Tumgik
#except it was actually written in the middle ages
talaok · 5 months
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Just this once
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader
Summary: Everyone hates you in town, everyone except for Mr. Miller, who was kind enough to hire you as his daughter's babysitter.
Warnings: mentally and verbally abusive father, angst, unreciprocated love, no happy ending. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie
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Everyone hated you in this town.
Kids at school, moms, dads, even grandparents sometimes.
People crossed the street when they saw you, they waited until you turned around to whisper and scorn to the person beside them.
Everywhere you went, followed dirty looks and rude remarks.
In the hallways at school, at the drug store, pharmacy, park, you name it.
Everywhere, everyone seemed to despise old Carl's daughter just for being born, or maybe, maybe also because of the rumors that spread about her.
Like the one where you dealt drugs, which was not not the truth... but you never dealt meth.
Or the one where you'd fucked half the guys in town,
And least but not last, the one where you were the reason you poor pops had turned to alcohol.
Except they didn't know anything. they didn't know that your "poor pops" had begun his diet of a bottle of whiskey a day long before you were born, that he drove your mom mad to the point where she had fled without so much as a goodbye, leaving behind a few clothes and a stupid scrap of paper where she had written a fucking lie.
I love you
If she had actually loved you, she wouldn't have left.
And they didn't know that all the anger your father had, had turned to you, they didn't know how scary it was, to be afraid of your own father, to be alone at the age of thirteen, to have to take care of yourself, to have to grow up faster than you should.
They all hated you, and you didn't care, you swore you didn't care, because they didn't know, they didn't know shit.
But Mr. Miller was different.
He was the only person, together with his daughter, who had ever shown you kindness, the real kind.
He had seen you sobbing as you ran from your house after your dad had another one of his "episodes".
And god, you were so confused when he stopped you, when he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if everything was alright.
And you didn't tell him then, you didn't tell him everything that was going on and that your dad was an asshole and that your life was hell, you couldn't, there was always this everlasting shame fizzing underneath your skin whenever you felt the need to share. But he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared that you had told him nothing, he hadn't cared that all you did was say sorry and I need to go, because with just a glance it felt like he had seen right through you.
So then he'd told you where he lived, and even if that time he couldn't convince you to come in, it was you who showed up at his doorsteps two nights after, asking for a place to sleep which he offered without so much as a question.
And it was only a week later when you told him everything.
He had sat and listened as you cried and cried, he had stroked your hair and given you tissues, until finally, he offered you a job.
Babysitting his kid.
And you were scared at first, you weren't really equipped for the job, but the moment you met Sarah you realized just how easy it was gonna be.
taking care of her was fun, and it gave you an excuse to be away from your own home, sometimes even at night when the mere thought of seeing your father made you want to puke.
And Mr. Miller was always nice, he made breakfast, overpaid you like crazy, and he listened, he was always there to listen.
"dad, what are you talking about?" 
Mr. Miller's backyard was always perfectly mowed, and the treehouse he'd built his daughter stood high on the oak in the middle of it.
"I said-" even if you couldn't see him, you swore he was taking another gulp straight from the bottle " Where the fuck are you?" 
"I'm working dad, I told you" you said, trying to remain as calm as possible.
"You working?" he laughed "That's funny" he said, as his laugh turned into a disgusting cough "Tell me where you really are." his voice was slurry, but the anger in it still made you shiver "You at one of your boyfriends' houses?"
"No Dad, I'm at Mr. Miller's house" you sighed, it was sad really, how used you were to this by now.
"Mr. Miller huh?" a hiccup sounded through the phone "You fucking him too? You started going for older guys? Is that it? I bet that's it you little slut" he hissed "Your mother would be so disappointed... to see her only daughter grow up to be such a fucking whore"
There's a difference, when it's strangers calling you names, and when it's your own father.
You'd always wished his words didn't affect you, but somehow, they always found a way to hurt.
No matter how tough you made yourself to be, when it was him, you felt like a kid all over again.
"fuck you" you muttered, as tears pricked your eyes 
"Is that how you talk to your father you little bitch? Just wait till you come home, I'll see what you'll have to say then-"
And there were so many things you wanted to tell him, to scream at him, to drill into his non-existing brain, but all you did was press the red button and hung up.
And it took about a second before the tears started flowing like rivers.
You ran back inside the house, forgetting all about closing the glass door as you curled into a ball on the couch, trying to cry as silently as you could, so that Sarah wouldn't wake up.
You hated him. You hated everything, you just wanted to run away and start a new life somewhere else, Canada, Austria, even the fucking north pole sounded better than this.
You were just so tired, so exhausted. Every time you talked to your father all the energy you had, or thought you had left, got drained from your body, and for hours, you remained lifeless,
The only exception was when-
The front door opened, and those purposely quiet footsteps that you would have recognized anywhere, followed soon after.
Him, the only exception was when he was there to comfort you.
You sat up, quickly wiping your tears to try and look somewhat presentable.
"hey," he whispered, entering the living room "Sarah's asleep?"
"mh-mh, yes" you nodded
"I'm sorry I came home this late, it's just that the guys wanted to go out after work and I always tell them no..." he trailed off, as he sat next to you and got rid of his overused boots.
"I-It's not a problem, Mr. Miller"
He shook his head, smiling in that charming way of his as he sat his shoes next to the coffee table and turned to look at you.
"How many times have I told you that you can just call me J-"
But his words died in his throat the moment he caught a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes, (that he'd come to know too well) and of that look on your face.
"What happened?"
They were such simple words, but they hit like tnt too close to a dam, breaking the barrier and causing all the water to run out.
His arms were around you the moment the first tear fell.
"shh" he cooed, stroking your back as you sobbed into his chest "It's alright, everythin's alright, sweetheart"
You wrapped your arms around his broad torso, feeling all his muscles underneath the fabric as you drowned in his scent. He always smelt so manly and so... good.
"I-I'm sorry it's just" A sob climbed up your throat "He-he called and I-I" You never finished the sentence as other tears started flowing from your eyes.
"I'm sorry honey" he cooed, placing his cheek on top of your head"it's ok" he murmured "It's all gonna be fine, I promise"
"w-when?" you cried, finally looking up at him "I'm so tired of this Mr. Miller..."
"soon" he promised "You're a smart girl, you'll get far in life sweetheart, I just know it"
you breathed heavily into his chest for a few minutes, listening to his heart beat as you calmed your own.
"t-thank you" you sniffled
"of course, darlin'"
And as you glanced at him, at his soft beard, at his kind eyes, your brain short-circuited and your mouth got a mind of its own, and before you realized it, your lips were on his.
And god he felt so good
"y/n-" he spoke as you tried to deepen the kiss "What are you doing?"
"I just-" you stuttered, not able to tear your glaze off his soft lips "please" you murmured, not knowing what else to say as you leaned up to kiss him again,
"sweetheart this ain't right I-"
"please Mr. Miller" you begged, placing your hand on his shoulder and pecs, as you left a quick kiss on his lips again "please just this once"
"y/n..." he tried to speak but was interrupted by your mouth finding his neck.
"please" you repeated for the thousandth time, your breath fanning over his neck "just this one time" 
"darlin'... I don't know if this is a good idea"
"it is" you quickly corrected him, your kisses lowering down his body, until all you could do was shuffle off the couch to get between his parted legs "it's a really good idea"
You saw him swallow thickly at the sight before him
"no sweetheart, you don't gotta do that"
"I want to" you reassured him, hurriedly undoing his belt and zipper until his black boxers were all that obstructed your view.
You palmed his manhood through the fabric, feeling it harden underneath your palm, before you gently took it out, looking up at him for approval as you wrapped one hand around it and let your lips follow suit.
A loud shuddering breath fled his mouth as you fitted more and more of him into your mouth, and you took it as an incentive to get lower, fully choking on his cock.
"f-fuck" he groaned
You started bobbing your head up and down, your eyes never leaving the sight of him breathing heavily before you.
You were doing good, but you wanted to do amazing for Mr. Miller, so you gingerly took his cock out of your mouth to start a slow trail of kisses and kitty lips down the whole length of him, until you reached his balls, and without a second thought, reserved them of the same treatment, before starting to suck on those too.
"fuck. me." he breathed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes.
You leaned away for a moment, still pumping him with your hand "Does it feel good?" you asked
"fuck-yeah sweetheart" he gulped, looking down at you "it feels real fucking good- you're-fuck-you're amazing"
The biggest smile ever spread on your face at that, and with a renewed vigor, you got back to sucking his balls even better.
series of profanities continued coming out of his mouth as you got back to his dick, letting your tongue run on his tip for a few moments before getting back to filling your mouth with it.
You watched his hands curl by his sides, and without thinking, you let one of your own travel to his, softly placing your palm over it in a makeshift hold, which wasn't really a hold because he didn't turn his hand to do it properly.
But it didn't matter now, he was enjoying this, something you were doing for him, something you had dreamed of doing to him times and times again, and that's all you cared about.
You bobbed your head for a few more moments before you leaned away and quickly got up to get rid of your pants.
He watched you, too fucked out and torn with guilt and confusion to understand anything anymore, step out of your panties, place your hands on his shoulders, and straddle him.
you reached down for his dick, and without too much of a premise, sank down on it.
"oh god" you moaned, stopping a moment to take a deep breath at the feeling, as a low groan rumbled in his chest.
"you feel so good" you murmured, kissing him passionately as you started riding him.
His hands gripped your waist as a way for him to try and ground himself back on this earth because fuck but, you felt fucking good too
"touch my tits please" you said, ghosting his mouth.
"Sweetheart..."
"Please, Mr. Miller" you pouted, rising and sinking from his cock even faster
"Joel- please call me Joel" 
"Please Joel, touch my tits"
And who was he to say no to you when you asked him like that?
One of his big strong hands seeped underneath your top and found your boobs, stroking and grabbing at them heavenly.
You couldn't help but gasp at the mix of pleasures, your head falling to the crook of his neck.
The sound bouncing off the walls of the living room was straight out dirty and the breeze coming from the open glass door on your left softly floated through the room, at times hitting your raw skin.
"oh my god" you whimpered, muffled by Joel's skin "o-oh my"
He was filling every inch of you, stretching you so fucking good it made you want to scream if it wasn't for Sarah sleeping just upstairs.
You lost yourself in him, in his soft grunts, in his most raw scent, in the way his beard rutted against your cheek, and slowly, slowly you felt a bubble form in your belly, getting more and more ready to explode.
"F-fuck" you whined, "I-I think I'm-I'm coming"
His only response was to tighten his hold on you, before you fastened your pace, desperately chasing your high.
your breathing got even heavier as you remerged from his neck to look at him in the eyes and meet his lips with yours once again.
Kissing his was like traveling to another universe, he was just so... perfect
 "Joel" you whispered, losing yourself in his hazel eyes, as the pleasure got stronger and stronger until you felt like you could barely breathe "Joel I love you"
You watched his eyes widen slightly but before he could speak your orgasm took over your body and you had to hide your head in the crook of his neck again to try not to moan too loud.
"it's ok" he murmured, placing a hand on the back of your head soothingly "It's all gonna be ok sweetheart"
You rode out your high, never stopping your movements, and by the time you had come down from it, Joel was on the verge of it.
"shit-I'm coming" he groaned "Where do you want it?"
 "inside" you whispered without missing a beat
"I c-can't honey-"
"please Joel" you whimpered, starting to get overstimulated "Please fill me up, Joel"
And with that simple sentence, he was done for.
"fuck-shit. shitshitshitshit" That's all he managed to spit out, as ropes of his come filled you up to the brim, just like you wanted.
You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling his scent one more time, before you slowly got off of him.
And as you did, the moment it was all done, a strange sensation overtook you.
you'd thought that this was all you wanted, that this was gonna make you feel better, and yet... yet you couldn't help but feel like a piece of you was missing, you couldn't help but feel emptier than you were to begin with.
As you watched him hurry to put his boxers back on, you couldn't help but think that, once again, you had managed to fuck everything up.
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puhmpkins-blog · 1 month
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Author’s Note: This one is a filler since I am still working on “Dairy of the Obsessed” ..this one was spontaneous lmfaoo! Also requests are open feel free to give me story ideas
This has BEEN edited 🥳🎉
Warning ⚠️-> If you’re under the age of 18+ DONT interact with this post, this is your only & final warning! I do not & will not take responsibility for anything further!
You have been warned
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Title: A Shape-Shifter’s Dilemma
Alastor x Reader Oneshot
written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃
W/C: 5.1K 😀 oops maybe too much lol my imagination got the better of me but please enjoy!
You always questioned where Alastor your husband would go. Most of the time you would brush it off and not think of it—Overlord stuff.
But one night while Al and you slept in the same bed he tossed and turned in his sleep you could assume he was having a nightmare
“honey..?” You said in a low ruff voice as you gently placed a hand on Alastor who stops his moving before the word he mutters out was
“charlie..”
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...Now that is odd. Why would a overlord like Alastor be saying the princess of hells name in the middle of his sleep?
It made you raise a eyebrow, and questioned him.
The day following did not seem to ease your nerves one bit, he again in rather ..a rush to leave the manor
Standing next to the front doors door you watched as he moved back and forth through the living room looking for whatever he was desiring
“What's rushing for darling? This is rather out of character” You said as your eyes watched him move throughout the room
“Oh nothing to concern yourself with dearie!~ Just overlord business”
You hummed back at his bland cryptic response not wanting to pick it apart–you just decided not to question it and save yourself the energy
“Right. Just don’t go get yourself in trouble” You said smiling at Alastor standing infront of you, slightly towering over you as you fixed and cleaned off any dirt or lent that got caught on his suit as he was in your words rushing around
Moving your hands away from him, your eyes locked with his as Alastor’s reddish brown eyes, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. His lips curved from a small smile into a sly smirk, revealing his pointy teeth.
“Trouble?,” he questioned, making his one of his eyebrows raise in a cocky way , “Why..thats my middle name, my dear.” He said clasping and holding both your hands as he stared at you, before shrugging “But perhaps maybe I’ll make an exception—for you.”
You rolled your eyes to your husband's playful antics, before giving Alastor his goodbye kiss and waving him bye as he sinks into his shadow disappearing leaving you alone in the manor.
A moment of silent filling the air before
“Now, let me figure out WHAT’S actually happening.”
And that’s how this whole shenanigan began with you.
You see, while Alastor might have been expected to marry some ordinary demon, you in your case, were far from ordinary. As a shape-shifting demon, you possessed the ability to transform your identity at will, becoming a whole new demon or a manifestation of whatever your imagination desired.
The only limitations were those of your own imagination or..if Alastor was able to sniff you out, thanks to his keen sense of smell. HOWEVER, avoiding detection was usually easy enough… for the most part.
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Weeks to months you’ve been keeping up on this “routine” of cat and mouse but all was paying off.
You found out Al has been to much of your dismay harboring rather a couple of secrets hidden and tucked from you. Other than your known overlord stuff he was a suppose helper at a hotel called the “Hazbin Hotel” that princess charlie owns and works at with a couple of other people almost made you drop with laughter when you first seen Alastor helping out with the hotel, you had to tell Rosie about this later.
It was easy to stay undercover and even easier to get close to him without him realizing and knowing it was you.
You made up your mind weeks ago that his territory would be fine, if you step away here and there to follow Alastor to the hotel
And that’s how you end up to the present day you.
You weren’t satisfied with knowing Alastor helps at a hotel. Yes indeed it was a shocker but that’s all? You were still puzzled on why Al said Charile name to began with
Alastor hasn’t suspected a thing yet due to him kinda being busy at the hotel or up in his office.
On the rare times you would see him, he was up in the upper balcony with nifty laughing with her, you couldn’t hear what they were talking about but knowing the both of them.. it was rather something strange or gruesome
As another shifted ended, the day ended with you back at the manor seating in your comfortable loveseat, reading a book before mere minutes Al got back, making it seem as normal as possible to not raise suspicions
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The next day as things moved along you wished Alastor a goodbye as you watched him shift into the shadows and disappear off.
Waiting a few minutes after he left you then began to get ready for your shift at the hotel, that first started with showering to rid yourself of your natural scents–you didn’t want to be tackled down by your husband as soon as you walk in through the door.
Finishing up with your shower you stepped out spraying some random cheap perfume you had bought to scramble Al scents.
As you began styling yourself from being a lady of the 1920s with elegant beauty and designer dresses to a ripped petite coat, old bleach stained black skirt with a hole at the bottom with a finish messy down hairstyle
You laughed at your reflection
Seeing what you looked like in your normal form made you laugh. Alastor would probably gasp and dropped to his knees at the things you wore.
You walked out the house being sure to not be seen
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Successfully making it past the fenced gates and out of the woods you came to the main roads of hell shifting yourself into a hell creature you have been using for this whole little “spying game”
A lengthy white fur being that stood, 6ft having two red stripes covering both arms and legs. Your (h/c) just reached the middle of your back and on your head sat two cream colored pointy horns, you kept your sharp teeth to still be able to scare off unwanted demons if the occasion was to rise
Checking yourself out in the reflection of the glass windows, you made sure everything was correct: your look, your attire and your scent.
You started to walk to the hotel, the sidewalk you have taken at least more than ten times.
