#mun writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs · 7 days

Note

"No matter what they made you think, you are worth saving. You are worth loving." with darknsweet and his aus Norman (forgot his nickname)

"Worthy"

Norman/Sammy, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: mild swearing, mildly dark thoughts, two men kissing

Wordcount: 10147

Happy birthday Sammy, lmao

---------------------------------

It was such a nice day. The birds were singing. The trees rustled in the wind. The sun was slowly moving toward the horizon. Even the Lost Ones, the most cautious and tense creatures of the studio, were especially relaxed now. For the first time in decades, they looked… so happy. The only one who stood out was Sammy. While everyone was getting ready for the evening and night, he was just sitting some distance away, looking at the sun and the fluffy clouds around him.

Norman was concerned. Sammy had been there for at least a couple hours now. At first the projectionist hadn't wanted to bother him, thinking the prophet was making plans for their life outside the studio. But now Sammy's behavior seemed odd.

Along with taking a couple steps toward Sammy, Norman turned around and met eyes with Sarah. She was helping to organize the fire, carrying a bundle of twigs, and froze when Norman looked at her. After a couple of seconds of silent staring, she nodded her head gently toward the musician, signaling that it was the projectionist who should talk to him. The Lost One realized that Sammy would only open up to someone he absolutely trusted. If she or anyone else tried to talk to him, he would push them away. It had taken many years, but now Sarah understood that. With a final nod to Norman as well, Sarah withdrew to the others. The one-eyed man headed toward Sammy, who was sitting on the grass.

The musician didn't even notice he was being approached until Norman started talking.

"Sammy, are you okay?" - the projectionist asked. The musician flinched involuntarily and turned around, coming face to face with a worried Norman.

Sammy gave him a little smile.

"Yeah, it's okay," his voice sounded as soft and confident as ever. But clearly unused to having a face now, the musician couldn't hide his tired eyes and strained smile.

"Uh, no, you don't look okay," Norman replied. Sammy's smile became even more strained and awkward. Norman could see through him, and Sammy didn't like it.

"You're just imagining things," the musician squeezed out. He thought his nonexistent heart clenched when the projectionist sighed.

Norman glanced around cursorily. Behind him was the camp of the Lost Ones. Too many eyes and ears. No matter how hard you tried, Sammy wouldn't say anything. The one-eyed man shrugged.

"Whatever you say. But you know what? I found a remote spot with a nice view. You want to watch the sunset from there?"

The former prophet hesitated, looking away from Norman for a few seconds. But he nodded and stood up, shaking the dust off his pants.

"All right, let's go."

Norman led him away from the camp, to a small hill a few hundred meters away. Even though Norman's main purpose was to get Sammy away to talk, he didn't lie about the beautiful view the two inky men had in front of them.

Now that they were alone, the projectionist hoped that the one-actor show would stop playing out in front of him. He moved a little closer so that their shoulders were lightly touching.

"Sammy, be honest, is something wrong?"

The musician looked back at him for a second, quickly averting his gaze and looking up at the pinking sky. He frowned slightly, thinking. Then exhaled, admitting defeat.

"Nothing much has happened. It's just…I'm tired."

Now it was Norman's turn to frown.

"Hey, didn't we agree that you'd go to take a nap when you were tired? I thought you learned how to turn that "radio" thing off when you wanted to."

"Yeah, I've kinda learned to do that," Sammy sighed, pulling up his knees and resting his head on them. "But for some reason, I keep hearing voices sometimes."

"Their voices?" - Norman raised an eyebrow. The musician shook his head.

"They sound different. Or he, I'm not sure," noticing Norman's tilted head, Sammy clarified. "It's like one voice is trying to sound different. Whispering, changing the tone and manner of speech," the musician spread his hands.

"And what does he or they tell you?" The projectionist tilted his head slightly toward him.

Sammy looked away. It was unexpected to see guilt and... fear on his face?

"It doesn't matter".

"Ohoho, nah, you're not walking away from it now. What are they telling you in there?"

"U-um... It's…nothing special," Sammy squeezed his head into his shoulders a little. He flinched slightly when his hand was touched.

"Sammy, don't try to make excuses. I'm serious," Norman's tone made Sammy relax a little, looking down at his feet with a guilty puppy dog look.

"He says a lot of things."

"What kind of things?"

The musician sighed again.

"Like…that I don't deserve to be here." While his boyfriend froze in shock, Sammy continued. Surprisingly, the musician sounded calm. "That I didn't deserve anything good. I didn't deserve this body. I didn't deserve to be free from the studio."

"That's bullshit," Norman's voice cut through. But before he could continue, Sammy, as if in a trance, spoke again.

"I think that's the only thing that's fair. I've been lying for a very long time. I've used everyone around me. I've caught and killed innocent people… I guess it's their restless souls that haunt me. It's my fault. I shouldn't have become a leader. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve your love. I didn't deserve to be saved."

Sammy was stopped by Norman's fingers touching the musician's lips.

"That's enough. No one dares speak like that about the one I love," Norman spoke low and quiet, looking at him with an incredibly serious expression on his face. "Not you, not some fucking voice in your head."

Sammy tried to concentrate on looking at the grass and his boots. A typical reaction for him. Norman gently took him by the chin, turning him to face him. The musician stiffened, seeing how the movie mechanic's gaze was filled with worry and…tenderness.

"Sammy, listen carefully to what I'm about to say. No matter what these voices tell you. No matter what they made you think, you are worth saving. You are worth loving. Everything you've done, you've done for our good. No matter how horrible you think your actions are, they don't change the fact that you more than anyone else deserve a good ending."

Silence.

They looked at each other and it was as if time had stopped for them. The rays of the slowly setting sun painted everything around them in warm colors. The birds were quiet. The wind stopped blowing.

Everything stood still.

Norman moved his hand slightly and placed it on Sammy's cheek. The one-eyed man moved toward him, already thinking of realizing his long-held dream.

But he stopped.

And instead just kissed his forehead.

"Understood?"

He gave the musician a quick smile, letting him go and sitting up straight, finally turning his attention to the view.

"What a view he-" Norman didn't have time to finish, frozen like a statue by the feel of something at the corner of his mouth. Sammy, who was much closer than before, pulled back with a barely noticeable smile.

"Thank you. Maybe one day I'll be able to believe what you say."

No, it was just a crime to tease him like that.

Or was that consent?

The mechanic couldn't think about it. His only desire forbade him to be distracted by anything. Putting one hand on the musician's shoulder and taking his chin again with the other, he turned him toward him and kissed him.

For real this time.

Norman's head stopped working. The mechanisms in his chest hummed. There was a sudden sweetness on his tongue. He would have been glad to spend eternity like that. But he was stopped by Sammy's hands resting on his shoulders.

Now, looking at his face, Norman realized that … fucked up. Sammy just stared at him in shock.

Golden eyes wide open. Mouth slightly open. A flushed face.

A flushed face?

The scarlet rays of the nearly set sun lay calmly on the white inky skin. The musician seemed to be flushed, which actually suited his dazed expression very well. It was incredibly cute.

What Norman couldn't know was that he had the same panicked and flushed face. The newly formed couple turned away from each other, dying a little inside.

"W-what was that?"

"A kiss?"

"That doesn't feel like anything you've done before!" The musician put his palm to his lips, hundreds of thoughts swarming in his head. "You never came in my mouth before."

"…Was it disgusting?" The projectionist spoke more softly, as if the air had been cut off. A mistake like that would be hard to undo. With worry, he took a quick glance at the musician.

He was surprised and relieved to find his eyes shining brightly.

"…M-my first impulse was to bite your tongue off," he muttered, still not daring to look at Norman. "But…I can't say that…it was disgusting. It was just…very unexpected," Norman was bumped on his shoulder. "Don't do something like that without asking beforehand!"

That got a couple of weak chuckles out of the one-eyed man, and he was able to relax.

"…Too bad our first kiss was such a mess…maybe we should try again?"

The intonation with which Norman said it made Sammy wince a little. The red rays perfectly matched his slightly panicked expression. But Sammy tried to respond, making his voice sound just as cheeky as the projectionist's. The face the musician tried to make to match the tone still looked very awkward.

"…You're a sly one, Mr. Polk," he wanted to say something else, but forgot all the words as he turned and almost bumped his nose into Norman's. There were now several centimeters between their faces. The one-eyed man continued to stare at him mockingly and insolently.

Though the musician tried to hide his embarrassment and even some panic, the projectionist had long ago made it clear that he saw right through Sammy.

"I'm also very brazen," Norman said in a much lower voice. Thanks to his ability to keep a brick face and the lack of blood, otherwise they'd both be red-faced like little schoolboys on a first date. "... May I?"

The projectionist's gaze shifted for a second to the former prophet's lips and then immediately returned to his eyes. The second of silence that hung between them seemed like an eternity.

Until Sammy almost moved in, copying Norman's tone.

"You may."

8 notes · View notes

omalahsocs · 11 days

Text

...I'm just now realizing I'm gonna have to add tags to this fic about cult indoctrination and religious trauma. Not what I expected but this character is turning out more complex than I originally thought.

