#so I quit within the first day since it was impossible to play | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theoreticslut · 2 years

Text

「 jealousy, jealously 」

eddie munson x henderson!fem reader

summary: you were a part of hellfire long before your brother and his friends got to high school, yet they fit right into the club while you get pushed aside.

requested: no

word count: 6.4k

warnings: light angst, jealousy, brief arguing/raised voices, lots of fluff, kissing, fake gagging, few curse words

a/n: i apparently can’t write short fics for eddie, but i don’t think anyone is complaining about it. plus, i think the fics are freaking adorable & i’m highkey kinda proud of them. so i hope you continue enjoying them, as i’ve got plenty of ideas for him with more coming daily. if you’ve got an idea you’d like done (for eddie or any other st character) feel free to send it my way & i’ll give it a go. also, i couldn’t think of a better title than this, but the actual fic has no purposeful inpsiration from the olivia rodrigo song. i hope you enjoy it regardless! Xx

Part 2 out now!

You groan as you see your brother and his friends make their way through the cafeteria towards you. Knowing it was their first day of high school, you had no doubt they’d try to sit with you. It’s not that you don’t want them to, but you’re terrified that they’ll embarrass you in front of your long-standing crush and dungeon master.

It had been a few months into your freshman year of high school when the small group of friends you’d found yourself in started ranting about how weird and creepy the Hellfire club - and their leader, Eddie Munson - was. You didn’t quite hold the same opinions, though, since you’d been playing the game for a few years by then. In fact, you had only recently given it up when the friend you played with moved towns.

It was during one of your free periods when their ranting became a bit annoying to you. You had started correcting and fact-checking them, forgetting that Eddie shared the study hall with you. You never even gave it a thought that he could hear the four of you talking until he stopped you at your locker after that period - the day, luckily, being over.

He wanted to know how you knew so much about the game which is when you admitted you had played. Of course that knowledge completely floored him.

When he was able to pull himself back together, though, he offered for you to join them at lunch the following day to meet the group and see if you wanted to become their newest member. You agreed, and within the week found yourself a permanent part of hellfire with your own shirt and everything.

It’s been two and a half years since then and you were still a part of the group, happily devoting your Thursday evenings to play the game. Within these past couple years and all the Thursdays you’ve spent in his presence, though, you found yourself falling hard for Eddie.

It’s nearly impossible not to when he’s so charismatic and funny. Not to mention how kind, passionate, and beautiful he is. You’d swear he was a fucking angel, regardless of the image he tries to portray.

“Y/n! Can we sit here with you? Please?” You hear your brother almost beg, catching your attention as your heart starts to race.

You’ve never mentioned to the group that you have a younger brother, especially not a younger brother that also plays D&D. You knew they’d want to be introduced to him, and you fear that he'd slowly come to replace you in the group.

“Who’re these kids?” Eddie questions, hands clasped in front of his face as he looks between you and the three younger boys standing behind you.

“Uh, Dustin, here, is my brother.” You start, nodding towards him as he smiles.

“A-and these are his friends, Mike and Lucas.”

“A young Henderson…hmm? Tell me, do you guys play?” Eddie asks the three boys, catching them off guard, their mouths opening and closing as they figure out how to answer.

“They do. They’ve been playing for a few years.” You answer for them, motioning for them to just sit down.

“Thank you.” Mike and Lucas mouth, having sat on the same side of the table as you with Dustin.

You sigh, smiling lightly as you nod to them. Of course you don’t want to upset Eddie, but you’re also not going to leave your brother and his friends to fend for themselves.

Wanting to move on, you take a bite of your lunch, hoping that Eddie leaves the topic of the boys joining you alone. Having known him for three years, though, you should know that he can’t.

“You’ve never mentioned having a brother, Henderson.” He comments, and you can practically feel his eyes on you as you stare at your food.

“The topic never really came up.”

“Not even when I’ve mentioned wanting to find new members?” He lightly smirks, curious as to why you’d keep such a thing secret.

Surely you realize how great having a brother that plays D&D is? Within the year most of you will be graduating, and he needs someone to pass the dungeon master title on to. Your younger brother and his friends just starting high school couldn’t be a better option.

“Figured you’d find him and his friends soon enough anyways.” you comment, still not looking up to the curly-haired adonis.

“Hmm, well they’ve saved me the work of searching them out by coming over here. Welcome to hellfire, boys.”

“Wait, you’re just letting them join?” Gareth questions.

“Yeah. You’ve seen Henderson play. If they know her then they’ve got to be good.” Eddie smiles, making your cheeks flush.

“They’re good, but not on my account.” You mumble.

“Nonsense. Still can’t believe you wouldn’t tell us about them before now, though.”

“How come you haven’t, y/n? I mean, you talk about them all the time.” Dustin asks, before taking a bite of his food.

At his statement, the rest of the group seem to perk up, curious to know what you say about each of them.

“I do not. I’ve only mentioned the club a few times.” You huff, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit more.