As you inched closer to the hotel you for safe measures stopped and sprayed yourself down one more time in cheap perfume emptying the bottle before tossing it off in the distances and kept walking
Getting inside the hotel was an easy task,
You said hello to everyone vaggie, angeldust, sir pentious and his eggo children, huskier and nifty.
‘Everyone is down here practically–well almost everyone’ looking around furrowing your eyebrows together
“Where Charlie? She's usually with you, Vag?” You said to Vaggie who was sitting on the couch next to Angel looking at the TV
“She should be in her office right now Lucy. I think she also wanted to talk to you” Vaggie said kinda nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders towards the end as she looked up from the tv to you as you nodded your head
Making a hum noise you turned on your heel and began walking to Charlie office
Knocking before you entered, Charlie sat at her desk looking at papers
“Helluva morning Charlie. Vaggie was telling me you were looking for me, I just wanted to speak to you about what you wanted” You said as you walked towards her desk and seating down in one of the chairs across from it
Charlie still having her go lucky smile on her face nodded putting down a couple of papers “Yes Vaggie was right! I was looking for you Lucy!” She said pausing as she slide over a little stack of paperwork, “It’s nothing serious promise! I just wanted you to run these up to Al~!”
You nodded silently thanking hell for the opportunity to be closer to Al
“Yeah of course I can do that” You said standing up taking the paperwork in your black gloved hands “Consider it done Charlie!” You said walking out of her office as she screamed a thank you from behind a closed office door
You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked up the flights of stairs to get to Alastor’s door
Minutes passed before you got to the door that read in bold letter
“Alastor, Radio Demon”
Knocking lightly on the door, ‘he should be in there?’
“…”
‘No response..hm that weird’ You thought as you looked over both your shoulders before you placed a gloved hand on your door handle twisting the knob before it opened slowly
!!!CREAAAK!!!
Your body mentally cringed at the noise as you pushed the door more open glancing around one more time you slipped in the crack of his door, gently shutting it closed once you entered
‘Wow’ Was the first word that escaped your mouth looking into his room now, it's his office yes, but what was beyond it that made it almost feel like you were..alive it was the bayou swamp/forest it was just how you remembered before you died all those years ago..breathtaking
Scanning the dimly lit area with the only light being a moonless night and the few fireflies that infested the air, you didn’t see Alastor anywhere in sight, just a table with a chair on it in the middle of the grassy forest.
You bite your lip gently as you looked between the paper work and the forest before groaning knowing your mind was made up, as soon as you laid your eyes on the bayou. Leaving the paperwork for Alastor sitting on his wooden desk before you walked passed it and too the bayou landscape filling as it was almost a dream
Walking slowly into the grassy area with a smile as you breathed in the smell of forest closing your eyes and taking in the sound
It was a wonderful moment of quiet before the light noise of static in the forest made you snap your eyes open,.. that’s Alastor getting closer into range of where you were standing.
Being lucky and hopeful you HOPE he didn’t see you in the clearing just standing their with your eyes closed
You ran and hide behind some bushes and trees that were away from the table and chair you were standing near–and just in the nick of time
You could hear and see him from where you were hiding the full static sound of a certain radio demon as he hummed a tune with a deer slumped dead over on his shoulder, carrying it with ease as he slammed it down on the table, you examined as he sat down making a fork appear out of thin air as he leaned his staff against his chair, before disappearing into air as he began to eat the deer raw pulling at its meat–made you want to gag in disgust
‘He could’ve cooked it’ you thought watching him munch down on his hunt you can assume. Licking his lips after a couple of bites he wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true unhinged gentleman
Before he cleared his throat his eyes shutting but his smile spreading wider, causing you to get goosebumps
“I know your there” He said making you do a double take ‘he knows i am here?’ you thought blinking as you didn’t buy his bluff
“I can sense your presence,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.
“You can’t hide from me.” He opened his crimson eyes as they began scanning the area. You kept your movement still as he scanned over the area you were hiding. You saw how he squinted his eyes almost immediately at the bush you were in
“Come out, come out wherever you are” He sang out in a haunting tone
“You do know as a predator.”He started in a cheery tone before his voice dropped to a dual and deep one “ I can smell you out.” His voice ringing of no radio filter
Your heart began to sped up
‘fffuck’ Is what you thought before you seen Alastor disappear into thin air—it wasn’t a surprise you were accustomed to that but you couldn’t help your heart starting to speed up as he vanished into the air
“Run,” a disembodied whisper breathed against your nape
Took you no time of convincing as you ran not looking behind you as you kept your eyes forward only hearing the sound of something chasing behind,
You hit left and right, hoping to get Alastor off of you
As you take another right you ran behind a tree, hiding behind its figure as you heard and felt Alastor run pass you
You have never done something like this, it was rather fun but dangering
Peaking your head from behind the tree after what felt like entirety you didn’t see Alastor for safe measures you transformed yourself to a small forest animal, just in case Alastor wants to sneak behind you..again
Following near your foot trail from the tree branches, you jumped from branch to branch with ease as you stopped once more hearing static noise come from nowhere, you smirked in your creature form as Alastor wouldn’t suspect a thing
Watching from above, his form essentially appeared from thin air as he had a wide smirk and a look of hunger in his eyes as he looked at the spot you were suppose to be standing
“Where are you~?” He said
“…”
After a moment of looking in all the places he would expect and assume for someone to hide, he stood in the middle of the forest arms crossed as his ears flickered now and then
“Now where did they go? I was rather hungrier for something other than deer” He said you can tell by his voice he was almost dumb struck how could he still be able to smell you but your nowhere near..weird?
You slowly shifted yourself backwards away from Alastor as you didn’t want to alarm him nor give away your hiding, you were almost clear before a vibration was felt throughout the branch and in one second the branch snapped as you land ontop of Alastor head
“...”
“...”
It was quiet not either one of you dared to move before you felt your body being picked up fully by his hand and now..the jig was up
“What do we have here..” He said looking at you “A small diversion from the person thats in here?”Alastor’s gaze bore into you, dissecting your very essence.
A wicked glint in his eyes began to take place, “Well I guess since I couldn't catch my actual food, I shall eat you little one” Pausing to smug smile before continuing “Bad luck for you?~” He said as he lifted you above his mouth
You squirmed in his hands, heart racing.
‘This can’t be how (y/n)'s story ends’, you thought desperately.
Just as he was about to drop you into his abyssal maw, you shifted—your disguise falling away
You landed on top of Alastor, who staggered back, utterly unprepared.
“Don’t eat me,” you blurted out, adrenaline surging. Alastor stood, bemusement etching his features.
“Lucy?!” Alastor’s voice crackled through the air, a radio filter distorting his words. The static hummed, raising the hairs on your arms.
“Why are you in here?” His step was deliberate, menacing. You retreated, heart pounding.
“How did you make yourself appear small? Then big?” His eyes narrowed, dissecting you. Each step he took, you mirrored, until your back pressed against a tree—literally.
Your mind raced for a lie, an escape. But then it happened—the slip up, the unraveling.
You shifted into your true form, the one Alastor would recognized.
“(Y/N)?!” His voice lost the radio filter, and you met his gaze. Confusion etched his features. You bit your bottom lip, a awkward laugh escaping.
“Erm, surprise…?” You said as you watched him back up a little from you a smile now spreading wider by the minute as the static was the buzz in the air
As it was overtook by the applause he started to emitted as he turned the other way starting to laugh
“A surprise indeed dearie who would’ve know my wife could pull such a thing off” He started.. you didn’t like how this was sounding as you moved away from the tree watching him as he created slight distances between him and yourself
You watched as a nagging feeling was telling you to start running but ignoring that you spoke up “Alastor I-” He cut you off with his words
As he appeared behind you—the Radio Demon, with crimson eyes and a dangerous smile. His arm encircled your waist, pulling you closer. “You had the entire hotel convinced of this Lucy woman,” he murmured, his voice devoid of filters. “Bravo, dearie. Truly bravo.”
You didn’t like how he was taking the situation as what he said to you in a flare voice on confirmed how much you actually DID piss off Alastor with this little disguise
“You should run now.”
Those four words holding a threat of the unknown and you wanting to at least talk for yourself turned to face Alastor his crimson eyes only reflecting the pure chaos he was about to inflict on this game of catch with you, as you shook your head
“Please let me explain” You urged, desperation coloring your voice.
“5” Alastor your dear husband replied, holding out his hand. The air crackled with tension
“Al please—…”
“4..” He sung out as he closed his eyes, standing tall. One hand rested behind his back, the other poised like a pendulum. The smile of him showing his sharp teeth made you swallow harshly
“3” He warned out to you knowing your still there as he opened one eye to look at you breathing out short “Hmm..a shame your going to let me catch you so easy” He said shutting his open eye closed
“2 dearie” He warned out now holding two fingers as he began to shift in his stances his neck elongated he was slowly shifting into his demon form, and that’s when you finally decide to run
You huffed and panted as you switched your form a couple of times to give you longer distances away from Alastor as you made it deeper into the Bayou the ground under you turning slightly squishy as you kept running not interested to turn around
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You ran for what felt like hours before you stopped down near a swamp bank hunched on you knees as you gain your second wind, taking a few more breathes you stood up, the air was quiet you couldn’t hear the static of Al, so you have to be far from him? or he just turned off that noise so he could stalk and pounce on you
Whatever the case maybe you took a breathe in and out as you looked ahead of the lake, nothing but more forest—
You thought different ideas like turning into a winged creature and flying back towards the rooms door to get out of here, but you didn’t know how high you could fly and since Alastor can’t fly nor has wings, you doubt that celling is high enough to get high enough where he couldn’t hit you out of air
Best option was to keep running or go into the swamp water, it would give you better opportunity, reflecting your options about it you heard the ground beneath you move with vibrations ‘fuck he already found me’ you thought coming to the defeat you were going to let yourself be caught but that was until you seen that fucken demon form mere seconds before he seen you, you bailed out dipping yourself slowly in the cold water taking a big breathe before dunking yourself under
Seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, your lungs screaming for release. The vibrations in the ground intensified, and you knew he was near. What was Alastor going to do when he catched you? He wouldn’t actually hurt his wife? You thought of as your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wondered if you should be actually concerned
Alastor scanned the area, seeking his dear wife. You pressed deeper into the water, your head submerged further, only the top part of your head concealed by a stray lilypad.
Minutes passed—or perhaps it was mere seconds—before you surfaced. Gasping for air, you wiped water from your eyes. Alastor wasn’t in sight.
You continued walk towards the edge of the pond before crawling out of the pond, lying down on the edge of it your knees still submerged as you sighed out in relief, shutting your eyes for what felt like a second
Before you heard, the clearing of a throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine. Opening your eyes standing above you was the oh-so-familiar radio demon. You smiled, but before you could vanish into the water, Alastor’s grip closed around your arms. His purr was a velvet blade against your skin.
“Come now, darling,” he drawled, his tone deceiving. “We don’t want you to get wet. Let me assist you in this rather…exchange.” His strength pulled you back, and you squirmed, defiance flaring. But Alastor was stronger, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, dripping and caught.
“Let go,” you demanded, but he only laughed—a predator savoring its prey
“Now, dear, this is part of the game.” His eyes bore into yours, crimson flames dancing. “I’ve caught you, and now you’ll be the prize I win.” His tongue flicked across his lips
As Alastor carried you through the forest he hummed a simple tone, making you more on edge
You both arrived at another clearing?
“This isn’t where we started Al” You said as he set you down, gently helping you get up, as your eyes shifted from the scenery to him
Alastor’s gaze was going up and down on you, as you caught little symbols manifesting themselves around him as he was now a step or two away from you
“Come here” He said in a commanding tone, a chain manifesting around your neck as your eyes widen to metal chain outline with the color of green. Your hands immediately shot to your neck trying to grip and claw at it. You felt a tug come towards Al before you leaned your body away from it trying to keep space, digging your feet lightly in the ground
One real yank got you to move forward unprepared, the earth meant your face very quick and you instantly felt blood in your mouth
“Ah, be good for me, Y/N, and just obey,” he murmured, his grip unyielding. You crawled on your knees and hands, inching closer to him. The chain around your neck tightened, lifting you off the ground. Alastor’s crimson eyes bore into yours.
“My dear sweet little wife, Y/N,” he drawled, his voice devoid of filters. Each word carried weight, punctuated by his southern accent. “You, dearie, violated our little agreement.” His fingers traced the chain. “We had an understanding, did we not?”
Your breaths came in ragged gasps. “I didn’t mean to Al” you whispered
His chuckle echoed through the clearing as he lowered you gently to the ground, ensuring the fall didn’t harm you.
“So, my doe,” he began, his voice a velvet blade, “please give me an explanation. Why has my wife been running around disguised as a Lucy person, working—” His fingers closed around your hands, the chain that had bound you vanishing into thin air. “Her dear, softly delicate hands at a hotel that deserves none of her attention?” His words hung in the air, a question wrapped in menace. “Rather than be in a manor that belongs to her and her husband? Have I done something wrong?”
You sighed out as you nodded taking your hands out of his, to his displeasure “All this started because i heard you mumble in your sleep rather a month or so ago..princess name Charlie” You said with embarrassment flaming your checks as you looked away from Alastor not wanting to know what expression he held
The air was quiet between the both of you, not a word was spoken—You felt like you were holding your breathe with the tension in the air before you felt the touch of your husband on your hands again
“Mon cher~” He purred out making you look at him, his face of course held a wide smile but the look in his eyes held anger with something else glimmering around it “Nothing could replace you”
“No hotel” He said his hand holding out your arm as he kissed at the palm before saying, “No demon” Alastor continued raising his head kissing you at the center of your arm, looking at you in the eyes before kissing more up your arm while saying “And certainly no Lucifer daughter could take my eye off of something as ravishing as you my doe~” Al kissing up you between each pause as he at your neck slowly peaking at it having you basically in his lap with your back towards him, as you moved your head to side to let him continue as he only chuckle at the gesture
Al with his free hand grabbing at your chin to make you look at him as he stared into your (e/c) “But my dear mon cher, you agree at my words as if you understand, but it seems as though you forgotten who I belong too” He said letting go of your chin as both of his hands traveled down to your hips resting there “You forget who's name causes thrill of different emotions within me, so let me remind you~”
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Alastor leaned into you, as you meant him half way kissing him
A passionate kiss with some underline aggression made the kiss much more thrilling as Alastor fought for dominance with you trying to dominate over him
With a deep chuckle he pulled away from the kiss, “You being defiant won’t end well for you dear” You looked up too him as you bite your lower lip holding on too his bow tie slowly undoing it as his hands trailed up and down your legs
“No words so be it” He shrugged before pushing you down to the ground, your back laying on the grass as he spread your legs open wide, everything on full display for him to see
He leaned his head down as his ears pushed back towards his head as his eyes half lidded looking up to a red face you “Mm~Darling your so intoxicating with that look on your face” He said before plunging his head down open his mouth before eating your pussy
Your eyes shut closed as your hands went immediately to his hair gripping and pulling at it, as you mumbled out moans holding onto Alastor head down as he kept eating you out
“Al~!” You said in low moan as you felt yourself starting to come undone down there “Alastor..I..I am going to—”
Before you could muster and get out the words to warn your husband, the sensation of Alastor mouth moved away from you leaving you in almost blank state, so close to clarity but yet so far …
You whimpered as you looked down to Alastor who’s face was smirking as he shook his head licking his lips slightly “You think after the charade you pulled your going to get to cum that quick and easily?” He said and laughed “Dearie we are just starting.”
Alastor in a instances flipped you over making you rise to all fours with help of his shadows tendrils you were now ass up face down, with your arms being held down by the shadows tendrils, you whimpered trying to move against them as you felt a burning sensation on your bottom causing you to move it from side to side
Alastor watched in trans like state as you moved your ass after he smacked it only making his boner go harder, as he rub on it through his pants
“Al, let me out of this! I don’t want to be—Ahh~!”You said feeling a familiar feeling slide in you as your eyes rolled behind you, you clawed at the grass alastor pushed all himself in you
“Mmm~There you go Mon Cher~” Alastor said rolling his hips as his head tilted backwards, both of his hands gripping on your hips keeping them in place as he began slowly pumping in and out of you
You moaned as you moved with his thrusts, arching your back as Al grunts and low moans could be heard
Alastor started to pick up in speed as you could only speak out the simple word “Al~” Which was music to the radio demons ears
“Oh (Y/n)~” He said as he kept up fast with his thrusts moving one his hand to your hair, gripping at it pulling you backwards as your head flung back
“Open your eyes.” He said making you slowly open your eyes as meant with the eyes of crimson red ones as his smile was deceiving as his eyes showed pure lust that was feeling “Fuck.” He said as gripped tighter on your hair yanking almost at the root as you moaned with each thrust
“I am going to finish in you.” He said in not a question but as a command as you tighten around him bring him closer as he shut his eyes letting go of your hair before opening his mouth and bitting at the back of your neck as you moaned closing your eyes feeling yourself reaching edge as you reached climax sametime as Alastor
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Couple months later drawed by quick before you knew it you were back at the manor, watching over Al’s territory sipping tea as you smiled mindlessly, yeah there was really nothing to worry about.
FIN!!!
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Extra! Extra!