#fucking lasombras bro #vtm #vampire the masquerade #mun writes #writers woes

7 notes · View notes

nuclearforest · 2 months

Text

surprise gift for @cry-ptidd because i wanted to write a werewolf with a predatory side and a BAMF middle aged woman. partly inspired by a convo we had. i can probably be convinced to continue it.

closest you'll get to a TW is threats of gore and predatory behaviors. Laura is a werewolf.

Laura is not permitted to go hunting as often as she’d like; no outings into the night in general, much less the violent sort that ended with men’s limbs gripped between her snarling jaws as they cried in agony. That was almost never. But tonight must be special—her very own Sir Integra had deigned it a night she was allowed to go out. Not for a violent hunt, no, but for something to sate a different kind of hunger.

She stands in the head office at her master’s side where the traitor once stood, rigid in posture with her hands clasped at her front. The marble floor is painfully clean and shining, even under the low light of the too-high crystal chandeliers. Even after all these years, Integra’s wide mahogany desk and tall upright chair remain the only furniture in the room. An expendable agent stands before the two women, rattling something off from a newfangled tablet. It was the kind of technology that had an unpleasant whine in her ears more often than not.

But after listening to the nightly debrief from operational intelligence, Integra waves her hand. “It sounds like a sleepy night,” she muses, “truly a rarity.”

Laura finds herself tensing in anticipation, hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end. That wasn’t how Integra usually led into training exercises or the housework given on other dull evenings. The middle-aged heiress to the Hellsing name cracks open the center drawer of her desk to unearth a golden cigar case. Through the tall windows behind them, the dark sky and full moon called, speckled with the faintest of stars and framed by red curtains. The werewolf’s eyes widen a sliver and her nose twitches.

“Better than the alternative,” the man quips back with a smile, straightening the pages and laying them on Integra’s desk for her to review. The arteries in his neck pulse ever so faintly with his heartbeat. His hair is salt and pepper grey, with movements slow and sluggish in the werewolf’s eyes. If not for the red armband on his suit and the woman at her side, Laura would’ve thought him a fitful, lean snack.

“I suppose so,” she hums, “but I can’t leave my girls bored forever.” For a second, something flutters in Laura’s chest at the possessive tone. But she just as soon crushes it, forcing it away as Integra flicks open her case and plucks a cigar. “Laura.” Integra snips the end of the cigar for a crisp start. “Be a dear, will you?”

The werewolf reaches into the pocket of her apron and pulls out a golden lighter, offering a flame with a quick flick.

“Good girl.” The praise sends an imperceptible shudder down Laura’s back. “That will be all.” She replaces the lighter in her pocket and the lowly peon bows, turning his back to shuffle away like he wasn’t one wrong step from being picked up and shaken like a ragdoll.

They are far too comfortable around her.

The door clicks shut behind him, echoing in the high ceiling, and the ever-lovely Integra swivels her chair to look at the werewolf over the rim of her glasses. Laura just stares back at her piercing blue eye, waiting for an order.

“Do you think I should approve Seras’ request?” Integra asks before inhaling slowly from the cigar. The strong smell is almost enough to make Laura’s stomach churn with memories of dingy pubs and disgusting pigs but on her master? It is another matter entirely.

“What did she request?” the werewolf replies, nose almost wrinkling as Integra blows out another puff of smoke.

“A night on the town with you.” The Hellsing cracks a wry smile. Something in her eye glimmers. In the back of her mind, Laura wonders how long ago this request had been placed. They didn’t exactly go out frequently, and the vampiress frequently complained in her ear the next evening about how she’d snuck away.

“And why ask for my approval?” Laura’s hand twitches with the urge to brush a strand of hair, slipping from her ponytail, away from her eyes. Almost like she was a schoolgirl again. Distant memories of flowers crushed in her tense grip for some faceless young thing; a first crush. She swallows.

“Figured I’d see if you’d like to go,” Integra muses with the cigar between her lips, “If you were up for behaving tonight.” Heat almost rises to Laura’s cheeks at the thought of the last time, almost getting caught by all-too-perceptive humans. Funny that the woman hadn’t put together the teeth and the eyes until they were almost to her home. Funnier yet that Laura had been on her best behavior at the time and simply disappeared.

“I am bound to your command,” Laura replies gruffly, finally breaking eye contact to look away.

“Fine then.” Integra blows an almost playful puff of smoke at her. “I command you to accompany Seras for the night with nothing but your very best behavior.”

A smirk crawls up on Laura’s face at the thought of innocent women at the bar, straying like a young rabbit from its den. Tonight is a night for hunting bunny rabbits. With wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Soft skin and a dainty perfume. The big, bad wolf would eat them right up. “Oui, sir.”

#hellsing ultimate #hellsing oc #Laura the werewolf #werewolf oc #short story #mun writes

16 notes · View notes

pumpkinpuffgirls · 1 year

Text

Pibby x Blossom. Why Ship It?

(AKA - In Defense of Pibby x Blossom) [Reposted from my Deviantart, a product of the Pibby x Blossom Collab] Some people question why Pibby x Blossom is even a ship in the first place. Many odd pairings have spawned from the Powerpuff Girls fandom.

From the PPG x RRB, to Blossom x Dexter, Buttercup x Johnny Test, or even, controversially, Blossom x Aku.

Shipping is a natural part of fandom. Especially to fandoms with young members, often wanting to see characters they love in secured relationships or emulating the relationships they wish to have.

So that begs the question, what makes Pibby x Blossom any different from ships like Blossom x Dexter or Blossom x Any Member of the Rowdyruff Boys? Is it a Crack Ship, or is there more to it than what we see at face value?

Lets look at some factors, getting some common detractor ideas out of the way first.

The "Age" debacle.

Some people have argued against Blossom x Pibby because of the two being children. Which is baffling. Most know that shipping is not inherently sexual and sometimes not even entirely romantic! If the greater internet wasn't allowed to ship children characters, then a large number of ships would disappear overnight. There'd be no more Sonic x Sally or Sonic x Amy. Since they're teenagers. You couldn't ship Ash with Misty, Serena, or any other female companion from Pokemon since they're kids. You couldn't ship Luz with Amity, because even though they're canon in the show, they're both still children. None of the students from My Hero Academia could be shipped. Absolutely no PPG x RRB or Blossom x Dexter, etc. You see what I'm getting at?

Children get crushes on each other. Teenagers get crushes on each other. Children and Teenagers love talking about crushes and imagining their favorite characters having crushes! It's been around for ages and it's harmless!

The other half is people arguing since Pibby's age is "unknown" it could be dangerous to ship her with Blossom. This one carries more weight. As Pibby being a teenager or adult would throw the pairing into a gross territory since Blossom is in Kindergarten.

However, I would argue that we have official evidence to show that Pibby IS around Blossom's Age. That she's intentionally written to be child-coded, and I'll show it here.

From the leaked voice call sheet, Pibby immediately is drawn to comparison to Dora the Explorer. A character who is canonically 8 years old. The document further lists Pibby as "wanting to stay child-like forever," which like many cartoon shows, even the powerpuff girls, those characters never seem to age.

If we go off the Dora angle, Pibby is 8 years old and only two years older than Blossom who is most likely 5 given that she's in Kindergarten. If we go off the Preschool show angle, Pibby is 4 or 5 which makes her and Blossom near the exact same age.

The Powerpuff Girls have been shown to get crushes even in the classic series, such as Buttercup having a short-term crush on Ace. They use kissing to stop the Rowdyruff Boys when they first caused havoc. They kissed the cootie kid at the end of that episode! Despite their young age it's not out of the question to say the Girls could have crushes, and so could Pibby!

It's understandable why some people would feel sketchy shipping characters so young, and nobody is making them! However this age aspect shouldn't be policed when the characters are CLEARLY shown to be so close in age to each other. It's not an adult being shipped with a child, it's not a pair of siblings being shipped. It's a fictional girl child and another fictional girl child, and if this somehow changes when Pibby is released I'll delete this post.

The "Gender" debacle.

I'm not going to beat around the bush. Some people are clearly not comfortable with the ship because Blossom and Pibby are both girls.

Why would it be that any ship that places Blossom with a boy (even some boys that are clearly too OLD for her) be okay, but a ship that places her with another girl her age be taboo? It's 2022 and we need to stop pretending that girls can't get crushes on girls, or boys can't get crushes on boys. Children DO know at that age who they like, and it's often adults telling them to think otherwise that leads to years of questioning and confusion.

Letting people ship same gendered couples doesn't hurt you, and pushing against it makes you look bad.

What Do Pibby and Blossom Have in Common?

Now let's get into the real discussion itself. Would Pibby and Blossom have any chemistry?

Liang, who the collab was created for, recently told me her original reasoning for shipping Pibby and Blossom so I'll quote it here.

"Also, you wanna know why I ship Pibby with Blossom? Well it kinda sound silly but it’s because they both love anything that’s about learning and they kinda have similar looks. So I think they’re actually perfect together in my headcanon."

This was a very interesting insight because I would say, yes! They both love learning. Blossom is a very intelligent and academic character, and Pibby was created to teach kids about spelling.

A connection could be immediately made through that love of education. I'm sure Pibby would be impressed by Blossom's knowledge as well as her fluency in the Chinese language. Meanwhile Blossom would love to understand how Pibby can make words appear when she speaks and her thoughts on being an educator.

Plus they do look pretty similar, a lot of fanart has often depicted Pibby as a powerpuff girl for that reason, funnily enough.