“Only a few times to mom and I, but I hear you on the phone with your friend talking about them every week.”

“First off, why’re you even listening to me on the phone? Secondly, the only reason I talk about the club is because I’m updating her on my life.”

“Got a rather boring life then.” Dustin quips and you simply gawk at him, not believing him right now as a few surprised chuckles leave the rest of the boys.

“Shut up and eat, Dustin. No one asked for your input.”

You watch him shrug before turning to Mike and Lucas while you stick to staring at your food, feeling the group's eyes on you. It’s bad enough you’re the only girl in the group, you didn’t need them to know you talk about them on a weekly basis.

Little do you realize that Eddie can’t help but find himself smiling at this new side of you. He’s been intrigued by you ever since he first heard you correcting your friends back in your freshman year. He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful girl would play the game he loved.

Of course, after watching you play and just spending time with you during lunch, he’s found himself crushing on you, even if you still remained a bit of a mystery to him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you of his feelings, though. Not once in the three years he’s known you.

Hearing that you talk about the club, though, makes his heart race. You really enjoy their company so much that you’d talk about them to a friend? It’s insane to him, and yet it makes him feel giddy. He can’t help but wonder what you’ve said - about the club or about him.

~.~

“Lauren, I’m telling you! For as long as I’ve been a part of the club, my brother joins and suddenly that’s all they care about. They all like my brother and his friends better than me.” You sigh, turning onto your back as you stare at the ceiling.

“I highly doubt that, y/n. I’m sure it’s just that your brother and his friends are still new.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Laur. I mean, it’s not like I really bring anything to the group.”

“Y/n, you’re the only girl.”

“That doesn’t mean anything though.” You almost whine.

You hate to admit it, but you’ve been feeling left out of the club ever since your brother and his friends joined a few months ago. You had the feeling that this would happen, even though you hoped it wouldn’t.

It’s not like you really bring anything to the group, though, now that you’ve introduced Dustin, Lucas, and Mike to the club. Your character isn’t super powerful or helpful or anything. You’re not the best roller. You’re just there...seemingly wasting space.

“Pretty sure it does. I mean, the way you’ve talked about…what’s his name, Eddie?”

“What about him?”

“The way you’ve talked about him, it sounds like he likes you.”

“No. No, he doesn’t. I’m sure of that. He barely talks to me.” You sigh, rolling over onto your stomach as you bury your head into the pillows.

“Y/n, hon, boys are terrible at talking to the girls they like!” Lauren laughs, and you know she’s shaking her head at you.

“Not Eddie. He usually can’t stop flirting, and yet he doesn’t flirt with me. I don’t even think he’s ever actually called me by my name, Laur. I’m just...Henderson to him.”

“Maybe you make him nervous.”

“Me? Make him nervous? Laur, you’ve lost your mind!” You scoff, knowing you could never make a guy nervous.

Guys don’t even notice you, for crying out loud. How can you make them nervous?

“I don’t make guys nervous. Guys don’t even notice me, Laur. I’m not you.”

“Okay, now you’re just being down on yourself and I’m not going to have that. If this Eddie guy can’t see how fucking amazing you are, then he just doesn’t deserve you. Alright?”

“Not alright. I want him to like me. Like, a lot.” You pout.

“I’m telling you he does. If I’m wrong then I’ll drive myself down there and let you have free go at me. How’s that?”

“You know I’d never do that to you, but I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”

“Sure, I like him, but I know it’s never going to happen.” You sigh, twirling the cord as you stare at your bedspread, still laying on your stomach.

“What’s never going to happen?” You hear Dustin ask, making you jump and drop the phone.

“Dustin, get out of my room!”

“But it’s time to go! We’re going to be late if we don’t leave, y/n, and I don’t want to upset Eddie by being late.” He rambles, and all you can do is roll your eyes.

“Fine. Go get in the car. I’ll be right down.”

“Don’t forget that we’re picking up Mike and Lucas. And don’t forget your folder!”

“I won’t. Now go.” You groan, rolling back onto your stomach and grabbing the phone.

“I’m sorry, Laur. I’ve got to go.”

“Time to go see your man, huh?” She teases and you roll your eyes, attempting to fight back a blush.

“He’s not my man. Never will be. I’ll call you later, though, okay?”

“You better! Love you.”

With a ‘love you’ of your own you hang up the phone and roll off of your bed. Grabbing your backpack and a sweater, you slip your shoes on before grabbing your keys and leaving the room.

You really kind of hope tonight’s game goes by quickly, not wanting to be in Eddie’s presence longer than necessary.

~.~

Eddie can’t help but frown as he watches you tonight. He’s been noticing how you’ve been seeming more and more down, almost seeming to pull into yourself and away from the group this past month.

You’ve been quiet lately, which isn’t terribly out of character for you, but it seems different than normal. You don’t quite have that same brightness to you that Eddie’s come to look forward to each day.

“Henderson, is everything alright?”

