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lunalockley · 1 year

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The Limo Driver (part two)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Like, a lot. Can Jake on his knees count as a warning?

Summary: It's night, it's raining and reader just wants to sleep, until she doesn't anymore.

Words: 7700+

Notes: Sooooo, I'm sorry, it took me a little longer than planned but here it is, I really hope you like it. And thank you all so much for your comments, always brighten my day.

Specially dedicated to my dearest moon emoji anon who made me feel really good about this one <3

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So… you’ve been thinking about it. Well, you can’t stop. Of course you can’t. He kissed you once and you spent six months half in lov—Ok, no. Wait, what? No. Half hooked up on him you mean. Three-quarters stupid. Completely insane. But not half in that. No.

Uh, whatever. It’s only been a day, a couple of hours. It’s way too recent. So it’s normal for your mind to keep on spinning the matter. And the eyes, and the voice, and the fingers. It’s driving you crazy, to be honest. The feel of them on your throat, on your hips, on your mouth… inside of you. You barely slept last night, your mind keeps taking you back through every fucking second of it without even trying. And then you can almost hear his voice calling you preciosa in that way he does and everything starts to heat up. That good, nice heat that’s so easy to get lost on.

But there’s also the bad one. The focalized heat that sets upon your chest like a weight is pressing down on you, making breathing a little bit harder. That’s the one you felt when you walked out last night. And you’ve been feeling it every time you think about what you said, and what he didn’t. That’s the part you’re trying to avoid. Yet it comes to mind anyways. It’s pretty fucking unfair.

And it’s pretty fucking ridiculous too because how come that after all that has happened, all the time you two have shared, all the things he has done you still can’t… figure him out? It doesn’t make any sense. How does someone that’s so incredibly hermetic make you feel you can read him just by looking him in the eyes when you actually don’t know anything about him at all? Does he do it on purpose? Is it a calculated move or is he somehow unable to—

—And you’re doing it again. Thinking about it non-stop. You called in sick needing a night away from the restaurant, from Jake’s stupid chair and that stupid bathroom that has been giving you palpitations just by the thought of going in and this is how you spend it. You had planned to cook a nice dinner, watch a movie, water your barely-alive plants, do a beginner's yoga class on Youtube, and maybe even finish reading that book that has been dusting on your nightstand. But no, here you are. Already in pajamas, all you’ve done (besides eating yesterday’s leftovers) is sit on the couch contemplating how time passes with the rain and Viejita’s soft meowing in the background. Is procrastination the root of all your problems? Maybe it is.

Or maybe it’s just time to get up and do what you do best: sleep. Give your body the rest your mind refuses to get. You impulse yourself out of the couch to go and take Viejita with you. Cuddling with her makes it all better. No more stupid Jake thinking. You let your ear guide you, she’s right next to the window. She had never complained about the rain before and as she feels you getting closer she even starts scratching the glass.

“Hey, baby, It’s just a little rain,” you mutter, petting her and trying to calm her down until you rest your eyes on what she is staring at down the street.

What the f—He can’t just—There’s no fucking way.

You’re not sure. You just live on the third floor but it’s dark outside. The street light barely lights anything at all. And the rain makes it even harder to see. Yet the outline of the limousine is clearly visible, and so is the figure leaning against it. But it can’t be. You’ve always thought Jake is unusual in every little thing he does but this? He wouldn’t be crazy enough to be waiting under the rain without a fucking umbrella and without even ringing the bell to your apartment, just expecting somehow you knew he would be there, right? That would be insane. It must be a weird coincidence. Some other limo driver who's waiting for someone else here… in this neighborhood? Weird, yet not impossible.

But then he looks up straight at your window and your heart jumps inside your chest as you instinctively hurry back into the shadows, where he can’t see you.

Fuck, it is him.

What the fuck? He knows your apartment is on the third floor, you’ve told him. You’ve told him the number. You’ve told him everything, for fuck’s sake. It's not like you want him to come up to your house knocking on the door in the middle of the night but what is he doing? At this point, you’re sure he purposefully finds the way to do the least expected, most incomprehensible thing in every fucking little thing he does. It must be his life’s motto: “No matter what, always find a way to stress the shit out of the people in my life”.

He’s an idiot, there’s no doubt of it. The thing is: are you an idiot? Well, yeah. You just saw him outside your place and your heart is already a beat away from a fucking heart attack. But you should try not to be an idiot anymore. You shouldn't go down. Make it clear you said it’s over for good. He definitely saw you, he would get it, and then… and then he would leave. Forever. Yeah, that’s what you should do.

But… goodbyes are a good thing too, right?

Closure and all that stuff. Talk things out, even if it sounds unlikely with someone like Jake. You can give it a chance. A… friendly goodbye. Ok, yeah. Sounds good. And it is the right thing in this type of situation, grown-up shit. A goodbye, that’s all.

You take one last look at the street just in case you’ve lost your mind and you’ve imagined the whole thing, but he’s still right there. Arms crossed, leaning against the limo and probably soaking fuking wet.

“Your dad’s an idiot, Viejita,” you say to the little black beast before taking her in your arms to leave her on her favorite cushion on the sofa. She settles down, pleased and exhausted as if she's accomplished a hard job.

You grab your keys next to the mirror at the entrance.

Just a goodbye.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The bone-chilling air hits you as soon as you step out of the building but seeing him is what makes you stop dead in your tracks for a second. You couldn’t see it up from your floor but he’s wearing his usual type of clothes, not the casual ones that somehow felt so out of place on him yesterday. Now the familiarity of the white shirt, the jacket, and the hat gives you a naive sense of comfort you try to dismiss away. As if this one were more of your Jake than it was yesterday. Stupid, he’s not more of anything and it’s just clothes.

A white shirt, a jacket, and a hat that are drenched, by the way. Which reminds you—

“What the fuck are you doing in the rain? Are you insane?”

Instead of answering he just looks at you and opens the limo’s door. Silently asking you to get in.

Ok, well…. you didn't think this through. You only thought about coming down, not actually getting into his car. But, you guess… there’s no other option. You came here to say your friendly goodbye, after all. Can’t do it in the rain, just like that. And a veil of water drops is already setting in your clothes, you can feel some of the fabric clanging into your body. Another thing you didn’t think through is the worn-out sweatpants you came out with, the old shirt that has somehow become a pajama shirt, and your lack of a bra underneath.

Fuck it.

When you slide into the car you notice how spacious the limousine is yet it surprises you how it does not seem to be room for many people. There are only two rows of red leather seats facing each other. So much space for so few passengers. In order to be more private and luxurious, you guess. It makes you think about the people he drives for. Might he be just as serious and inaccessible as you’ve seen him be with basically everyone else? Or might he show his weird uncharismatic charisma as he has done with you? The latter doesn’t sound so good, for some reason.

You stop nosing around when you feel him sitting next to you a little bit closer than the spacious seat needs. You were right. He's drenched and most likely ruining the luxurious leather of the luxurious car, but he doesn't seem to care as he turns his whole body and attention towards you.

“Is it every day or once every six months with you? No in-betweens?” You blurt out, cornered by the closeness of his body.

Fuck, friendly goodbye. Friendly.

“Sorry. I take that back,” you mumble, thinking your next words before you pronounce them this time. “Why didn’t you ring the bell to my apartment?”

“It’s late. I saw the lights on but thought you might have fallen asleep. Didn’t want to disturb you. You work too much, preciosa,” he answers calmly, his voice softer than you ever heard before. Not in a submissive way but in a disarmingly appeasing tone as if he had come here disarmed, without any shields. Exactly the opposite of how you feel right now. You move back in the seat trying to get as far as you can get in the restricted space. Soft raspy melting voices shouldn’t cause claustrophobia.

“And if I had been sleeping what would you have done? Wait till I wake up tomorrow?” You throw it out half as a joke, but immediately you realize—

He doesn’t even have to answer to know that’s the truth. He had come here to see you and wouldn’t have left until he did.

“Do you always get what you want? Is that how things work for you?”

“If things worked out for me this wouldn’t be the first time I see you outside work,” he says replies, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. And to your disbelief, he puts it back with a sigh like he didn't even realize the damn thing is soaking fucking wet just like the rest of his clothes are. He should take it all off before he catches a cold. Ha, go on. Keep thinking of him without his clothes on. Good idea. “Speaking of which, you know what am I thinking?”

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, turning towards him, as shocked by your train of thought as by the audacity of his question. “I never know what you’re thinking,” you whisper, taken aback by the fact that he still doesn’t understand how little you understand him. At all. That’s the whole point here.

“That’s weird, I’ve always felt you can see right through me,” he mutters, frowning at you as if you had any fault in that absurd idea. Stupid Jake. His voice sounds sincere but you chose not to even give it a second thought, can’t allow yourself that right now. Not with the purpose you came here for.

So you cross your arms and frown back at him, refusing to answer anything at all. But he mirrors you, crossing his arms and resting his back against the seat.

God, this is so stupid. You’re so mad at him but can’t help smiling when the stare competition last a little too long. It’s infuriating. And so ridiculous. You came here to say goodbye, why are you smiling?

“What are you thinking?” You ask, defeated.

A crooked smile forms on his lips in victory, but he quickly brushes away with his thumb.

“I’m thinking you look pretty fucking good here like this,” he says taking a look at your body, his eyes somehow soft and dark on equal parts. You try to ignore the effect his tone produces under your skin.

“In pajamas on your limousine?”

“Yeah, it’s a sight,” he breathes lowly, uncrossing his arms and getting a little bit closer. You can’t take it.

“Stop—don't do that, please.”

He waits for you to continue.

“That thing you do,” you explain reluctantly. “You make it sound like you’re joking but it feels like you are telling the truth. It’s confusing. Tell me what you are really thinking for once.”

“I’m telling you in every way I know.”

The words are out of his mouth like a caress and the way he’s—No, no, no. Focus. He’s flirting his way out. Get to the point.

“So? Did you come here to say goodbye?”

“Why would I say goodbye?” He retorts like you had asked him the most bizarre question possible.

“Because we are not seeing each other again, I told you it’s over.”

“Oh, it’s over? So what are you doing here?”

“Would you have left if I didn’t come down? I’m saving you from pneumonia. You’re welcome.”

He shakes his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes but then he exhales and lets it go. He looks out the window for a moment and then back at you. Outside, the rain pounds harder.

“I came to say that I’m… I’m sorry”

“Oh, that’s a first. What for?”

You cross your legs and he follows the movement. Then he shifts in his seat once more, trying to find comfort.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t—That I left without saying anything—I… I just disappeared. I’m sorry. I understand why you’re angry. If it had been you I would’ve—I’m sorry.”

He’s struggling so much one would think this is the first time he apologizes for something in his life. It cracks your walls a little bit, but still—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just had to go and then I couldn’t come back.”

“How so?”

“I… I’m not able to control my time as I used to, just when is necessary.”

Oh. You weren’t important enough to come and let you know he was going to disappear for six fucking months.

“Yeah I get that, you didn’t need to be here,” you grunt moving to get out of the car but he moves from his seat, catching your hand before you even get to touch the handle.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

You try to push him back but in half a second he’s resting his knees on the floor as his hands take yours on a soft grip at each side of your hips. He’s caging you between his body and the seat. And even when your body keeps attempting to get out of the car, the intense heat that radiates out of his body makes you wonder how his wet clothes aren’t fucking steaming.

“Wait, wait—hey, wait, stop,” he says soothingly, his voice not a bit altered by the force with which you are trying to push him. His left-hand find that soft spot on the side of your neck, drawing your attention to his dark eyes. You lose a little bit of your strength. “Listen to me. You’re angry, I know. Take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”

What?

Your heartbeat buzzes in your ears and you feel a little lightheaded. This is the first time he’s looking up to you instead of the other way around. Maybe that's what causes that slight desperate effect in his deep brown eyes, the look that the last speaker of an extinguished language would have. Condemned to never truly communicate with anyone else. And the way he looks kneeled in front of you, surrounded, as if he would let you do anything to him right now. Take it out on me, he said. Is he expecting you to hit him or something?

“That’s not how things work, Jake. I’m not gonna turn you into my… human stress relief ball. You just told me you don’t need this. And I wanna make that call too. So, that’s it. You’re an idiot but we’re good. Now move and let me go. It’s ok, it’s over just like I–”

“No, it’s not. Stop that,” he says all frown and serious, and then a little softer. “And that’s not what I meant. But let me apologize. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Then the rest. Let me have you happy and relaxed first.”