However I want to throw in my own addition to the chemistry pile. Pibby and Blossom are both Leaders.

Pibby was the star of her show. Blossom is the canonical leader of the Powerpuff Girls. Pibby often reassures and tries to help others during times of need as does Blossom. Pibby takes charge and leads others into battle, and Blossom picks up the torch and beats down baddies when her other sisters no longer can. Blossom is the one who often comes up with plans, and Pibby is the one who manages to pull Melira and Alloy Boy together and convinces them that they can all learn to become heroes. The two have a very similar determination and resolve that I think both could benefit from. An avenue I feel a lot of people may have overlooked.

Pibby still needs to come into her own as a hero, while Blossom had already done that in the events of the Powerpuff Girls movie. So Pibby can absolutely learn from Blossom, plus maybe comfort her after Bubbles is taken by the darkness (We never see Blossom get taken by it in the trailer so we don't know if she's still around or not)

There's a lot of good things we could see from this pairing if more content creators choose to apply it and explore avenues with their characters.

In Conclusion

I've seen many people write off Pibby x Blossom as a Crack Ship, and while I see where they're coming from... I don't think that's the case at all. Like Blossom x Dexter, there's some foundation there. They're both from the same programming network. They're very similar in character. They both have loves of learning and are leaders. There's a lot more to this ship than just throwing two random characters together. There's no real difference between Pibby x Blossom and a lot of the other popular Blossom ships. It's putting two characters together in a fun way.

In the end, who cares if someone ships them together? It's HARMLESS.

You don't have to ship it, you don't even have to like it. You can hate it! But if you have a problem with it, but can't add anything critical or thoughtful to the conversation, then you're better off moving on or just blocking the people and content you don't want to see. It's easy, costs nothing, and filters your content the way you would like it. Harassment and bullying is never okay, and even if it's the internet it should not be tolerated.

If it's harmless, let people have fun, and have your own fun where it appeals to you.

-----

If you read to the end, then gosh you're a beast! I hope you found this insightful and interesting. I wanted to give some perspective on this as well as advocate for why there's nothing inherently wrong with the ship and why people ship it.

TerraTerraCotta

#PibBlossom #Pibby x Blossom #Mun Writes #Blossom #Blossom PPG #Pibby #Learning with Pibby #Shipping #((NOTE: This is not a pro/ship. Article explains that))

79 notes · View notes

timeguardians · 3 months

Text

Call Out My Name. I'll Be There

a Chicago Fire one shot: Violet Mikami X Sam Carver

Summary:

In the traumatic aftermath of Hawkin's death, can Violet allow herself to ever free-fall into love again? Is she ready to pursue a romance with a firehouse bombshell?

Will being bold pay off for Sam Carver or will he end up facing rejection.

________________________

Sam Carver is an infernal distraction! Albeit a more smiley, gleeful menace than vengeful viperish sort. There's something alluring about those damnably deep sea-blue eyes. At first their ceaseless fathoms are aloof, a mere temptation, that can easily be glossed over. Then, with a more discerning stare, they become deceptively inviting and hopelessly warm. It is in staring that something occurs to Violet. A thought she desperately wishes to suppress, despite how electrifying it is. He is the wildcard that she never saw coming. A shot at love that she had never truly considered.

Sam, as irredeemable as he feels, can find himself lost. Helplessly tangled in a ball of ceaseless knots. For the first time, in what feels like an eternity, there is a stimulation greater than what the piney taste of alcohol can provide. It's her. His angel of mercy is vivacious, alive like the breath of Spring.

Violet's sheepish glances, the ones she cast in his direction before catching herself and diverting, send his heart into a dizzyingly frantic frenzy. What keeps her pushing away? Was he so undesirable? Had he audibly mentioned something she found appalling?

A pinch of shame coils through Carver as Violet occupies herself once more instead of joining him at his table. In truth, he had chased Cap out of that damnably vacated seat opposite him.

Sam yearned for this shared time with a quieted sense of desperation. This time after shift, when she'd allow tension-riddled lips to unfurl into a glorious grin. A grin she would cast towards him. When she'd sit next to him. For a solitary moment, he could almost pretend to be whole, instead of the fractured soul he knew he was. He feels a deepening ache spiderweb palpably, branching out through his arms till it hits his curling fingers. What had he done? The thought blazes through his mind like a flashover, searing and suffocating.

Carver's presence is tantalizingly magnetic. The minute she enters Molly's, Violet's eyes instantly seek him out amongst the familiar brood of faces. The doleful dark orbs pursue him the way they once had Evan. And then it comes colliding back like a ferocious tidal wave, that crippling, clawing of razor-sharp guilt. Within seconds, her heart is in shredded tatters again. It's shallow thrum becomes agonizing.

How could she ever move on? Violet can't. Not now. If Sam gave her one of his patented empathetic glances, she might melt. She might liquify into his sturdy, capable arms of his. How shameful would that be? For her to put her beloved Evan in the rearview mirror so casually? Wouldn't it be better to shut that wantonly feeling part of her down?

Delving into wedding planning is just the diversion she requires. Hurried are her steps as she moves to leave. A month doesn't leave her with nearly enough time to finish all the things she must as the newly crowned Maid of Honor. She intends to depart from Molly's in order to inspect a place that Cap had recommended for a bachelorette party. She knows Sylvie has incredibly high standards. Standards she can't meet if she's preoccupied with Sam Carver.

"Can we talk?" A masculine voice, so sweet, and so honeyed beckoned. For the inkling of a breath, Violet wished there hadn't been the vaguest semblance of familiarity carried by every syllable. She swallows down a thick sense of dread as she turns, turns to him the object of incessant strife and even more pining.

Violet's exhale grows rigid as he reaches for her. His strong fingers gingerly anchor around her porcelain wrist. "Sure. What is it?" She manages to amble out, her whirling mind taking a few seconds too long to catch up to her mouth.

He laxes his grip as she willingly decides to delay whatever errand had her in such haste. Carver feels his shoulders crumble, just a hair. Her tone was every bit as amicable as it had been at the firehouse and yet, his intestines seem to coldly coil. "Have I," he starts, courage fleeting as his heart begins to drum more fiercely. "Have I said or done something to offend you?" Carver manages to breathlessly blurt out.

Violet recoils slightly. Jilting in the faintest fashion, as if scalded when reaching into an oven to retrieve a snack she forgot was hot. That is nothing in the ballpark of what she had anticipated to hear. "What?" Oh, how silly the questioning word sounded when it landed upon the shell of her ears. Her tongue wets the parched curve of her lip and readies with more intelligible speech when he patiently interjects.

"I feel like I should apologize. I'm just not sure what I'd be apologizing for." Sam manages, his hands raising into a gesture he hopes would be perceived as placating.

"I- I don't understand." Violet murmurs. Her dark brows scrunch together in confusion over the subtle slope of her nose. A part of her perfectly manicured facade crumbles as her eyes met his. His eyes are so turquoise, they engulf her like a readily foaming, Summer Seas. "Is there something you should apologize for?"

He plows his hand through his luxurious brunette stands. Averting his gaze, he attempts to tally up anything that might be misconstrued as rude or awful. "I don't know. It's just, you were ignoring me in there." His head cants towards Molly's door. "I thought I had said something to affront you."

"Like what? Offering to help me in a time of need?" She softly challenges. But then, Violet bristles. The misunderstanding now coming into closer definition. "I-" Her voice quavers as if it lacked solid substance. It was difficult to ignore now that the utterance had fallen precariously from his lips. She had been ignoring him. She had hoped he wouldn't notice."You've done --- done nothing. Believe me." Mikami reiterates, in a tone she prayed was more believable than the last she employed.

"Then what is it?" Sam treads dangerously closer, his tone as careless as a lover's whisper. The space between them closing intimately. Unfurling a clenched hand, he thoughtlessly presses it to her cheek. "Just tell me what I've done. I don't want to feel like we're waking on eggshells." He eagerly prods.

His sudden tender touch catches her off guard so much so that Violet seizes up. Aghast lips part, her eyes readily searching him only to startle at the intensity of his gaze. She'd seen that look from Evan. Was it even fair to consider asking Sam Carver to live in Hawkin's shadows?

It occurs to him to retract the hand pressed to Mikami's cheek. Yet, human contact, as little as it was, only fueled his yearning. Carver gently strokes his thumb along her wonderfully smooth skin. "Do I frighten you?" He asks, dropping his voice into an unintentional silvery sotte-voce.

Her face burns crimson beneath the ghosting of his delicate touch. She wills her clenching jaw to unhinge, to gift him an answer that he deserves. One, preferably, that would not drive him away forever. "No, I- I'm not afraid of you. It's just..." Violet finds herself leaning haphazardly inwards till they are nearly chest to chest.

Carver laughs a bit to expel the nervous energy swelling up inside his form. He once more entreats, "What is it?"

Violet swallows impossibly hard. How could she relate the sheer level of emotion that bathed over her every time he so much as peered in her direction? Ebony lashes flit downwards to grace the globes of her cheeks."I promised myself after ---" she feels her voice hitch, "after Evan, that I would never fall in love again. But you're here and you're making that promise so damn hard to keep! I don't want to end up with my heart broken. Statistically, avoiding the heartbreak is ---"

Her words are smothered under the sudden heat of his lips as they crash with her's. Oh, he knows he ought not to have crossed that line. Controlling his impulses had never been one of his fortes.