(Y/n) and Al strolling through the park. hand in hand as Al hums a tune
Al: “I do say mon cher, I think I never told you why I was saying Charlie's name”
Y/n: “Yeah you haven’t, do share”
Al: “You wouldn’t believe it! Charlie in my dream was trying to paint my Radio Studio, it was all going to be rainbows with fluffy pink unicorns if I didn’t say her name”
Y/n: deadpans
Al: Only telling you the truth dearie~!sings out
Y/n: Your truth is utter dogshit sometimes
Al: gasp Darling!
504 notes · View notes
gremlingottoosilly · 8 months
Text
"If you need to be mean"
Konig just got his promotion to colonel. It also came with deployment in a terrorist-ridden country, but at least he would get an adorable, civilian you as a prize. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)
Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig perspective Word count: 5213 My AO3
Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
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König hates this fucking country.
Shithole in the middle of nowhere, with literally nothing going on – some border quarrels with some terrorists that are desperately trying to settle into the big war on terror that won’t achieve a thing and would be meaningless anyway. No one wanted to actually station here – this is why they promoted him so quickly, just so they could send him away like a pack of garbage they can’t give two shit about throwing out. 
He never even wanted this promotion. Too much work, too many people, never enough time to relax. Payment is sweet, of course – if he only had time to use any of this. He is too old for new titles, you can’t teach old dog new tricks – and, quite frankly, he does feel terribly old while doing nothing but pushing papers and listening to some useless fucking recruits with their reports. 
Job is simple – stay on the base, make sure that the locals won’t become too villifed to the soldiers that are supposed to protect them, even though he already knows how people would feel about the PMC stationed in their city. Fights with occasional resistance from the outsider force that decided “Hey, let’s just annex our neighbor, what could possibly happen?”. He doesn’t know a lot about this country – but if they have enough money to hire KorTac to help the local forces, he might be quite interested. If he only had energy for that anymore – between relentless paperwork and occasional yelling at his stupid fucking nonsense of rookie – seriously, it feels like they hired a bunch of edgy 12 year olds instead of normal soldiers. 
Job is simple and he finds himself bored to death because this isn’t what he enlisted for. He wanted to fight, to kill, to burden this urge to hurt people who once wronged him with someone who is – probably, maybe, somehow – deserve it. Not really a noble cause, but he stopped playing knight in shining armor once they used him as an infiltration weapon instead of what he actually wanted. All hopes and goals in his life were buried deep with his first sniper rifle – and rude comments about his inability to sit still, even though he is still as good at being a killing machine as a human being possibly can. 
— Sir! We, uh, have a problem to report. 
Gut. 
A problem – this sounds as exciting as it can be. Last time his brigade got a problem, it was about some new recruits falling down with stomach ache because of the forged alcohol they were drinking. Also that one time someone tried to burst their way into the base – not fun, since officers took care of him, but it was at least something to do except for reading and scrolling through various housing options like he actually has a use of buying something with more than one bedroom. Like someone would look at him and love him – enough to pass through some easy fling and start living with him. No one would do that – even his parents couldn’t. 
Still, the problem sounds exciting. Maybe, he could actually go on a mission instead of feeling useless. They promoted him just to pin on the wall like a trophy.
— Repost immediately, soldier. What is it? 
— A civilian, well…a civillina woman…lady, broke the curfew. 
And here it is. Not an unexpected attack from his enemies, not even a drunken fight that someone from his subordinates decided to join and ended up getting their asses kicked. Is this what years of service come to? Watching over some stupid club girls broking the easiest fucking rule to follow, like getting home at midnight is a completely alien experience for them. One of the things he hates about his rank – he is used like a public figure, giving speeches, trying so hard to come up with something other than “Ja, we will kick asses of everyone who tries to infiltrate your country, don’t worry” and then he has to act like he knows what he is doing. Which he obviously doesn’t. If there was a way to just give up his rank and become a shadow again, a monster under a terrorist’s bed, he would do it. Without even a second to think. 
— Send her to the police. We aren’t supposed to deal with…
Then comes the second guy – he doesn’t even remember his name, fuck this, he is supposed to be a father to his troops, or big brother at least, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck to someone weaker – inferior, smaller, someone who will die within a week or so in his first battle because apparently, higher-ups just love recruiting spineless teenagers now. 
Second guy comes to the room, holding someone very firmly by their hand – and König isn’t religious, he isn’t even sure when was the last time he was at any church, the little prayers his grandma used to sing is long forgotten for him, but he sees your face and almost believes in angels. 
König is too old for this shit, again, he hates this country, his team, his rank – then he looks at your face, the way it twists with fear and nervousness because of course, one of his dumb subordinates is holding you too tight and the softness of your flesh – why in the world you are wearing such light clothes, it’s night outside, you will catch a cold and he would give you his jacket, but that would drown you under the weight of it, and he don’t want you to smell the alcohol he has on his clothes, terrible coping mechanism with boredom, and he might just give you something else, maybe, like his shirt or a…
Wait a minute. 
He doesn’t even know your name, even though he is sure this is something gorgeous and would look perfect next to his last name, but he looks at your face and all the years of his military training is suddenly washed away because he can’t even muster a thing out of his mouth. Thank god no one is forcing him to stop wearing his hood – he wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise, not with how hot his face feels right now. You are nervous, this is obvious, since you broke the curfew and went on the streets past 11 pm. He should just bring you to the police, he isn’t even sure why his soldiers would bring some random civilian to the base. He immediately wants to give this private a raise – for bringing him a goddess walking on Earth. Angel, succubus, all of the fancy names and…it feels like he is going crazy. And he should compose himself. Be a good example of a rotten mercenary commander. 
— Why were you breaking the curfew, miss..?
He hates how squeaky his voice sounds, even after all the years in service he can’t get rid of that boyish tone and nervousness every time he is talking to women. All the fear is immediately washed away after you tell him your name – and it’s gorgeous, perfect, feels like something he can devour, something he can moan in the depth of the night while using his hand as a poor substitute for the warmth of your body. 
The pause lingers too much and he already suggests just…taking you. To further investigation. to see if you are really just an innocent person caught up in breaking the rules or an enemy spy – which would give him the perfect opportunity to interrogate you and hold you for a bit longer. He wants you to be a problem, actually – that would give him the authority to hold you here, to think about you in a way that won’t immediately make him a bad person. 
— Went to the pharmacy. Forgot about the time, I’m…I’m sorry. 
You look guilty and weak and nervous obviously – a good girl caught up in the reality of her home country now implementing new rules just so it won’t get annexed by their neighbor. He wants to protect you – or give you the real reason to be scared of him. He wants to be good, but you look too cold in those clothes and he wants to give you something more. Or warm you up in a different way – which makes him feel horrible, his skin crawls and hands are fidgeting again even though he is almost sure he forgot about that habit after a few trigger-happy moments with the enemies. 
— Pharmacies should be closed by this time. Why were you here so late? 
Soldier that brought you here left you with König – colonel, you saw him in the newspapers and on TV, some public speeches while concealing his face in various ways. You don’t trust him, don’t trust the mercenaries – how can you believe that they are going to save you if they don’t even dare to show their faces? He is even scarier in person – big, hulking, too muscular to feel safe, with something like a sack thrown over his head. You want to forget about the medicine you bought and just run away, but that would only mean outright saying that you are guilty. 
You brace yourself and try not to feel too small, but König just wants to wrap his hands around you and throw that weak body of yours on his shoulder. Not letting you go away. Ever.
— I…got lost. Sorry, I know what this looks like, but I just changed the apartment and…look, this is a bog misunderstanding. I have my documents, I’m local! Not some spy or anything, I promise. 
Too bad – you would have the opportunity to escape if you were an enemy. Some evil and wicked femme fattal that is here to seduce him and get the important information out of him – but if you are telling the truth and nothing, but a civilian, he isn’t sure that he could save you from…falling to his hands. It’s stupid, he should really just find someone to fuck, he is getting desperate over the first cute and gentle girl he saw in this place – but really, do he has a chance with a soldier if just a helpless weakling like you can make him kneel? He needs to compose himself. 
— You really shouldn’t be out so late. There is a reason the curfew is upheld. It saves you from the danger. 
— For now the only danger after midnight is your soldiers, apparently. 
Your breath hitches as you understand what you just said – god, who was holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of the fucking commander? You might have had the chance of just escaping before, you weren’t doing anything wrong, you know that some of your friends were breaking the curfew after a party or late visits, but they were never held to the police or martial law – soldiers are understanding of the situation, no one from the young people actually wants to stay in their houses no matter the threats war can bring. You might have the chance of going out with nothing but some harsh words about those stupid younglings ignoring the rules – but now you insulted his men and this will probably bring you to jail for the night at least or something even more…
He laughs. And the sound of it makes your cheeks warm. 
— Ja, I can understand why you would say that. But you shouldn’t break the curfew. 
You feel like winning a lottery, but the prize isn’t money – it’s the chance of getting out of this creepy building and going home to your warm sheets and slight smells of devastation and loneliness. 
— I’m really sorry, sir, I won’t do this again. Promise. 
You look guilty, and König loves this expression. The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with tears when you think he would actually make you goto jail or do something even worse. He relishes in this power over you – even though he doesn’t mingle with civilians, always keeps a safe distance with women around him, never dares to even give them a careful look. He wants to take you away – protect from the world around you, from this fucking place, from all the dangers. The only thing that is dangerous to you seems like him – because he is the only one with power here, the only one who can decide whether he wants to behave like an asshole and lock you away or…
— I can’t just let you go. Let me…I can escort you to your residence so I can make sure you actually went home. And not somewhere else.
He looks at your pharmacy bag – it's a shitty plastic one, transparent and see-through. He understands immediately why you would decide to run to the pharmacy so abruptly even within the vicinity of the curfew – and the fact your bag contains pads and pain medicine only makes him want to scoop you in his arms and get you to his quarters. Government gave them a pretty nice location for the base and he, as the commander, got a bedroom that won’t even make you think about the military. Perks of quartering outside of base, even the barracks are nicer than the ones at home – and he would love to introduce your sore body to the comforts of warm sheets. 
You look at him, surprised and nervous, your adorable lips twists in a pout as you think about your options. You can’t really say no, this can make him angry and resentful – and these aren't emotions you want the local military personnel to feel about you. He is also scary, and stares too much – you don’t want him to look at you like this, both surprised and depraved, but something in his figure still makes you trust him. Maybe it’s that weird propaganda about them protecting your country – he is a public figure, he can’t be evil, right? Maybe it’s just the way his hands fidgets as if he is nervous about your answer – or little cracks in his voice that makes you blush just a little every time you hear it. Or you are simply too tired to not comply. 
— I, um…are you sure? You must have some other things to do. I don’t want to be a bother, really. 
— I want to protect you from harm. Nights are dangerous. 
You want to say that it’s okay, you spend more time in this country than he is – and you know every little corner of the city by this point, no matter the military outposts and destruction. You also want to say that this is creepy as fuck and you don’t want a random guy to just know where you live – but you can’t say that, you are already almost buried yourself with that long tongue of yours, and the only thing you want to do right now is just drink your ibuprofen in peace and get teleported to your bed. 
You want to say no, but it almost feels like something romantic and even though he isn’t showing his face, the view of his muscles, bursting out his clothes and body armor, enough to make you agree. You can regret that decisions later – but with the way his eyes light up like he is a puppy, you probably won’t. 
— Okay. I…I mean, if that’s okay with you, sir. 
— I live to serve. Und ich diene gerne jemanden, dir so bezaubernd ist wie du.
— Sorry?
It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel like it’s something important – but you don’t want to ask for translation, he mutters it under his breath, Maybe some curses about stupid girls getting caught by his soldiers and how he needs to escort them to make sure they are not enemy spies ready to put their knives in his back.
— Just show the way. 
He is awkward, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he looks at you and fights the urge to just squish you with his hands. You are pouting, your hands are trembling, and you are shaking – maybe from the cold or just from fear. König hates himself for not understanding whether he wants you to be scared of him or not. There is something dark, predatory almost, in having someone as adorable as you shaking like a leaf – but he also wants to just scoop you in his hands and make sure you will never be afraid of him. 
He is awkward, silent, he goes on the open side of the sideroad like protecting you from any vehicles that may cross the road at this hour – even though the only ones who are allowed to move at this time of day are hospital workers and his soldiers. His hand looms over your side, like he is not sure whether he wants to just grab you by your shoulder or allow you to lead in a more simple way. You feel protected in a way – you can’t even read his expressions because of that weird mask he is wearing, but his eyes are strangely warm every time he looks at you and thinks you are not looking at him. 
König wants to talk, but he isn’t sure what he even can say to you. The weather is nice? It’s the night, a cold one, and he doesn’t want you to catch some weird illness, but he also doesn’t want to seem like a creep by giving you his jacket. He would do so in a blink of an eye, he would die seeing your smaller body wrapped in his clothes like a nice little gift – but he knows who he is. Monster, giant, always too much and never enough, zero experience with someone who is one his one night stand in some lousy pub when he hates himself a bit less than usual. And you smell clean, civilian, sweet almost, he feels like a dog by just looking at the way your cheeks are blushing from the cold weather. 
He wants to initiate the conversation, know what you like and dislike, maybe learn your opinion about the situation – many locals dislike military presence, he understands this, KorTac isn’t known for being the best guys around here, but they get the job done, however bloody this might be. He would give away anything to just be able to talk – to speak like a normal person, without scaring you or making you think that he is weird. It’s borderline embarrassing, over the many years of his life he was thinking that he would outgrow his anxiety somehow – and here he is, fidgeting with the stupid anti stress toy in his pocket that his therapist gave him, not knowing how to talk to a girl in his grown up years. 
— You’re local.
It doesn’t even sound like a genuine question, it’s more like a threatening statement and he doesn’t like the way it sounds. He can’t gave it back now, it would be even weirder, he just wants to calm down and breathe, but even this is fucking impossible when every time he looks at you, it seems like you are only getting prettier.
— Lived here all my life, sir. 
You’re nervous, and he at least finds some comfort in this – he is not the only one who is scared here, even though he understands that you will surely be more scared than him. But it still comforts him just a little, knowing that you are in roughly the same boat – he can smile under his hood and attempt to at least pretend to be normal. Even if this would be literally impossible for someone like him. 
— Where do you work? 
It sounds like an interrogation and you are not sure if you want to answer truthfully – he isn't trying to force you right now, he isn’t even touching you no matter how closely you are walking, but you are smart enough to understand why telling a random man you just met where you live and work is a bad idea. Even if the man itself is a prominent figure in protecting – or not – your country and literally walks you home because you got lucky to not be sent to the police for breaking the curfew. You would just lie to him about where you work and, hopefully, never see him again – but it’s not just a random guy you met on Tinder. He probably has the resources to check if you really work in said place and if you didn’t and just lied to him then, well…he isn’t threatening you, but your overthinking is enough to make you scared. 
— Just a waitress. Cafe I work at isn’t very far from my apartment. 
You even tell him the address, all while praying he won’t visit you at work. He has the right, of course, especially if he would leave a good tip, but military personnel staying at your cafe probably won’t be good for business. Clients may go away, and that would mean leaving you without tips – and then you can kiss your shitty apartment goodbye. He probably won’t visit you, he is just asking this to fill the awkward silence and check whether you are a spy or not – how confident your answers are, if your story checks out or not. He is a colonel, he must have a lot of other stuff to do instead of chasing over some rule breakers. 
— Hm. 
König already knows where he will be eating every day from now on. But…hell, can he do this, really? It would probably be very awkward for both of you, and you may think that is stalking you, which he definitely is, but doesn’t want to show it yet. He can give you a nice tip every time, he sure as hell has money for it, but then you would think that he is trying to buy you, which he would of course try to if you would be fine with it because honestly, girl as adorable as you should get all the nicest thing she wants to, and he can provide for it, but his damned awkwardness would never let him outright say this, which would lead to a very uncomfortable situation and…
— We might need someone local to help with operations. 
Nailed it. Right? 
— Wh…what do you mean, sir? 
You look scared, nervous, he doesn’t want you to be scared, you’re supposed to feel safe around him! He might hate higher ups for giving him this rank and sending him to this fucking country, but he will protect you no matter what. He wants to be useful, for people to stop being scared of him – to start liking him instead, even if some cold, dismissive way of just stopping bothering him with stupid stuff. He would allow you to bother him all the time, he would protect you and make sure you are alright – you just have to let him, that would be really easy and…
— We’re strangers here. Lots of operations crossed because locals refuse to cooperate. We might need a guide out here. 
He sounds nonchalant, like he doesn’t really care about your answer, but the grip of his hands is stating otherwise. He throws you nervous looks, cold eyes flickering with anxiety as you take your time to answer, secretly hoping that you would get home before you’d had to state this. It doesn’t feel like a genuine question, more like a statement again. More like you don’t really have an option to say no, since he still has the power over you. Since he still looks and sounds like someone who can and will throw you over his shoulder and use it as a cannon folder. 
— I…I’m not sure, sir. I have to work at my actual job. 
Can he blow up your cafe? That would greatly diminish the chances of bumping into you on a romantic Sunday morning, ordering coffee just the way you secretly like it, and then leaving you a very generous tip that would immediately show you what a sophisticated and loaded gentleman he is. He can say that enemies did it, and then he would execute those poor people for ever messing with civilians. He can also get some people from the government to close it, so you wouldn’t have any place to work and then you would be simply forced to work with him – and help him get out of this country as soon as possible. He would pay you well, of course, and being your boss would be a very…interesting experience for him. 