“What?—That’s n-not—We should talk”

“Oh, so you came here to talk not to say goodbye?”

“Are you serious?”

“Sorry,” he says in an innocent tone like he regrets it but he's actually smiling, the widest smile you've ever seen on him yet. A happy smile. The desperate glimmer turned into triumph. He knows you just gave in, he knows he’s won this one. God, you hate him. Stupid Jake.

“Don’t—” take off my slipper, you try to say. But he’s already taking the other one. You really didn’t think about your outfit at all before walking out of your apartment tonight. Whatever. Focus. “What did you mean then, explain it to me. You gotta give me something here because I don’t want to do this anymore, Jake. Not like this.”

He holds your eyes for a moment and then he leans forward, resting his forehead against your knee. One hand slowly making his way up over your calve, the other rolling up the fabric to expose the skin. It takes him a minute to speak again.

“I… I don’t have control over—I don’t really have a—I just do what needs to be done. That’s the purpose of me. That’s all I do. I prevent things from happening and if they happen I resolve them. I… survive, I guess. And this is how it’s been for as long as I can remember. It’s ok—it was, it was ok. It was until one night instead of going to a shitty bar like I always do I decide for some fucking reason to go into that damn 24/7 breakfast and you happened. I didn’t like it, at first, because I knew right there that it wasn’t going to be enough. I already wanted more. I tried to stop it but I kept going and going. You were always there. Lighting things up. Of course, I kept wanting more. It’s never enough”.

While he was speaking his fingertips were gently caressing your calf, his cheek word by word tracing the side of your leg, seeking the reassurance feeling of skin against skin but as soon as the last sentence is pronounced his mouth starts giving open mouth kisses to every inch of uncovered skin it finds on its way and you’re scared your heart may stop working it all. It’s the feel of his tongue in that sensitive spot in the back of your knee, his left hand slowly exploring the length of your thigh but mostly his words and that impenetrable wall finally beginning to break down.

You weren’t expecting this. You thought he was going to come up with a half-true half-joke excuse that you were going to resist not believing in. And then get the courage to walk away just like you had planned. But this is different. You know this is different. You know he meant it. You know for the way he was so evidently struggling to find the right words, the hoarseness on every one of them as if his body were still trying to keep them locked deep inside. This is him. This is what you’ve been asking for. But still—

“The thing is you’re changing things for me, preciosa. I know I’m not made for this. I’m fucked up, I am. I’m not good. And on top of that, there’s not much I can offer you. I’ve nothing. And I can’t even take care of a damn cat without having it all fall over. I’m not even close to being good enough for you. You deserve better, you do—but I’m still here… if you want me. And even if you don’t, I would still be here, waiting.”

It’s raining properly now, hammering on the roof of the limousine. The furious rhythm of hundreds of drops almost synchronized with the rapid beat of your heart. His thumb hooked over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling until your hip is exposed. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You deserve better but I’m selfish now. If anything is your fault, you turned me into this. I want you for my own,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the skin of your lower stomach. You can’t help but gasp at the contact, he’s barely touched you and you already can feel the wetness dripping out of you. “Will you let me have you?”

He’s looking you straight into your eyes now, he hadn’t done it since he started speaking, and you can see how much he just gave you. You’ve learned to know him, somehow. Not in the way one learns to read deciphering signs on a page but in the way our eyes become accustomed to darkness after some time. Groping and stumbling you’ve learned some parts of him, his outline. That’s how you know he’s asking for way more than he’s letting on. You have the feeling that saying yes to him involves a lot more than saying yes to somebody else. The feeling that whatever it is he’s asking from you might consume you and leave you heartbroken afterward. But that’s not the hold-up.

The thing is, you want more, you want to see him in full light. You want him for your own too. But you need to understand him. Fully. You won't give yourself up without having him first.

“You want me to beg? I’ll beg if you want me to, but then I’ll be the one taking it out on you later,” he threats when you don’t answer for a while, all teasing voice and mischief glimmer, he’s back to the playful Jake you know so well. A little too long of silence and his defenses go up again.

You don’t think he’ll keep spilling truths voluntarily but now that you’ve heard some of them you want more. You’ve become addicted. You need more. But how?

And how are you supposed to think while he keeps playing with the waistband of your pants? Fuck, unless—He just acted on your terms, revealing himself just like you’ve asked him to. Now is your turn. You probably will get immediately caught up on it, but you can try.

You need to play it his way then.

He sees the change on your face and a spellbound gleam forms in his eyes.

“Show me how it would feel,” you whisper and you don’t need to say it twice.

As soon as the words are out of your mouth the sweatpants are out of your legs. Once he has you only in your t-shirt and your panties he leans back a little bit observing you from head to toe, lingering his eyes on yours, on the contour of your hardened nipples and the wet patch of your panties, as if he wanted to burn the image in his memory, the pervert. Well, you can’t judge, you are the same. Admiring how the white wet shirt clings to his torso, wrapping him like hard candy. You may as well lick him—fuck, focus. Focus.

When he starts to slowly take off your panties you manage to find your voice again.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you undress me on the street.”

“You’re letting me undress you in my car, it’s hot. And its got tinted glasses, and it’s dark outside and you’re with me, bonita,” he answers absently, focused on the delicate movement of the silky material as it slides down your legs. You can't mock him at the implication that you're safe with him though, you know it's true. You’ve felt it from the first day.

Once your panties reach your ankles he carefully removes them to put them in the pocket of his pants. Again, pervert. You ignore the need to clench your thighs together at the gesture and decide to tease him about it. He deserves it. And it’s what has worked the best so far. Pushing his buttons it’s what had you moaning in the fucking bathroom of your workplace anyways.

“To remember me?” You ask as innocently as you can.

But he’s done with it. He pins you with his gaze, raising a thick eyebrow at you.

“Why would I need reminding, exactly?”

“Because this is the last time.”

“What did I just say? Stop that. Don’t make me say it again. You know it’s not enough, preciosa. You know it.” His lips back to your legs, his voice still annoyed but so soft you don’t think you hear right: “Will never be.”

For the sake of your own heart, you rather believe you misheard.

He opens your legs a little bit further and then—

“Fuck, baby.” He sounds so wrecked, you feel weak. You were supposed to do something, what was it? “Voy a despertar soñándote por el resto de mi puta vida.”

“That’s not fair, you know I don’t understand. And tell me… tell me more about yourself first, please.”

“There’s not much to tell. And I’d like to do something else with my tongue right now.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I mean, if I could record this right n—”

“Jake.”

“Whichever you’d like to watch with me, bonita.”

“You drive for a living?”

“That’s how I earn some money, yeah. Stop torturing me.”

“But you’re not just a driver, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And is that…dangerous?”

“Not to you. I promise”

“Are you in danger?”

“I’m in danger of dying as a thirsty man here.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lockley. Come on, baby, don't make me go crazier than I already am.”

“Lockley… Jake Lockley.” That catches his attention back to your mouth for a second. “What’s your favorite hobby?”

“This,” he says sliding you effortlessly to the edge of the seat. You feel his breath near your core and you know you’re losing it. Shit, why were you doing this? Why are you delaying it when you want it so badly? Oh, right, you—

“Jake, wait,” you breathe. “I need more. I need to understand.”

“Then pay attention, preciosa.”

His mouth finds your inner thigh and he’s so close. So close. You won’t hold back anymore. You can’t. Your hand finds his shoulder just to hold onto something but fuck. He’s still in his wet clothes. He can’t stay like this. You gather the little willpower you have left to push him back. You expect some sort of resistance but he moves back with no effort on your part. Take it out on me, is this what he meant?

The way he raises his gaze is enough to set your blood on fire. He looks at you as if he’s about to say fuck it all and push you back to have his way with you mixed with genuine curiosity about what are you going to do next. Submission hanging by a thread.

“Take off your jacket.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and then he does it. Fuck, the power trip you're feeling right now. It feels pretty fucking good having him listening to you like that. More.

“Now your shirt.”

He sighs and begins to unbutton it, somehow amused by how much you're pushing it. Did he just unblock a new kink for you?

Once the shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor of the limo you lean forward to take off his hat. Is soaking wet just like his hair is underneath. And of course, you can’t resist. You take a moment to run a hand through his curls all the way down to his nape until your hand is resting on his shoulder again. He looks so fucking hot like this. You bite the urge to confess it, instead, you lean back and open your legs a little further, an invitation.

“You can go on, now.”

The little smile he’s trying to bite back makes your stomach flutter. You decide to tease him a little bit more.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” you concede, beginning to close your legs but you barely get to move an inch before he dives right in and—

Fucking heaven.

You loudly gasp at the feeling of the wet heat of his mouth dragging over the folds of your pussy, his groan sending shivers from your core through your whole body. Fuck, it’s too good. It’s too good. When his tongue swirls around your clit your brain short-circuits having at the same the time the urge to push him away and push him impossibly closer. As your hand finds his curls you realize your body has chosen the latter. The movement pleases him, you can feel his smile against you.

“So fucking good,” he mutters, barely pulling back as you feel the movement of his lips with each word. Your hips move forward anyway, chasing the delicious contact.

Fuck, you’re already on the edge. His mouth is giving you everything without holding anything back. Fixed on wreck you from the beginning, desire running through your abdomen.

“Oh, fuck. Jake, I–I’m gonna—”

“Eyes on me, preciosa.” Is all he says but your mind is gone, every cell in your body focused on the sweet hot pleasure that’s rushing to you core. Your head falls back against the seat as the shocks of ecstasy flow through you, your whines chanting his name, your hand holding thigh to his hair, your cunt clenching hard around nothing—his mouth not leaving you for a second, drowning in you.

When your legs twtich a little too much one hand holds your hips down hard into the seat to ensure you keep still but he’s not stopping, he’s—

He’s—

Two long, thick fingers slid in and out of you as Jake’s mouth goes up, focusing on your swollen clit, licking and sucking and his eyes—

Fuck, you can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

His gaze is so deep and strong, melting your fucking bones. You’ve never been seen like that, never.

“Keep your eyes on me or I’ll keep going until you let me see.”

You can’t help but clench at his words, a whine escaping your lips. He feels it.

“Mmm, would you like that?”

It’s too much, too intense. The free fall never stops inside of you. And you can’t even move away from it. You just have to take it the way he wants to.

His tongue swirls, his fingers curl and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure ripping you from the inside. Your sense of gravity changes to where his wet hot mouth keeps taking everything you have to give. His fierce brown eyes the only thing keeping you grounded.

“That’s it. Look at you, so fucking pretty baby,” Jake says in that dark rich voice you love so much, and though he keeps praising you you’re too gone to even hear anymore. All you can do is lay back against the seat of his limo until your heart stops booming in your ears and air reintegrates into your lungs again.

When feeling comes back to your numb body you find one of his hands massaging the back of your neck, the other moving from your collarbone towards that spot that keeps beating strong under his touch. He keeps his warm palm right there in your heart and fuck, he’s still kneeling in front of you, looking at you with Am I forgiven eyes and you know this is not healthy, this is not how things should be, yet all you want to do is to close your own eyes because you know they’re answering him yes, yes you are. Instead, you lower your head to brush your lips into his, an invitation that makes his body go so pliant on you when you grab him and take him up with you, maneuvering him until you’re on his lap and you can finally kiss him like you’ve wanted since the moment you met him.

That first kiss six months ago was tentative and stiff, it felt like he was trying to stop himself but his body wouldn’t respond to his rational wishes, like his mouth was moving against all his fucking will. Yesterday’s kisses were dark and possessive, every movement of his tongue deliberately planned to have you whining at his mercy.

This one is completely different. This time it’s you who’s leading the way. This time it’s you who’s showing him that the despair that’s so evident in the glimmer of his eyes is the same that’s hidden deep down in your chest. And you know, you know, that the moan that sips out of him when you cradle each side of his face and your tongue clashes into his is because he understands what your body is saying to him. He knows.

And it may be minutes or hours, all you’re conscious of is the constant pattering of the rain against the roof of the car, your own taste in his mouth, the way he pushes you closer every time you bite his lower lip, his fingers under your t-shirt caressing the small of your back, tracing your ribs and digging in your hips, the warmth of his skin, the hard muscle underneath, his damp curls when you run your nails through his head, those dark sounds that come out of his throat when you rock against the bulge inside his pants, the slow, steady bone-melting rhythm that completely intoxicates you until you need more, more, more.

