not hear it, but that's alright. Because I'll always be right here, singing my love and waiting for you to love yourself the same way.”

A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this, darling reader. I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that no matter what you look like, I will always think you are beautiful. We may not know each other, but I know that you are a human, with all the limitless potential to put kindness and love into this world. And that fact alone will always make you beautiful to me. Always remember this and be kind to yourself.

#request writing #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #gn!reader #cater diamond #cater x reader #bun-lapin écrit

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hyenahunt · 2 months

Text

Rouge & Ruby: February's Situation - 4

Writer: Umeda Chitose

Season: Winter

Characters: Hiyori, Ibara, Nagisa, Jun

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Mirei (Adam) & hyenahunt (Eve)

Hiyori: Huh, so in the end it's all about money rather than dreams? ...I'm not a fan, honestly.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Jun & Nagisa: … ?

Hiyori: It's not clicking at all. Explain it better!

Ibara: During Eden’s performance, I want both Adam and Eve to perform as well, and in the end, we will come together to perform as one.

I want to make use of this special structure of ours as part of the strategy — we can stand alone as Adam and Eve, but also unite as Eden.

Nagisa: … I see. So you want to fit in time for Adam and Eve to perform during Eden's timeslot.

… And the current increased exposure for Adam and Eve must also be in preparation for that strategy.

Jun: Back when we had Conquest, we did nothing but separate work, but it's been a good while since then, huh~?

And considering SS, people's main impression of us is bound to be of us all together as Eden.

I think it makes sense that we can show off the appeal of our unit structure to the public once again.

Hiyori: After all, if they're new to our unit's inner workings, they'll wind up wondering why just the two of us are on stage.

Ibara: We might be focusing on Adam and Eve for now, but as Chocolat Fes approaches, I plan on giving Eden more exposure.

To be more precise, I'll be adding work to show that the two have been combined to become Eden.

Just as His Highness said, If we don't show how our form and structure works, the show we have planned will lose its meaning.

Jun: Mm... So right now, we're supposed to use this time to prepare our individual strong points so we can use them to the fullest in Chocolat Fes?

Hiyori: I think that's a good take on it, Jun-kun. What a great summary, coming from you!

Jun: I mean, he went through all the trouble of preparing these documents. I paid proper attention to what he was saying, so even I understand this much.

Hiyori: Well, now that me and Jun-kun's questions have been answered to some extent.... next up is answering what Nagisa-kun had to say, too.

Nagisa: … Yes, please explain the whole structure of the event so we can understand how ES' Chocolat Fes will work.

…And also, I’d like to know what conditions must be met to count as Eden’s victory in Chocolat Fes in your eyes, Ibara.

Ibara: Aye aye ♪⁠ As you wish, Sir. Well then, to answer that, please turn your eyes to the documents on hand—

Time: A little while later

Jun: So we'll be selling chocolate or merchandise per unit, and our sales will be reflected in L$ earnings?

Ibara: Exactly. The amount of sales at the Chocolat Fes will be counted, so it can be said that the unit that sells the most products is the winner

Hiyori: Huh, so in the end it's all about money rather than dreams? ...I'm not a fan, honestly.

Ibara: Even if you’re against it, that’s simply how ES’ Chocolat Fes works.

Actually, they designed it to be quite accommodating. ES will generally provide chocolate and merchandise for all participating units.

Nagisa: … It's written in the document. They will prepare merchandise that is packaged and designed differently for each unit.

Jun: That's generous~ Though the contents are the same, just making the packaging different means it feels like you've gotten merch from a specific unit.

Hiyori: Well, making the contents the same essentially means all units are equal...

But since he's gone so far as to even come up with a special stage, I feel Ibara wouldn't be quite satisfied having the same merchandise as every other unit.

Just from what I've heard so far, I'm assuming you're planning something to outdo everyone else, aren't you? I mean, it's you we're talking about.

Ibara: …The way you put it is a little irritating, but I suppose I'll take it as a compliment. Please carefully read the notes on the bottom of the page.

Nagisa: … "Units are also allowed to plan and develop their own merchandise on the condition that they bear the costs themselves."

Ibara: Fufu. That is an extra clause I managed to add after discussion with ES management...☆

Jun: Ugh, that's playing dirty. There are only so many units that can even pull that off.

Ibara: And it's exactly because I'm confident we can pull it off that I've gotten that clause added in the first place!

Nagisa: … Ibara also has a sweets company right? If that’s the case, then you can make chocolate exclusively for Eden.

… I wonder what kind of chocolate it will be. I'm excited…♪⁠

Hiyori: Heheh, you sure do love chocolate, don't you?

Now that you've said there'll be chocolate made just for us, I'm starting to really look forward to it, too... ♪

Ibara: — So to say, what does achieving victory mean for me? It simply means that we — Eden — will stand at the top of Chocolat Fes.

However, my apologies for contradicting my earlier explanation, but see, if I were to simply aim for getting the highest sales, I'd only focus on developing a sales strategy.

We must garner the most attention with a combination of chocolate sales, profits, audience retention, and performance hype.

It is only when we dominate both numbers and our audience's emotions that Eden can count as being number one in Chocolat Fes. That is my victory condition.

Jun: So basically, it's for that purpose we're gonna go along with Ibara's plan and do our best, huh.

Ibara: Yes. I would very much appreciate your cooperation.

All for the sake of me — I mean, us, conquering this year's Valentine's Day… ♪⁠

Time: Eden's lunch together after the meeting

Location: Cafeteria

Jun: ...Ooh. Wouldja look at that, you've actually managed to put together a balanced meal today.

If you grabbed nothing but chicken and broccoli again, I'd be piling up my karaage on your plate.

Ibara: If I didn't put more on my plate, I would have to deal with your unnecessary intrusions. I prefer to fill it up myself.

Hiyori: Come now, everyone, hurry and sit down so we can start eating!

Thank you for the food... ♪

Nagisa: … Thank you for the food.

Ibara: … We can finally have lunch now that I’ve finished explaining. Alas, I did not set aside time for a Q&A session afterward.

If you have any other questions or opinions outside of what has already been said, let’s hear it now.

Hiyori: My opinions on it, hm? Let's see...

I do feel that it's frankly nonsense for things such as victory and defeat and money to be tangled up in an event focused on the wonders of love.

But as for our fans, whether they be fans of Adam, Eve or Eden, if we can make them happy then that will be our gift to them.

And I'd be happy if we can take advantage of the excitement and meet new fans, as well. After all, if we can do that, then we can convey our love to many people, no?

So personally, I think it's a good plan.

Ibara: I’m truly pleased to hear your feedback, Your Highness, given your reluctance to work separately as “Adam” and “Eve”.

Hiyori: With a proper explanation and the presence of love, even I would agree to it.

Nagisa: … Yes, I’m also in agreement. It’s inevitable that working in separate units will remind us of the situation in Conquest.

... I could tell that Ibara has no intention of making our fans worry unnecessarily.

…For that reason, I’ll go along with Ibara’s plan to make everyone happy while he guides our way to the top of Chocolat Fes.

Ibara: … It is an honour to hear that, Your Excellency.

[ ☆ ]

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#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #hyenahunttl #s: rouge and ruby #jun sazanami #ibara saegusa #hiyori tomoe #nagisa ran

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