— Are you sure?
You bite your lips and it's proven to be a horrible idea in such terrible weather – your skin breaks easily and you feel the blood in your mouth. Nice – now you would have to invest in lip balms again even though you are sure as hell that even yesterday the weather was nice. Colonel – König, you remember his callsign, no names of course, some twisted secret identity over protecting people who can literally kill you and won’t have consequences – look at you and you can swear to god that his eyes are narrowed, studying your features a bit more. Is he going to kill you for refusing the…job offer? Demand of working with mercenaries to protect your country? 
— Sorry, I…I really need to think about this. And get at least two weeks notice from my job. 
He is too focused on the way blood is glistening on your lips. He wants to lift the lower half of his hood and lick every little drop lingering in your mouth. Kiss this little wound until you would turn into a moaning, crying mess under him. Hold you so tight, he would leave bruises in places his fingers were – all while you are allowing him to. He isn’t delusional enough to think you like him the way he adores you already, but he is delusional enough to imagine you would comply with him mostly – he is a great person. Except for almost everything, of course. 
The road to your home is lonely, no one around, obviously. People aren’t breaking the curfew on the main streets – except for you, apparently, they are tending to do stuff in the shadows if they need something to go out at night. He looks at every street light with suspicion, almost wanting for someone to try and attack you – that would allow him to be your hero, protector, to put out all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while being praised for it. He wants someone to try and kill him just to feel a bit more alive – but then you stop in front of the house, and it only takes one look for him to decide that no, he isn’t going to let you go that easily. He may not be a good or even decent person, but he is not allowing an adorable little thing like you to live in that fucking rathole. 
— You live here? 
— Yes. Thank you for, well, looking after me. I know that I broke rules, I won’t…won’t do that again. Sorry. 
— No. 
— What do you mean “No”?
Is he going to inspect your apartment? You are pretty sure that you left your bed in a very chaotic state and there is more than one pair of panties lying on the couch. Not even speaking about how horrible your living conditions are – tiny apartments, barely enough space for one person fitting in 20 square feet with all of their stuff inside, and an overwhelming desire to blow something up each morning when one of your neighbors is fighting again. 
You don’t have anything to hide, but you are getting pretty tired of people who just think that because they sold their bodies to the military, they can do what they want. 
— It’s a horrible place for a girl to live. 
Hey! You might hate your place, but even that rathole of an apartment doesn't deserve something like this. 
— Well, it’s not a castle, but…I manage. 
— Don’t you have another place to sleep? 
He is fighting with the urge to invite you to the base instead. Far greater place for a little goddess like you, much nicer than…this. He has to physically restrain himself from throwing a hand on your shoulder. He just stared, hoping that you would pull a prank on him and actually has some better living conditions – he can’t bear thinking about you in that kind of life instead. 
— It’s a nice one, really! At least I don’t have to live with roommates. 
He can be your roommate. No, not even like this. He can buy you a freaking house if you would want, just pick a place, preferably in Austria, and that would be easy. He would love to just provide for you, to get to live with someone as adorable – as in need of protection as you. He understands that being this delusional is off brand even to him and his wild fantasies, but he spends too much time hating his work lately, and he needs some outlets, breathing room to just drown himself in fantasies about a nice girl who can actually like him. Who can be his everything, a cure to fix him even though his therapist says such expectations from your partner are toxic and codependent. 
He knows that he can’t say anything to you right now. If anything, you would dismiss any of his worries and just call him a psycho – would be right, probably, he doesn’t even know why he is so obsessed with your safety all of a sudden. He is only self-reflective enough to understand that he can’t act right now, no matter how much he would want to. He can only sigh and let the situation go, for now. He can always just show up at the place you work at. Totally not creepy at all, definitely, completely. 
— Be safe, hase. This time is very dangerous for a girl like you. 
— It’s…okay, really. You don’t have to worry about me, sir. 
Oh, but he wants to. 
Oh, but you want to run up the stairs and close the door behind you as fast as you possibly can. And maybe, just maybe, give him your number – definitely for consultation about the safety and how you can forfeit from breaking the curfew later in life. 
He puts a hand on your shoulder, large fingers tracing over your thin shirt, and goosebumps that are running on your skin aren’t from just the cold weather. You feel ashamed for kinda liking the situation – you are creeped out by him, you are curious about him, and you kinda want him to do something else. But he squeezes the soft flesh of your shoulders, rolling a bit lower, to your back – and then lets go. You breath hitches as he takes a step back, clenching his hand as if fighting the urge to do something else. 
— We’ll meet again. 
You just nod, not sure if you want it or not. König makes a point to determine which apartment is yours based on the window placement and pay you a visit in his leave time. 
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pythoria · 6 months
Text
feeling some feelings about gale tonight *cracks knuckles*; he was a child prodigy, he was in tune with the weave, and inevitably mystra, since he was just a little kid. imagine being so in tune with magic, feeling so comfortable and safe within its bounds, falling in love with something so beautiful as a child. it becomes your whole world. imagine being filled with such childish idealism, such hope, that your only desire becomes getting closer to this thing, this goddess, finding that love and safety and giving it form.
imagine growing up, finally getting the attention of your goddess, how starry eyed you must be, how proud of yourself. this is your whole world, the reason you're alive, your purpose in life. mystra is everything to you, the magic in your veins, the giddy feeling in your heart, the proud ego in your chest. and then she finally *sees* you for the first time, you end up sharing her bed, touching her, talking to her, earning her approval, and, you think, her love. magic is your job, your lover, the motherly embrace of childhood. of course you would try to ascend to be with mystra forever. of course you would want power, so she sees you as an equal. of course you want to impress her, she's all you've ever known.
and then when you fail, when a ticking bomb gets stuck in your chest, you get none of that love and care. she doesn't protect you, she doesn't even talk to you anymore. so you've lost everything you've ever held dear in one fell swoop, the basket you put all your eggs in shattered, and you're left with nothing. you're now a middle aged man, your whole life spent in service of your goddess, who abandoned you at the first sign of free will you've shown. you feel like a failure. you don't have any friends, nor lovers, and you fall from being an archmage to nearly becoming an ilithid thrall. and maybe you realise that were it not for the astral prism, you'd have become a mindflayer and mystra wouldn't have saved you.
maybe you realise she's completely written you off when elminster shows up and tells you she wants you to sacrifice yourself. maybe you think "is this what my life's work is worth? a lifetime of devotion? a second hand missive asking me to die?". but no matter how ridiculous the request, you're in too deep now. nobody would care if you died, mystra made sure you were always focused on her, never making meaningful connnections with other mortals, having no friends, foes, or lovers. if mystra forsakes you, you might as well not exist. so death to serve her might be the best ending you could've hoped for, really.
except along comes someone, and they also have a worm in their head, and you team up, and soon enough there's a bunch of you strutting around faerun, and suddenly someone *cares*. for the first time in years, you actually have... friends? and they're telling you mystra is insane, that you've been manipulated, they tell you that what mystra is asking is too much, that they want you to live. and you're defensive, of course. you still love mystra, and you can't get away from her either, because you feel her presence every time you cast as much as a firebolt, magic running through your veins like ambrosia, nectar and poison all at once. you conjure her face to gaze at, and when you start falling for tav, you show them the weave, because that's the only way you know how to love. eventually you accept that you might have to defy mystra to stay alive and suddenly you have a choice again. but in the process, everything you knew and loved turned to dust, and you had to build yourself back up from the ashes, all while smiling and laughing and trying fruitlessly to fit in with your companions, who find you stuck up and weird after so much isolation.
gale is such a tragic character, if you think about it.
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luveline · 4 months
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I love your KBD universe it is soo adorable!! All the kids are written so cutely! I relate to Avery so much! I was thinking about what if mom is super pregnant and she always wants to be near Steve, like she almost doesn’t even want him out her line of sight. Always wanting to touch him and get kisses from him. Love your blog!!
kisses before dinner ♡ you're pregnant and steve is lovely
There is a silver lining to being eight months pregnant (that isn't the baby at the end) —your husband. 
Steve gets soft. When the physical evidence of your pregnancy becomes unignorable, and then glaringly obvious, he treats you with exceptional care, love and tenderness. You can't get enough of it or him. 
And you're like a lost puppy when he's not near. “Steve,” you say, feeling rather morose about the whole thing, “where are you?” 
“In the kitchen! Do you want something?” 
No, you think, just you. “What are you doing?” 
“Babe, I'm making you and Ave your drinks!” A telltale plink of ice cubes knocking against glass follows. “Don't get up, okay?” 
You squeeze Avery's hand where it's held in yours. “Does he think I'll explode?” 
She giggles, her almond eyes lit with her laughter. “Maybe, mom.” 
“Do you think I'll explode?” 
“No way. You didn't explode before.” 
“‘Xactly.” You'd offer to carry her, or simply scoop her up without asking, but being so pregnant actually does feel like you're going to explode sometimes and you figure it's a bad idea. “Let's go see what he's doing.” 
You and Avery pick over Dove's tea party, abandoned sadly in the middle of the living room, and make your way into the kitchen, which is less hecticly messy but a tad grimy after a long week. Grease clings to the stove top and there's a cherry red stain down the front of the refrigerator. Death of a stolen popsicle. 
Steve sighs when he sees you, too much love around his eyes for any believability when he chides, “You can't sit down. It's impossible.” 
You push yourself back against the counter next to his hip. Avery does the same immediately, giving him a similar look, you're sure. 
He tries to hide his smile with a sip of Avery's too full drink. “Here,” he says when it's at a safer level, “apple juice for you. And ice, princess.” 
“Thank you,” she says, eyes wide as her open palms. She takes it and drinks at it greedily, the sweet taste of concentrated sugar enough to steal her attention. She walks out of the kitchen calling for Beth. “Come have some juice!” 
“That's adorable,” Steve says. 
“You tend to make them that way.” 
He throws an arm against his forehead, slouching beside you, the other wrapping behind your back. “I know. It's exhausting.” 
You spy your youngest under the kitchen table. The girls are fascinated with alcoves and small spaces. If they can fit into a nook, they will, and if they can't, they'll squeeze in anyhow. She breathes through her mouth over a pad of paper with a shard of a crayon in hand, drawing rather intricate things, considering her age. 
“Are those flowers?” you whisper. 
“Think so…” Steve lifts his head high to kiss the top of yours, his arm moving up to your shoulders. He rubs at them like he's trying to relieve a pressure you haven't announced. “You really need to stop getting up all the time. You're at risk–” 
“No, the doctor said if I'm not careful I'd put myself at risk.”
“And what are you doing?” he asks, voice like velvet, smooth and soft as he looks behind your ear. He must see something, petting away a flyaway or a loose strand or something, his touch as tender as his voice. 
You tilt your head away from him. After as long in love with one another as you have been, he knows you're asking for something rather than moving away, and he leans in again to kiss your cheek, rubbing behind your ear all the while. 
“Let's go sit down,” he suggests. 
“In a second.” 
You're terrible lately but it's all his fault. You crave his affection both big and small, all the time, and in every place. You'll be off work any day now and you're sure you'll spend that time soaking him in while he runs ragged trying to get things ready. You've done it before. Steve in the grocery store looking for a hundred different things while you draw stars into the backs of his hand, or trying to fix the baby gate onto the wall while you sit on the stairs making googly eyes at him. 
“My boy,” you say stupidly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Regrettably, he can't continue to dote on you like that, but it prompts him to hug you as close as he can manage. “I love you.” You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “You smell really nice.” 
“I love you too.” Pine, today. Fresh. “I see what's happening.” 
“What's happening?” 
You think he's going to put you down. The baby hormones are making you clingy, he might say, but he doesn't. “You've realised how hot I am. You're late, but I'll forgive you. You know, ‘cos of your predicament.” 
“Thank you,” you say, kissing his neck gently. 
You leave a series of butterfly kisses down the column of his neck before squishing yourself into the curve of it, resting too much weight on him. He takes it all without complaint, hugging you tighter, the distension of your bump a beach ball between you that makes you unfortunately shorter, bending as you are. 
His breath is a pleased sound in your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You hug until you have a strange pain in your neck; he encourages you away from him like he can sense it. 
“You okay?” he asks, thumb under your eye, a millionth sweet touch to add to the mountain. 
“I'm great.” 
“Yeah?” He holds you in place and kisses you. “Love you,” he says, his bottom lip jutting against yours. He kisses you again, and then he pulls away completely, a hand between you both the only tether. “Time to sit down. I'm gonna take your blood pressure.” 
There's no need. If anything, the way he's looking at you might give an inaccurate reading, but you think of the fawning and fretting and the rough of his fingertips digging into the top of your arm and smile, giddy. “‘Kay.” 
“Come on, Dovey, let's go be mommy's doctor,” he calls to Dove. 
In a rather uncharacteristic episode of actually listening, she abandons her crayons and takes his offered hand. He shoots you a quick smirk, as if to say, Yeah, I did that. It's stupid and it makes you laugh, because you couldn't love him much more than this. 
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iiotic · 25 days
Text
。‧What letters? ༻༉
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Alastor x Fem! Reader
༉‧.tw - an opinion, mentions of toxic parents, racism, toxic relationship, bullying, death, use of Alchocol, Reader is white (sorry to all other races)
༉‧.words - 1.9k
༉‧.a/n - This is pt 1 and pt 2 of "what letters?" combined because I hated how stupid it looked in 2 parts. The is very badly written because it was one of my first works and as always I'd like to apologize for any mistakes English is not my first language.
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In 1907 your parents decided to move in Louisiana, New Orleans. You were awfully scared of changing schools thinking that you won't make any friends since it's the middle of school year.
You were assigned school uniforms. Blue-ish shirt with white buttons and a black skirt just below your knees. Black tights and white boots. You quite liked it however you thought it was a little stupid that they gave you bright shirts. Of course you will get them dirty.
You soon found yourself troubled to sit with someone at lunch. Everyone seemed like they were having a good time, laughing with others and you just didn't want to interrupt them.
You also took a notice of how people sit. In what groups. Everyone was sitting with the same race as them. Just like in your old school, nothing was different here.
You usually sat alone. Until..
-"May i sit here?"- A boy your age asked. He had round black glasses and chocolate eyes. - I took notice of you sitting alone at lunch and i was wondering if i could join you?
You quickly recovered from the shook and agreed to his offer. After introducing yourself you found out that the boys name is Alastor. He told you that he had troubled sitting with anyone because he was "mixed" and that no one accepted him the way he is.
Then you realised what your parents told you. They absolutely forbidden you to talking to any other race. Your dad didn't like black people one bit. He thought that they are absolutely useless and shouldn't be accepted in any way. That they shouldn't exist.
However you weren't just going to throw away your first friend in school like that. Deciding to keep it a secret.
You learned that Alastor is actually really smart. He was the top student in his class, getting straight A's. Well except history but you were great with it so you made a deal. You would help Alastor with history and he'd help you with any other subject you had problems with.
You also met Ms. Barbara, Alastors mother. She was a sweet woman, really. She always made the best jambalaya and was really supportive of her son, always wishing the best for him. She grew a liking to you as well.
Thought you did notice the weird looks people would give you at school. You didn't mind.
After a year you developed feelings for Alastor thinking that he's sweet, clever and fun.. And he knows how to cook. But little did you know that he did too.
Then it all crashed. Your parents decided to move out of Louisiana. You questioned them why would they even wanted to move in if we were leaving now.
Absolutely devastated you went to see and say your last goodbye to Alastor. You promised him to somehow keep in touch and write a lot of letters.
It didn't work out.
Your father found out about your little friend and the letters you would write every night to update him how has your day been and that you miss him. He gave the letters to your mother so that she could burn them or hide them in the attic so that you and Alastor wouldn't have any kind of communication.
And here you were, sitting in your new room. Waiting, waiting for letters from the boy who you've developed feelings for.. Or has he already forgotten about you?
On your 29th birthday you had an accident. A car crash. You decided to drive extremely drunk after your own party. 2 people in the car with you; your best friend and your younger sister. That day 2 souls came to rest and 1 to suffer in hell.
After you woke up in not your body you absolutely freaked out. Where were you? Where is my younger sister? What time is it? I'm hungry. Were you.. Dead?
Behind your laying body stood the "Happy Hotel" where souls are suppose to get rehabilated. You had no other choice then to go there.
3 knocks could be heard across the main hall suggesting that someone is waiting behind the door. A pretty blonde woman opened the door and seemed extremely excited to see you.
She introduced herself as Charlie, the owner of the hotel and the Princess of hell. Charlie explained that you ended in hell and how things work here. You were absolutely terrified.. What did you that you ended here?
But then it hit you. Your father robbed the store multiple times and didn't get caught. You were suppose to keep it a secret and you did. You should've report it to the police.
Charlie also said that you could stay here for as long as you wish, on 1 condition; you would have to help in any way you can. A free place to stay and a nice owner? Of course you agreed instantly.
When Charlie was walking you to your new room you felt awfully uncomfortable.. Like you were watched. You're terrified at this point 'couse you just realised where you are.
Everything is happening so fast that you don't know what's even going on. But before you could realise anything a deer-like creature is standing right infront of you.
You looked up at the tall creature before you with fear in your eyes. None of you said anything. His red eyes staring at you, almost like you were his prey and he was your predator. He was smiling. Why the hell was he always smiling like nothing has ever happen?