And you know he does too.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion. You feel something icy at the center of your collarbone but you don’t even have time to process it because suddenly your breast is in his hot wet mouth and his teeth are gently nipping the flesh there and then his tongue swirls against your nipple and—

You need—you’re overwhelmed by the need to have him as delirious as he has you right now.

You push him back into the seat and he’s immediately calling you preciosa and complaining but you are already kissing him, shutting him up, and undoing the zipper of his pants. He growls in your mouth when you palm the outline of his cock over his underwear, your walls clench hard in anticipation. And then he shivers when you slowly run your nails throughout his length over the fabric and you know you’re fucked. You will crave this feeling for the rest of your life. The feeling of having Jake Lockley trembling with pleasure underneath you. An instant addiction.

You take his hard cock out and you and you don't even give him time to pull his pants out or take them off before you’re rubbing your slit against his length. Utterly and unashamedly desperate.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters in your mouth, his tight and raspy voice making you throb in need, his muscles tense under your hands. “Feels soo good, doesn’t it? This is how it will feel like, everything, every fucking time.”

He pushes back a little to look at you. You know he’s talking about what you answered when he asked to have you. Show me how it would feel. You know this is his way to push for an answer. A confirmation that you’re his. But instead of trying to find those words hidden somewhere in your chest you get lost in his deep brown eyes and you realize that all those moments when he looked at you like he wanted to crawl under your skin your eyes must have looked at him just the same way.

“Will you let me have you?” The question leaves your lips this time, yet no words come out of his mouth but a breathless choked sound as if you’ve punched him in the gut. Instead, he just grabs the side of your neck and glares at you with something profound that could be anger or devotion, or maybe both. And then he’s kissing you, his tongue fighting yours, how dare you is saying. A hand on your hip lifts you up enough so that he can line himself up at your entrance and just when you begin to feel that pressure—

“If we are doing this you’re not allowed to leave again without warning, Ok? It’s cruel,” you blurt out without thinking, your helpless heart rising to the surface, exposing itself despite your efforts.

“Ok,” he answers, his voice torn and low, as solemnly as he can with your cunt torturously dripping the length of his cock. You look down, ready to feel him inside but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “And you’re not allowed to say you hate me. Ever again. I mean it. Ok?”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll fuck your pretty little brains out until I have you begging me to stop but I won’t until I’m sure you’ve completely forgotten the damn fucking word. Ok?” He pulls at your hair for emphasis and you have to fight down the moan that threatens to leave your throat with the gesture.

“Ok,” you answer out of breath, obediently.

“Good,” he praises, soothing your scalp with his fingertips. Then, cheeky again. “What am I allowed to?”

“You’re allowed to ring the bell to my apartment, for once.” You laugh but then—

He holds your hips as he slowly begins to slide his cock in, gently and steadily but fuck.

Holy fuck.

You’re so wet there’s barely any resistance bet he’s long and thick and the stretch feels like he’s gonna break you in half. The strong grip of your hands on his shoulders makes him stop before he can go any further.

“You’ll get used to me,” he gasps in your temple. “Fuck, such a tight fucking pussy, baby. But I’ll make you get used to me. All of you.”

“Shut up and just keep going, for fuck’s sake”

“Relax on me, preciosa. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he can find, his tongue licking the pulse in your neck. “Relax…Mmm, that’s it. Yeah, like that.”

It takes a little. The expert grip on your hips makes you sink into him so, so slowly every inch of him steals a whine out of you but you know it’s driving him fucking crazy too. He’s breathing hard, the muscles in his abdomen jump at the slightest shift of your hips, and a faint film of sweat appears on his neck. It makes you wanna lick him. But you get distracted by how good and how deep it feels and how his hands move from your hips to a playful hold on your throat, until they fall flat on the seat.

“You can go on, now,” he returns your words, a cheeky little grim forming in the corner of his lips as he leans back on the seat. Leaving you to it. Your heart swells at the wrecked and joyful gleam of his eyes.

You try to say something smart and snarky at him but his cock is buried deep inside of you and you can’t think of anything else, to be honest. You lift yourself up and down, tentatively, the burning so good it has so gasping.

“Feels good, baby? Feels so right, doesn’t it? You know why it feels so right, don’t you? You understand it.”

You pick up your pace, oblivious of his words, trying to suppress the hidden emotion behind every roll of your hips. You don’t want to hear those words, you don’t need to. Not now. But he keeps going—

“You have no idea all the times a woke up this,” he breathes, his hands finding your hips again. Unable to stay away for too long. “Preciosa lurking me with her smart mouth and her —fuck— her pretty smile. Letting me punish her for being too good for me.”

He makes you clench hard around him. You can’t help it. It’s his words, the idea.

“Mmm, you’d like that. I’d like that too. I could spank you for every time you wouldn’t leave my fucking head, for distracting me,” he growls grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “How red would your ass be then, huh?”

His hand goes up to hold your hip again. And now he’s thrusting into you. Reaching places you couldn’t reach yourself, so fucking deep.

“I could edge you to tears for doing this to me.” The pad of his thumb finds your clit and you whine his name in response. The shots of ecstasy are growing fast and intense. You’re gasping, he’s breathing hard. And to your surprise, he keeps talking. “I could have you screaming for—for—”

Before he was forcing himself to get the truth out, struggling to answer your questions with honesty. But now it’s flowing out of him, a little bit of truth with every thrust of his hips. Every word sticking deep into your heart.

“Fuck, I missed you… my whole body felt it even—even when I wasn't myself.”

God, you can’t even process each sensation. And his scent is concentrated in that soft spot on the side of his neck, it makes you dizzy. You’re so out of yourself, so overflowed with sensations and desire, that you only notice you’re running your tongue down the skin of his throat when growls and holds you impossibly closer, just like you wanted.

Is too much. Everything. This is—you’ve never felt anything like this before. Like the whole ground is disappearing under you. All you can do is hold onto Jake, one hand on his shoulder the other on his nape, your face buried in his neck. But he’s asking you something, his voice softer than before.

“Do you understand?”

But you’re too lost on it. You can’t—Your movements start to grow impatient, fast, and erratic. The hot melting pleasure is close once more. But not close enough.

“Preciosa, answer me.”

You keep clinging to him, refusing to do anything but chase the feeling. You’re almost there, almost there, you’re—

You’re suddenly on your back, his body hovering over yours, both of your hands taken behind you, arching you and maintaining you exposed. Making it impossible to hide away. His hand is on the side of your neck, his eyes piercing through you. He’s expecting the same sincerity he has given you tonight. He’s done what you’ve been asking him this whole time—broken down the wall between you two. Why are you so scared to take what was behind it? Because it’ll consume you. It already is. And you know if he disappears again—If he disappears after all this everything it would be so, so much worse. It’s too much risk. It’s all too much. You can’t—

But fuck, he looks so lost in you.

“Tell me, do you understand now?”

At this point, you couldn't lie even if you tried. Your heart is on the surface.

“Yes, yeah. I-I do. Me too, Jake.”

“Fuck, mía.” He groans between desperate kisses on your mouth, then becomes a prayer that escapes from his lips with every needier, sloppier thrust of his hips. “Mía, mía, mía…”

Your whole body tenses under him then the pleasure rips you from the inside, making you scream this time. The hard squeeze of your cunt enough to push him to the edge. He grinds his cock as deep as he can against something that makes you sob and then he’s cumming, hard. You feel his body shuddering above and you want to see every second of it but everything goes blurry.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Somehow, you find yourself on his lap again. Your whole body a dead weight against him. Your head tugged in the curve of his neck. His hands moving up and down along your back.

Your body is tired yet the adrenaline is still running through your veins. You can feel it buzzing somewhere inside, that’s why you are surprised when your voice comes out as a whisper.

“If you disappear again I swear that I—”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

You push back to look into his eyes in search of any sign that may tell otherwise, but you don’t find any.

“I won’t be long gone. I’ll be back soon,” he reassures, running his fingertips from your neck to your collarbone, his lips gently tracing your jawline. “Apenas pude aguantarme esta vez. No soy tan fuerte.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ll be back. Ok?”

Suddenly he’s looking into your eyes for some sort of final confirmation that you feel the same way he feels, even if he didn’t confess it with words. And you do. You do, you do, you do, your answer to him. Instead, your mouth says—

“Ok.”

He takes your face in both his hands. His lips brushing yours.

“Mi preciosa.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A few hours before sunrise, long after the rain has stopped, you enter your apartment. Happy and exhausted, you know you’ll fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You also know you’ll dream of brown deep eyes and a raspy voice calling you preciosa over and over again.

As you put your keys next to the mirror at the entrance your eyes catch a sparkle on your neck. It’s a silver necklace with a little moon on it. It’s beautiful.

Your head turns to the window, to the moonlight and the limousine below it that you know won't leave until it sees all your lights off.

You had never felt anything like this before, you had never been under the weight of an emotion so strong that there was no way to communicate it with words, you had never been able to understand someone just by looking into their eyes. But then Jake isn’t like anyone you have met before either. And there's nothing you'd do to change that.

You know he will be back.

———————————————

Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from the tag list!

@ungracefularchimedes @uncle-eggy @losers-club6 @mona-has-friends @ninjarose23 @later-gators12 @saahmi @bookwormvoyageuse @wordacadabra @dynamiter-lune @sheisforthebirds @lilith-blackrose @avengersinitiative2012 @actuallyanita @cleothegoldfish @ninebluehearts @deadbirdcz @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @imarvelatthestars @bucksgoat @alexxavicry @blackholegladiator @lisa-stilinski @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @inksketch1 @harrys-tittie @ezduzzit @emprixnix @alivemoonknight @ghostheartbeat @foreverinwanderlust @wisteria-songs @stevenandmarcslove @orlandoblumhouseofguccimane @tragicbucky @freerangesweets @lepagera-blog @lovepeaceorelse @star-dusst @fandomtrash465 @dangerousdreamkitty @username21mk @padfoot-1959 @paradox-brody-chase @gottalovethefandom @silvernight-m @theking-arthur @ohnosy @ababynova @thescarletredwitch @thewayiknowyou @beardsleyblessed @gingermous @verexi @harley15dz @anapnovo-blog @m2oo2knighter @ahookedheroespureheart @othersideoftheparadise @ethereal-athalia @sa-banana-ana @theratscorner @anthonyedwinstark @romanarose @welcometostayingawake @ichigodjarin @twwcs

I'm sorry! I never know how to make all tags work, someone enlighten me pleaaase

#jake lockely smut #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x reader #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #moon knight imagines #steven grant smut #mcu moon knight #moon knight smut #jake lockley fluff

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hoofpeet · 2 months

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is there any reason why you choose to build hoofology’s world the way you do? with the sort of sporadic posts I mean. that each incrementally focus on specific characters or the world itself, or just some random spattering of biology or design choices. I actually really like the way you do it even though I’m pretty sure it’s unintentional, it feels like looking through old newspapers or picking up a picture book from when you were a kid, if that makes sense? It’s more of “you can get a general idea for it very fast, but the deeper intricacies are yours to find”. I think back to your valentine flavored energy drink post a lot as a way for couples who aren’t the same breed(?) to go on dates if one’s nocturnal and vice versa. I love your work lots and lots and lots and think the way you go about everything is gorgeous. Hoofology as a whole has a very “uncomfortably comfortable” feeling to it. Like I’m visiting a grandparents house that I was at all the time when I was a kid but haven’t been to in over a decade.

Because I enjoy stories where the worldbuilding is something you can sort of choose how much you engage with; it's more of a suggestion that you can choose to ignore, but does add some fun to the story if you work to piece everything together. That probably came from watching Adventure time as a kid and being really obsessed with vague hints as to it being set in a post-apocalypse world, with background elements that suggest worldbuilding but never fully hand an explanation to the audience.

The other big inspiration for worldbuilding probably comes from Ghibli films; I feel like ghibli characters always feel very believably at home in their surroundings. Someone is generally already familiar with their surroundings, so they don't act like their own world is particularly extraordinary/unusual. I think the two big examples for what I mean would be princess mononoke and Nausicaa- where the characters are more concerned with looking forward and living their lives while somewhat ignoring the worlbuilding around them- because it's already familiar knowledge to them.. It's like watching landscapes pass by from the car window but still being focused on driving

--I also like stories where the characters themselves also don't fully know what's going on with the world around them. Most of the events/forces at work that shape the world Hoofology is set in are completely unknowable to both the characters and readers. Don't have many good examples of this but like- settings with a lot of ruins and such

#mailbox #like. aliens wouldn't get the full picture of American history from watching friends.#because it's assumed knowledge on our part‚ and we wouldn't feel the need to explicitly lay out the intricacies of our own world

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raspberryflo · 3 months

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so, need an outside opinion on this.