At his voice you’re pulled from your thoughts, turning to look at the beautiful, curly-haired man that makes your heart race and palms sweat.

“Mhm. Fine.” You hum, nodding and sending a small smile in his direction.

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm.”

As you hum, you turn your attention back to your clasped hands on the table as you zone back out to Dustin and the rest of the group chattering around you.

“Little Henderson, is something up with your sister?” you hear Eddie question as he turns his attention to your brother.

“Unbelievable.” You huff, shaking your head and crossing your arms as you slump back in your chair.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” You mumble, staring at the table in front of you as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

All you did was zone out for a moment. You don’t understand why he’d have to ask Dustin what’s wrong when that’s all you did. It’s not like he’s ever actually taken notice of your emotions before to know that something is wrong.

“I think she’s upset about a guy.” Dustin speaks up after a moment and you can’t help but scowl at him, brows furrowed in shocked anger.

“A guy?” Eddie questions, almost seeming surprised.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not about a guy, Dustin. Maybe try keeping your head out of my business.” You retort, jaw tensing in anger.

“But you were saying something about liking someone and how it’s not going to happen.”

“And I told you to stop listening in on me when I’m on the phone.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Dustin questions, seeming like he genuinely wants to know which irritates you slightly. Why does he have to be so caring when you’re trying to be angry with him?

“Doesn’t matter.” you state, wanting the conversation to be over.

“Yes, it does.”

“If I wanted to tell you, Dustin, I would. Just leave it.”

“G-guys, can we…can we get playing again?” You hear Mike stutter out and you let out a deep breath.

“Yeah. Sorry for getting off topic. Let’s play.”

“Are you going to be alright to play?” Eddie questions, looking you over, seemingly studying your body language.

He’s never seen you upset before, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going on. It’s not like you to be angry and short with others. Not when he’s always seen you as the happy, upbeat one of the group.

Could it be a guy like Dustin suggested? Or is it just that you’re not feeling well? Either way he can’t help but want to know.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this going again.” you answer, not bothering to look at anyone but rather as the table and your hands.

“Henderson-“ Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off, taking him by surprise at the sheer frustration coming from you.

“Do you not want me playing right now? I said I’ll be fine. Believe me, will you?”

“Alright. Where were we?”

You let out a breath as you all slowly get back to the game, although you can feel the tenseness of the air still lingering. Attempting to ignore it, you force yourself to focus on what Eddie and everyone else is saying, hoping to god the campaign isn’t much longer.

~.~

Taking your seat at the lunch table, you feel Gareth and Jeff’s eyes on you. It’s like they’re not sure how to talk to you, almost afraid that you’re still as touchy as you were last night during the game.

“I’m not going to bite your heads off, you know.” You comment, not bothering to look up at them as you shove a forkful of food into your mouth.

“You’re sure?” Gareth questions, eyes wider than normal as he still seems cautious.

“Mhm. I just wasn’t feeling great last night.”

“Okay. You’ve just…never been like this.” He states and you know he’s not wrong. Ever since you first joined the club you’ve been quiet and almost demure, not wanting to create any issues.

You shrug, acknowledging his statement, but leave it unanswered. There’s not really anything to say to that. Not when the entire reason for your irritation is kind of embarrassing and childish.

The two of them don’t seem to mind though, going back to talking amongst themselves as you eat in silence, waiting for everyone else to join the table.

It’s not like anything really changes once everyone is there. They all chat amongst themselves while you keep to yourself, only giving short replies when talked to. You simply eat in silence as you let yourself fall into your thoughts, not wanting to make the atmosphere tense like you had last night.

No one seems to mind, though. At least you don’t think they do. Not until Eddie slides into the empty desk next to yours in your shared study hall at the end of the day.

“Hey, Henderson.” He greets, voice lowered so as to not get yelled at by the teacher or to potentially get on your bad side.

“Hey.”

“What’s…what’s going on lately?”

“What do y’mean?”

“You’ve been quieter than usual. Not as happy either.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Eddie.” You mumble, not wanting to share what’s been going on.

“No? See, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Something’s bothering you.”

“So what if there is? I’m not telling you unless I want to.”

At your reply, Eddie simply sighs, and you can’t help but feel a little rude. It’s not like he’s done anything, it’s just your stupid thoughts and feelings getting in the way.

“Alright then. I’m not going to push for an answer. I just...I need to know that whatever it is won’t be interfering with the campaign.”

“It won’t be. Not from here on out.”

“Here on out?”

“I’m quitting the club. Been thinking about it for a while now.” You admit, watching his face fall at your words.

“Henderson-“

“It’s y/n, Eddie.“

As the words leave your lips, the bell rings to signal that the day is finally over. Without hesitating a second, you’re up from your seat and walking away, leaving Eddie confused and scrambling to catch up to you.

“Y/n?” He calls, chasing you from the classroom and towards the doors, not caring that he needed to stop at his locker.