All he can think of is how beautiful Violet is under the golden glow of the streetlights as they slowly flitter to life. He makes no urgent effort to withdraw from her space, even if the name of Evan does bring up a pinch of envy. A pinch that seemingly traverses his spine in the amount of time it takes for his next breath to be drawn. He knows she's still burned, still devastated from that loss. He could never hope to compare, he could never even think about trying to replace a man who was so dearly treasured.

"I don't want to replace him, Violet." Sam ventures to express while she is still visibly reeling. "Lord knows I never could." He reminds her. "I just want to take care of you, to help you. I want you to know that it's okay to let somebody in. Anybody. Doesn't have to be me." He adds. His thumb blazes another trail over her skin again.

Violet blinks up at him in bewilderment. The astonishment flooding through her veins wars across all of her suddenly warm features. He just kissed her. Was that real? Had she imagined it? Had she imagined how silky and comforting being kissed by him could be? Her hand gradually unfurls against his chest, she's only half listening as he ambles out his speech. Was this Evan's way of letting her know that it's okay to let go? That she should embrace this new avenue while it was presented. But Carver was a firefighter, a feckless one at that. She's already had to treat him a few times in the back of the ambulance.

Relentless thunder fills her eardrums as her eyes flash back upwards. "I ---" She swallows again, revisiting his offer to help and protect her. It was sweet. Sweet in all the ways she had been longing for. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this." She whispers, afraid the fragile quality of her own voice might ruin whatever kind of moment was transpiring between them.

"Take all the time you need," Sam assures her. "My father used to say the right one is always worth the wait." He relates, allowing himself to be quite open in a way that made him feel vulnerable. "Just know that you can call out my name. I'll be there in a heartbeat. All you have to do is ask." He swallows, his own voice quivering a degree. "On the nights you feel outnumbered, I'll be out there somewhere."

#call out my name and i'll be there #Muse: Violet Mikami #Violet Mikami X Sam Carver #one shot #mun writes #violet mikami #tw: death #tw: trauma #tw: grief #sam carver #me playing around with writing for funsies

10 notes · View notes

blueskywater-happiness · 5 months

Text

So I will dance with Cinderella ( Papa Ozymandias and Gudako)

Author's note: This idea struck me while I was listening to Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman and coincidentally remember a small fandom in Pixiv, making Ozymandias a father figure to Gudako. These characters are from Fate Grand Order.

-----

When did the time go? Ah it is really a hassle for such a radiant being such as I, the King of Kings and the incarnation of the Sun god Ra, the shining God King Ozymandias. Time is a fickle being that eludes even I. Yet that little girl, the Chaldean master, whose golden eyes glows nearly similar to such I, seem to be content lazing her days away although she does show potential.

Yet when did she became as dear to him, as what his beloved and younger brother is to him?

She spins and she sways to whatever song plays Without a care in the world And I'm sitting here wearing The weight of the world on my shoulders

She got better at fighting, ever since I first lay my eyes on her, her bravery, her foolishness, her courage...

Silly child. She leads her servants with such determination, even as the world and the universe itself began to test her mettle.

She is still a child at the end of the day, her youth and her charisma. I do not know why but I often wish she could have enjoyed her years like her peers.

Instead she acts as a hero, therapist, a king (such a title befitting such as her), master, and other terms that best describe this child.

I have no idea why we began to spend time together, of course the other servants make such remarks about us being seen often. Ha, romantic partners? No one can beat his beloved Queen in that category.

That child just makes his heart clench.

It's been a long day and there's still work to do She's pulling at me saying, "Dad, I need you There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited And I need to practice my dancin' Oh, please, daddy, please"

"Pleeeeease Pharaoh!" Gudako puts her hands together in a begging position. "Can you please teach me?? The others are busy and you're a Pharaoh once, surely you can teach me!?" she looks up pitifully. I laugh loudly "Ho! You ask for my assistance little mage? Very well!" I then pat her head "I expect I shall be rewarded me more of your current age's technology, Gold one and I need more games to compete!"

"Yes yes yes! And thank you! I don't know why Marie wanted a ball." Gudako sighs "Oh shoot I better get the Cu group to the training room, I'll see you later Pa-" she froze and turns red. "S-sorry!" Pa...?

...hahaha...

I cover my eyes as I laugh. Of course, that is the answer, how could I, the Great Pharaoh of Egypt, forget?

"I permit you to address me such, Gudako." I pat her head as she gape at me. She then smiles wide.

So I will dance with Cinderella While she is here in my arms 'Cause I know something the prince never knew Oh, I will dance with Cinderella I don't want to miss even one song 'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone

Ah the ball, granted what he usually held back then is different from what the Queen of France is doing. It is unseemly for I to not attend. The King of Knights, the male one, and Golden One are beside me, we the Kings should observe how the children are to act. (King of Knight enough of those potato dishes, you act no different from your counterparts).

"Papa!" Golden one stare at me incredulously "She address you as a father?" his red eyes scan me. "Ho, are you envious that a child of her ability address me such? Such a worthy child as well." I slyly raise my wine. He snort "Hardly, Sun King. She is still a mongrel though worthy in my older self's eyes. I make exceptions to that." he sips his wine. I turn around to see Gudako-- I could not breathe. She looks beautiful, like a goddess, a princess-- Princess... his little princess... "What do you think papa?" she smiles at me "I ho--" "Radiant." I whisper to her "You are as radiant as the stars in the sky, little one." I extend my hand to her "Are you not going to dance with your father, little one?" I smiled softly to her. (I shall ignore those annoying light flashes from those cameras, honestly back in his days memories are more precious, living the moment than trying to capture a moment you are not in.)

Gudako giggles at me as she accepts my hand. "Of course I will dance with you papa!" I spun her slowly as our feet moves with the rhythm, as the minutes pass, those horrendous thoughts resurface... She's mortal, she could be attack at anytime... but for now, a dance will preserve their time together.

I held her hand a bit tightly, squeezing it a bit but not too hard.

For now, she is in my arms, dancing as her laughter echoes.

She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed She wants to know if I approve of the dress She says, "Dad, the prom is just one week away And I need to practice my dancin' Oh, please, daddy, please"

"What in Ra's name is prom..?" I look at Gudako as she and I went to the market-- mall. "All I see is a dance event similar to balls except with more alcohol for underage children like you." I mumbled

"It is like a rite of passage, Edison told me those around my age do this when they are in school." she tug me "Everyone is holding a Chaldean version of it. They say in America parents take their children to go shopping for the clothes~" she giggles.

Honestly those dresses do not fit her at all. "Such folly, little one." Although it is to be expected, I am use to her antics after all these years. "I can host events just for you."

Ah brother... my beloved Nefertari, you would adore her.

"Eh the point is it'll be among my age." she then grins "Buuuut--" I laugh "Ah you have yet to master dancing? Even when I started to mentor you for a few years? Perhaps you should cut back your habit playing with the sphinxes and stop skipping those lessons." I tease.

"Ah but papa!" she whines "You gave them to me!" she pouts. "Also I though you like--" "As a peer but not as a suitor to a child of mine." grumbling, an idea struck me "Honestly must you entertain his courtship? You, who I adopt and love as my own, shall be a Queen of her own Kingdom and lead legions of worthy servants, why, I can create a magnificent pyramid for you!"

Why do you even need to go away? You're still a child- my child.

"Papa! He's a nice guy and he helps me!"

"Well Golden One is not so nice but he helps, King of Knights is nice but a glutton--"

"Uncle Gilgil and Uncle Arthur are different!"

So I will dance with Cinderella While she is here in my arms 'Cause I know something the prince never knew Oh-oh-oh-oh, I will dance with Cinderella I don't want to miss even one song 'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone

Her smiles eventually crack, her eyes dull, the world is so cruel. She collapses into my arms, another lostbelt. More blood on her hands.

I raise my staff to erect some sort of barrier, to not disturb her respite.

I want to take you away from here.

I gently run my hand through her hair, I suddenly heard someone entering. "You dare intrude my--" oh.. it is THAT boy. That--

He held his weapon tightly, eyes glowing with determination. "I am here for her, Pharaoh. Do what you must but you can't control what I want."

Insolent! Foppish, foolish, arrogant, wretched--

"Papa please..." she tugs my cape.

Why...?

She will be gone

If I left you go to him, then...

"Papa!" an echo of her younger voice rings in my head, I tried not to think.

I...

My little princess, where did you go..?

But she came home today with a ring on her hand Just glowing and telling us all they had planned She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away But I need to practice my dancin' Oh, please, daddy, please"

Golden one stares at me, a brow raise as he slides in a glass of wine for me. "Sun King, years already passed." he began.

I grumbled.

He scoffs "That boy, as much I regret saying such thing about mongrels, has proven himself. Did he not risk his life for her?"

"And so did the rest of us! And he is a servant! Can he truly give her the life she deserves!?"

Can I?

Pity flash across his eyes, oh perhaps my noble phantasm can erase his--

"Sun King, not everything stays the same nor shall anyone can escape the passage of time." he then gestures to where my princess is.

I froze, the white dress on her, the veil. She looks just as radiant, his little princess.