Herobrine, from the originally screenshot, not any adaptations, was an avatar of the spiral/stranger, leaning towards the latter.

Here are my thoughts on how Herobrine should be classified if he were brought up as existing in the Magnus Archives universe… So to preface, I disagree, I don't think that Herobrine should be classified as either a Stranger or Spiral avatar- I think he would be an avatar of the Eye. But there are points to be made for both of these options.

The Spiral is the fear of your mind lying to you, an aspect which is very much present in the original Herobrine creepypasta- OP explains that they would "constantly think [they] saw the other player" but could not manage to see him proper, bar their first encounter. The key takeaway here being that they thought that they saw somebody else in the fog, but could never confirm it, which I imagine would create a sense of paranoia that their mind was playing tricks on them- perfect for the Spiral. Similarly, when OP apparently posted about their findings online, their messages were quickly deleted- the suppression of knowledge about the figure that they had encountered would create more unknowns for OP and further the paranoia, which is why Herobrine could be considered an avatar of the Spiral. The OP also seems confused about structures that appeared in their world, since clearly they could not generate naturally- if Herobrine was an avatar of the Spiral, it would make sense for him to build random structures throughout the world just for the purpose of confusing the player and getting into their head.

As for the Stranger, I think that there's less evidence that Herobrine should be categorised this way. The Stranger is the fear of the unknown and the uncanny. Even though now in 2024 pretty much everyone who has heard of Minecraft has also heard of Herobrine, in 2010 Minecraft was much more niche and not every nook and cranny of the game had been explored, and so back then, the concept that somehow a ghostlike figure had made it's way into the game wasn't impossible. His existence could genuinely be believed, though not fully understood, giving credence to him being an avatar for the Stranger. Backing this up is his appearance of being exactly the same to the player character, but slightly uncanny, having glowing white eyes- with a modified, unusual appearance being a telltale sign of the Stranger. But his behaviour doesn't really align with how you'd expect a Stranger avatar to act, since all he does is watch the player and (supposedly) stop telling them to find more information. Which is why I think he would be an avatar of the Eye.

Throughout the original creepypasta, Herobrine doesn't take any direct action to confront or communicate with the player; every time he's mentioned in-game, he's described as simply watching from afar. Although this creates a sense of paranoia for the OP, they are specifically paranoid of being watched by somebody, mentioning that they constantly tried to catch whoever was watching them- although to no avail. Herobrine's behaviour here also reminds me a lot of the way that Jon is described by his victims when he appears in their dreams, just watching silently, never interacting. What's more, the situation drives OP to post on the forums asking about this, but their post gets deleted. One of the key aspects in regards to the Eye's identity is the desire for knowledge, even if it comes at a cost; here, Herobrine's presence leads OP to repeatedly seek out answers, despite the fact that it caused their posts to be deleted and for them to get into trouble with a moderator. My last persuasion point is that Herobrine's one key iconic identifying feature is that he literally has Evil Scary Eyes.

Thankyou for coming to my squiddo talk

#ask #the magnus archives #There's also definitely an argument to be made here that he would be an avatar of the dark

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call-me-copycat · 5 months

Text

Escaping The Night (Part 8)

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules (Requests are open + Some info about me)

▶ Characters: Shinso x Fem! Reader + Father/Mentor Aizawa (platonic)

▶ Genre: Angst to Fluff + Slowburn

▶ Summary: Aizawa takes you to register your quirk, and after you get to meet Eri. Following that, Aizawa tells you that school is starting for you tomorrow.

▶ Word Count: 5047

▶ Warnings:

- A little bit of derealization during the meeting with Eri

- Little bit of PTSD experienced by the reader

➜ [Part 1]

➜ [Part 2]

➜ [Part 3]

➜ [Part 4]

➜ [Part 5]

➜ [Part 6]

➜ [Part 7]

{This is Part 8}

➜ [Part 9] Coming Soon!

And soon enough, he was sure you'd be living a happy and fulfilling life. He just had to keep going, for the greater good.

The drive was quiet after that, the only sounds being the quiet sounds of the radio and the rushing of warm air that was let into the car. You sat as you usually did, knees facing away from Eraserhead and your attention directed to the world outside the window. Although the calm atmosphere gave off an outer mask of safety, you loathed how in tune your behavior was beginning to become in response to Eraserhead's actions.

The drive was unusually long, and as time wore on you began to become more antsy due to the lack of knowledge of what was next. Eventually larger city buildings began to fill your window, and it soon made sense to you that city hall would naturally be located out in the city rather than the little suburbs or town.

The car came to a halt in a small parking lot, and as you stepped out you were immediately greeted with the chilled air blowing in your face. Shivering a bit, you studied your surroundings, unfamiliar since this was Honei.

*I downloaded this game and the city is stunning (　･`ω･´)✨ I'm going to use it lots more to map out places better since I struggle to see what authors describe in writing. The building in the story is the yellow one right there.*

On the other side of the building you parked by was a large mall, a staircase leading up to an outer balcony and paths built over the road to help citizens safely walk throughout the city. It was a busy day, with people being seen pretty much as far as the eye could see. Looking up at the building just led to nothing new being found out, the slight yellow color not doing much to make up for its overall mundaneness.

Aizawa made his way over to your side of the car, signaling to you with a simple wave of the hand to follow. You complied, no matter how much spite was filling your heart, your mind always knew better.

You turned a corner from where you two came from and followed the short path to the entrance of the building, although looking at the end of the little area you saw what you believed was a police officer and some caution tape. Sensing your curiosity, Aizawa filled you in on what you were missing.

"They're just cleaning up some rubble from an old villain attack. Nothing out to the ordinary"

You don't know what compelled you to rebut back.

"And how much of that damage was caused by the hero?"

The lack of response didn't grant you the slightest amount of satisfaction, but it was already said. For a moment, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not, regret peeked it's eyes over at you. Dark and beady.

"Who knows. Let's get this done with."

He didn't give much of a response before opening the door and silently commanding you in while also cutting off any more spiteful responses.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in a small windowless room like many others around you, an empty paper*¹ in front of you waiting for you to fill in its blanks. Eraserhead sat in a cushioned chair off to another corner of the room, his arms crossed as he waited for you to finish. It was something perceived as so seemingly simple; after all, who knows their quirk better than the owner itself?

You did the best you could, filling in the basics first. However, as you skimmed the whole document, your fingers began to twitch. It was rather... Lengthy. Questions after questions filled your vision, most of which you realized you didn't know how to fill in (addresses, dates, serial numbers, etc). And since this was a formal document, you couldn't just try your best. No... You'd need to get help.

Looking over at Eraserhead through the corner of your eye, you clenched the pen in your hand tighter. Heaving a breath, you decided to do what you could. You'd run into the problem later.

The basics were filled out. Your name, quirk, and updates on your quirk answered the best you could. However, the pen froze just as the fingers holding it did. It was daunting, seeing how much more information was needed compared to the last time you filled it out. Physically being able to look at the blanks brought about a new awareness, it finally clicking in your mind just how little you knew about your situation.

The scraping of a chair across the carpet drew you out of your thoughts, and looking to your side you realized that Eraserhead had brought himself to sit right next to you. You both silently shared a look, the silence filled with tension coming from your side. It quickly faded to understanding as you let him take a look at the paper, then going to jot down everything he explained right after.

At long last, once you finished filling out what you could, the bright rays of the afternoon sunshine greeted your eyes, helping to warm up your frosty body after being inside the cold building for so long. Stepping out, you stood in place for a second, taking in your surroundings once more.

You noticed an increase in people since it was midday, although this group mainly consisted of a younger age group compared to the older people that visited in the morning. There must've been a building cooking something nearby, because the savory smell of either pork or chicken was wafting throughout the air.

It was nice in a way, seeing a new area you hadn't before. All the new sights and people were a bit overwhelming, but it held such an acute feeling of comfort, one that you couldn't pinpoint. As you saw Eraserhead in the corner of your eye, your remembered what he had promised you earlier and began to walk back to where his parked car was sitting.

A sudden hand to your shoulder caused you to freeze.

"Looks like I completely forgot about food. Let's get something in your stomach, okay?" Aizawa looked up and around, and you realized he most likely was not familiar with this area any more than you were.

"There's a few restaurants around here, you can pick any you'd like to - my treat." Upon receiving a blank look, he knew he'd have to learn to be more stubborn with you in retaliation, even if his heart wasn't in it. "I'm not one to offer this very often, either you pick something or I will."

"I'd rather not eat here"

Your response was forced. Everywhere, all around you, were people. You had never eaten at a restaurant before, but you had seen too many damaged and taken over by villains to feel comfortable casually going to one to eat.

"So we'll just go home to eat then, that's what you're saying?"

Home.

You didn't like that at all. Him saying it as if you lived there (which you technically did). As if it was permanent. As if you had always been there. As if you will always be there.

Aizawa was about ready to pull out his hair. He tried being nice and giving offers, yet nothing could make you budge. It was odd for him, forcing himself to be so kind for so long. But he knew he had to keep going. It was all for your sake, after all.

No response was expected, and so he simply took the initiative to head back to his place. He wasn't exactly one that liked to stay home when he could've been productive, but he decided that he couldn't complain. You were still new, and you still had a shell to break out of. If you ever would in the end.

The drive was long, the rest of the day even longer. Once home, you ou simply sat looking out the windows in silence, ignoring every offer of books or drawing paper given to you by an antsy Aizawa.

Truth be told, you felt like you could burst away at any second. Without having anybody to fight or protect, you constantly felt as if you had to be on guard. There was nowhere for your energy to go, and you couldn't bear to sit around and not do anything.

Looking at the darkening sky, you made a silent promise to yourself that things would get better. That you'd be okay in the end... That everything you went through wouldn't go to waste.

The next morning, you caught Aizawa off guard by being up before he was, pacing around the living room as silent as a cat. At 4 in the morning.

"You're up early."

You stopped pacing with a swift halt, and Aizawa could see the tension from where you stood with your back to him. He could tell you were starting to feel the withdrawal. The feelings of loneliness and confusion that normally accompanied having something dear taken away.

"Where are we heading now?"

Your voice was quiet, but still enough to catch him off guard.

Looking around the dark room, Aizawa make a split second decision.

"You're starting school tomorrow."

A beat of silence passed through the room, moving slowly as if it was going through molasses. You didn't say a word, yet you looked up from the floor to the roof, your back still to Aizawa. There was little that surprised you at this point, and you had long ago accepted the fact that these were the consequences that came from your actions. It still hurt.

"For now..."

You could hear him grabbing his keys, indicating another event or activity.

"We're going to see someone special. Someone I'd like you to meet."

The cold air once again nipped at you once you exited the warm apartment, but you hardly flinched. It was something you were used to. Something you had to get used to. It certainly didn't go unnoticed by Aizawa, ever so observant.

The drive was shorter, and this time it led to a quaint two story house, an older one that was quite large in size. The paint was peeling, but it was overall in rather good condition, the colors providing a very rustic atmosphere.

You followed Aizawa up the pathway, watching as he rang the buzzer to the gate and spoke into some connected speaker, before following him through the gate once it opened.

The door almost immediately swung open to reveal an aging lady, her hair tired up in a bun and wrinkles decorating her face, with a much younger lady in the background who had her hair up in a ponytail, and was wearing an apron and boots.

"Shota, you were just here! It feels like you never left," the older lady spoke, ushering him in, to which you followed.

The house smelled clean, and it had a very homey feeling, one of comfort and familiarity. It smelled of honey and lemon, along with some kind of pastry that must've been baking. It reminded you of a grandmother's house. The surfaces were polished, and lining the bookshelves were numerous pictures of many different children, all at various ages. Each were smiling and doing something different in every photo.

The lady in the background hummed while mopping what you supposed was the kitchen floor, before looking over directly at you.

"Oh? You're new, aren't you?"

Aizawa looked up, nodding before gesturing to you.