You see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike waiting by the trash can at the edge of the parking lot, and you sigh. You really can’t wait to get home.

“Y/n?! What’s brought this on? Why do you wanna leave the club?” Eddie calls as he continues to follow you towards the parking lot.

“You’re leaving hellfire?” Dustin questions, him and the other two boys having heard Eddie.

“Just get in the car, Dustin.”

“But you’re leaving hellfire?! You can’t just do that!”

“Exactly! Why’re you trying to leave?” Eddie questions, panting lightly as he finally catches up to you at your car.

“I’m not trying to leave, Eddie. I am leaving. I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. Sorry.”

“No. You can’t just leave. We haven’t finished the campaign yet.”

“You’ll figure out how to continue it without me, I’m sure.”

Of course he’d just be upset about the game getting messed up and not about you actually leaving. Why would he care when he’s still got Little Henderson there?

“I’ll return my shirt next week.” You state, moving to get into the car.

“Th-that’s not necessary. Hold onto the shirt. Keep it for memory’s sake, I mean.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Eddie nods, watching you, seeming as if he wants to say something else but he can’t bring himself to.

“Is that everything?” You question, wanting nothing more than to leave.

“Yeah...Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around. Come on now, Dustin.”

“You two need rides?” You question Mike and Lucas, almost seeming to ignore Eddie as you get in the car. They shake their heads and you nod, closing your door as you wait for Dustin to do the same.

Soon as he does, you’re putting the car in reverse and backing out as you had already started it. You really didn’t want to be there any longer than you already had been.

As you pull out of the parking lot, though, you can feel Dustin wanting to ask questions, but he seems scared to anger you, so he stays quiet. His questions simply swirling around his head, instead.

~.~

“Wait, you did what now?!” Lauren questions, almost screaming into the receiver.

“I quit the club. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

“But you enjoyed it.”

“I enjoyed it when I hadn’t been shoved to the background. I enjoyed it when I actually felt like a part of the club.”

“So talk to them? You don’t just quit something because it stopped being fun.”

“I think that’s precisely what you do when a club stops being fun, Laur. Besides, it’s not like they miss me.” You huff, pulling your feet towards your body as you lay on your stomach, softly kicking them in the air.

It’s been just about a month since you quit the club, and while it saddens you a little, you’ve also felt the tiniest bit of relief. You don’t have to try so hard to keep your crush on Eddie hidden anymore. You don’t have to spend every lunch period listening to the guys talk about whatever it is they do while you sit to the side. You don’t have to feel like the outcast in the group of outcasts.

Sure you miss playing the game, but it’s not the end of the world. You’ve found other things to keep yourself preoccupied. Mostly just listening to music and doing your homework, but you’ve found yourself picking up art as a hobby as the days dragged on, slowly starting to fill and old sketchbook you’ve had lying around.

~.~

“It’s still so weird that y/n isn’t here.” Gareth comments as the boys watch you sit at a different table once again. They don’t know why, but they keep hoping this has just been some kind of nightmare and that any day you’ll actually sit back down with them. It just doesn’t make sense why you’d leave them all so abruptly.

“Yeah. It is.” Jeff agrees, sighing as they see a smile form on your face with a laugh falling out right after. It’s been way too long since any of them have seen you like this, and it kind of hurts.

“She still wears her shirt a lot.” Dustin informs, looking at the older boys - Eddie included - as they watch you.

“She does?” Eddie questions, the bit of knowledge somehow lifting him up a little.

He hated hearing you say you were quitting, and he hated it even more when Monday came around the week after and you didn’t sit with them. Nearly three years you had sat by his side and suddenly you weren’t there anymore. It felt beyond wrong, but he didn’t know what to do to fix it, if there even was anything that he could do.

“Yeah. She seems to wear it all the time now. I’m honestly not sure when the last time was that she didn’t wear it.”

Eddie nods, smiling lightly at the thought. He can’t help but wonder if there’s anything different he could have done to keep you from leaving. Was it something he had said? Or done? Was it just him?

“She’s been acting weird since she left. I heard her on the phone the other day-“

“You really should stop that, Dustin.” Eddie pipes up, but the younger boy doesn’t seem to hear.

“She said something about how she couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine after mentioning to her friend that she quit.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never known her to pretend about anything. I don’t know what she was talking about.”

“Because then she said something about enjoying the club when she felt like a part of it? She’s always been a part of it though.” Dustin continues, frowning as he eats his food.

He may not understand what you were talking about, but Eddie has a sinking feeling that he does. He really hopes he’s wrong though.

He doesn’t want to admit that he was giving your brother and his friends more attention than he’s ever really gave you. It’s not that they’re better than you in any way, honestly. It’s just that they’re boys.

He’s always hesitated in giving you attention during meetings or at lunch, because he didn’t want anyone to catch onto the crush he has on you. He was afraid that if Gareth or Jeff knew he liked you, that it’d make the atmosphere awkward.