How could you look at him the same when he had left you heartbroken like that?
How could you forgive him for everything he'd done?
How could you act like everything was fine when it wasn't?
-"Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" - The fear in your eyes slowly turning into anger and sorrow. - You promised me you'd write back to me. Then tell me why didn't i receive anything?
His eyes narrowed and his smile grew bigger. -"What letters?" - His voice sounding like an old radio. The static was ringing in yours ears, causing you a headache. -"I never received any of your letters, dear."
-"Stop lying to me, Alastor." - You quickly interrupted his sentence. -"I wrote to you everyday, hoping for a response from you. Tell me, why didn't you fulfil our promise?"
-"I would-" - He was interrupted once again. This time by the owner of the hotel. She walked up to you two with an excited face, screaming your name.
She slowed down as she saw who you were talking to. Her excited smile slowly turned into an more nervous one.
-" I see you two already met each other." - Charlie said focusing more on Alastor, hoping that he didn't do anything stupid. - "In case that he didn't introduce himself his name is Alastor. But I'm sure you've already heard of him. I just came her to say that your room is ready."
You thanked Charlie as you were truly grateful for everything she already has done for you. Without her you would probably be homeless, just waiting to get killed in the next extermination. Soon enough Charlie completely ignored Alastor, dragging you along to introduce to you everyone in the hotel.
-" So that was Niffty! We're 80% sure she's harmless. And this is the bar and the bartender" - She said pointing on an avian cat demon, absolutely screaming with excitement. But can you really blame her? You were her second true guest!
The demon behind the bar just looked at you for a second turning back around to whatever he was doing.
-"Oh! Vaggie here!!"- She said waving at a girl with long white hair with a jagged, moth-like shape to the cut, with gray-lavender stripes at the ends. Charlie quickly introduced her too. -" And this is my girlfriend, Vaggie."
Vaggie just gave you a slight smile while telling Charlie that they should talk in private. Apologising Charlie said that she was going to be right back.
So now you were left all alone in the lobby. You decided to sit on the couch to think about everything that has just happened.
"Okay so there's an afterlife and i'm not so surprisingly in hell. Im in a place filled with crazy psychos.." You pinched the bridge of your nose. Looking around at your surroundings, hoping that this is all a dream. "Some surprisingly happy woman allowed me to stay at her hotel for as long as i want to. And in this hotel there's my childhood bestfriend. Amazing."
-"Fucking amazing" - You said out loud as you heard Charlie coming back wanting to continue the tour.
。‧₊༻
You woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Getting up and throwing a blanket on yourself you yelled that they should come in.
And he did.
-"What are you doing here, Alastor?"- You looked at him with anger in your eyes. "- I don't want to see you."
-" Well, dearest." - He paused thinking how he should put it in words. -" I just wanted to make few things clear beetwen us."
- "We haven't seen each others in years and here you are being mad at me because you didn't keep our little promise."
- "I didn't keep it?" - You got up from your sitting position on your bed and started to slowly walk up to him. -" I always stayed up late at night writing letters to you every-fucking-day. I thought that you would care just a little to write back to maybe I don't fucking one. Atleast one letter?"
-" As i said earlier, i didn't receive any letters."- He looked at you calmly with his signature smile -"However I'd like to know your excuse to not responding to my letters."
-"I didn't receive any letters Alastor!" - God, you were so mad at him. He truly broke your heart. You liked him.. No you lived him for such a long time. He was your first crush and now? He was just a fucking manipulator. - Why the fuck are you lying to me?
-"I'd like to discuss this matter calmly." - He said referring to you cussing him in every sentence and your unstoppable yelling. - How about I'll take you to a cafe, my treat.
After considering his offer you agreed. You really needed to know what happened between you two and if he was really lying. It was quite dumb for you to just assume he was a liar without any proof but I guess it was the adrenaline rushing through your veins.
This morning you borrowed a dress from Charlie becouse you didn't have any other clothes then the ones that you've fallen in. It was a black dress just below your knees with an sweetheart neckline. She also borrowed you her jewelry so now you're also wearing a golden necklace.
The time of day has come and Alastor knocked to your bedroom once again. This time you opened the door closing it behind, ready to go.
Alastor snapping his finger teleported both of you to a nearby cafe. Coming in and gesturing you to chose a table. After you choose one he pulled out the chair for you and took a seat before you.
-"So dear."- He looked up at you -"That dress really compliments your figure."
-"Thank you however it isn't mine. Now I'd like you to explain what happened?"
-"I don't know what you're talking about, darling. "- Oh now he is acting dumb?
-" I'll ask one last time. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" - You asked, this time calmly. Crossing your arms.
-"and I'll say one last time. I didn't receive them."- He said looking out of the window, seeing demons suffer. -"I always thought that you didn't write them, that you've forgotten about me."
-"I'd never forget you, Alastor. You meant a lot for me."- You responded looking out of the window as well -"I couldn't imagine life without you. That's why I was truly heartbroken when i didn't ses you write back."
-"I was writing to you, so many times. In fact i always wrote to you on the end of every week." - He confessed - "For over 15 years."
-"But i didn't receive anything?"
-"Neither did i, dear"- Maybe it was the wrong address? Maybe I just didn't know how to send letters? Maybe I didn't actually send them?
-"So.. I'm sorry I'm so embarrassed right now." - You looked at your lap fidgeting with your fingers -"I should have never yelled at you like. It was very immature of me to accuse you of something you didn't do."
-"That's fine, darling"- he said looking back at you lowering his tone a bit -"Everything is fine between us?"
You looked at him with hope in your eyes. Oh how much you wanted to bring things to normal, how it was earlier when you were kids. -"Yeah everything is fine."
-"Smile my dear. You know you're never fully dressed without one!"
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bountycancelled · 9 months
Text
rating how SEVENTEEN would react if you wore revealing clothes in front of the members (maknae line edition)
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hyung line version here
genre: rating-headcanon hybrid, suggestive ig, gn reader
requested: nope, but reqs are open (just look at my masterlist to see who I write for♡)
warnings: suggestive stuff and delusionality (seriously, this is the most delusional piece of work I have ever written)
a/n: after going ghost for like half a year, I'm back! I'll be sure to be more active this time around, so pls request if you want me to write about something 🙏
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minghao
(desperately trying to fight the urge to give him an 8/10) 6.8/10. thinks he's calm but really isn't.
takes great pride in being the only one to get to see you in more risqué attire, so is a little (a lot) jealous when he sees you walk down the stairs to greet the members.
his lips press together in that middle aged white man frown i hope yall know what the fuck im talking about CAHSSVH but he knows the members arent going to try anything with you so its all good
except its not all good because now hes distracted
teases you throughout the whole night, neck kisses, whispering what hes gonna do to you when the members leave, smirking at you BLOOD OF JESUS so that YOU end game night early instead of him (he has an image of peace and serenity to keep up and being needy for you in front of everyone would destroy it lol)
mingyu
-100009999000000/10. please do not even attempt to wear anything even remotely revealing in front of him unless you want a certain reaction.
sees what you're wearing before anybody shows up and begs you to cancel so that he can cough cough hold hands in bed with you for the whole night.
when the members walk in and see him on his knees, hugging your legs and damn near crying, they think nothing of it cause its mingyu and game night ensues.
cue mingyu glaring at everyone who touches you, doesn't matter if its accidental or if its just to give you the dice when it's ur turn to roll, they're getting stared DOWN.
also cue mingyu staring at you with his eyes glossed over and his mouth open like a squirrel staring at an accorn, and practically needing to be punched in the gut to pay attention to anything but how sexy you are.
also also cue mingyu ending game night like an hour and a half earlier and throwing you over his shoulder, barely having enough self-control to make it up the stairs (good luck soldier, it's gonna be a long night)
dokyeom
a solid 7.8/10. bless this mans heart, he would not do anything even remotely territorial or jealous after seeing what your wearing. it actually warms his heart that you feel comfortable around the members because they're truly like a 2nd family to him.
ever the charmer he is, he'll make sure to compliment you with a hand on your waist and a kiss to your cheek as you greet the members coming through the door (idk about you but imagining seokmins hand across my waist WHEW-)
since dokyeom is usually touchy with you, it serves as no surprise that he would be even more so with more revealing clothes, but he can still find it in himself to focus on the game.
but now YOU'RE distracted by his soft touches, barely even able to contain yourself or focus on anything but his hand trailing up and down your side.
neither of you end game night early, and when the time comes, everyone bids you two goodnight and does the separate ways. cue you jumping on dokyeom and him gladly carrying you to your shared bedroom. (what you don't know is that he was PURPOSEFULLY distracting you the entire time, and he is definetly dawning a self-satisfied smirk as he closes your bedroom door)
seungkwan
-666/10. you have chosen the wrong boyfriend to try something like this with, and he will make it very known.
gives you the meanest stank eye known to mankind, seething with jealousy as you make your way downstairs. (this man is literally grinding his teeth, you have created a monster-)
dedicates the entire game night to making your experience as lackluster as possible. I'm talking he'll make you lose every. single. game. every. single. round. without fail. doesn't matter if he's on your team or not, he's just that petty.
the members obviously aren't oblivious to seungkwan's sudden beef with you, but be it them thinking its funny or them not wanting to be another one of his targets, you're on your own soldier.
the only thought in his mind right is how DARE you look this good in front of anyone on the planet earth but him? where is duty? where is honour?? where is sacrifice??? (you and him just binged House of the Dragon, hence his dramatic mood)
game night ends early on account of the rest of the group feeling as though you and seungkwan need some alone time to solve this one-sided conflict. as soon as they leave, seungkwan acts all coy, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes when you say you know just how to make it up to him. as if this isn't what he wanted the whole time lol.
vernon
2/10. this guy won't even bat an eye at your choice of clothing for game night, whatever makes you comfortable is always going to be okay with him. you don't need his approval and he's aware and is perfectly fine with that.
and that's all good and well, except this time you were purposefully trying to make him jealous, so seeing his reaction (or lack there of) kind of bums you out.
don't get him wrong, it's not like he doesn't think you're attractive (you're the most beautiful human he's ever laid his eyes on) but he does not even register your outfit as you walk down the stairs, let alone get jealous in any capacity.
game night starts and finishes exactly how it always does, and when it's all over, as the members are saying their goodbyes to you two, jeonghan makes a slightly suggestive comment on your outfit, which you brush off with a wave of your hand.
it is only at that moment, after jeonghans comment, that vernon realises that your clothing is more revealing that what you usually wear in front of the members. (when I say this man is oblivious, I mean that shit)
"you look good." is all you get from him, as he walks past you and walks up the stairs and turns back to you, confused as to why you aren't following him.
all I'm saying is, if you want... attention from this man, you have to tell him upfront. because trust me, once he knows exactly what you want, he'll have no problem giving it you ;)
dino
–infinity/10. you don't wanna mess with him, cuz he's a jealous, jealous, jealous boy. if he- lemme cool with the lana lyrics but you catch my drift.
as soon as he sees your outfit, he pulls out his phone and texts on the groupchat that game night is cancelled because of "unforseen circumstances." whatever the hell that means.
he will shower you in compliments, his eyes filled with admiration for you. cue you getting kisses all over your face, and when you ask him when the boys are coming for game night, he'll simply trail his kisses a little lower, aiming at your neck to distract you and it works
at some point during your, ahem, devil's tango with Dino in your shared bedroom (he carried you there because in his words, "someone who looks as good as you should not need to lift a finger, let alone walk up a flight of stairs." okay chivalry!) you both hear a knock on the door.
it's the members, worried that one of you had gotten hurt or something which is why game night was cancelled. Dino is as red as tomato when he sees them, stating that you had hurt your ankle and that you weren't really up for game night tonight. the story would be believable if Dino wasn't sweating like he just ran a marathon, and if you weren't wearing such a sexy outfit.
but hey, you're limping as you walk down the stairs to greet the members, so maybe that'll make it all the more believable. (news flash, it makes it less believable, but Dino shoos them out effectively anyways, carrying you back to your room with a quickness, he's not done with you just yet LORD HAVE MERTHY)
thats it, i hope you enjoyed and redoing my permanent taglist, so I'll add you if you send an ask♡
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the-yellow-birdy · 6 months
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I come at this hour, only for you
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AN: IM BACK, okay so your girl can't stop and she's incredibly indecisive, so forget the post from yesterday (except the recommendation of the other tumblr) and know that I have returned. Truly hope you will enjoy this L.O.L - Yellow bird
// 18+ audience only! - Heavy dom/sub dynamics - Dom!LarissaWeems x Sub!FemReader - BDSM - Power dynamics/Power play - consensual manipulation - Lesbian yearning - All characters are above the age of 18\\
Click clack, click clack.
The sound of your spool heels hitting the cobblestone floors, was penetrating your ears as you sauntered down the empty firelit halls. It aligned untempered with the beating of your heart, which was already on its way up your throat, trapping your breath, preventing you from deeply inhaling the cool air around you. The pencil skirt you wore, made it fairly difficult to walk at a fast pace, but it was probably for the best. Your hands were clamped with sweat and the white blouse you wore was already getting damp from your warm body and doing a small marathon right now would make your sweaty nervousness visible to anyone. To her. Merciless her.
The skirt could be seen as a bit inappropriate and you were starting to wonder if maybe you shouldn’t have worn it.
Or maybe you should.
What if she says something? Would she look? 
What if you want her to look.
Definitely not. You definitely don’t want her to look, she shouldn’t look. Surely she won’t look. Perhaps she will have stopped with these foolish games. Maybe she will like it and not say anything. 
Or maybe she won’t.
You were nearing her office taking a couple of deep breaths as you swiped your bangs out of your face, smoothing down your neat ponytail.
You’re gonna be fine. Just, calm down.
 It wasn’t unusual for you to be interrupted in the late evenings by Nevermores headmistress. Whenever your screen lit up as you sat comfortably in your bed about to succumb to sleep, you knew there was no protesting. Well maybe if you weren't so pliable there would be, but you being you, there was no displeasing Larissa Weems. 
But it was at night that things got…
Strange
One night she had called upon you as you were closing your eyes to the tv-screen in front of you, requesting your presents. It wasn’t the first time, and the appeal of staying in your bed was grand, but you had of course complied as the reliable secretary you were.
You always did.
She didn’t tell you why it was urgent, yet you expected some immediate reports or mails to be written and sent the following morning, calling you now simply as a favor to your busy schedule, giving you some time to write them. But you were far from right.
She had requested for you to make her tea.
Tea? At this hour?
You thought. But of course your thoughts and thinking didn’t have a lot of time in the company of the woman. So with a single tilt of her head you did as you were told standing in the middle of the beautifully crafted office, and made tea.
The act in itself was harmless and quite pure, actually. It wasn’t like you were already asleep when she texted you and was being completely unfair. You could still get home at a decent hour to get some sleep if you hurried.
“Take off your heels, and come pour me the tea.”, she had said, quietly reading a document in her hand, her reading glasses at the bridge of her nose. Only looking over to see if you had sat them neatly aside by the wall. You didn’t, she thought and looked back down at the paper.
You of course wondered about the demand of your heels, but again, not much time to contemplate when Larissa was awaiting you.
She had you stand by her side the entire night. Having you repeatedly pour her tea when her cup became empty. She had only allowed you to leave, when the tea got cold and you had to make a new brew. Not even a bathroom break was given.
You had definitely seen the benefit she gave you of leaving the heels behind. 
Oh, how kind she truly was to you.
As the night came to an end and the early hours of dawn were showing, small birds chirped outside the office window, your eyes had closed, pot in hand, and you were swaying in the morning lights as if in a trance.
A gentle hand on your hip had your eyes flew open, coming out of the hypnotizing calmness. You couldn't see them, yet you knew there were large gray bags under your eyes.
“Well done, dear.”, she had said, drawing lacy circles on your hip bone. You had no idea why you felt like crying when she smiled at you, but you held the tears back.
She had given you the day off to rest, yet expected you back the next morning with the new student reports.
Headmistress - Larissa Weems
You looked at the gold plate engraved into the big oakwood door. The expensive shiny gold against the plain dark wood was a contrast that could only be adored, as you knocked twice on the door.
“Ms. Weems, it’s me Y/n”, You almost didn’t hear her timid reply of you being allowed to enter over the thumping of your heavy heart beats.
Just calm down. Nothing is gonna happen. You can always stop it. She would never if you don’t want to. 
But what if you did?
You entered her office, seeing her tapping away at her computer in the distance. Not offering you a single glance as you made your way towards her desk.
You stood in front of her for a couple of minutes, waiting patiently for a sign, a breath, a nod, a clearing of her throat, anything. When she finally looked up at you, finishing her sentence with the final period, she said nothing as her eyes slid down over your exposed collarbones. They traveled further and further over your curves and creases. The subtle outlining of your visible breasts given the bra you had chosen, the skirt of which was far too short for a respectable woman such as yourself, and finally the almost see-through white button-up shirt tucked into it.
She said nothing. Only after seconds lasting what seemed like eternity, did she take her eyes away from you and down to her desk once more. The hairs on the back of your neck had settled again, yet the tingling feeling of a sugar rush in your veins remained.
She always gave you attention during the day. Walking past you desk with a smile and the occasional 
morning dear 
Or words of affirmation when your job had been executed without flaw.
What would become of me without you and your splendid work my darling? 