Soon a Queen to her King.

"Papa!" Gudako waves at me, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. Ah, even after all these years?

"She is still your princess, Sun King." a hand on my shoulder. "Ever the foolish inside even as she grows. Now go, your sulking is distasteful and frankly sickening."

I walk towards her, this time, it is my hand that is accepting hers. She grins up at me.

The wedding will be held six months from now...

When did the time go? Such a hassle for such a radiant being such as I, the King of Kings and the incarnation of the Sun god Ra, the shining God King Ozymandias. Time is kind yet cruel, it gives and takes.

So for now... as I dance and sway with her.

For now she is still my princess until the day I will lead her to the altar. For now I am her dance partner until that day.

"Thank you for dancing with me, papa." Gudako said to me in a lowly voice. "I love you papa."

A...ah... This child makes his heart clench.

"I love you too, my princess..."

I held her hand a bit tightly, squeezing it a bit but not too hard, just as before but this time a tear escape from my eye.

For now, she is in my arms, dancing as her laughter echoes.

#fate grand order #fgo #fgo fujimaru ritsuka #fate gudako #fgo gudako #fgo ozymandias #fate ozymandias #fate gilgamesh #fgo gilgamesh #my writing #mun writes #fgo fanfic

9 notes · View notes

aaaaamorphous-entity · 15 days

Text

Walk A Mile update!

#Yariyumi #emicu #heroic spirit emiya #cu chulainn #fate series #mun writes #fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

whispertrolls-archive · 5 months

Text

Anchor

Characters: Hunter Wulfen x Skylah Aviana (Wolf Quest)

Mentions: Selene Monark, Vrayan Fennix- @contrastparadoxx and PR0T0TYPE- @sunnetrolls

Synopsis: With their lives so wholly upended, Hunter and Skylah find themselves having to come to terms with old feelings and new beginnings.

Inspo: Anchor- Skillet & Anchor (Reimagined)

Doc for easier reading

The night was quiet. In fact, it was too quiet, Skylah felt, for the thunder in both of their hearts. Their old life, and their old pack, was long gone. It had never really been spoken by the trolls with whom they now aligned, but of course, Skylah knew that they weren’t, by any technicality, alone. It was much worse than that. They were lonely in their new friends' company.

Though both of them had been displaced in every feasible way, Skylah would willingly admit that the loss seemed to hit Hunter harder. She, at the very least, still had her aviary, her birds, and Kyurie. What did Hunter have to hold on to? Just her, and just his adopted son. She was sure that it killed him to leave, but Shadow wasn't safe with the turmoil of the pack building to a head. She was also sure of another, more haunting revelation that plagued her days: Hunter knew what she had done. He knew that her hands were a catalyst in the increased instability, and he knew her reasons.

She believed that that was the only reason that when he lashed out in fury of her betrayal, his jaws clamped down before they reached her throat. She was sure that he would abandon her, shun her as the rest had, but he was the only one who was still here. Perhaps, she inferred inwardly, he had spared her because he had made up his mind that night. His fury was narrowly tamped by his ugly, writhing, deep-seated fear that he would lose the last piece of his past that he had left.

Her own desperation and obsession with atoning for her sins had cost them their lives instead of restoring what she had once taken. Her guilt kept her awake for most of her days, and in many of those, she kept it to herself just how much she wished that his fangs hadn't missed. No, that would've been too easy. She would have to make do with continuing to live, but at least she had him to stay with her. She had his body heat, the gruffness of his voice, and the hardness betrayed by sadness in his orange eyes. He was always one to hide his true emotions, but sometimes, and especially recently, they had shone through and brought truth to the old saying of eyes being windows to the soul. Her heart ached at the idea of him holding so much pain, and Skylah softly sighed as she leaned against his side.

“...Hunter?”

---

Hunter had been staring off into space. Normally, he preoccupied himself watching the land and the skies above for any signs of movement or life, but since the loss of the pack, he hardly looked for anything. He simply kept to himself unless he was tending to Selene or Shadow, or he was being met by Nyctea, PR0T0TYPE, or Vrayan. He took his orders without question and moved on autopilot, as if he was little more than a shell of a man. He was still an efficient killer, an awkward, struggling and confused lusus, and a steady escort, but he had grown quiet beyond the occasional sardonic quip.

Luckily for him, few had attempted to prod him on the matter; however, Skylah had been spending more and more time by his side. She almost seemed stuck to him, and even in his times where he wanted to be alone, he failed to turn her away. What if she left one night, and he was to never see her again? What if a final snap left him with nothing? He couldn't chance it. Even knowing her part in the pack's destruction, he would've rather died than lost her, too. In his own desperation to have someone to call home, he would try to forgive, but never forget.

His stomach panged. He had scarcely eaten, forgetting and forgetting and forgetting again until one of his more persistent companions all but forced food upon him. He had been sleeping, instead, to fill the voids left within himself. He hadn't even said goodbye. He had simply grasped his pup in his lupine jaws and fled, hiding his tears and the sobs that wracked his body and soul to the best of his ability. It wasn't until some time had passed that he had slowly re-emerged, soon to find himself face-to-face with an all-too-familiar white borzoi, a downtrodden beast with matching telltale streaks emanating from his eyes.

In the wake of the chaos that had befallen them, he had followed Selene, paying little mind to where he was going while Shadow trekked behind, and Hunter wondered if the young shifter understood any of what had transpired. It all felt like it had just happened, and yet, like it had happened so long ago.

Hunter glanced towards Skylah as he felt her touch, but neither of them spoke a word. He was silent, and he briefly stiffened before wordlessly leaning against her. He accepted her touch, but he didn't relax. If he relaxed, he didn't dare to consider what he would be inviting.

He felt unsteady. He knew they both did, but he found it difficult to focus on much more than his own pain. He was drifting in a sea of darkness that roiled him about in its unrelenting waves, leaving him feeling dazed and ill. The Wulfeniteblood twitched an ear at the murmur of his name, but he held his tongue as he straightened up, though a world-weary slump melted into his shoulders immediately after as he looked her way.

“I’m sorry.” He had to fight the urge to bear his fangs in a snarl. After all of this, she was ‘sorry’? After betraying the pack, splitting them up, and causing the highest mark to commit an irredeemable sin, that was all that she had to say? He felt his anger ice his veins, and a low growl escaped him. He watched as Skylah flinched away, her eyes wide and fearful before she shifted away from him, putting the space back between them. Hunter immediately felt a pang of regret as she separated herself from him.

“...I don’t care how sorry you are. What I care about is what we lost, because of you.” He set his jaw as cornflower eyes locked with his own, and he met the gesture with a scoff and another flash of agony in his gaze. He’d heard her story. He could understand why she did it, but in the light of those dying embers of that fateful night, he almost wished she would’ve simply allowed Keonin to die. His healing physical wounds, which Selene had refused to leave unattended even in his own turmoil, panged as if to agree.

—

Skylah inhaled a labored sigh as she lowered her gaze to her hands, which she had placed in her lap. He wasn’t obligated to care. She didn’t even expect him to care. She also knew for herself that he was right. That which they thought had been impossible had been achieved, but the consequences hit hard. She had done what she had set out to do, but in exchange for saving one life, she had endangered many others.

Skylah’s fingertips dug into her thighs as tears filled her eyes. They had been her family, too. She had destroyed them, wronging them twice in an ill-fated bid to make things right. Her expression faltered as she bowed her head. Sky dug her nails in until it hurt, holding that position as she steeled herself. Out of anyone, she was the least of all who had any right to cry.

“I… I know,” she answered around a lump in her throat. There wasn’t much else to say. There were no excuses for what she had done- only motives. She wasn’t alone in grieving how Keonin had only become sicker and sicker since her shifter genes had laid to rest, but she and Lupini were the only ones who dared to take such a monumental risk. Gene therapy was far from a new practice, but the chances of failure were high. Just as she had known that Keonin would refuse it had she been aware, Lupini had also been aware, and their plotting to alter her DNA had begun, discreetly infused within the medications that had, until recently, been keeping her head above water. It had worked so well, but it had ended so horribly that Sky didn’t dare to deem it a failure. If anything, it was a pyrrhic victory.

“I’m so mad at you. I don’t even have words,” she heard him remark, and she could only nod in understanding. She could think of plenty of words that might describe his feelings, but she wasn’t about to speak for him when she could barely speak for herself.

“I know,” she repeated as her fingers unclenched. She almost felt numb, waiting for the other shoe to drop and waiting for her own blood to coat the ground. Even with that expectation, she failed to suppress a scream as he suddenly fell upon her, pinning her against the wall with a near-roar of rage.

“H-Hunter?!”

—

The lycanthrope growled deeply once more as he trapped his smaller companion between his arms, watching her shrink down beneath him like a frightened prey animal. It would’ve been easy. It would’ve taken just a single strike to end her, maybe two, and no one in the nearby cavern would’ve faulted him for it. The killing part would’ve been easy, he was sure, but there was one thing that stopped him.

Well, two things.

“Don’t. Say it,” Hunter snarled between gritted teeth as he leaned in, almost nose-to-nose with Sky as his gaze burned through her. “I don’t. Want. To hear about what you know. I’m not stupid, and you’ve at least got the booksmarts if nothing else to know your place.” She didn’t answer him, but he watched her lay herself low in an act of submission. At least she had the sense not to fight when she knew she was wrong, but in the same thought, he felt vexed by the idea that she had resigned herself so easily.