Even by keeping you at a distance, though, the two guys picked up on Eddie’s crush. It’s not in his character to be quiet or reserved in the slightest, so when they noticed how he constrained himself in conversation with you, they knew something was up.

Still, Eddie could never allow himself to act the same way with you like he does with Gareth and Jeff, and now your brother and his friends. He wanted you to like him, so he kept himself from being sarcastic and outspoken with you. Hearing Dustin talk though, Eddie has the suspicion that his plan may have backfired.

“Your sister still picks you up from the meetings, doesn’t she?” Eddie questions, already planning out what he wants to say to you when he can get you aside for a moment.

“No. Nancy’s been dropping me off or I’ve just been riding my bike.”

“I’ll be driving you home tonight then.”

“O-okay?!”

Eddie chuckles lightly at Dustin’s excitement, but he never takes his eyes off of you across the cafeteria. He needs to talk to you, and he’s hoping that tonight he can do just that.

~.~

“You know it ain’t easy, running out of thrills. You know it ain’t easy when you don’t know what you want.”

You hum, laying on your bed as you listen to the drums, guitar, and vocals of Europe fill your room.

“What do you want?” You question, mirroring the song, your foot tapping against your bedspread as you close your eyes.

“Woah-oh-oh, you want to rock now, rock the night, ‘til early in the morning light. Rock now, rock the night.”

“Woah-oh, woah-oh, yeah!” You sing, smiling lightly.

It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just relax and enjoy listening to your music without worrying about homework or being late to hellfire. One of the plus sides of quitting the club - you finally get time just for yourself.

Hearing a knock on your door, you hum loud enough to acknowledge whoever is at the door.

“y/n? You’ve got a visitor.” Dustin calls, gently opening your door.

“Who?” You question, sitting up on your bed, nodding as Eddie comes into view behind Dustin.

“Oh…hi.”

“Hi. I-is it alright if I come in?” He questions, pausing in your doorway.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

As he makes his way inside, you situate yourself in your bed so you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Do you…”

At Eddie’s voice, you look up to see him questioning you about your door, going to close it before swinging it open.

“You can close it if you want. I don’t care.”

He nods, softly shoving the door to close it, not quite giving it enough force to close all the way so there’s a little crack left open.

“So what’re you doing here?” You question him, watching him as he looks around, seeming a bit out of place with your soft white walls and contradicting decor.

While he may fit into the plethora of rock band posters covering your walls and the many records and cassettes you’ve got laying around, he doesn’t fit in with the florals and stuffed animals you’ve got elsewhere in your room.

“I, uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

You can’t help but chuckle as he spots the bralette hanging out of your dresser, you having been too lazy to tuck it back in earlier, and seems to pale in horror. For seeming so confident and cocky, he sure doesn’t look it being in a girl’s room.

“You can sit, you know.” You offer, motioning to the chair you’ve got in the corner of your room.

“Yeah, okay.” He mumbles, taking a few steps over towards the chair before sitting on the edge of the seat.

You watch as he takes in your room, fidgeting with his hands and rings as he does so. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous to be here.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Uh, well, w-we really miss you being in the club. G-gareth, Jeff, and I. I mean, s-so do the younger ones, but…”

“But you three miss me more?” You question, eyebrow cocking in disbelief.

“Well, yeah…yeah.”

“Okay.” You deadpan, not sure what he wants in reply to that. It’s nice to hear that they miss you, but it doesn’t really change anything.

A brief moment passes where you watch Eddie, waiting for him to say something else. Taking in his mannerisms and body language, you can’t remember a time when Eddie’s ever looked so nervous and unsure of himself.

“D-dustin was saying you felt left out? Of the club?” Eddie clarifies, drawing up just enough courage to look at you.

“He was listening to me on the phone again, wasn’t he?”

“Y-yeah. I tried telling him to stop, but I don’t think he heard me.” he sighs, chuckling lightly in nerves as you shake your head.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop, if I’m honest. He’ll be traumatized one day or another I’m sure.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought as you smile.

“It’s true though? You…you felt left out?”

“Yeah. It’s dumb, I know, but you guys took so easily to Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.”

“I get it, they’re great kids, and they play D&D…but it’s like they didn’t even have to try to fit into the group.” You sigh, knowing it’s about time you share at least part of the problem.

“No. No, it’s not dumb. I’m sorry we made you - I made you - feel that way.” Eddie sighs, catching your line of sight in his, wanting you to realize how sincere he’s being.

He never wanted to make you feel left out, it’s just his stupid feelings that got in the way.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.”

“It does matter, though. We’d - I’d - really like you to join the group again. It’s not the same without you there, y/n.”

“I’m sorry. I just, I really don’t think joining again would be good, though.” You admit, knowing that if you joined again you’d still just be upset that nothing will ever come from your crush on him.

“How come? I-is there something else that’s been bothering you about the club? I want you to feel welcome.”

“No. No, It’s nothing about the club, Eddie. There’s just a lot of things going on personally that’d make it hard.”