You lived for it, a single praise from the woman, could plant a stupid smile on your face the rest of the day. You truly were pathetic. You knew you did a good job and what you were capable of, so why did you crave her approval so deeply?
But when nights came around such as this one, she changed. 
She took a stack of papers on the edge of the mahogany table and stretched her arm towards you. Her tea, placed right next to it. She was now looking you in the eyes, ripping off your clothes and exposing your bare self to her, with just a look. Your cheeks burned and you knew she could see it.
“I would like you to go through these letters from the parents. And I'd be very pleased if you only hand them to me, assuming anything serious was to show.”, She had a shine to her eyes. The beautiful laugh lines around her mouth and eyes prominent in the glow of the fireplace. She was absolutely breathtaking. Terrifying. Fearless. Charming.  Warm, oh so warm. Cold. Beautiful.
Dominant
Mesmerized, you glared a second too long at her elegant hairdo, snapping your eyes to her face.
“Uhm, yes Ms. Weems. I-Is that everything?”confusion was visible on your face, she loved it. Is this it? No more games? No more long nights, no more stares or touching. No more awaiting atmospheres of what's to come, what she wants or does next, that erupts butterflies within your whole body?
“Yes. That would be everything, Ms. L/n”, She gave you only the tint of a smile as she redirected her attention to her screen once more after you took the papers, leaving you utterly dumbfounded.
“Yes Ms. Weems, goodnight”, she gave you a small goodnight as you made your way to the door. Eyebrows wrinkled and the feeling of fireworks in your veins dilapidating.
Was this it? no more?
The endless taunting, lessons, reprimandings and taut praises gone? It was as if your heart felt lighter, almost too light. As if something was fading and dissolving from it.
Your heartbeat fell into its normal, monotone rhythm. Maybe it was good. It surely was. All you had to do was leave and do your work. Simply take ahold of the door handle and…
A thud.
“Oh my, I’m quite the klutz. Would you mind helping me for a minute, my darling?”, her voice was calm, unnervingly calm as you listened to the woman behind you. It was sweet, bittersweet as she spoke the words in her thick accent. The hairs on the back of your neck had risen once more. Your heart, leaving its once peaceful rhythm.
You turned around. The principle was staring daggers at you, without having moved an inch from her spot. Eyes fixed on the price as her hand held onto the edge of the desk, head tilted slightly as she looked at you with a faux hopeful expression of your service. 
The now empty teacup laid on the expensive Agra rug. A dark patch of the liquid had formed on it as a result of the small accident.
“Come here.”, she straightened her head and morphed her expression back to one of seriousness. 
Click clack, click clack.
You came to stand in front of her again.
“Would you be a dear and clean the mess. I am terribly fond of this rug and I would hate to see it ruined by a simple cup of tea.”, she wetted her bottom lip, tongue sliding over the plumb flesh, leaving you with vivid imaginations and a horrible need to cover yourself in her expensive lipstick. She didn’t give you a smirk or even a hint of a smile, but the smugness, the eye contact and the feigning helplessness was drowning your mind.
“Yes.”
“Oh aren’t you too sweet.”
You timidly smiled at her, face lighting up in rosy colors at the exaggerated praise.
She blinked a couple of times, the kind features she displayed, coming to an end.
What do you do? Wait? Leave? Speak?
“On your knees, Y/n.”, It wasn’t mean nor a request, rather a polite demand. 
What? Knees? You won’t! There's no way you heard her right! Of course you heard her right, she’s insane. You’re insane. You shouldn't even be here at this hour, cleaning her mess, let alone on your knees as she feasted her eyes on you. You shouldn’t. Should you? 
Your mind was blinded by fog and uncertainty. But in the end you knew that when one eyebrow lifted slightly, eyes narrowed at your soul, there was no reason to resist. Like butter on a burning pan, your destiny was to melt.
Hypnotized, you got on your knees, putting the papers beside you. Your gaze not faltering from hers, seemingly kneeling in front of the dark spot, but in reality you were kneeling before an entirely different darkness.
Larissa’s breath raked, she had waited so long. She had too. There was no springing this on anyone. It had to be developed, a process of trust leading up to this exact moment, letting her know that her patience had paid off. You truly were hers. Look at you, such despair you showed, thinking she was gonna give you no more recognition. You were absolutely perfect, especially in this exact view with your skirt bunching so far up it covered nothing of your creamy thighs, and you didn't even notice.
“What are you waiting for, hm?”, She raised an eyebrow at you.
You blinked, “I have no cloth, Ms. Weems.”
She looked at your doe eyes, her body was about to give in. About to help you find a cloth, rip it off of you, providing you with the guidance you clearly needed in your state of haze. Tell you just how to do it, how to clean, how to sit, how to breathe, eat, look, dress, please.
Her eyes moved from your face to the white button-up. She could see the top of your pleasing breasts. How long until you’d beg her to simply brush a gloved hand across them, she thought.
She looked up at you once more, slowly trailing her eyes down onto the white fabric.
You looked at her with doubt, could it really be true. You needed to be sure. But deep down, you knew what she was asking. Demanding. 
I have no intentions of giving in to your puppy eyes, sweet girl.
You slowly grabbed the top button and freed it from its restraint. You looked down to see what you were doing, wanting it done properly and agile. You felt ashamed, bare, fragile, but at the same time the feeling of being free was the one dominating, making all the doubt disappear.
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, such a good girl
“Look at me.” Her voice dropped and she had shifted on her office chair, so that she sat right in front of you. Head to chest. Her hands had folded over her soft stomach, an elbow on the edge of the desk and elegant, pale, long legs crossed.
Blue orbs observed you, as you gradually revealed yourself more and more to your employer, the headmistress.
It’s wrong. You have to stop. 
When all the buttons had been freed you paused, she gave you a tiny nod of her head, the only sign you needed. You slowly took off your shirt and placed it in your lap, your eyes faltering slightly of a new found shame bubbling in the back of your mind. You must be looking incredibly silly.
Oh dear. You were doing it again.
Your lack of obedience didn’t pass the principle. What to do with you? She brought the tip of her stiletto to your face. She placed it under your chin, lifting it and making you look at her a second time.
Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
Your mind went blank with only her as your epicenter. No idea of what to do, you simply looked up, mouth agape, baffled by her impotent behavior leading to the uncivilized act.
She looked so serene from this angle. Stoic. You were looking at her smooth calves, not able to look higher, the fabric of her skirt in the way. Dainty stockings protecting her skin from the cold, you, had to endure. Her elegant ankles, framed by elegant black heels. Flawless.
She was an angel. A devil disguised was probably the right answer. You never knew hell could taste, look, feel so sweet. And how could you deny it, when it was breathing you in right above you, like an addict. An addict fighting the urge to consume their drug, the thing bringing them simple, addictive ecstasy. Her eyes almost dazed and shoulders moving with her shallow breath.
Won’t be long now, my sweet
“Go on, darling.”, the touch of her smooth plastic heels left the skin of your neck.
There was only a millisecond of halting in your movements before you started soaking up the dark spot with your blouse. The white pious color, changing to one of light brown. You have to admit it was one of your more favorable shirts, but you didn’t object to any of it. You knew it would lead to nowhere.
The chilling air of the office, had goosebumps erupt on your arms and back, yet the glow of the fireplace gave you warmth in the coolness and made it almost refreshing.
Why did she like this? Watching you clean her floor. Naked. Sacrificing your favorite shirt, just for the sake of her rug. She must be ill. Really ill. But who are you to talk? After all, you are the one feeding it to her, giving in. moremoremoremore
You tried not to think about it, but a heat within your lower stomach was no longer a single burning match, it felt like flames were burning you up on the inside as you felt her gaze on you and nothing and no one could help, except the woman in front of you.
I know.
Larissa looked over your body. She had of course never seen this much of you, yet it wasn’t a lot she had seen of you before. How come you don’t show more of that beautifully freckled skin, maybe a bit more cleavage and collarbone. The only thing she really was able to vividly imagine at night, was your neck and how it bobbed with nervousness everytime you were in her presence. 
She didn’t worry too much about it at the moment. There would be time for changes later, but right now all that mattered was you.
youyouyou
Her fingers itched and tapped over each other in excitement. She couldn’t wait any longer. Maybe she could indulge, just this once. She was so desperate to caress and claim your skin. Oh how she desired you from the very first times she had spent with you. So full of life and curiosity that could surely kill the cat, which it did. Your passion for what you did, your hobbies, your future, others. Her. It sent her into a place of admiration no one ever had before, and now here you were. Right beneath her, half naked and the best part of it all, was that you loved it, just as much as she.
A firm hand reached for your chin. Disturbed from your ministries your head was turned. You were enraptured by her touch and your eyes closed with a whine from your throat. Her fingers pressed onto your cheeks, squeezing. You let go of the wet fabric and opened your eyes - crystallized lilly’s of the nile -
though it didn't seem to help much, as your vision was showing a thick fog, while everything seemed to move at lightspeed.
Click clack, click clack. Breathe, just breathe.
"Crawl."
________________________________
Can't find the taglist, my bad
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anjanahalo · 7 months
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Wayne Vs Fenton 3
start of the madness
pls note I'm putting these numbers in as "what I have written." They're not gonna necessarily be in order. I hope to make a full fic to put on AO3. In the interim, here's stuff I wrote in general as it strikes me in the moment. This bit is from Tim's perspective after Damian and Danny Are Friends become a known quantity in the Wayne household. ~*~
Damian making friends didn’t make sense. Everyone else felt complacent in simply accepting it. Tim wasn’t. Considering his upbringing, autonomous socializing wasn’t part of Damian’s personality. Nor was how calm and patient the former assassin child became with all of his siblings, Tim included. Damian himself insisted he and this “Danny” were friends. Hell, Damian even called the kid by a nickname. Not his last name, not “Daniel.” His actual, preferred nickname. Tim was suspicious and instantly began investigating. Daniel “Danny” Fenton, age 15, moved to Gotham two months ago from Amity Park, Illinois with his godfather and temporary guardian, Vlad Masters, former mayor of Amity Park, head of Vladco Industries, and heir to Wisconsin’s Self Proclaimed Dairy King’s fortune. Child of Jack and Madeline Fenton, doctors of something called ectobiology, former college classmates of Vlad Masters, and founders of FentonWorks, a cottage research facility that developed antighost (Ghosts? Really?) weaponry and equipment. Brother of Jasmine Fenton, currently a student of Yale in their psychology undergraduate program, and already a shoe-in for the Dean’s list. Honestly, of all the people related to him, Danny ended up being the least interesting. Middling grades that dropped in high school along with attendance. That was probably what led to his coming to Gotham. A set of brilliant - if evidentially weird - parents and a rich and involved godfather doing what they could to help their faltering son to succeed by sending him to one of the top schools on the east coast. There was evidence that Amity Park itself had some apparently minor meta vigilante protecting it, but searches for “Phantom” turned up nothing in the Justice League’s database, suggesting whomever this was might be an actual ghost like Deadman and, thus, restricted to access by those with JLD clearance. Tim put aside that issue for later. He could just ask B for privileges later. Besides, the only information he found on this vigilante was on a few amateur fansites and local papers. No major news sites or government listings. It couldn’t be anything major. His focus remained on Daniel Fenton. Except, even when looking into the kid’s socials, there wasn’t anything interesting. He had a couple friends back in Amity, the most interesting of the two was Samantha Mason of the Mason family, though Tim already knew of her from various socialite dinners she looked ready to burn to the ground, pink and lacey dress or not. Her social media was full of activism, conservation movements, and calls for both veganism and something called ultra recycle vegetarianism. Tucker came from an average family of upper middle class parents, nothing odd there, though his social media showed his love of technology and ancient Egypt. Nothing strange there. Danny’s social media, besides his friends, included links to Nasa, occasional rambles about high school life, and, for some reason, a dog photoshopped to look green. From the replies of his few followers, it was an inside joke since they all cooed over the dog and didn’t comment on the green. Again, nothing strange. Even the one time he managed to hack into Damian’s phone to see his messages yielded nothing. He and Danny would meet for what Danny called “playdates.” For some reason, Damian played along with a name Tim knew he’d scoff as childish and beneath him. Even that would be innocuous. One or the other would suggest meeting at various parks, arcades, even the observatory, negotiating dates and times, and that was it.
Danny was a normal kid. Damian was a born and bred assassin. Why in the actual fuck were these two friends? Nothing made sense. Everyone else was happy to ignore it because of the peace the irrationality before them instilled. Tim wouldn’t become complacent. Whatever Danny was hiding, he’d find it.
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coraniaid · 2 months
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I guess I'm running the risk of sounding like a broken record at this point, but I don't think I'll ever not be deeply depressed by the way so many people on here talk about Joyce Summers.
I mean, I'm just thinking out loud here, but.  Maybe the reason that Giles was much more immediately accepting of Buffy's identity as the Slayer than Joyce was might have something to do with the fact that Giles has been training to be a Watcher for over three decades when he first meets Buffy? That his family sat him down and explained to him that vampires were real when he was a child, and that he's had over thirty years to get used to that fact? And that he is in fact literally paid to train Buffy and mentor her and prepare her for being killed in the Cruciamentum after she turns eighteen and he helps rob her of her powers her destiny? 
Whereas Joyce learns about the reality of vampires and Slayers and the supernatural for the very first time while in a state of extreme emotional distress, only hours after discovering that her daughter is wanted by the police for murder, and in circumstances such that Buffy simply has no time to sit her down and explain things in more detail in the manner they would both want?  Which is a turn of events that can be attributed in large part to the fact that Giles himself repeatedly told Buffy that she couldn't possibly tell her mother about vampires, even after (1) a vampire attacked her in her own home (in Season 1's Angel) and even after (2) the vampire Buffy had been dating, who had a standing invitation into her house, lost his soul and started going after the people closest to her, people explicitly including Joyce. (And note that Giles never offers a better argument for not sharing this potentially life-saving information than Xander's "the more people who know the secret the more it cheapens it for the rest of us".)
I mean, I know you're all pretty wedded to the popular competing theory that it's because *checks notes* Giles is a perfect dad who Buffy should have been much more grateful and sympathetic towards while Joyce is an evil bitch who never once did a good thing for her daughter (and Buffy must be stupid for ever thinking or saying otherwise), but the problem is that that theory is … uh, bad, actually.  Really incredibly cartoonishly bad. And dressing it up in pseudo-progressive language doesn't make it any better.
Wringing your hands over how poorly you think the show writes middle-aged women as if there's simply nothing to be done about it except conclude that they are indeed horrible people (and maybe give them some completely new flaws the show never did), while at the same time you write endless hagiographies and apologia for the show's canonically terrible (and often just as badly under-written) men is definitely a choice though.
And yes, it is definitely true that Giles matters more to the story of Buffy the Vampire Slayer than Joyce does. It is clear that the writers care about him more as a character than they care about Joyce, and that he is consistently used in a metaphorical way that Joyce normally isn't. At best you can perhaps argue that Joyce exists to vocalize and reify Buffy's own lingering desires to be seen as respectable and 'normal', but I don't think this is a reading the show ever commits to in the systematic way it does the Mind/Heart/Spirit reading of Giles/Xander/Willow. But on a less metaphorical level, thinking about the different characters of the show purely as distinct people in their own right, nothing Buffy says or does ever suggests she cares about her relationship with Giles more than her relationship with Joyce. Quite the opposite, in fact.
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goldribboncottage · 4 months
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Rock Her Shit, Pt. 2 | Hazel Callahan x Reader
Okay so this ended up having some smut at the end which I have never written before.
First date + PJ gets kicked in the chest + you comfort Hazel
Plus size/larger than Hazel reader, continuation of the previous part
TW piercings, mentions of needles, PJ being mean
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PJ and Josie ended the meeting after your injury, but not before PJ yelled at everyone to remind them of the next meeting. All the girls had left except you and Hazel, who usually stayed later to pack up the equipment. 
You join her and help her put everything away, working side by side in comfortable silence. Once everything had been put away, you sat next to each other in the bleachers. Hazel looked down at her lap, playing with the rings on her fingers. She was fidgety, unsure of what happens now. Your gaze was fixed on her hands too, remembering how they felt on you, wondering how they would feel again. 
They really were beautiful. What you thought was black nail polish was actually dark green, chipped and pulled at. Her hands were slender and strong, with multiple rings on both. You studied them. On her right pinky was a small silver band, then of course the infamous dragonfly ring on her middle finger. Her thumb had one that wrapped around it, circular spirals at the ends. Her left hand had an aluminum ring stamped with “dyke” on her ring finger, and two rings on her pointer, a moonstone and a midi ring. Finishing her collection was a thick ring on her thumb that had a smaller ring to spin on top of it. She played with it now as you both gazed at her hands. 
“I love your rings.” You whisper to her softly. She stops playing with them and looks up at you. 
“Really?” She asks almost in disbelief. “It’s not too much?” 
“No. They’re perfect. I would kill for a collection as cool as yours. I have sensory issues with rings so I just can’t wear them for long. But yours are beautiful. Where do you get them?” You grab her right hand to play with your favorite, remembering how it brought you two together. 