Both of them stilled, their breaths heavy and chests heaving before he clenched his fists. “You know what makes it hard, Sky? She trusted you. We all trusted you,” his voice cracked as he deeply huffed through his nose. “I don’t know why you didn’t just talk to us. We could’ve helped. We could’ve come to a compromise where we could all be happy! We could’ve…” He trailed off as a familiar sensation hiccuped in his chest. His ears lowered, and his shoulders followed suit as he leaned further forward, moreso supporting himself on the wall as the strength of his fury ebbed from his neglected body.

It didn’t matter what they could’ve done. No amount of possibilities could change the past. Nothing that they talked about now could take away what had already been set in stone. His burning gaze fell, and Skylah was sure that she had witnessed a final structural collapse into ground zero in his eyes.

“The worst part,” he continued after a moment of silence had fallen between them. “Do you know what the worst part is,” he queried as the volume of his voice fell. He was a broken man, so broken that he wasn’t sure anything could ever fix him, and he hated above all else how obvious it was in his voice.

“The worst part is that I can’t even… I can’t even blame you for it. And what sucks even more is that I’ve never been so angry, but the only one who’s gotten me here was you.” He couldn’t even bring a growl to rumble forth, and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him, threatening to collapse him upon his cornflower companion. Well, perhaps it was a strong term.

“I still hate that I…” He swallowed, setting his jaw. His thoughts pained him as much as pulling teeth, but he was sure that it was going to eat away at him if he didn’t voice them. “I hate that… even after all of this, I still love you too much to lose you.”

—

Skylah sat frozen beneath him. Her gaze fell from his eyes to his fangs and back again. She followed every movement that he made. It hurt to see him in so much pain, but that paled in comparison to knowing that she was the cause of it. It was almost dizzying, and her head ached as her blood roared in her ears. It was deafening, but not enough to drown out the words that she wished she hadn’t heard. This was a kindness of his heart, she knew that well. It was a grace that he rarely gave, but one that she was so undeserving of that she could have spoken in certainty that he wouldn’t have given it if it didn’t leave him alone. Why did he have to love her?

Why did she have to love him?

“...You’re not gonna lose me,” she assured him in a wispy, softened tone as her eyes fell to his lips. She didn’t dare to meet his eyes, but she saw how his body trembled, and she felt no need to look any higher. “Not unless you send me away.” Skylah swallowed again. That lump didn’t seem to want to leave.

“I don’t think it justifies anything, but she was like a lusus to me, too. I just… knew that she missed it, and that her health was getting worse, so I… I did what I knew to do.” She couldn’t even be certain that it had saved her life. She could only theorize that if Keonin had been able to change, then her body could start to potentially heal itself.

“But that’s all said and done. I can’t do anything about it, now,” Sky sighed, looking away from him entirely. “...I wish you didn’t still love me, Hunter… and I wish I didn’t still feel the same way about you.” But they both did, and despite her regret, Skylah was equally guilty and bitterly relieved to hear it.

“...I think you deserve someone better than me, Hunter,” she admitted, frowning slightly as he grunted in reply. “Like… someone who can’t hurt you like me. You just… need someone who can do for you what you do for everyone else.” Her voice rose, and Skylah shifted her glasses aside to rub her eyes. “You’re too busy looking after everyone else. You’re just- you-” the raven sputtered, trying to recall her thoughts as she felt her face and chest starting to tingle. “You are the one who’s always being the rock. You’re the one who’s supporting everyone else, you’re the one who can’t fall or show any cracks, but you don’t- y- ngh!!”

—

“Shut up,” Hunter hissed in reply. He had heard the strain in her breaths. He hadn’t heard her struggle to breathe like that in so long, and he had immediately silenced her with a firm palm pressed to her chest. It caught her off guard, and it hurt enough to ground her from her growing fit. They didn’t need this on top of everything else. Her breathing had slowed, but he could still see her muscles threatening to spasm. He could feel the pain running from the base of his skull down his spine and shoulders, permeating through his back, but he knew that it was no pain of his own.

“Here’s the problem, Sky: You are my rock. You’re my fucking anchor, whether either of us likes it or not, and if you’re going to be selfish, then so will I.” He studied her face, watching her expression twitch, and he felt her body quiver beneath him. It was dangerously close, and he tried not to stare for too long as he halfway closed his eyes. “...It’ll kill me if I lose you, too. You already took our lives away from us, don’t leave me in the dark on top of it.”

—

Skylah felt that numbness slowly crawling, even seeming to radiate tingling in her teeth. His hand on her chest steadied her breathing, but her headache persisted as she trembled. She tried to clench her fists, but it was as if her hands didn’t want to listen to her. She watched Hunter, mentally clinging to his presence. He was her anchor, too. He was everything to her, and now, he was nearly all that she had left. She felt dizzy as her muscles locked painfully tight, and her chest felt constricted. She was stirring in a way that had scarcely ended well, and the Cornflower troll whimpered quietly as a sudden wave of pain tore through her body.

She wished that she could reply, but her voice failed her as even her throat fell victim to that crawling sensation. All that she could do was meet his eyes and hope that he understood.

—

Hunter felt icy fear grip his chest. It was still coming, but he wasn’t an expert. He didn’t know how to stop it in its tracks. He only knew how to ease the process. She was unstable, like Keonin herself had been, and he knew that her instability could very well kill her. She wasn’t about to die on him. He wouldn’t let her, not after he had just said his piece!

He looked down, seeing her muscles pulsating and watching as she writhed in stifled agony. He could tell that she was fighting not to give in to it, and the werewolf gripped her upper arms. “Come on, just…”

Before he knew it, he had leaned in fully, pressing his lips to her own. He didn’t have the tools that he needed, but it was a desperate effort to bring her down before it was too late. Even if he couldn’t, even if it came to be the worst… he had at least done something.

“I-I don’t wanna do this alone,” he sobbed against Skylah’s lips as he lowered himself fully to embrace her.

—

It was the last thing she expected, feeling him in such close contact with her. Her awareness had fallen, but the warmth of his touch and the taste of his lips made time stand still. The numbness and tingling had taken pause, and as her acuity slowly returned, it seemed that they were even beginning to rescind. There he was, anchoring her from the brink of disaster. Even in his grief, he was the one saving her.

Skylah’s muscles suddenly released, and her body slackened and fell limp while the symptoms fell away. They were both breathing heavily again by the time that he broke the kiss and released her. She felt weak, but she flexed her hand and was relieved to feel him grasping it and intertwining his fingers with hers.

“...Thank you,” she breathed as she closed her eyes. Her head was pounding, but she believed herself to be out of the danger zone. She listened to the sounds of their breathing, silently noting how they slowly fell into sync. Neither of them said a word as they waited, apprehensive, in case there was another wave, but another long moment passed before she broke the silence.

“...So… did you feel anything?”

—

Hunter wiped the tears from his eyes and snorted in response. That was what she was focused on? Maybe it was more accurate to assume that she was choosing to try to swallow the dread that had wracked them both- not that he could blame her when he was trying to do the very same. “Uh…” He trailed off in thought, pausing for a moment before he drew his conclusion. “No.”

“I didn’t, either,” he heard her wearily laugh. He glanced down as Skylah’s hand awkwardly adjusted itself, freeing her of his hand, but his ears perked as he eyed her index and middle fingers separating and extending as she curled the rest of them into a fist. He blinked, then he swallowed as he followed suit, their fingers together forging the four sides of a diamond. “...Uh… yeah?”

“Yeah,” Skylah answered as she opened her eyes and looked at Hunter’s form bearing down upon her. She felt him nod, and she slowly lifted her arms to embrace him.

“...You’re my anchor, too.”

#mun writes #Wolf Quest #ask to tag

6 notes · View notes

mun-in-rain · 3 months

Text

Insatiable

Pairing - Wriothesley x fem! Reader

Summary - Wriothesley loves you like crazy and fucks you hard. That's it. Lol

------------------------------------------------------

“You know, it’s a full time job keeping this greedy cunt satisfied…” Wriothesley rasped in his husky voice close to y/n's ears. She moaned as Wriothesley fingered her, spreading her juices around inside her to relax and prepare her for his big cock. Given his huge size, he'd need to prepare her well. And he was a giver at heart, seeing her in pleasure was his pleasure.

Pumping his thick fingers inside her, he tapped onto a spot which he knew well to make her tremble. Y/n inhaled sharply, hissing as she was so close to the precipice. Wriothesley rubbed the pad of his thumb over and over her clit, driving his fingers, assaulting her G-spot, and y/n was overwhelmed with the barrage of pleasure. A fine sheen of sweat misted her body as her hips bucked to his thrusting wrist; she came with a shrill cry of climax, quivering all over, pleasure radiating in waves from her sex towards her entire being. Her wetness coated his fingers and her thighs as he slowly pulled them out of her squelching hole.