“That guy issue?”

“What?”

“Is it anything to do with that guy issue Dustin mentioned?” Eddie questions, and you can’t help but gawk at him.

“Does he not like you playing or something?”

“What? No.” you answer, shaking your head incredulously, wondering how Eddie got it into his head that you’d ever be wanted by someone. Has he never actually watched how other guys interact with you?

“Then what is it? Why won’t you come back to the club?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just...can’t. It’s better if I let you guys enjoy it yourselves.”

“It’s not better, though. We all want you back, y/n.”

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, not knowing what else you can say.

A moment passes where neither of you say anything and you start to think that maybe you’re done talking. Before you can say anything of the sort though, Eddie’s asking a question.

“Tell me, is there anything I can do? Anything that would make you want to come back?”

“No…no, there’s nothing you could do, eddie, I promise y-“

“There must be.” He argues, wanting nothing more than to find something he can do to get you to come back.

He misses you more than he thought possible, and he just needs there to be something - anything - he can do.

“There’s not, though.”

“How come?”

“What?”

“How come there’s nothing I can do? Are you just that dead set on not coming back? Even though we all miss you?”

“If I could, trust me that I would join the group again. I just, I can’t right now, Eddie. I’m sor-“

“Why can’t you?”

“Because…because of you.” You sigh, fed up with him pushing for an answer.

“Me?”

“You, Eddie. I can’t come back because of you. Because if I did then I’d just get all upset again because my heart is dumb and doesn’t know how to listen.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath as you look at him. You can’t seriously be getting ready to tell him this, but you are. You don’t see any other option right now.

“I like you, Eddie.” You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I like you, but you don’t like me. I mean, it’s obvious between you never talking to me or looking at me and how you’ve always called me Hender-“

You gasp, moaning lightly as you get cut off by a pair of lips on yours. Eddie was kissing you to shut you up.

At the realization you can’t help but panic, not understanding why he’d do this when he doesn’t like you.

“Eddie!”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just, you were rambling and saying I didn’t like you but I do! I do. I like y-“

It’s his turn to gasp and groan into the kiss as you pull him to your lips, one hand tightly grasped in the front of his shirt while the other drapes around his shoulders, holding him close to you.

As he realizes what’s happening, he relaxes into the kiss, his one hand coming up to caress your cheek as the other holds himself up on the bed.

It’s not until you’re both out of breath and gasping for air do you actually pull away from each other, your hand relaxing against his chest as he lowers his from your cheek.

“Woah.” He sighs, trying to catch his breath as he chuckles lightly, studying your face.

“Yeah.” You murmur, ghosting your fingers over your lips as if trying to remember if that actually just happened.

“Uhm, so I like you. If-if that wasn’t obvious.” He stutters and you chuckle, smiling at the curly-haired dork.

“I like you too.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. Made you feel left out when I was just too nervous to admit I liked you.”

“I’m sorry I got all moody and quit the club because I was jealous of my brother instead of just telling you how I felt.”

“So…does this mean you’ll come back?” He asks, hopeful, as he kneels in front of you.

“You’ll stop treating me differently?”

“Mhm. Trust me when I say there’ll be no pushing you away after that.”

“Mm. Don’t be treating me specially either just because we kissed.” you lightly chuckle, cocking a brow as you chew on your lip to hold back the smile wanting to light up your face.

“Can I treat you differently if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” he questions, a wide, goofy smile filling his face as he looks at you.

A smile grows on your face at his sheer happiness, drawing a light chuckle from you as you reply to his question.

“Not during game play. We don’t wanna be unfair to the guys, do we?”

“Mm, you’re right. If I promise to not treat you specially during gameplay then will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, really wanting to hear you say yes. He’s only liked you for nearly three years, frequently imagining you as his girlfriend the entire time.

“I would really love for you to be my girlfriend, and I your boyfriend. It just. It sounds really nice.”

“You ramble a lot. You know that?” You giggle, tucking some hair behind his ear as a blush dusts over his cheeks.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.” You smile, biting your lip to keep from kissing him again.

“So…?”

“If you promise not to treat me specially during the game, then I’d love to be your girlfriend, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He questions, as if he doesn’t believe that you’d agree.

“Yeah.”

With the word out of your mouth, his lips find yours again, pulling a chuckle from your body as he slowly lowers himself on top of you, pinning you against your mattress as he kisses you, one hand cupping your cheek as the other rests on your waist.

“Did you-ew!” You hear Dustin call from your doorway, fake gagging as he sees Eddie on top of you, effectively startling the man back into kneeling at the end of your bed.

“Did we what, dustin?” You ask, leaning around Eddie’s body to look at your brother still standing at your doorway, one hand plastered over his eyes.

“I wanted to see if you two had figured things out, but it seems like you did.”

“Yeah, we did, little henderson. Your sister is coming back to the club.” Eddie shares, smiling at you as he situates himself on the bed beside you, Dustin uncovering his eyes in excitement at the exact same time.