"She's new, yes. I decided it would be in both of our best interests if I brought her with me today."

Listening closely, you could hear the squeals of children laughing upstairs and outside. Was this place some kind of daycare, you guessed? It felt like some sort of extra reality, it was starkly quiet on the inside of the house, yet you could almost feel the comfort of the many little lives that would've normally been bustling around. It brought back old memories you wanted held down, the familiarity swallowing you and your mind in it's tar-like stickiness. It was suffocating. You couldn't breath. You wanted to leave. To get out.

Looking all around, you trembled, feeling trapped just as you did on that fateful night. Heaving a soft breath, you calmed your racing heart, looking at the ground for the time being to prevent any future panic.

The older lady was gone by the time you looked up, and Aizawa waved for you to follow him down a new hallway. As you did, you noticed the wallpaper becoming more colorful, with various cartoon bees and cats littering a blue sky and green grass background. It was getting harder to breath. You didn't know why it was so difficult. Why it was so intimidating to be somewhere so innocent. But it wrung out a reaction from you that you had never seen nor expected before.

Reaching a door at the end, you waited with baited breath as Aizawa knocked, once, twice. The hallways had little lights on the floor and soft yellow lamps along the top of the walls, coating the dark area on an old yellow glow. Time seemed to pause as you stood there, wondering who was behind the door. Faintly, you could hear some shuffling before a muffled, "coming!"

The door opened to reveal a younger girl about 7 years old, dressed in a flowery sweater and stripped leggings. She had gray hair and striking red eyes, along with a little horn that sat on her right side of her forehead. Your eyes widened, not having expected to meet with a child that day.

Her face of confusion upon seeing you almost immediately vanished as she smiled at the sight of Eraser, opening her arms at him.

"Mr. Aizawa! I didn't think you'd come today!"

He smiled, patting her head a bit before stepping back, "Just felt like visiting today, you could say."

"I'm so glad! I made a new drawing, come see!", she exclaimed as he followed her into the room. You stood on the outside, curiously peering in to keep an eye on Aizawa in case he called you to do something.

It was isolating, seeing them converse with such familiarity while you stood and awkwardly watched. Why did he say he wanted you there? So he could show how much he liked to see other kids, so he could show off how close he was to others while he held you at arms length?

Your eyes slanted into slits. Why were you feeling this way? What lowered your self-esteem so low to the point of being jealous over a little girl? Why did your heart pang everytime you saw how kindly she was treated? Why did it hurt seeing her have such a happy life when you struggled throughout your entire childhood?

It wasn't fair, but you had learned to suck it up from a young age. A deceased mother and a callous father meant you didn't live such an easy life. You stopped looking at everyone else's good lives, learned to eventually ignore the pangs of jealousy until you forgot they existed.

Your moment of bitterness was cut short when you felt a soft tug at your shirt, only to look down and see her staring directly at you. Before you could do or say anything (not that you would've), she beat you to it.

"Aren't you cold outside?"

You realized she was pointing at your plain sweater, and Aizawa internally beat himself for not buying you better winter gear. Your heart beat harder. She was worried about you. She didn't know you, and yet she still worried. You had never met a child like that before.

"Not particularly."

She thumbed the fabric, and you didn't know why, but you let her. She didn't feel like a threat, and you didn't feel she was as dangerous as someone like Aizawa. Her actions were soft and caring, slow and gentle. Most kids you met were the exact opposite. It was nice, seeing somebody your own pace.

"What's your name?"

She was a child, you reminded yourself, it was only natural to be curious. Yet, it had been a long time since you interacted with children. You didn't know their mannerisms, and how to make sure they wouldn't cry.

"[Name]"

She looked up into your eyes once more and smiled. You looked back, and saw a heaviness in them, masked behind her current happy mood. Something that was held in her eyes told you that she saw something she should never have for someone her age. It held a secret fear, a worry that was otherwise hidden from the rest of her facial features. But there's a reason why they say the eyes never lie.

"Well, [Name], I'm glad I got to meet you! Are you friends with Mr. Aizawa?"

"No."

You knew your response was a bit too quick, but there was no going back once it was said. You saw her frown a bit before relaxing again, resuming her smile.

"Oh, well I hope you two become friends one day, I know Mr. Aizawa can seem scary, but he's actually really nice! He'll show you!" She turned to look at the man in question, "Right, Mr. Aizawa?"

He smiled softly in response before nodding. You had never seen him look this way before. So relaxed and... Happy. It was like a whole other person. Seeing him put on another face so easily should've startled you, worried you about what it was hiding. Yet, for some reason you didn't think of that at the moment.

"Here!"

The girl grabbed your hands, and you bent lower in response to her tugging. She gently wrapped a scarf around your neck. "I don't need this one anymore since Mirio got me a new one, but you can have this one so you're not cold!"

Looking down, you saw the scarf was entirely red, the same shade as her eyes. You rubbed the soft fabric between your fingers, before offering her a bow of gratitude.

"I'll take care of it. Thank you "

She laughed in response, "You're welcome! You're very funny!" She chuckled.

You failed to find what was so funny about your actions, but Aizawa was already telling her goodbye.

"We'll be heading out now, thank you for the scarf. She appreciates it... just a little differently than others would "

The girl hugged her backpack that was once sitting on the floor to her stomach, "Don't worry! I'm different too! Now she's not alone!"

Aizawa chuckled before waving and closing the door. As you walked back outside, you replayed the entire visit through your mind once more. More layers were unraveling, and you were beginning to lose track of what it was you were searching for.

Before you went into another spiral, the door to the building opened, and out rushed that little girl, who ran up to the now closed gate. She was followed by the young lady from before, frantic about trying to get the girl out of the snow.

"Eri! My name's Eri by the way!" She smiled and waved goodbye as you stood by the open car door, before the girl was picked up by the lady.

"It was nice meeting you, [Name]!"

As she smiled and waved, so happy despite such a minimal interaction, you stood and watched until she wasn't able to be seen anymore, brought back inside the warm house. Slowly, you raised your hand and waved to the empty air, a small smile stroking your face before it all fell back into the same monotonous glare.

The car was warm. It was always warm.

You couldn't pinpoint the feeling that was building up inside of you... But it was new, and... Odd.

One side of you hurt for some unknown reason, perhaps the feelings of isolation were finally getting to you? Maybe because you had been opened up to a new perspective once you saw you weren't there only one Aizawa knew? Who knows...

The other side felt warm. Warm and... Soft. Happy in a way that you were cared for by someone so new to you. It rarely happened on the streets. Sometimes someone would bring you some food or a blanket every now and then, but for the most part it was you taking care of everyone else. You couldn't bear the feeling of being a burden. It was dishonorable. Disrespectful.

Once back at the apartment, Aizawa stopped you before you made your way up the steps to his floor.

"Let's take a little walk. The sun's out and I've been cooping you up inside for too long."

There wasn't much to say except for a nod, which you then turned to follow him down the sidewalk. As you kept with his pace, you noticed that he walked a bit more freely than his usual walk, with his hands in his pockets and a slight jaunt to his step.

It was quiet between the two of you, but the sounds of the town surrounded you both. It was the weekend, so families were out and about, with the sidewalks littered with people of all sorts.

You didn't think Aizawa had anywhere to go in mind, but you were kindly surprised when you both eventually made your way to the harbor, passing the docks where the boats were sitting in the water.

Looking around, you saw fishermen unloading nets of fish into large containers and others preparing for fishing trips of their own. Some were already setting out, but the larger boats were parked.

The sun was out just as Aizawa had said, and it made for a pleasant afternoon. As you followed in his steps and sat down next to him on a bench facing the boats, you realized you hadn't had a day to yourself to do... Nothing, not in a long, long while.

You watched as a boat blared its horn as it slowly backed out, remembering the sound as you had heard it plenty passing by at night.

Next to you, Aizawa pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket before lighting one, just having it as an afterthought as he set it in his mouth before crossing his arms.

A beat of silence passed between you two once more before Aizawa spoke up suddenly.

"My father was a fisherman... He'd always be gone in the early mornings and late at night. Sometimes he'd bring some of his catch home with him," leisurely looking up at a passing kite a child was running with, he paused before continuing.

"He had a little tugboat that he always rode when it wasn't time to catch anything. Sometimes I got to ride it with him as long as I got up with him early in the morning..."

You didn't respond, but Aizawa knew you were listening. He softly smiled at the memories as he looked over the boats, feeling at home with the sights and smells that surrounded the area.

Why was he telling you this, you wondered? You knew it was most likely to get you used to him, to see him more as a person than an event or cause of force. But... You didn't resent it. It was odd, but you didn't mind the stories, as they were harmless after all.

You both sat there until the sun began to set, and you knew it was time to go when you began shivering once more.

That night, it was just you and Aizawa. No Present Mic or any other visitors. It seemed it was always quiet between you two.

While Aizawa cooked in the kitchen, you looked around for something to do. Finding a blank piece of paper sitting idly on the coffee table, you set to work folding it.

As Aizawa made his way to the living room to watch TV while the food cooked, he noticed you folding a paper into some origami creation.

"Hmm... Dog?"

You paused your folding to glace at him in confusion before continuing.

So it was not a dog, he now knew.

As you folded, he couldn't help but be impressed at the craftsmanship and delicate way you were folding the edges. It reminded him of his mother...

"A cat then?"

Still no response from you but you did give him a glance. He didn't know if he was getting closer or further.

As you finished, you gently set the paper down, looking at it for a second. Wringing your fingers, you felt empty now that you didn't have anything to do.

"I see ears... A tail... It looks like some kind of canine?"

"Canidae."

He perked up at your response, glad to get something for once.

"It's... A fox."

"I see."

Aizawa took a sip of his drink as he saw you idly flipping and folding the remnants of the leftover paper, before offering to you, "There's some books in my room. The shelf next to my work desk to the right of my bed," He shrugged, "I don't know if any will be to your suiting though, they're a little old."

As the timer for the kitchen went off, he saw you stand and walk off as he made his way into the kitchen.

Aizawa's room was about as empty as the rest of the house. A single bed that was hardly used, dark red blanket and black sheets. A work desk to the right of it, that extended so it fit in the corner, like an L.

Flipping through the few books he had on the shelf, you pulled out one with a light blue color you thought you recognized. It was an older book, but it was the autobiography of someone who lived through the first generation. They spoke of the horrors that they had to go through as the world was plunged into chaos and despair at the emergence of quirks. You were the 5th generation, with Aizawa being somewhere in between 4 and 5.

You frowned a bit as you saw it was bent, so someone had clearly folded the pages back around as they read (only one person it could be...).

*As much as I love him, I hate the way he reads*

Ignoring it, you clutched the book to your chest as it was something familiar. Something you were able to recognize. It felt nice during all the new things being forced onto you.

You walked out back to the living room, not wanting Aizawa on your case about being in his room for too long. Although the logical part of your mind told you he genuinely didn't care about it, the emotional side held onto the fear that was born from each visit to your father's room in the past. It never seemed to diminish, no matter how much sensibility you threw at it.

Sitting down again, you opened the book to read as you did once in the past. It was clearly older than the version you had, the cover worn with creases and tears, the pages yellowing. On the inside of the cover was a small note scribbled in pen, but you just passed by it, eager to get to the story you knew of.

"Ah, now that's a classic."

You paused your search in order to look over at Aizawa, who was plating the food he had made. Noticing your attention was on him, he nudged his head in the direction of the book you held.

"I read that plenty when I was your age... Sometimes I'd have it on me to read when I took a break during missions."

Of all the books he had, you had to pick that one. The one his mother was always reading. The one gift from her he had actually kept after leaving. The one reminder he had of his youth...

It made him slightly uneasy... You reminded him of his mother in ways more than one. It was a childish way of thinking for a grown man, but it was the truth.

Aizawa didn't let you go to bed that night without a brief lecture as to what your school-life would be like. He wanted to make sure you knew as much as you could, so you wouldn't be left in the dark anywhere. The last thing he needed was you getting overwhelmed and running off somewhere again.

"Using the measurements received from the tailor at the mall, I put in for your uniform a few days ago. I'll go get it for you in a second."

You nodded.

"I already got you everything you need. Your bag's hanging on the hook next to mine by the door. It has everything you need in it; writing supplies, notebooks, the textbooks for classes, all of it."

Glancing over at the wall by the door, you nodded. You couldn't see it, but you knew it was there. When you turned back, you saw Aizawa sliding a piece of paper over to you on the coffee table.