Unable to wait any longer with a raging hard-on, Wriothesley kissed y/n, tongue fucking her smart little mouth. He lifted her hips, placing his large calloused palms over her plump, creamy thighs, urging her knees to her chest. Then he lowered his protruding cock to her entrance, inch by delicious inch. The slippery, bulbous head slipped and disappeared instantly inside her, and he slammed down onto her with a single downward thrust. It was always a tight fit no matter how much the prep. But watching her struggle to take him ignited a flame inside him like no other. It made him

feral, a sense of animalistic possessiveness blooming in his chest along with a sense of pride that only he could ever make her feel so damn full.

“Ah, Fuuuck! You’re so tight!” Wriothesley groaned, his filthy praises making Y/n's walls ripple around his shaft, squeezing him like a tight fist. "Wrio, please slow down!" She pushed onto his broad and unyielding chest in a futile attempt to request for a pause. Y/n moaned and squeezed her insides involuntarily, eliciting a growl from him. He picked up the rhythm, slow and steady, yet so hard and deep while his fingers wove magic on her clit and his other hand busied itself on her bouncing tits, flicking them restlessly. “Grab the pillow, and don’t let go.” Wriothesley demanded possessively.

Then he drove his big cock to the root into her tight wet pussy, working it up like a battering ram, shoving her up the bed. His weighty testicles slapped her ass, a sound so erotic that it turned each other on; he got harder, she got wetter. Squelching sounds of their pumping sex speared the air along with y/n's gasps and Wriothesley's grunts of pleasure. Her nipples, now hard as little pebbles bounced along on their round breasts, teasing and tickling Wriothesley's chest. Sweat shimmied down from his godlike body onto her pert tits, causing her to tingle all over.

“Don’t come. Make it last.” Wriothesley whispered huskily into her ear, sucking on her earlobe, fucking her at a speed which only a man of his divine physique was able to achieve.

“W-what?-mmh, ngh, ah, AHH…” y/n whimpered as he speared his big, rock-hard cock into her hot wet depths. She twisted her fingers and bit her lip, gripping the pillow with white knuckled force in an attempt to stave off her rapidly building climax.

“Oh, Wrio… I’m going to come if you don’t slow down…” y/n begged.

"Oh no baby, you don't get to come until I say so." He whispered into her ears, feeling her shiver with the dominant edge to his command. This is exactly what drove her desires wild. His possession, his control, his ability to hold her body in a state of continuous, deliriou, all consuming arousal. He knew she wanted it just like that. He knew she got off to having her body at his mercy. It took the weight off her shoulders. In his arms she felt so liberated, so loved, so carefree, so helpless, unable to do a thing while he bullied her pussy into submission like the whore that she was for him.

Wriothesley then angled his thrusts, y/n could feel the plush wide crest of his cock rubbing on a sweet, sweet spot deep inside her. Her lips quivered involuntarily in anticipation for orgasm, but she tried her best to stop the dam from bursting, to make it last…

“Please, Wrio…I c-can’t…” she moaned helplessly as her toes curled in tiny tingles of shockwaves.

“Don’t you want to cum, baby?” Wriothesley teased. “Come y/n, just cum on my cock. That's it, just like that, my beautiful little slut-"

He couldn't even finish and y/n was thrown over the edge. With his dirty praises she came, crying out his name, the sheets bunching under her iron grasp. Her back bowed up into Wriothesley's big body, shuddering as the sheer force of the climax wreaked havoc on all her senses. Her arms fumbled around to have him to hold on to and she scratched up his muscular back.

White light burst into dazzling fireworks underneath her closed eyelids. She screamed out garbled versions of Wriothesley's name, unable to form coherent speech as pleasure spiked through her in jolts of electricity. Tears prickled her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. Goosebumps ran up her arms, her toes curled as pleasure unfurled in her womb, her nipples beaded as her skin was so oversensitive. Her hot wet slick coated his pistoning cock and balls and seeped out of her onto the sheets.

Wriothesley was close behind, thrusting through her orgasm. Her climax had her inner walls rippling and clamping down on him, making his climax inevitable. He whispered to her his praises of how she was such a good girl, so obedient, so pliant, so submissive, so beautiful, how much he loved her, how lucky he was to have her, and how blessed he was that his lover craved everything he'd always wanted to give. His thrusts became erratic and then he came with a growl, his back arching, chest pinning her down onto the bed, stilling and emptying himself inside her with thick strings of hot, sticky cum. His Adams apple bobbed as he groaned in release. Y/n could feel him spurt and spill his essence deep in her, and it felt like a million feather-light fingers tickling and teasing her insides. She gasped and panted, fighting for breath and feeling incredibly full.

Resting himself on his arms, with himself still lodged inside her, he gave her one of his sexiest smirks, his rapid breaths slowly coming down to normal. She smiled back breathlessly, love and affection blooming in the depths of her eyes. Wriothesley leaned down to kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips. He held her close, wrapping his arms around her, melding her body to his. Then he whispered into her ears "Are you sore, or can you take me again?"

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #minors dni #minors do not interact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #wriothesley #mun writes

540 notes · View notes

dutifulsilence · 9 months

Text

ooc ; anyways sneak peek at the political marriage au for anyone interested

#ooc ; salem speaks #mun writes #writing on company time like a champion

7 notes · View notes

lovingthewildlife · 2 years

Text

Yautja x NB human , fluff

The human was sitting in front of a mirror with several small brushes in front of them. They took out something the size of a wrist bracer, setting it on the table and garnering the attention of the others in the room.

The hunters leaned in a bit closer to see what they were working on and stayed quiet as the human whetted a sponge with something pale and applied it to their eyelids and along their temples. Careful presses and strokes with the small piece of equipment were studied by the hunters and one came to sit and watch.

The human paused when they saw the attention they gathered and then smiled slightly before continuing. They sat up straighter and turned their head side to side, looking for something before picking up one of the brushes and lightly tapping it into the color palette.

They recognized it then, war paint or small patches of camouflage! Satisfied with this, several of the others left the room to go about their day. Still, one of the hunters stayed to watch in fascination.

Mandibles spread in awe at the ease of the human's hand as they stroked on the color. Then surprise colored their features when they recognized the pattern. The human was immatating the pattern of a yautja's hide with the colors. Not a pattern seen in the clan, something new, unique to the human.

Sections were redone as the human frowned, taking time to perfect what they wanted. Then when the scale like pattern of red orange and yellow was done, they looked for something else. A bit that looked like a stylus was applied and a dark outline made the humans eyes stand out further, the dark brown highlighted by the surrounding darkness.

Once the human was done, they closed the palette and turned with a small smile.

"Good?" Their accent was attrocious but their coloration was stunning.

"Good." The hunter echoed softly, blinking and then staring at the humans back when they got up and left.

They wanted to see more of the humans customs.

#yautja x reader #yautja #predator #monster lover #mun writes

333 notes · View notes

thecurseisinourblood · 4 months

Text

Grey

I took the stereotypical PA picks out boss’s tie trope to the extreme. Yes, I've come to hurt you because I love you. Ok, but for real this just popped into my head the other day. Imagine this is set not long before Frollo breaks and confesses to Esmeralda that he loves her even if he doesn't want to. This implies Frollo never bought a striped suit. A reminder that Gregory is the man pursuing Esme at the theatre for a few months. He's successful, appropriately older than Esmeralda with dark hair and has a very amiable demeanor.

Also-- Happy Holidays everyone! ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gregory was suave, confident, with a gentle smile, and looked good in an array of palettes….

Mirrors at every turn, Lucy watched from an elegant sofa not far off from a shallow platform, stood upon by a notably tall and slim client. The fit of this new suit was not as precise as expected, from what was obvious by both the tailor and the minister. Unfortunate, considering this was the final product, past the final fitting.

Lucy never saw her boss in a mere dress shirt and tie except for these fittings, and if it weren’t for the tailor offering to take in the vest, she wouldn’t have scrutinized the judge’s body. Always attractively lean, he very clearly took it upon himself to maintain muscle. According to the elder judges, Claude had never just been skinny. She presumed he was always conscious of looking too thin because if he didn’t, that’s what he would be. Scrawny, even.

Watching more acutely as the tailor began remeasuring, it began to dawn on her how much the tailor was saying he must take in. Lucy’s gaze lifted back to Frollo’s face. His brow severe, his expression cold and indifferent, but she detected him bristle, even if he did not look at her.

Oh.

Staring still, Lucy perceived his frustration, not toward the tailor, but himself. It was like she could read his thoughts. He never would have brought her here if he had noticed the weight change himself. Never in the mood to be ‘talked to’, it seemed it was imperative that she did not today. The minister was terribly on edge recently, and it would be significantly worse if she mothered him.

Perhaps her eye was not as acute as she had always given herself credit for. Always trying to figure out what he needed, since he could never seem to very well trouble himself to share, she thought he just needed extra space. That is what he wanted, wasn’t it? He always came around in time. Simply having her along at the tailor was a rarer luxury than it once was. For whatever reason, her boss was even more distant than before. This entire year had been different and winter was fast approaching.

Whatever company he thought he wanted when he told her to come along seemed to turn into a decision of regret. She could almost see it, Claude chastising himself for not coming alone. ‘Just like he knew he should have.’

Disengaging, Lucy decided that it was best to remove herself. Pretending not to notice Claude’s black mood, she told them she wanted to browse the dresses since it would be longer than expected. Her eyes lingered just long enough to see him ease.