“Can you please get off of my sister?” he begs, shielding his eyes again as eddie places a soft kiss to your lips in his own happiness of you coming back to the club.

“But I like being close to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?! You’re dating my sister?!” Dustin exclaims, a look of pure shock and disgust on his face.

“Is there a problem with it, Dustin?” You question, watching your brother almost seeming to pout.

“I guess not. Just…don’t be gross when I’m around. Please?”

“We’ll try not to be.” Eddie states, smiling at you as Dustin nods, giving a small okay before leaving the two of you alone.

As the door closes, Eddie’s looking back at you, both of you chuckling.

“Guess you were right in saying he’d be traumatized one day.” He chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss, never realizing just how amazing it’d feel to have your lips on his.

You can’t help but smile into it, enjoying the feel of his body on yours. You’ve only been imaging this moment for nearly four years. You’ve got to say that nothing you imagined could ever live up to the reality, though. Kissing Eddie is like a little slice of heaven, you swear.

It certainly took you long enough to get here, but now that you’re here, you don’t ever want to go back.

pls like & reblog the fic if you enjoyed it!

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#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #st fanfic #stranger things angst #st angst #stranger things fluff #st fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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maxislvt · 7 months

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Maritime Masochism

pairing(s): pirate!natasha romanoff x siren!reader

summary: Natasha was a woman born to explore the seven seas and all they had to offer. You were but a simple siren. Though none of her crew trust you, Natasha found it impossible to let you go.

warnings: afab!Reader, Dom!Natasha, Sub!Reader, boot humping,

a/n: I have sooo many thoughts about them but not enough time so this kinda sucks 😞 @wifeofnatasharomanoff

Event Masterlist

Natasha's heart only had one true love. The ocean had always called to her.

Her father was dishonorably discharged from the navy and her mother was the rebellious daughter of a fisherman. Natasha was practically born to be a pirate.

Natasha was made for the sea. Her lungs were meant to only inhale the bitter saltiness of the air and her eyes were cameras determined to capture every beautiful creature within the ocean. Only her nose could truly appreciate the stench of the ocean. She was blessed with hair long enough to catch the winds of the sea like a sail and ears sharp enough to hear all the beautiful songs the mermaids sang. Yet her hands had nothing.

When she was younger Natasha would occupy them by playing around in the sand and collecting sea shells. Now she was thirty years old and couldn't find much more than a fleeting join. Occasionally she'd pick up something interesting for Steve to draw but nothing that truly interested her. Natasha wasn't even foolish enough to consider wasting precious sea life for the sake of entertainment. She later found she didn't have the heart or the stomach to dissect it even if it died of natural causes.

Poseidon must have been particularly endeared by her respect for his creations because the ocean had given her something much more willing to deal with her unoccupied hands.

Natasha remembered the day she met you very clearly. Her men had decided to dock on a seemingly uncharted island to rest and gather some resources. Her father had always warned her about landing in places that seemingly did not exist, but Natasha had a crew much more competent than the others.

Amid her exploration, she heard a song. You sang a song of hubris and overconfidence to a woman much too strong and far too determined. Unlike all the sailors you had eaten before, Natasha was not driven by lust. Curiosity and raw strength were all she needed to overpower you.

Natasha had you pinned down and subjected to some rather intense questioning. You had many of your own. The two of you talked for hours. Everything you knew about humans was only from eating them. Natasha only knew about sea life from the perspective of a human. The hours flew by until Natasha's crew came looking for her. It was at that moment that you made a split-second decision. You grabbed Natasha's hand and joined her crew without a second thought.

It was love at first sight for both of you, but Natasha had something else in it for her. When she slit the palm of your hand, you bled a shimmery blue substance. It was then that Natasha's lack of knowledge of your anatomy became apparent. She was curious and that curiosity would be the death of you. Natasha wanted to experiment. She wasn't a scientist like Tony or Bruce, but she figured conducting research couldn't be that hard. Especially since you were a mostly willing subject.

"Your teeth are so clean," Natasha noted as she examined your teeth. They were smooth and white as pearls. It was shocking, especially considering how sharp they were. She curiously poked her thumb against one of the fangs. "They're so sharp too," She whispered in awe. Her fingers grazed your bottom lip and pushed down until your tongue came out.

It was quite long and had a strange purple color. The tip of it was pointed and strangely flexible. Teasingly, you slipped the wet muscle between Natasha's fingers. Unfortunately, it didn't have the reaction you wanted. Natasha pulled her hand away and began writing in a little red notebook. "What, did you not like that?" You asked nervously.

"It was interesting." She mumbled absentmindedly. Natasha focused entirely on writing for an awkward amount of time. "Can you pull your tongue out again?" An appreciative smile spread across her lips. It was deceptively cute. Her thumb pressed down on the center of your tongue and rubbed it until you started to drool. She took note of the thickness and color. "Is this just saliva or can it do other things?"