"Your schedule. It's a little different for everyone, but either way you'll have me as your homeroom teacher like everyone else. You met Hizashi not too long ago, he's the English teacher. As much as he jokes, you've still got to treat him with respect."

So much was being thrown your way all at once. You normally had no trouble holding onto large amounts of information, so you tried not to let it get to you.

"During my homeroom class we normally train by going over different scenarios and things like that. It's where your mind and body will be trained in order to learn to think and react like a hero-"

"I'd rather not..."

Aizawa sighed. He had a slight understanding at this point of your thought process. It was blurry, but it was a forming image.

"You don't have to be a hero if you don't want to. Nobody's going to force you. But with all you know, plus all your experience, it'd be beneficial for you to learn to hone your quirk better."

Your expression furrowed a bit, but you left it at that. There was a mutual understanding that arguing wouldn't get anywhere.

"Now as for your classmates..." Aizawa heaved a breath, not knowing where to even start. "They're a bit... They can be a little rambunctious at times. Don't let that discourage you though, they're quite smart and can hold themselves up pretty well." He smiled to himself slightly, thinking about it.

"Don't worry too much, you'll be in good hands."

Aizawa knew they'd love you.

A/N:

And we're back once more! I wish everyone a successful New Year! Think of this as a little New Year's Gift (　ﾟᵕﾟ)

That being said, I do apologize for being slow at writing! Between work and school, I'm pretty much kept busy 24/7, so I've been struggling to get some free time ꒰ ᐢ ◞‸◟ᐢ꒱

I'm working on Chapter 9 along with the other many requests I've gotten! I'm trying to get as much done as I can! ✌('∀-)-☆

I do have something to say to those still with me though:

Thank you for staying with me.

Wishing you all a lovely New Year, start safe and healthy for me please! 🌸(♡´ ꒳ `*♡)人(♡*´ ꒳ `♡)🌸

Tag List:

♡ @bingewatchintilldawn

♡ @talia-the-gemini

♡ @cactilli

♡ @breadglasses

♡ If you wish to be tagged/taken off the list, please let me know! Feel free to do this either by messages or by giving me an ask :⁠-⁠)

Notes:

*1 - I made out a whole quirk registration form online. Why? I have no clue. I think I'll post it when it's fully finished.

年2023/ 月12/ 日31

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years

Text

Clark Kent nsfw alphabet

I just thought this was a really nice gif.

Featuring some of my kryptonian headcanons. This is the kinda thing where I make myself flustered when I write it for some reason, hope you guys enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Clark is super cuddly and attentive after sex. He loves kissing and cuddling and will even give you a massage afterwards. If you’ve actually gotten him tired he too would love a rubdown.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Clarks favorite part of himself is his chest, his thighs, or his arms. On his partner its their legs or their hands.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Being a kryptonian means Clark cums a lot, and can do it multiple times. He doesn’t know how many times he needs to get off to not have any more cum in him. He loves to both cum in you and on you, and he loves when you do the same on him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Clark has had many fantasies of using kryptonite during sex. He also has an almost animalistic need to breed you or be bred, or to mark or be marked by you. He definitely has thought of having sex whilst flying before.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Clark doesn’t have an insane amount of experience, but he has some, though more experimental things would be new for him.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Clark likes any where he can wrap his arms around you or you can hold each other in general.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Clark isn’t the goofiest during, tho he might make a few jokes or chuckle every now and then.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Kryptonians in general don’t have a lot of body hair, so he only really has a nice happy trail and pubes and some chest hair.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Clark is a very intimate person, even just in general. He loves kissing and hugging and being romantic. He would fly to the other side of the earth if it was only possible to get your favorite flowers there. He says he loves you multiple times a day.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Clark jerks off a lot more than you would expect. Because of his kryptonian biology his sex drive is extremely high, so its not unusual for him to jerk off every day. At times he gets so wound up he will just jerk himself off through his suit whilst doing patrols.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding

Marking

Cum and anything involving it in general

Overstimulation and milking

Musk/sweat

Body and muscle worship

Oral fixation

Kryptonite usage (this is a secret though)

Spit and drool

Ripping clothes and alike.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Clark to most people’s surprise can do it in a lot of places, even pretty public areas. Though he likes to keep it at least semiprivate. With a partner he keeps it mostly at home or bathrooms and alike. But he can jerk off almost anywhere.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Its extremely easy to turn Clark on when you get together. Just rub his thighs or stomach, kissing and bite at his neck, or just give him a heated look. Because of his sense of smell, he can even smell when you are turned on which will get him going almost immediately.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Clark won’t do most kinks that will harm you too much. He isn’t the biggest fan of sharing, though if its someone he really trusts he might go along with it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Clark loves both giving and receiving. He has no gag reflex, and because he’s kryptonian he has a slightly longer tongue and some different muscles in his throat that makes it feel even better. He always swallows and he looks euphoric when he does.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends. With you he would be slower and more careful because of his strength. But when he’s jerking off, he can be pretty fast and rough with himself.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Clark is all for quickies honestly. Because of his insane sex drive, you just have to give him the look and pull him around a corner and he´ll drop to his knees and suck you off. He also jerks off regularly, whether its with you or on his own.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Clark is open to try new things, though there might be some kinks that he will research, or some areas he won’t do it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Clark will most likely have a lot more stamina than you, no matter how many rounds you go. You are more likely to pass out from exhaustion and he won’t even be a little tired. It’s not unusual for him to jerk off a couple of times after you fall asleep.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Clark owns more toys than people assume, most of which are to help him jerk off. He has some vibrators and dildos too though.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Clark wouldn’t tease a whole lot, but he might do it every now and then when he’s feeling frisky. It would be more of you teasing him though, being sure to use his extremely high senses against him. Like smell, taste, or his hearing.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Clark isn’t very loud in general, but it’s not impossible to make him be louder. He does keep quiet though when he’s anywhere but at home.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kryptonians purr and growl, but its at a low enough frequency that mostly only other kryptonians can hear. Kryptonians also use scent a lot without realizing, whether it be rubbing their scent on people they care about or using it to mark their area. Kryptonians reach sexual maturity after their 30s, and typically only after they’ve met someone that they are compatible with.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Clark is huge, like jaw droppingly big. Both in length and thickness. This stems from him being a kryptonian, as most kryptonians have larger bits than humans. Veiny though not too much and uncut.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Clark has an extremely high sex drive, like only other kryptonians could keep up at this point. This is why he jerks off every day or even multiple times a day. He doesn’t have to get off every day, but he can get pretty uncomfortable if he doesn’t.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like I stated earlier he has a lot more stamina than you if you aren’t another kryptonian or some kind of superhuman. He will spend time cuddling and kissing you until you fall asleep, and he could just go about his day or stay with you, or jerk off by himself until he gets somewhat tired.

#male reader #dc #justice league #clark kent #dc imagine #dc headcanon #dc x male reader #dc x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent headcanon #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x reader #justice league headcanon #justice league imagine #justice league x male reader #justice league x reader

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agrymonia · 6 months

Note

another paralive blog aaaaaa yess *huug* ... if possible I would like fluff headcanons for shiki, and bae (separate) about mc fem seeing that they look stressed so she decides to extend her arms so that they can snuggle together like they go to bed on top of her chest while she scratches their head or gently strokes their back ksnsk Thanks in advance <3

notes:

- allen sugasano, anne faulkner, hajun yeon, shiki ando

- warnings: none

Comforting your s/o when they are stressed

Allen

• Allen really enjoys making music, it isn't unusual to catch him stuck to his computer trying new sounds in different softwares or writing down in red ink every verse that comes to his mind.

• But inspiration is not always on his side, and those days when he wasn't struck by it were a little frustrating for him.

• You can tell that he's getting stressed when he's discarding too many papers or scratching written words in his notebook with a little too much strength.

• In moments like that, you would approach him and gently stroke his hair since it never failed to help him feel more relaxed.

• Every time you stroke his hair, he closes his eyes and lets himself take a well-deserved break. Sometimes Allen loses his senses while composing, so you always help him come back to earth.

Anne

• Anne's patience sometimes wears thin pretty quickly.

• Especially when they put a lot of effort into something, only for it to not turn out good enough.

• Things like an outfit they spent a lot of time on not turning quite right can easily frustrate them and will most likely end up with their room filled with different pieces of clothes everywhere.

• And this is your cue to enter the scene.

• Whenever you see Anne too stressed, you surprise them with a comforting backhug, your thumbs softly stroking their stomach.

• Most of the times this act alone will help Anne to calm down, but sometimes it isn't quite enough.

• And in those cases is when you invite them to bed to take a break. If a hug doesn't help, maybe a cuddle session will.

• When cuddling in bed to relieve some stress, Anne is the one hugging you, their head resting on your chest while you stroke their back up and down, which will usually make them fall asleep.

Hajun

• The times Hajun looked upset were rare, not because he doesn't get upset often but because he's usually good at hiding it.

• But even then, he could never fool you. Unfortunately for him, as his partner, you knew him too well.

• As much as Hajun actually loved his teammates, living together with them always gave him one reason or another to be stressed out about.

• More often than not, they would forget to clean or untidy things that were just neatly arranged.

• He should be used to it by now, but when caught in a bad time, things like these can really drive Hajun over the edge.

• When something is wrong, you never fail to notice the way his eyebrows slightly twitch or the subtle change in his voice.

• And before things escalate further you take his hand and guide him to his bed.

• Once there you both sit down next to each other and you offer him your shoulder so he can rest his head to cool down.

• That's the perfect moment to gently play with his hair and leave small kisses at the top of his head, it always helps him to stay grounded.

Shiki

• Even though his confidence had significantly improved lately, your boyfriend has always been a bit of a nervous wreck.

• Which means that it isn't weird to find him stressing out or getting anxious over different things.

• Sometimes is school, sometimes is work, sometimes is socializing and sometimes it is cause of the awful trap reactions.

• But whatever is the source of his stress you will be there to comfort him when it's needed.

• When things get too hard you invite Shiki to lie down in bed with you, encouraging him to rest his head on your chest so you can softly run your fingers through his hair to help him calm down.

• While snuggling sometimes you whisper sweet words to him, reaffirming that everything will get solved soon and things will be fine.

• Shiki always feels the safest with you, he knows that if you're around things will truly be okay.

#paradox live #paradox live headcanons #paradox live x reader #paralive #hajun yeon #anne faulkner #shiki ando #allen sugasano #paralive x reader

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darkurgetrash · 6 days

Text

Get to Know Me Tag ~

Hiya! I got tagged in a few different 'get to know me' tags so I thought I'd just combine them here, hehe. Thank you so so much to @dutifullylazybread @weaveandwood @orangekittyenergy and @blackstaff-blast — I really love these tags, both answering and reading others'. What can I say? I'm a gemini.

No pressure tags! ~ @lemonsrosesandlavender @savriea @graysparrowao3 @heytheresunflower

Do you make your bed?: Yes! I'm not a neat-freak, but I consider myself quite neat

Favourite number: When I was a young child someone asked me this and I didn't know what to say so I pretended it was '86'. Since then, that's always just been what I've said… couldn't tell you why lol

What's your job?: Between roles atm, but usually a copywriter

If you could go back to school, would you?: For sure. I was really let down as a kid by the system, if I could go back but with the wisdom I have now, I would love to. As for further education, I loved my undergrad but I can't see myself realistically studying more on account of chronic illnesses

Can you parallel park / Can you drive a manual car?: Nope. I was good at parking and driving back when I was first learning over 10 years ago but never took my test because I got a lot of anxiety driving. I live in London now, so there's no urgent need to learn, but I will have to some day.

Do you think aliens are real?: Yes. Ain't no way we're the only life forms to exist in the whole universe, pleaseee

What's your guilty pleasure?: I love Britney Spears 💁‍♀️

Tattoos?: A small one, on my ankle. Two hands in a reference to Twin Peaks. I also just love the design — even if my tattoo artist did a slightly shoddy job and told me they did the exact same reference on tonnes of people ayyy lmao

Favourite type of music?: Easy answer is indie, though even that is a huuuuge umbrella. Some of my fave musicians are Mitski, Bright Eyes, AURORA, Radiohead, EELS, and Thumpasaurus. Also, a long-time MCR fan.