“A lot of them I got from this little shop I like. They have different artists come in and they can sell their stuff. So sometimes I don’t know who made them or found them. But this one I made myself” She points to the dyke ring. “I got a little stamping kit at a craft store. And the dragonfly is from an estate sale. My mom likes really expensive stuff but it feels weird wearing Gucci jewelry at school. I have a lot more at my house. These are just the ones I like to wear every day. Sometimes I go to the farmers market, and there’s a girl who makes rings out of spoon handles! It’s so cool. She told me all about how she melts them in her garage with a blowtorch. She’s our age and goes to a different school. I tried to be her friend but I don’t really know how to make friends. But we talk when I go to the market, and I think she knows my name now! Her and her girlfriend have a little booth together.” Her voice fades off, and you raise your eyebrows. 
“You can tell me more. I like listening to you talk. It’s interesting. I still get my jewelry from Claire’s.” You confess. She looks relieved. You couldn’t help but notice how put down she looks when she thinks you aren’t listening. But you always were. In class, at fight club, now. Hazel always captured your attention.
“Claire’s is cool! I got my ears pierced there in 6th grade. But then I took them out because they hurt. I’ve been too scared to get them re-pierced. How do you even stand a needle going through your skin like that? You have so many!” She refers to your ear piercings. 
“Yeah, it can really hurt sometimes. But after they heal you just forget they’re there. It’s as painless as putting on rings.” 
“I don’t think I believe you. How many piercings do you have?” She looks at your ears, trying to count. 
You tuck your hair behind your ears to show her. “I have six on this ear and four on the other. Both of them I have double lobes, and then some different cartilage. They all have different names. I have a conch, daith, and some helix. The backs are flat, see? So no poking me. I never take them out unless I see a cool new labret.” 
She traces your jewelry softly with her hands, and you can feel her breath on your neck. “What is a labret? Which ones are which?” She asks earnestly.
You explain to her what it means and point out the different jewelry in your ears. She was fascinated. It gave you an idea. You stand up abruptly and pull her along with you. 
“What?” She looks confused and concerned. 
“Don’t worry Haze. I just had an idea. You up for an adventure?” You wrap your hands around her and step closer. 
“Y-yeah. Do I need to be worried?” She gazes up to you and places her hands on your arms. 
“No, but I suspect you will be anyway.”You gently kiss her forehead and she leans into you. “C’mon! Let’s go!” You lead her out of the gym and to your car.
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You park in front of a tattoo shop and Hazel looks terrified. 
“Hey. Look at me. It’s gonna be great. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” You try to reassure her, but the small girl shrinks into herself more. “I’m going to get a new piercing. Maybe my eyebrow. If you want, you can get your ear lobes pierced. Either way I will buy you a special treat after for being a good girl.” 
The offer of a special treat gets her attention and she sits up in the passenger seat. You calling her a good girl also grabbed her attention and made her heart flutter. 
“Okay! Let’s go. What are you waiting for?” She hops out of the car and you enter the shop together. 
“Hey Katie!” You greet the receptionist. “Any time for a couple piercings today? I’m thinking an eyebrow for me, and maybe something for my friend.” Hazel was by your side, glancing nervously at the new space.
“Yeah Y/N, Paige just finished up with a client so we can probably get you right back. Any changes for your paperwork?” The redhead asks you and you tell her no, you just need a form for Hazel. 
You sit together and Hazel answers the questions on the sheet as well as giving Katie her drivers license. You see the picture then, she’s doing a big, cheesy bunny smile with dimples on display. Much cuter than your stone-faced, scared-to-smile card. 
Paige introduces themselves to Hazel and brings you two back to the piercing room, with Hazel still silent and frightened. You hold her hand to reassure her, and remind her she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. 
“Paige can explain the process to you. They have all their certifications and did almost all of my piercings.” You explain to her. “You can just watch me and decide afterwards if you want any. No pressure.” 
“I think I want to. I like earrings.” She tells you. “But I’m still kind of scared.” 
“I’ll be right here with you.” 
Paige preps their supplies for your eyebrow piercing. It feels different than your ears have, with no cartilage to go through. It was almost easier to handle than some of your other ones. But it definitely hurt more. You squeezed Hazel’s hand and took deep breaths. 
It was her turn now, so the piercer changes the paper on their table and preps for Hazel’s earlobes. You switch places with the smaller girl and she kicks her feet impatiently while sitting. Her hands are gripping yours tightly, eyes looking deeply into yours. Her hands are cold and the metal of her rings amplifies it. 
“Kiss for good luck?” You dare to ask, and  Hazel swiftly complies. Your eyebrow was starting to hurt more, but you wanted to be there for your friend. 
Friend? More than friend? You tried not to think about the label on this relationship as you helped her breathe through getting her ears done. She chose simple diamond studs, and was done before you knew it. Paige thanked you for coming and handed you a sheet on aftercare, even though you were well versed on it. 
You paid for Hazel’s piercings and yours, as well as cleaning spray for her. 
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.” 
“It was my pleasure. Or pain. This eyebrow thing hurts so much. How are your ears doing? They look really pretty. I like sparkly things.” You tell her as you walk back to your car. 
“They feel… warm.” She replies. “I don’t know if they hurt yet. I just feel warm. But back to what you said before about a special treat? I was very brave. And I like milkshakes.” 
“Milkshakes it is.” You head to your favorite diner with her, holding hands on the way. Maybe you can talk about what happened in the locker room, and what happens now. You had only kissed a couple people before, and it had never gone anywhere or any farther than that. Hazel made you nervous and unsure. She was so sweet to everyone, what made you special? Did she just want friendship? Was it a fluke? Your head was racing with thoughts until you sat down at the booth with her. 
“Are we girlfriends? Does kissing make us girlfriends? I’ve never kissed anyone before. Do you like me? Is this a date or are we just friends? If you want to be friends that’s cool. I’ve liked being your friend at the club. You always reply to my emails which is really nice. No one else does that. PJ doesn’t even read them…” She trails off when she sees you staring at her. 
“I think in order to be girlfriends we have to go on a couple dates first. Then we can talk about it again. But I would like to date you, Hazel. I’ve had a crush on you since the start of the club. I think you’re really cool. Let’s just start with this date, okay? Then maybe we can do some of the stuff you mentioned at school.” You reach for her hand across the table and she grabs it. She still looks nervous, so you remind her again. “I like you Hazel, and I think being girlfriends would be really great. Let’s just start with milkshakes, okay? What’s your flavor of choice?”
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After the diner, you and Hazel started hanging out more and more. You had been dating for three weeks when she asked again if you were girlfriends. The answer was an enthusiastic yes, and you immediately memorized the date. Hazel made you a dyke ring, and yours had her name on the inside of it. She strung it on a chain for you and you wore it proudly. 
At the planetarium, you ended up making out rather than watching the stars. Hazel didn’t let it last long, because she really wanted to know about dark matter and supernovas. You were also interested in that, but more interested in continuing what happened in the locker room. Your kisses since then hadn’t been nearly as heavy. You weren’t clouded by urgency and teen hormones anymore, with sweet kisses and playful flirty replacing desperate grabs and moaning. 
You wanted more, but wanted Hazel to go at her own pace. You knew she was a year younger than you, having skipped first grade. She also confessed her nervousness and having no idea what she was doing. You let her know you didn’t either, but you wanted to explore your physical relationship together.
She took you to the farmers market and introduced you to the spoon ring maker, whose name turned out to be Yelena. You took a chance and asked if you could go on a double date with her and her partner. She accepted the offer and Hazel finally had a friendship with her. 
The girls in the club knew you had something going on, but you never made it too obvious. At school you passed love notes to each other, and when Hazel came in one day wearing your sweater, everyone knew you were an item.
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“Yeah, well, you have no friends and a skank as a mom, so” PJ says bluntly to your girlfriend.
Hazel looks defeated, and goes to grab her bag and leave. You stop her and stand up. 
“PJ, just because you’re an insecure piece of shit doesn’t give you permission to be such a fucking bitch all the time. Hazel is right. We’ve all had a good time at this club and she has been a major part of that.” You make your way down the bleachers to confront her more. “We all like Hazel more than you, which is pretty easy, because no one really likes you. The only reason we stayed in this club is because of each other. Not you.”
“Wow Y/N that’s really fucking brave of you, never heard that one before.” She smugly replies, turning to everyone as if she’d won the argument. “You think you’re so cool because you’re dating a little nerd and finally got off your ass. Well news flash-“
She’s on the ground gasping for air before you even realize what happened. 
“What the fuck Y/N?” Josie yells at you, checking on her best friend. 
You tower over PJ, shocked that you really just kicked her down. In platform docs. In front of all your friends. She has the wind knocked out of her and is trying to sit up. 
“You’re pathetic, PJ. Have fun with your club of nobody. Don’t talk to Hazel again.” You storm up the bleachers and grab your girlfriend, exiting the gym and the insight club. The other members follow, going to comfort Hazel and apologize on behalf of PJ. 
“That was really unfair to you.” Isabel says.
“It’s not even true” adds Sylvie.
“Yeah, your emails are really helpful and you’ve made me feel so much stronger!” Stella Rebecca tells her friend. 
“Thanks guys. I think I just want to go home.” A teary Hazel adds, leaning on you and handing you her car keys. “Can you stay with me tonight?” She asks with puppy dog eyes. 
“Yeah, of course. We can stop by my house and then go. I’ll order in your favorite chinese.” You lead her to the car with your arm around her. 
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Someone removed PJ from the group chat and everyone had been texting wishing Hazel well. You were snuggled up in her bed together, an old movie playing on her TV. Once again you were playing with her rings, which she seemed to add more and more of. You counted eight today. She still wore her dragonfly ring every day, a reminder of how you got together. 
“I can’t believe you kicked PJ like that. Where did you even learn how to do that?” She asks from in front of you. Hazel had a habit of leaning on your chest from in between your legs. She once claimed that it was because your thighs warmed her up, but you knew it was so you could play with her hair and rings. 
“I don’t know. She was just making me mad. She’s always been so mean and dismissive of you and I never stood up for you. But I just couldn’t stand her talking about the girl I lo-“ You stop yourself from that word coming out. You had only been with Hazel for a month and a half. Did you love her? Whatever you felt for her felt like love, but you didn’t want to scare her away. “like, like she was. It was unfair to you to not stand up for you.”
“Love?” Hazel asks, turning to look up at you. “Did you say the girl you love?”
“I- I said a lot of other things, Hazel. Important things you need to hear! You don’t deserve to be treated that way, girlfriend or not! You’re a good person with a lot of friends! everyone in that club is your friend! I’m your friend and” 
“I love you Y/N.” She interrupts you with a shout, and kisses you. 
“I love you too, Hazel” You add between kisses, when she lets you get a breath in. 
Hazel is kissing you fiercely now, tongue in your mouth, biting your lower lip. She adjusts her position on you to straddle one of your thighs, and you scoot yourself lower to lay flat on the bed. 
She kisses your cheek, down your jaw, and eventually reaches the spot right below your ear. She bites and sucks at the sensitive spot, and you moan her name. 
“Hazel - Haze. Hey.” She immediately detaches from you.
“Am I going too fast? I’m sorry. I just really love kissing you and we haven’t done anything like this since we got together and I just want to kiss you all the time. You’re so soft and plush and I love your lips, I’m sorry I took it too far we can just watch the movie” She moves to take her leg out from in between yours and get off of you, but your hands prevent her from doing that. 
“Thats not what I want Hazel. I want you, trust me, I do. I just want to make sure it’s what you want.” You clarify. “I want us to both be comfortable. We’ll only go as far as you want.” 
“Yeah, yeah, Okay. Let’s just. Kiss more. And you can touch me like you did in the locker room. I like your hands on my waist. Here.” She puts your hands on her small frame and you can’t help but grip. “Thats good.” She dives in for more kisses, desperate for friction. 
Your hips move together, and her hands roam up from your hips to the front of your stomach. Cold rings make contact with your skin as she makes her way up, your hand guiding hers to your bra. You tried not to be self conscious, her being so much smaller than you. But her actions made it clear she was enjoying your body and how much of it there was to grab. 
She kneads at your chest, and your hand slips lower down her back to grab her ass. You grind into her and she moans. Her jeans are making contact in just the right places, and she moves her hips on your thigh for more friction. Her kisses are getting sloppier now, more focus being put on the pressure of your thigh on her clit. She’s a moaning mess, and you continue to guide her hips over your thigh. 
“Under. Under my bra. Touch me.” You request and she is more than happy to comply. One of her rings brushes your nipple and your moan into her mouth. She experiments with pressure, trying to figure out what makes you respond the most. One hand is gripping your waist while the other thumbs at your nipple, as Hazel fucks herself on your thigh. 
“I- Y/N I might cum like this.” Hazel desperately cries. 
“Yeah, yeah baby that’s okay. What do you need?” 
“Kiss me.” She hungrily catches your mouth, grinding into you and riding out her high. 
She collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily, hair sticking to her face. You pet her head and ask how she’s feeling.
“Good. I’m good” She snuggles into you more, hugging you and kissing you tenderly over your shirt. She fits perfectly into your body, chest rising and falling with yours. You were still desperate for release. 
“Do you need to?” She points at your clothes lower half, looking into your eyes. 
“I’m okay Hazel. It was nice to be able to do something for you. I wasn’t expecting tonight to go like this but I’m glad it did. I love you.” 
She sighs and burrows herself closer to you. “I love you too, Y/N. I’m so glad I rocked your shit in fight club.” She giggles.
You spend the night in Hazel’s arms, who despite her size insists on being the big spoon. You’re happy with her, grateful for her silliness, kindness, and yes, her rocking your shit at fight club. 
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punkeropercyjackson · 21 days
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Hot take but Percy Jackson actually isn't anything like Harry Potter and the reason they're popularly compared is due to the mass mischaracterization and misenterpretation that leads to sanatization of Percy to turn him into a more standard protagonist despite the whole point his character being that he's NOT normal while Harry's is that he IS and that made him into a very bland and lowkey passive aggressive bigot that's an awful example for kids while Percy is the perfect role model.Like let's look them over.Percy:
Was born poor and never becomes rich
Is a child abuse victim with consistent trauma responses and unhealthy coping mechanisms all the way starting at The Lightning Thief
Beat up bullies as a kid,was targeted by them to begin with because he's neurodivergent and his teachers picked on him too
Has nothing but love and respect for his fellow minorities,women especially thanks to being a mama's boy with no positive older male figures in his life except Beckendorf
Is pessimistic,sardonic,anger issued,bad at socializing and gets embarrased to be overly open with his emotions but none of this turns him into a bad person but instead makes him realistic and relatable
And he's also kind,gentle,nurturing to the point of basically adopting younger demigods as his found siblings and pseudo-kids if they don't have positive adult figures in their lives already,encouraging,loyal to a literal fatal fault and has a distinctive and iconic sense of humor that never dosen't land
Didn't like Annabeth or Rachel for shallow reasons and instead for their personalities and only wasn't into Reyna because he was taken at the time and treats all three of them very nicely
Is an instigator who's driving point as our hero is taking down corrupted figures but also does activism for the lesser treated people in his world by helping out every time he gets a chance to,has one of his core trait's being that he's COMPLETELY devoid in power hunger and pretty arguably counts as an anarchist because of this
Relating to the sense of humor thing again,his whole PERSONALITY is distinctive-He's not just some fantasy protagonist,he's PERCY JACKSON.The name alone gives everybody who's read the books flashbacks to all his crazy ass shit(affectionate)and that's how you know you've got a well-written protagonist
And Percy is legitimately transfem-coded,because i've met so many trans women in the Pjo fandom and every single one of them without exception have said that she's a femme trans woman egg.This also applies to black/afrolatino folks and autistics in the fandom like me to a less near universal extent
While Harry:
Grew up middle class and then got riches out the ass when the series started
Is a very poor attempt at positive abuse survivor rep because he uses his mental health as an excuse to a huge dick with no consequences given to him afterward
Had no tormenters other than the Dursleys
A 'dosen't know better and refuses to learn' typa bigot with tons of passive aggressive remarks about girls and ableism and fatphobia thrown in too,not to mention racist moments like hating Dean for dating Ginny
Is the quintessential young male fantasy protagonist and this is exactly his problem because it makes him boring asf and we're dealing with so much fucking damage in the kids fantasy genre thanks to his musty ass
All his crushes were shallow(Only liked Cho for a pretty girljock and only noticed Ginny when she became one too and prioritizes looks and society's idea of 'coolness' on the other girls his age too like damn i wonder why he only ever saw Hermione as a sister,surely it can't be connected /s)
Never does actual justice fighting unless he's required to and don't tell me he shouldn't have needed to because this wasn't real life,it was a magics series so he should've fought evil on purpose like Percy did and so did Katniss Everdeen and the Pevensie Siblings and all the other actual good kids books protags.This genre is supposed to be a power fantasy for kids that they can be heroes too and Harry failed big time at his job just like he did at everything else
Again,he is VERY mediocre as a character but mediocrity sells and now we have a million clones of him instead of real mcs
Is part of exactly zero minorities,neither intentionally or accidentally,and that made him grow up to be a cop.Douchebag ass white straight boy Harry vs Autistic afrolatina transfemme slay Percy.No competition,Percy's punk so she'd kill Harry to earn her blue laces
And before Maraturds and Luke/gods stans get bold,you're literally him irl but worse besties♡
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art-jag · 2 months
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i’ll bite. PLEASE tell me abt the hangster boarding school au 🙏🙏
it's really just a fun au i think about sometimes (i haven't written anything or plan to for it) but here are some bullet points to chew on:
JAKE
jake grew up with money. like a lot of money but they're just "upper class" they say. this headcanon means everything to me, it's basically canon in my mind.