Exiting through a doorway lined with curtains, a gentleman from the shop approached her with a binder. Showing off the new styles that could be altered, he gave examples of the different fabrics they could be made with. Covering the modestly sized shop, Lucy noticed how much time had passed. Even for an alteration, the minister seemed to be taking longer than expected. Frollo was ‘one of’ this tailor’s finest patrons, but in the heart of hearts, Lucy could tell the older tailor held a fondness for ‘the boy.’

Once Claude set his eyes on the best option, there wasn’t another. He’d been coming to the same man for twenty years now.

Lucy reappeared in the private fitting room to see the judge alone. To her surprise, he was wearing a different vest, a dark, slate, neutral grey, that fit much better than the last. He was debating between two ties. One, a dark amethyst, the other, cerulean. She knew the minister had many ties like the first one, but there were subtle textures flecked across the surface, in a nearly unnoticeable pattern with diagonal lines. Looking to his right hand, she saw a sample of black suit fabrics subtle stripes of dark grey.

This grey vest looked like this one was supposed to be the commissioned and fitted one. If he had commissioned this one too? That would mean… he expected not to maintain his weight. Her heart lept. Did there always have to be something he was hiding?

“I have not seen you labor over a tie like this in years,” not since he was ambitiously attending dinner after dinner to prove himself worthy of the title of minister. Delice flitted threw her mind, but Claude had never gone too out of his way to impress her. He didn't have to do anything but be himself. She tilted her head and watched his face continue to stare at the choices as intently as if they were a ruling. Fastidious was normal, but obsessive?

“Have you been…” more anxious than usual. Lucy trailed off when he looked at her, his eyes warning and filled with an austerity that struck her with a cold gloom. “You don’t even like stripes,” she said instead.

Frowning, the minister looked back down and dropped the sample.

“I like stripes,” he said with a small sneer.

Lucy did not even want to blink. It was hard to notice his weight when she looked at him for so many hours every day-- for years. She missed the change, but she was determined not to let something else slip past. Whatever this was--

“You have not worn stripes once in your life,” Lucy pointed out.

Claude’s lips became this hard and grim line before turning back to a binder filled with lighter colors, any of which would look good with his grey ensemble. Her eyes scanned the selection, waiting for him to speak up.

“All of these would look terrible on me,” he gestured. Even his flourish was rigid as if his muscles were coiled. “And I don’t need something else aging me.”

Lucy’s eyes flew back up to his. It was the first time she ever heard him express an opinion, nonetheless distaste for his looks. Never had he been thrilled, but not once had she heard him complain about his premature aging. It suited him. He was so gloriously handsome, that even he managed to make her loins ache from time to time. Claude had always been vain, but this?

His accomplishments spoke for themselves. Lucy knew he could have looked like a balding frog and still been successful. Frollo knew that, too. The way he behaved when courting Delice was enough to tell her that he knew his worth, and although she saw his doubts, he never expressed them like this.

“The cerulean would look impeccable on you, sir.”

Peeling off the ocean tie from the counter, she threw it around his neck. She liked tying his ties. It was one intimate thing she allowed herself, despite his reluctance. After all of these years, his body still went rigid. She didn’t believe in crossing boundaries, but she believed he needed some form of physical affection. Despite being uncomfortable, he never protested. Mistaken for his wife all throughout his career, that was often how Lucy behaved. Except, he paid her. She was still an expert, even if they were family. It wouldn’t have mattered if he cared for her if she hadn’t proven herself to be a consummate professional, he would have fired her long ago.

Fixing the tie beneath his neck, she was aware of how he was watching her face, like a hawk.

Taking a small step back, she looked at him. The tie complimented his grey-blue eyes and she felt her heart skip a beat as she smiled. He didn’t look older, but he did look different. Whether that difference was good or bad was up to the minister.

He looked in the mirror, and while she was smiling, waiting for him to see himself through her eyes, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t look friendlier… I just look older... silly.” the disgust in his voice, it was like shrapnel in her chest. Her face fell in concern, a concern she knew he didn’t welcome.

But why after so many years was he looking at all of these new things? Why did he want to look… nicer? Lucy quickly recovered and squeezed his arm.

“Usually, if you want to look friendlier, you just relax your face and smile a little. It’s all about how you carry yourself.”

Claude’s frown deepened and his eyes pierced hers with an intensity that sent another chill through her. She desperately wished she understood what he was translating her words to. Why was he so upset?

“I suppose, people would rather have a shit-eating grin and pretend to enjoy each other’s company instead.”

The minister’s fingers darted between the knots of the tie, loosening the offending item quickly. Lucy continued her careful gaze, intrigued and wary of this restless behavior.

“Instead of what?” She dared to ask. “Instead of… how you act?”

There was no need for a response. The judge often displayed how adept he was with his silver tongue. Sharp and clever, he navigated social discourse like it was child’s play. Especially when it came to the prime minister, but she knew how he loathed doing it. Frollo thought everyone was a liar because that is what he was when he smiled and joked. If they weren’t lying, he didn’t understand it, because he didn’t feel the same way.

So… why did he feel the need to lie and manipulate someone’s perception of him? Who did he desperately want to lie to? Himself?

Watching in silence as Claude picked up another tie, not the purple one, but the one he had made with the vest, she saw how his eyes narrowed with scrutiny. Lucy could not deny that she preferred his usual palette. He looked regal, mature, and sharp, but he seemed even unhappier.

“Grey is just as boring and plain as people say,” he murmured, but she sensed the defeat in his voice. He wore so many dark colors, but most of them had a muted and ashy tone to them. Grey was one of the minister’s favorite colors. "And imposing.”

Lucy didn’t take her eyes off him and realized he must be looking at himself through someone else’s eyes. But whose? The public’s? If anything Claude spent his entire career orchestrating this untouchable persona. While he was outwardly proud of his titles and his status as the Marble judge, she did see cracks every once in a while. They all believed him when he said he wasn’t lonely…. But after she told him to break it off with Delice, he had given up entirely. It seemed his ambition to find a mate finally went out like a snuffed candle.

And she couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for it. Perhaps Remy was right, that she should have let him make his mistakes.

“I think you look even better in this color,” Lucy piped up. “You aren’t trying to make a statement with gaudy colors. This says: you are the statement, and that’s always what I’ve thought about you,” she paused, “and you like this color, don’t you? That’s why you picked this to be tailored,” her fingers pinched the grey vest at the top of his shoulders.

Those intense eyes flicked to hers on high alert because of the comment. That was the only insight she needed not to press him further. If the past was a lesson, she would have to until he was out of this fight or flight mode to figure out what he was going through. Yes, he must have expected to drop his weight, but was optimistic enough to think he could fit in the other vest. Perhaps this disappointment was the real reason he was upset. Well, and the fact that this was drawn to her attention.

As Claude turned back to preening, she saw him return to the sample of black fabric. The one with the dark stripes. A moment of long silence passed and Lucy decided she could no longer keep quiet.

“Sir… are you thinking about… courting again?”

To her surprise, he didn’t immediately get upset.

“Why?” he scoffed. “I’m already married,” he parroted what was always said about them.

Such a common misconception, but one that struck her again with that piercing kind of sadness. Her blue eyes glossed over, affected by his clear refusal to try.

“Claude… you know what we have is different.”

Although merely looking at his profile, she could see how he darkened. The room seemed cooler. The light behind his eyes dampened as he visibly left the present moment. Her heart sped up. He was shaken. Recovering quickly, he blinked and came back to her, she watched his crow's feet tighten and his lips press together in a nearly undetectable wince.

Lucy acknowledged how unwise it would be to goad him into telling her what he was feeling, but her mind was buzzing and she felt like if she didn’t reach out, he would just be gone one day. Because that is exactly how it would happen. There would be little warning larger than this. He would just decide, and she would get a call.

“Aren’t you the one who believes that people should just be themselves?” Her eyes were still glossy. “If they expect you to wear the blue tie, then they don’t deserve you in the grey one.”

A bit frenzied, Lucy felt like she was beating a dead horse as he just stood there, refusing to look at her. Each moment was an eternity as she watched his heavy, furrowed brow. Claude swallowed.

“It’s not about the tie,” his voice was so tight that his volume was quiet. “The grey tie isn’t working.” It didn’t work with Jehan, it didn’t work with Aurore, and it wasn’t going to work with Esmeralda.

Oblivious to his thoughts, a few tears slipped down Lucy’s cheeks as she wrapped her hands around his arm and squeezed, wishing to express her deep love for him.

“But it is. You have me, Remy, Jean-Pierre… we all love you. I know someone else could.”

Letting him off the hook, she stepped away from him. It was important to her that he knew she wasn’t holding him to a response. She grabbed the sample square of striped fabric.

“Monsieur,” Lucy called out to the back office, just loud enough to grab the attention of the elderly tailor. “If you have an example of this fabric prepared, Minister Frollo would love to try it on.”

“Of course,” the man smiled. “He’s always modeled the stripes well, perhaps he’ll finally order one.

Lucy’s mouth parted in shock, snapping her head back to the minister. She could see the amusement in his grey eyes and the faintest, coy smile.

#my modern Frollo jealous of people who aren't constantly guard #not that he is always this high strung but Esme really swooped in and more uncomfortable around the fam even #calligraphy #vault #v. a selfish serpent #v. the marble judge #mun writes

4 notes · View notes