Do you like puzzles?: I'm wayyy too ADHD for them tbh but I don't mind some types of puzzles, like in video games. But even then, they can't go on for too long, lol

Any phobias?: Crowds are def my biggest one. I’m scared of pretty normal things I’d say, like hornets. I do have a lot of sensory issues though that give a similar feeling, the most unusual being cardboard. Do NOT touch it near me, I WILL scream. And slight trypophobia… 🤢

Favourite childhood sport: Always hated sports and exercise, even as a kid

Do you talk to yourself: I sing to myself (and in general) a lot and have big echolalia, but I don't really talk to myself in the traditional sense. Now my partner on the other hand… he does not stop yapping for even a second in the day.

What movie(s) do you adore?: The immediate go-to's in my brain are The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Pride and Prejudice (2005), Your Name, and… Shrek. Non-ironically.

Coffee or tea: Earl grey tea with oat milk, please! If not an option, I'll go for an oat milk mocha.

First thing you wanted to be growing up?: I… okay. I don't even know if I should admit this, but it's kinda funny… but remember, I was a CHILD. like, FIVE. My sister wanted to move to Africa and be a mango farmer (???) and I wanted to go with her so I said I wanted to sell shoes there because I saw a gap in the market. 😭😭

Last song I listened to: No You Girls - Franz Ferdinand

Favourite colour: Lavender

Favourite flavour: Depends on what it is, but most likely either chocolate or strawberry

Current obsession: BG3, if y'all couldn't guess. 😂

Last thing I googled: 'Sacrum'. Girly doesn’t know what body parts are called.

Favourite season: Late autumn

Skill I'd like to learn: I'd looove to be able to sew and make clothes but I am the most cack-handed person you will ever meet. I literally got kicked out of textiles class when I was in school because I was so bad they thought I was messing about on purpose 😬…

Best advice: Be cringe, be free. People will either not care or think you're cool for your authenticity.

Currently watching: I don't really watch TV! Still getting through Dungeon Meshi, lol

Currently reading: I've been trying to read 'Interview with a Vampire' since the start of the year, but my brain only has room for BG3 fanfic it would seem… SO, here's a list of my current bookmarks hehe. Special shout-outs to @lemonsrosesandlavender @crystal-overdrive @ghostcouncil @weaveandwood @sinelaborenihilsr2 @dutifullylazybread @notlikeparis

Relationship status: Been in a relationship since 2016! Also, taken by Gale Dekarios in my head. 💜

Sweet/savoury/spicy: Big, BIG sweet tooth.

#get to know me #get to know me tag #tag #tagged #about me #thank you friends! I love you❤️

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seat-safety-switch · 10 months

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Last week, I was driving past the local shoe emporium, when I thought it might be a good idea to buy some shoes. Seizing the wheel with both hands, I roughly jagged the Valiant across four lanes of interprovincial traffic. Did I lift throttle as I approached the casually-landscaped dirt embankment separating the parking lot from the outlet mall? Only if I were a coward who drove an untrustworthy car.

After the '74 Vally ceased its end-over-end rolling, landing perfectly on its wheels like a 3400-lb ballerina made mostly out of iron oxide, I stepped out and headed into the mall. Now, if you haven't been to a mall lately, you're probably a normal human being. The only folks who still roam the shattered husks of Western cultural imperialism that dot our apocalyptic landscape are the poor souls that are paid to be there. And also old people, doing mall-walking, because it's too hot to exercise outside.

When the world still made sense, there was a plinth here, marked "information." You could look at a little map of the mall, broken down by categories. In this era, there is no "Men's Shoes" category. There is no map at all. Two burned-out T8 fluorescent bulbs un-shine behind an empty lens, the paper having been removed by some bitter ex-employee turned vandal decades prior. I do not need a map: I already know this particular territory.

Through an unusual – some might say creepy, although that goes way too far and you should get out more – agreement, the Shoes Unlimited is constantly replenished with footwear that other, richer stores did not want. It's not clear what happens to the shoes that do not get bought here, but I am sure it is not a pretty fate.

That is, if any shoes are ever discarded at all. Without a crack management team, the employees have gone feral, resorting to only the activities required for retail survival. The floor is covered in a couple feet of discarded shoeboxes, crinkly tissue paper, and loose athletic trainers which will never again see their factory mate before the sun konks out.

After a few minutes of searching, I finally pick up a box marked Piloti with a picture of a race car on the side of it. Driving shoes, I reason, or at least ones that were made before Formula One turned into a boating event. Although the thermal label on the side of the box is faded, it looks vaguely like my shoe size. My prize is carried to the counter, where I place it in front of an employee who looks at me with a mixture of fear and disgust. I have played this game before, and we begin a wordless game of negotiation, locked in slow-motion combat like two chess players who are trying to figure out which one of the two of us has to take a shit first.

The world turns. Twenty dollars – a moist but otherwise perfectly legal Lizzy 2 – is placed on the counter, and accepted at last. I change my shoes right there, throwing my old ones into the mess on the floor. Will they benefit some other traveller, in the distant future? We may never know, but we have to keep trying.

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jtl-fics · 10 months

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Fusion Dance:

FF in the zombie apocalypse

Fluent Freshman AU | Unusual Fic Asks

I need you to understand what this has done to me. 1. I didn't think anyone was going to ask about FF for some reason and 2. The concept of FF in the apocalypse is so funny to me because I write a lot of him based off of me and I have ALWAYS told anyone who asks that if an apocalypse happens I am not the plucky young lass doing whatever it takes to survive type. (Like I get word that One Piece is cancelled because Oda got eaten it's like 'ok I gotta go ask that man some QUESTIONS in the after life' and I'm OUT. I just don't have that drive in me!)

BUT FF is that kind of guy.

---

FF had been ready for the end of the world for ages. He'd felt the world quake and tear itself apart plenty of times. The first time had been after the car accident. The second time had been when he realized his mother wasn't going to stand up for him. The third was when she said "I do" to a man who hadn't made it a secret what he thought about FF.

The end of the world kept happening for him, so it was almost bizarre when finally everyone else agreed that it had happened.

He didn't really pay attention to the news, only to the increasing anxiety around campus as more and more infections occurred and there were talks about locking down the campus. His anxiety ramped higher and higher until he found himself in a state that he hated. A state where it was all so much that he lost the ability to feel anything at all.

The numbers kept climbing, the infections growing closer, and FF couldn't calm down enough to feel anything.

Then a Palmetto student was bitten and weirder it was someone he had known if only because they played on the same team.

He dodged out of the way of Jack's open mouth as he heard Sheena scream. His senses for an unexpected back attack had been heightened from years of dealing with his step brothers and further from the mindless bloodlust of Black Friday shoppers.

Jack lunged for him again.

"No cure - 100% fatal at biting stage" flashed on the TV in the lounge yesterday. "Self-Defense Recommended" the news anchor said numerous times.

He couldn't bring himself to do it though.

Aaron walked into the hallway and Jack's attention turned. He lunged mouth open and-

FF found the courage to swing down his Racquet.

Sheena just kept screaming as she ran out of the hallway.

Aaron looked shocked looking between FF and Jack on the ground.

"The infection has hit Palmetto." FF says with a deep breath trying not to feel sick, "I'm not staying on campus." he says wondering how many more students had broken quarantine like Jack.

"Where are you planning to go?" Aaron asks giving Jack's body a wide berth as he stepped around it.

"My grandma lives in Washington State. It's pretty rural. I'll go there." He says because she's stood by him through every other end of the world. If this is the one that takes then he wants to be sitting next to her.

"Sounds better than sitting here." Aaron says with a shrug and FF could see that he was shaking from what he'd just seen.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." FF says because he knows what Aaron had done to protect his brother. Aaron looks at him with wide eyes, "He was past the point where he might have been saved. We can't hesitate." he says because that's what the news anchor had said.

Aaron takes a long and shaking breath and nods.

FF nods back to him before turning and heading in the opposite direction of the exit that Sheena had run towards. He heard Aaron's footsteps following him, well this is embarrassing that they're going the same way.

"Where are you going now?" Aaron asks.

"CVS." FF answers.

"Smart, medical supplies." Aaron agrees.

Oh, that is also a good plan. FF was just planning on taking a shopping basket and knocking every last bottle of Pepto Bismol into it. "Yes." he says.

"I'll text Andrew." Aaron says and for the love of god FF did not know what he would be texting him. "Hey, thanks...for uh...saving me." he says.

They haven't decided how to charge people quite yet for the Infection self-defense cases.

"Don't mention it." he says and honestly wishes he could tell Sheena the same.

#Fluent Freshman AU #Fluent Freshman Zombie AU #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Zombie Apocalypse AU #Aaron Minyard #Redacted Smith #This space was a lot more fun than I thought it was gonna be #Yes Aaron does think that FF is a cool dude who can handle his own shit #Yes we know Aaron is wrong #This happens before FF has become friends with Nicky but after the Russian incident #Yes this is about to be a roadtrip to pick up the Foxes who graduated #Also friends and family #All to end up at GS' place #where she has established a COMMUNE #Fun thought but Zombie AUs aren't really my deal so I'm not continuing it

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tanadrin · 5 months

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In case any of the sex-repulsed anons want to weigh in — was it always like this for you? There doesn’t seem to be any scientific consensus on whether not thinking of yourself as a sexual being constitutes a problem or not. Social consensus seems to be that it is a problem, has a reason and can be fixed. I had sexual urges very early - age 6 probably, seem to have been born kinky and have been masturbating since then. Definitely imagined myself with partners all through my teenage years, have had amazing imaginary times and countless orgasms, enjoyed porn, was insatiably horny and looked forward to finally getting to have fun with an actual person, but once I started having sex with partners in my 20s it was so disappointing and confusing I eventually stopped trying. In my 30s now, pretty much no sex drive, half-hearted masturbation just to get a mood boost. Is it the depression? Personality disorder making it impossible to connect socially, much less sexually? Body image issues? Bad luck with partner compatibility? Is it because constantly masturbating since age 6 means your brain has a hard time adjusting to sex with partners? Or is it normal and natural? I have no fucking idea, and probably never will. I know I used to be a sexually vibrant being, but I haven’t thought of myself as attractive for years, maybe ever, and it genuinely baffles me when someone expresses interest. It’s like it just isn’t for me. Post-sexual.

Based on what I have read from sex researchers and people who study childhood development, childhood masturbation might not be common, but it is normal in the sense it is not in itself evidence of any kind of pathology.

I do think, especially because our society is So Fucking Weird about depicting sex honestly and normally, there is frequently a transition in adolescence or early adulthood from the shimmering and perfect realm of sexual fantasy to the messy business of Sex As She Is Done, and that can be a bumpy one for a lot of people even if you don't have unusual or unrealizable sexual fantasies. It was for me! You learn that bodies are, well, bodies, in all their awkwardness and glory, and people are people in all their awkwardness and glory, and for many people sheer horniness is enough to carry you over the hump. But maybe not all?

Social connection is fraught enough even when you're not trying to fall in love or get laid, and even more fraught when you are, so I really sympathize with that part of your ask. And God knows being able to feel desirable is just as important as feeling desire when it comes to our sexual lives. I'm sorry you've had a rough go of it, and I hope you find the connection and happiness you're looking for eventually.

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utilitycaster · 7 months

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It's just so funny that a few days ago you observed that there is very little meta or character focused fic about Laudna and now we get spoonfeed a lot of information about her. And I just don't know if people actually really want this novel when it's not about her romantic relationship, but maybe I'm wrong and the novel will increase the interest in her as a character? What do you think?

To be fair I've been saying that about Laudna for over a year now; I think her death was something of a wake up call; it was notable how little the party had to say about her and how heavily skewed the fandom response was towards her as half of a pair rather than as an individual in her own right.

It's hard to say but maybe the best way to put it is that I think it will genuinely be more indicative of the flaws in Marisha's work playing Laudna, and in the development of Imogen and Laudna's relationship pre-campaign, if the book is good.

If the book is mediocre or bad, and I am not familiar with Cassandra Khaw's fiction writing but I've heard good things (and plan to check out their original novel, The All-Consuming World, before the Laudna novel comes out), then that means that the backstory was probably underbaked; that more work could have been put into the concept or that it wasn't well communicated to a third party. That's merely disappointing, but it's not unusual to have an intriguing premise that is tough to execute well, and I can respect a bold swing and a miss even if I don't necessarily love the results.