there's that attitude of invicibility too that comes with being rich
jake is definitely that closeted kid who is so straight when he fake flirts with guys it's "funny"
he definitely had a lot of rich girlfriends who were head over heels for him and he'd go through them like changing jackets
he probably had a father who really cared about him and his siblings but was constantly busy, and a mom who tried too hard to be relatable and one of the cool kids
his parents definitely let their kids drink at an early age because they thought it was cool
and he pretty much finished high school coursework by like eighth grade
and he causes trouble because he gets bored
he is also such an asshole and can get away with an infuriatingly great amount of things
an academic weapon (but people forget about that because his personality is just. a lot)
BRADLEY
scholarship kid (does not stay in the dorms)
his family can keep up with bills but they are nowhere near upper middle class and much less jake's level of rich
musical genius, plays like all the instruments at the school
has definitely racked up the demerits due to his temper (he also enjoys breaking public property when he's very angry...)
spends a lot of time in school therapy (it's not working because he doesn't want to face anything)
his uncle works for the school as an assistant or something which is the only reason why bradley got connected in
bad boy heartthrob that the girls love but are a little scared of (except bradley is so aloof and he doesn't seem interested)
lowkey school weed dealer
his english teacher is his second mom basically
always trying to break the dress code
gets into fights a lot so he's always either bruised, scratched, or bloodied
desperately needs a haircut
HANGSTER
they have to take cotillion (etiquette and dance classes etc.)
jake and bradley get paired up because there aren't enough girls
jake is whispering the most scandalous things into bradley's ear during the dances and bradley is turning bright red and jake's smirking and getting into it but he has to make bradley uncomfortable to maintain his masculinity among The Boys™️
it's this delicate game of watching him get riled up that turns him on yet also having to drain all the tenderness from it to maintain social rank
jake is actually in insane denial about his sexuality
him and bradley have this insane dance of pseudo-homo masculine posturing, as a lot of "straight" boys do
their relationship is 100% a secret at first
dom bradley sub jake (at first. in terms of vibes)
locker room scenes
staring-across-a-crowded-room-at-a-party scenes
dark academia dark academia dark academia
jake invites bradley on his yacht
misinterpreted female friends (they both think the other is into a girl; it's just a cover)
jake and his perfectly ironed, tailored, steam pressed uniforms and bradley who is lucky if it's washed
bradley being fixated on jake's hands which have family rings, etc. on them (this is so lesbian of me)
i'm literally making this up as i go. anyway it's so fun. always feel free to ask me questions lol
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aaronsrpgs · 9 months
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"Ancient World Fantasy" Reading List
(A little context to start. If you just want book recs, scroll on down to the first image.)
As I’ve been getting into RuneQuest (Wikipedia link), one striking component of the culture and community surrounding the game is that they’re very into the lore of its fictional world, Glorantha. I’m saying this as a comparison to a game like D&D, where the game is spread across tons of settings with no real sense of obligation to keep things in line with earlier editions.
Glorantha’s canon and worldbuilding has been going on since it was published in 1978 without, as far as I can tell, any big reboots. Which means that, unlike D&D, where people are bringing in all kinds of influences and doing direct adaptions of Jane Austen books and whatever, the RuneQuest game remains pretty tightly tied to the original setting. (There have been some exceptions. But not many!)
But since I run games for people who have ADHD or aren’t interested in studying up, I’ve been looking at all kinds of inspiration to drop into the game. Here are 20 novels that are roughly “ancient world” or “Bronze Age” like RuneQuest and deal with people interacting with strange gods, tight communities, and a world without fast overland travel or transferal of information.
I’m presenting them alphabetically by author’s last name.
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The Brazen Gambit, Cinnabar Shadows, The Rise and Fall of a Dragon King by Lynn Abbey
I'm sorry for starting this post off with licensed RPG novels, but these are good! And I don't mean "good for licensed RPG novels." I've read tons of them, and most are so bad! But these are actually fun. Good character development in a sword-and-sorcery world. It's also an ecological apocalypse world, with godlike beings oppressing common folks, leading to a lack of technological advancement and knowledge of the past.
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The Long Ships by Frans G. Bentsson
Written in the 1940s as a series of novellas, these stories take you on a tour of the Viking-era world, from Europe to the Middle East and beyond. Like a bunch of books on this list, this places them post-Bronze Age, so they're not officially "ancient world." But it gives a big spread of cultures, from the more clan-based Vikings to the bustling metropolises of Turkey. And it doesn't place any of them on any kind of linear advancement scale or whatever other gross way people "rate" cultures.
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Tales of Nevèrÿon and Neveryóna by Samuel R. Delany
The master of weird sci-fi and gay historical novels, Chip Delany also wrote a fantasy epic. And it rules! Set on pre-historical(ish) Earth, these books describe the stories that maybe inform the myths we tell today? Dragons and slave revolts! A sort of "What if Game of Thrones was good?" series. Lots of good stuff about how people learn and how understanding expands.
I'm not listing the third book only because it's also a historical look at New York during the AIDS epidemic. It's an amazing book! But it strays from the "ancient world" aesthetic.
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Baudolino by Umberto Eco
Another novel expressly set after the Bronze Age (this one starts in the 12th century). BUT it's about Medieval people's interaction with the knowledge they inherited from the past, specifically the myth of Prester John and the works of Herodotus.
I think I keep putting books like this on the list because roleplaying in a fantastical ancient world is not too far off from how Medieval people might have worshipped and referenced works from ancient Rome and non-European places.
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Black Leopard, Red Wolf and Moon Witch, Spider King by Marlon James
One of our best living writers! These are fantasy novels expressly set in a fantastical version of ancient/Medieval Africa. The books explore the same events from multiple points of view and are full of cool magic, awesome spirit combat, and a vast number of places and cultures that actively deconstructs most games's portrayal of fantasy Africa as a homogeneous place.
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The Wake by Paul Kingsnorth
I think Kingsnorth has been outted as a sort of eco-fascist? I totally believe it, so feel free to skip this one. It's a historical novel set in England in 1066, as the Normans invade from France. It's written in a faux Middle English language and focuses on the lower classes and how they try to resist the invasion. A good reminder that "Medieval culture" (and especially the Renaissance as a time that "culture advanced") is often based on certain classes of society, such as rich people and/or men.
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Iceland's Bell by Halldór Laxness
Speaking of how class intersects with technological advancement, this book is set in the 18th century, but it focuses on Iceland at a time when it was ruled by Denmark, and the lower classes there were under an enforced poverty. It's a book about how a rich Icelander was trying to recover the stories of his people in order to create a sense of national identity and resistance. But it's also a story about how a destitute man acts like a total weirdo when he's not allowed to fish in his own waters and is cut off from understanding his place in history.
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The Raven Tower by Anne Leckie
A big part of RuneQuest is people interacting with and enacting their gods. That's what this book is about! And it's about the strange vertigo that comes to people when they try to interact with the impossible timelines that gods exist on. Very good stuff.
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Night's Master and Death's Master by Tanith Lee
Ostensibly set on Earth back when it was flat and demons roamed the world, which is basically RuneQuest. Sort of like a series of hornier, gay bibles? With lots of gender fuckery, fun sex, and cool monsters.
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Circe by Madeline Miller
The story of the witch from The Odyssey, told from her point of view. Beautiful prose, tragic and beautiful characters, and a great share of mythical strangeness. Perfect if you want to learn how to run NPCs that are adversaries without being shallowly evil.
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Ronia, the Robber's Daughter by Astrid Lindgren
Semi-Medieval again, but low class and vague enough that it could exist throughout ancient history. The daughter of a robber grows up in a tower full of robbers and generally has a wonderful time. Lots of weird monsters live in the woods, and there's a great starcrossed romance with someone from a rival robber gang. Perfect inspiration if you're running some cattle-raiding runs in RuneQuest; this is how to make robbers fun and sympathetic.
Read the book, watch the 1984 Swedish movie (which includes a great comedic scene of full-frontal dudity), and then watch the Studio Ghibli series.
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A Stranger in Olondria and The Winged Histories by Sofia Samatar
Set in a world of pepper farmers and religious fanatics who worship a mysterious inscribed stone, these books do a great job of showing how people might interact with religion, rival cults, and mystery rites. It also portrays literacy and learning to read in places where it's gated behind social gatekeeping. And once again, the prose is beautiful.
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The Palm-Wine Drinkard by Amos Tutuola
The first African novel published in English outside of Africa, The Palm-Wine Drinkard is a funny, hallucinogenic story about getting drunk, stumbling through weird landscapes, and encountering fantastical spirits and people.
Tutuola also wrote My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, the inspiration for the famous(?) David Byrne/Brian Eno album. I haven't read it yet, but I'm keeping an eye out!
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The Green Pearl by Jack Vance
This is a sequel to Lyonesse, which I haven't read because I love staring in the middle of things. Set around a mythical British Isles when Atlantis was still above the sea and part of the group of islands. Some great wizard shit, warring clans, romance, and a wizard whose name is fucking Shimrod (in case you need more convincing).
Those are my 20 novel recommendations! I'm gonna come back to add some nonfiction, comics, and myth resources for running games in fantastical ancient worlds. You can read SpeedRune, my ancient fantasy game, here.
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hypaalicious · 2 months
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Unpopular opinion: YA isn’t meant for adults.
Not saying adults can’t read YA; adults can read whatever tf they want. But it’s a huge mistake of mainstream publishing to allow YA to absolutely crowd out swathes of other subgenres to the point where articles such as this one get written in full seriousness.
Awhile back, there were teens on Tiktok lamenting that they can’t find media for them anymore. There were a bunch of condescending people happily shitting on them saying things like, “Uh, YA exists? These teen-centered TV shows exist?? Why are y’all lying lololol so dumb” instead of actually listening to these kids explain what they mean. Cause wow, it don’t bother y’all that despite all this hyper visible allegedly teen-centered media NONE of it is hitting for them? Y’all don’t stop to ask yourself why that is?
It’s because YA has become a fill-in for mid-range and adult fiction over the years. I can’t tell you how many synopses I’ve read that have sounded boss asf but then they make the MC fifteen years old and I’m immediately like
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And I wanna be clear, this wouldn’t be a problem if YA hadn’t oversaturated the literary field. On top of that, I do not see real teenhood reflected in these characters. They come off more like they’re written by middle aged adults projecting what they think teens are like through the lens of how they wish their own long-gone teen years went. So yeah, no wonder kids don’t feel connected to the media that’s labeled for them. Too many adult consumers are crowding that space tryna live vicariously through teen media, and since it’s adults that have the money more often than not, publishers cater YA to them rather than teens. That’s not okay, y’all.
Also, there is no reason whatsoever for some of these characters to be teens except to fit into a very narrow category set by publishers who just want a wide market to sell to. Example: when I was looking up comp titles for my manuscript, I came across a fantasy book centering a Black female character at a college discovering her hidden magical powers and a mystery hidden away at the college and was like “oh shit, this sounds dope!”
… then I read a snippet and for WHATEVER REASON, they made the MC sixteen. Sixteen years old, but going to college as an exception.
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It was just so obviously done as a way to slate the book under the YA label but narratively it made NO SENSE. Just make your character 18 or older if they gonna be in college! Oh, that’s right, you can’t because YA rendered the New Adult genre obsolete so if you can’t make your characters 14-17 then it’s not likely publishers will work with you. 🫠
Another problem I have with the whole “YA is for adults too!” thing is the fact that this does not serve adult literacy levels. Mind you, they’re already abysmal in the US in particular. But it doesn’t help when the only thing adults are encouraged to consume for fun are books written at a 5th-6th grade reading level. They ain’t reading anything adult anymore, either in prose or depth of content. And why would they when publishers are only making an effort to market YA as the 10-in-one shampoo type option to everyone who ages out of kidlit?
Different categories for different age groups exist for a reason, and the erosion & blending of these categories hurts the literary field a lot. We need to go back to the days where you could find age appropriate media for every stage of your life and actually connect with it.
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fleacollar999 · 3 months
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w-werewolf ideas? -pleading eyes- (but only if ur up for it)
Hello, friend, I am finally here with my treatise on Medieval Werewolves. So this is going to be more like a Brief History of Werewolves as I Can Remember It Off the Top of My Head, Over A Year Since I Read Most of These Sources, than maybe the list of werewolf fucking ideas you might have been looking for. I hope you will agree that this rich history of werewolf lore is a GOLDMINE when you view it with the monster fucking lens. Now, the story I've been working on only has incidental werewolf-fucking, it's not a Monster Fucking story, but I will do my best to help you.
WEREWOLVES ARE REALLY FUCKING OLD. The first recorded "beast-man" is in the Epic of Gilgamesh (~2100 BCE), where Enkidu is a "bull-man" that Gilgamesh helps to find his humanity. Not werewolf specific, per se, but monster fuckers have been around a while. The most famous early werewolf is Lycaon of Arcadia (I believe a date of around 400 BCE), a king who fed Zeus the flesh of his own son cause he thought it would be funny, I guess. Zeus turned Lycaon into a wolf, or wolf-man, and that's where the word Lycan comes from. This also establishes a connection of werewolves with cannibalism.
So now I am actually going to fast forward to the Middle Ages. There is a rich, rich history of werewolves in Europe, particularly in the Slavic and Baltic regions. In Renaissance Germany, werewolf trials were held alongside witch trials. The Malleus Maleficarum, written in 1486 and was like *the* handbook for witch hunting, contained passages on identifying and capturing werewolves. (I'm pretty sure. Like I said it's been a year since I read this stuff.) So what did medieval people believe about werewolves?
There were many ways to become a werewolf. You could have the bad luck to be born on Christmas Day or (interestingly) the night of a New Moon. If you drank water that collected in the pawprint of a werewolf, you too would be cursed. If you died and an animal jumped over your corpse? Werewolf. In Livonia, it was said that if you spoke a certain incantation over your drink, you would become a werewolf upon consuming it. There were also ways to be a werewolf were one had more agency in the transformation. A wolf-pelt belt (often called a "wolf-strap", which cracks me up for reasons we won't discuss here) could be used to transform yourself into a wolf. To become human again, all you had to do was remove the belt. Some people believed you could do the same with a wolf skin. There are stories where if a werewolf's clothes are stolen while they're in wolf form, they will remain that way-- you can read about one such story, as recorded by tumblr user @qqueenofhades here! In Elliott O'Donnell's 1912 book simply titled Werewolves, there is a description of a ritual to summon some dark entity called "the Unknown" who could supposedly grant you powers of lycanthropy. Maybe don't do that. (This book also discusses other, non-European forms of Lycanthropy!)
There are ways for a non-lycan person to return a lycan to their human form; one can return their clothes to them, one can call them by their Christian name (sometimes 3 times, sometimes just once). There are accounts of a witness recognizing the werewolf due to some identifiable injury or something, and once they speak the werewolf's name he will turn back into a human.
Some ways to recognize if a person is a werewolf or not: do they have hair growing on their palms? If you cut them, is there hair growing inward from their skin? Are they just so, so hairy? In Swedish tradition, I believe, it was said that werewolves looked just like regular wolves except they had no tail-- so a werewolf would run on three legs, holding his fourth leg out behind him to look like a tail. Some werewolves still have human eyes when transformed.
A lot of the pop culture lore about werewolves comes from the 1941 The Wolf Man, which really brought the werewolf into modern times. You can check that out if you'd like, it's interesting stuff, but not in the scope of the research I've been doing.
OH MY GOD FLEA you just did a HUGE info dump on werewolves, this is not what I wanted. Yeah, I know, but you triggered my special interest gag-reflex.
But like.... Character A loves Character B and finds their clothes one night, takes them to wash, and a big hairy beast starts following Character A???
Character X gets attacked by a bad guy in the woods but a big ass wolf fends him off and gets a slice down his face. The next day Character Y has a nasty facial wound that seems somehow familiar??
The bond of being able to recognize your lover even when they're in animal form, even when you didn't know they could do that????
And I mean MY GOD just apply A/B/O shit to werewolves HELLO (that's what started this whole spiral for me).
I particularly like medieval monster fucking because the Middle Ages are just very interesting to me. There is a lot of political and religious stuff going on, a lot of culture clashing and forbidden fruit and what not. Remember how I said that there is a rich history of werewolves in the Slavic and Baltic regions? Those were the last areas of Europe to get converted to Christianity. And they resisted, HARD.
Livonia, the Baltic area where you could enchant your beer to make you a werewolf, has a famous account of a man on trial for being a werewolf. "Hell yeah I'm a werewolf," he said. "Me and my werewolf buddies go down to Hell three times a year to fight the Devil and his demons." If I recall correctly they weren't sure what to do with this guy because he *confessed* to being a werewolf and hadn't really done anything wrong. I believe there's another Livonian tale of an abandoned castle where all the werewolves gathered once a year. And something about werewolves breaking into your basement and drinking all your beer and stacking all the barrels up to the ceiling just to be little shits I guess?
Anyway, I think this is super interesting and I know this is not like "Medieval Werewolf Headcanons" but just get out your horny goggles and I am SURE you can find some good shit in this WAY TOO LONG POST.
Peace and LOve
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