If the book is excellent? That means that Laudna's backstory, and Laudna and Imogen's time together could have been done well in the show and just...wasn't. I will freely admit I don't know the timelines for writing a novelization, but presumably the core details were given at least a few months ago to Khaw for the novel to be scheduled for July, which means the backstory had to exist by then and was still not being communicated well in the show. An issue of "underbaked premise" can be attributed to being busy or distracted; an issue of "the backstory was there and you had no sense of it from the main campaign" is a pretty big misstep. Like...I keep saying "it's told but not shown" and so it might be useful to show that: I don't actually need to know a single thing about the logistics of Laudna ending up in Marquet. I just need to know what motivated her. Imogen shares that odd two year gap...but at least I know what drives her, so I can mostly overlook it.

If you strip away all the mechanics - if you outright forget the words "warlock" and "sorcerer" and "hollow one" and "D&D", as a novelization necessarily must - you are still left with a person who had some basic magical ability she cared about as a child but has not explored since. You are still left with a person who's had Delilah in her head with 30 years, and has had Imogen for 2+ years and Bells Hells for several months, and has done almost nothing about that. The novel isn't going to fix that. If the book is good, perhaps people will care about Laudna, but it's worth pointing out that would mean Cassandra Khaw has succeeded in making people care about her where Marisha Ray has failed.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag

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suchawrathfullamb · 6 months

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whats up dude can we get some young adult headcanons. also their past romantic relationships pretty please

uhh, that's an unusual one!

I don't think neither had serious relationships before, only affairs (like Hannibal and Alana). I think Will probably met other Alanas at work, and some in college, too. Like obviously-pretty type of girls, but more assertive than Alana, so he hardly had to make the first move. He is canonically attractive (ref: in the first script they say his students are giving him heart eyes, and in the georgia m. episode they say he is "a handsome man") and because he is extremely intelligent, I'm sure he is *very* aware of that, although he plays it off in s1. I don't think his affairs lasted more than a month, I can see him getting overwhelmed and feeling suffocated easily and being all avoidant. Oh my god, this just made me realize that Will probably has the avoidant attachment style lol anyway.

I think Hannibal had plenty of Alanas, not sure he had plenty of Bedelias, though (those who knew who he truly was), pretty sure some guys, too because of the hint at the blood exam episode. But again, I think part of their obsession with each other is the fact that they've never had a deep connection with anyone and were never able to fully commit to anyone else before, simply because they didn't feel the desire, they always felt like something was missing.

I think Hannibal did it for fun, for entertainment, because he wanted to, found the individuals attractive. Also, lol, Hannibal gives off kinky vibes, I can totally see him having threesomes with attractive couples, two woman, and maybe some orgies, too? Who knows, he loves taboos.

And I think Will did for pure sexual drive and neediness. We see a little bit of that with his reactions to Alana's touch, how starved he is, and how he craves connection yet avoids and/or doesn't know how to handle it when presented. So I think he would either have affairs just because he was attracted, just because he wanted to have sex. And sometimes some Alanas would show up, which he'd subconsciously (or not?) sensed it, as narcissists attract the sensitive, nurturing types. Those who wanted to care and had a savior complex would attract him because they'd feed that need for affection and of course, he grew up without a mother and he seems to be oblivious to this type of care, so he naturally feels the lack of it. Freud would love to analyze him lol.

Now, for YA headcanons, hmmmm, I thought a lot more about Hannibal as a young adult, just because we have more material and we have close to zero on Will. Hannibal was in his Il Mostro era, right? Not sure how old he was, but definitely looked "young adulty" to me. Or are we considering young adult when he was already in the United States, when he got the internship?

I think I thought a lot more about kid!will, just because there's this whole mystery of his mother, haha. Then, I had this crazy theory (it's not actually that possible BUT) that Hannibal actually taught Will how to do his crime scene mojo on command, and that's why we see the pendulum that looks like Hannibal's tool. But he just Miriam Lass-ed Will into forgetting everything lol. In my mind that happened a few years before the show started, maybe when Will got stabbed as a cop. Which somehow my mind also related to a secret Hannibal connection.

#now i want to know what u guys headcanon about young adult hannigram #cause i have no idea but i will ponder hardly on this rest assured #headcanons #ask the lamb #hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #fanfic

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glitterp0prhaps0dy · 1 month

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oooo~ Barbie has a crush

Barb savored her pancakes, each bite filled with the sweet blend of orange and red sprinkles, and melty chocolate chips within. She enjoyed this delightful breakfast in the living room, her attention occasionally captured by a romance movie playing on the TV. The concept of romance sparked a curious wonder in her mind.

Next to her, her vibrant and eccentric best friend, Carol, was fast asleep, emitting soft snores. Glancing over, Barb's smile grew tender at the sight of her resting friend. Suddenly, she felt a warmth spreading across her cheeks. Was she blushing? Confused and slightly flustered, Barb quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the unexpected thought.

Barb's fingers nervously found her mouth, her nails a temporary distraction as she tried to make sense of her feelings. A bead of sweat trailed down her forehead. "This... this has been happening way too often... Oh, no," she silently panicked, her blush deepening despite her efforts to quell it. Overwhelmed and feeling unusually warm, she hurried upstairs, her pace quick and frantic. She burst through her bedroom door, rushed in, and slammed it shut behind her.

The sudden noise startled Floyd awake from a deep sleep. He groaned, irritation flashing across his face as he shot a glare in Barb's direction. But she was too caught up in her own turmoil to notice. Standing in front of the mirror, Barb was visibly stressed, her face flushed with heat. She tugged at her mohawk in a desperate attempt to distract herself from the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.

Floyd, meanwhile, could only watch in confusion, completely bewildered by the unexpected and intense display of distress from Barb.

Floyd exhaled deeply before addressing the obvious turmoil in the room. "You alright? You seem... uh... pretty stressed."

At his words, Barb slowly pivoted her head towards him, her eyes wide and bewildered, lips pressed into a tight line. Suddenly, the word burst from her like a dam breaking. "NO!" she yelled.

Launching into a passionate tirade, Barb paced back and forth, her words tumbling out in a frenzied rush. "I just... I don't get it, okay? My head's been all over the place lately, and I feel like I'm on this rollercoaster of emotions that just won't stop! Every little thing is making my heart race, and I've got this weird, jittery feeling in my stomach that won't go away. And the worst part? I don't even know why!"

She paused, taking a deep, ragged breath, her hands flailing expressively as she struggled to articulate her inner chaos. "It's like, I'm always hot and then cold, and sometimes I catch myself staring off into space, daydreaming, and then I snap out of it and feel all embarrassed and... and flustered. Flustered! Over what, right? It's ridiculous."

Barb halted her pacing, a look of genuine perplexity etched across her face. "And the weirdest part of all this? It's happening a lot... around... well, just, people. Specific people. And it's driving me insane because I can't make heads or tails of it. I've never felt this way before, and it's freaking me out!"

She threw her hands up in a gesture of defeat, her energy momentarily spent. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just all over the place, and I can't even pinpoint why. It's like I'm feeling things I've never felt, and it's scary, okay? It's really, really scary."

Floyd watched, a mix of concern and confusion on his face, as Barb's torrent of words finally dwindled to a halt, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Floyd, catching on to a thread in Barb's chaotic outpouring of emotions, probed gently, his voice soft yet curious, "What... kind of people?"

Barb, initially taken aback by the question, began to pace again, her agitation rekindled by the inquiry. "It's just, you know, people who are always around, making me feel all these things I can't explain. They're just... there, and every time they're near, my whole body reacts in ways I don't understand. My heart races, I get all sweaty and nervous, and I find myself wanting to be near them but also wanting to run away at the same time."

She waved her arms expressively, her frustration mounting. "And it's not just anyone, okay? It's these... individuals who have this way of looking at you, like they really see you, and it makes my stomach do flips. They're just so... so compelling in a way that I can't ignore, even if I try. And their laughter, oh, their laughter just resonates in a way that makes me want to hear it over and over again."

Barb stopped pacing, her expression one of bewildered revelation as she continued, her voice a notch quieter but no less intense. "And it's their strength, their kindness, the way they carry themselves with such confidence and yet have this incredible softness. It's... it's overwhelming. They make me feel safe but also so incredibly vulnerable at the same time."

She sighed deeply, a sense of resignation washing over her as she finally faced the heart of her turmoil. "And the thing is, it's not just any kind of people. It's... it's women. I'm feeling all of this... for women. And I don't know what to do with all these feelings. It's like I'm discovering a part of me I didn't even know existed, and it's terrifying but also... exhilarating?" Barb's voice trailed off, leaving her confession hanging in the air between them.

"This," Floyd began, a note of understanding in his voice, "explains some of the questions and reactions you've had." Barb looked puzzled, prompting him to continue. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

Floyd chuckled lightly, an edge of warmth in his tone. "Well, remember when you asked about my earring and what it meant about me? And not to mention, you asked about Riff and his handkerchief in his back pocket. Whenever these topics are brought up, you run away all embarrassed," he explained, gently prodding her to see the pattern in her actions.

"Your interest in others' sexuality might have been you subconsciously telling yourself something about yourself," he continued, his voice gentle, trying to guide her through her confusion without overwhelming her.

Barb paced a little, digesting Floyd's words. "But I... I didn't mean—I just thought I was being curious. You know, about everyone and everything," she stammered, her stress evident in the way she avoided his gaze.

Floyd nodded, understanding her turmoil. "Curiosity is normal, Barb. But sometimes, it's also a window into what we're trying to figure out about ourselves. It's okay to explore these feelings, to question them. It doesn't make you any less of you; it just means you're learning more about yourself."

"But what if I don't like what I find? What if it changes everything?" Barb's voice was thick with worry, her usual confidence replaced by vulnerability.

"It might change some things," Floyd admitted softly. "But the people who really matter, your true friends, won't love you any less. They might even love you more for being honest with yourself and with them. And as for liking what you find... you might be surprised. Discovering new parts of yourself can be scary, but it's also incredibly brave and beautiful."

Barb sighed, a tentative smile forming as she absorbed his words. "I just... I don't know where to start. I'm scared of getting it wrong, of how it changes how I see myself."

Floyd reached out, offering a reassuring smile. "You start where you are, with what you feel. There's no right or wrong way to be you. Just be honest with yourself, and take it one day at a time. And remember, you're not alone. You've got friends, you've got me, who'll stand barb let floyds words sink in, but she was still scared "But what if what I find isn't me, what if I believe it's me and then later on I realize it’s not," she asked

Floyd nodded, his expression understanding. "That's a part of the journey, Barb. Discovering who we are isn't a one-time thing; it's continuous, evolving as we grow and learn more about ourselves. It's okay to explore and even embrace different parts of yourself, only to realize later on that maybe they don't fit anymore. That doesn't mean you were wrong—it means you're growing."

He paused, ensuring Barb was following, then continued. "It's like trying on clothes. Sometimes, you think you love something, so you wear it for a while. But then, as time goes on, you might not feel the same about it. That doesn't invalidate the time you spent loving it or mean you were lying to yourself. It just means you've changed, and that's not only okay, it's normal."

Barb looked at him, her eyes reflecting the tumult of emotions inside her. "But change can be scary," she whispered.

"It can be," Floyd agreed. "But it can also be exciting. Discovering new things about yourself, what you like, what you don't, who you want to be—that's all part of living. And remember, no matter what you discover or how many times you change, you're still you. And you're not alone. You've got people who care about you, ready to support you through every step of this journey."

Hearing this, Barb felt a weight lift slightly from her shoulders. The path ahead might be uncertain, but knowing she had support made it less daunting. "Thanks, Floyd," she said, a small but genuine smile forming. "I guess figuring out who I am is just another adventure, huh?"

"Exactly," Floyd smiled back. "And it's one adventure you don't have to go on alone."

Barb glanced nervously towards the door, then peeked outside to ensure they were still alone, with Carol asleep downstairs. She then returned to the room, a hesitant confession on the tip of her tongue. "These feelings... they usually hit me when I'm around Carol—" she abruptly let slip.

"OH MY GOD!?!" Floyd couldn't contain his shock, almost shouting in his surprise. "OUT OF EVERYONE, WHY THE MANIAC!?!"

"I... I don't know," Barb admitted, her voice a mix of confusion and a hint of desperation.

#trolls #trolls au #dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #trolls floyd #trolls barb #wlw #lesbian #lgbtq #trolls carol #trolls fanfiction #trolls fanfic #trolls fandom

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