"It can be an aphrodisiac in large amounts," You mumbled while wiping your chin. You were confused. Was Natasha teasing you or was this her weird way of learning more? It didn't feel right but it wasn't wrong. As long as she didn't start cutting you open, there wasn't much to worry about. That's what you hoped at least.

𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟 𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟

Natasha had yet to pull out the surgical tools, but her exploration of you had gotten a lot more sensual.

"Nat, you have to be gentle or— ah."

You would've never thought coming back from a swim would warrant another impromptu examination. Well, you should've seen it coming. Natasha had never seen you in deep sea form before. If she didn't pester you about what you ate, she'd probably try and get a scale off of you.

"Does it hurt?" Natasha's voice came out with a husky accent. Her finger massaged your gills as gently as possible. "It feels good in my hand." The fins on your ears weren't as soft and sensitive as the ones on your neck. Their purpose was obvious and Natasha had already documented it in her notebook. Now she was just toying with you. "What about that?" It doesn't, but she liked to tease a bit.

You could barely keep yourself upright. "No, it just-" your hands clamped down over your mouth to suppress any noises that may have slipped out. The rest of the crew had made some not-so-subtle complaints about all the moaning that leaked through the cracks of Natasha's quarters. "You're having too much fun with this," You whimpered. It was pathetic. Sirens were one of the most dangerous creatures in the ocean and here you were being a plaything for some pirate.

Even when your knees buckled Natasha continued to tease. She placed her boot between your legs and smirked. "This is all the help you're gonna get from me." The laugh that came out of her was nothing short of evil. "Come on, don't be shy. It'll make you feel good." The tip of her boot nudged against your clit.

Your hips stuttered but eventually, you settled your cunt against the cold leather. The fabric of your panties was a frustrating barrier between you and proper stimulation. Your hips rolled forward at an unsteady pace. "Can't you just touch me?" You whined. It was hard to keep your voice low.

Natasha pressed harder. "I am touching you, you're just being greedy." Her thumb caressed the underside of your gills. She watched as your body frantically jerked and squirmed. The wet squelch from your cunt made her ears perk up. "Did you cum?"

You wanted to cave in on yourself and disappear into the depths of the ocean. "Don't tease me like this. You know the answer to that." You grumbled. The sticky fabric clinging to your mound was unbearable. Humiliation made your skin burn and your scales turned a sickly green color.

Natasha gasped and titled your head to the side. “I didn’t know your scales could change color.” Her hands rubbed the scales. She was a lot more gentle this time to avoid overstimulating you. Suddenly aware of the fact she may have gone a bit too far, she knelt in front of you. Maybe you would find her less intimidating now that she wasn’t towering over you. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.” Her arms wrapped around your shoulders to give you some proper affection.

You clear your throat in an attempt to keep the tears of embarrassment from flowing. As odd as it was, you couldn't find it in yourself to be upset with Natasha. You should've expected such strange affection from a woman somehow able to withstand the temptation of your song. "It's okay…" You're not entirely sure what else to say. Your relationship with her was just starting to develop and it was already so overwhelming. "I knew you were a weirdo, I just didn't think you'd be a freak too."

Natasha giggled and placed a kiss on one of your gills. "Whelp, you're in it for the long wrong now."

#natasha fanfiction #natasha fanfic #natasha smut #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #Pluto's Halloween Bash 2023

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milk-breadx · 2 years

Text

I Love You 'til The End of The Line; childe

childe x gn!reader

a/n: THIS EITHER SOUNDS INTERESTING OR REALLY STUPID BUT HEAR ME OUT 🧍‍♂️ (also Happy Birthday loml Ajax 🥳)

Angst! Hanahaki disease AU!

You've heard of it, never thought of it to be true until you, yourself were spitting out bloody flowers. But how could this happen? You're in a relationship.

part 2

word count: 3,105

warnings: throwing up, lotta hugging, emotional cheating

Loving Ajax hurt, but you don't regret it one bit.

Working for the Tsaritsa has made his schedule hectic, barely having any time for anything else. Despite his work schedule, you two made it work. The few weeks he'd be in town, you two would be glued to the hip. Almost always within each other's presence that no one could see one of you without seeing the other. You'd be at his house, playing with him and his younger siblings until they fell asleep and you could relax with Ajax, wrapped in blankets by the fireplace. Then the next few months, letters would be sent back and forth until the day you could hold Ajax in your arms again.

After making more than 4 years together, you and Ajax have gotten used to your long distance relationship. The excitement of being able to see each other again after way too long never faded, but now it felt...soft? Like when he's about to leave, you know you're gonna see him again. Goodbyes are replaced with an 'I'll see you soon' and when you finally hold each other again, he gives you that warm smile that says ‘I'm finally home.’

It was a gentle type of love. Sweet & Simple.

Maybe that's why it happened. It got boring.

With the limited time you have with your partner in Snezhnaya, you suggested visiting him while he's in Liyue. He, of course, was overjoyed with the suggestion and immediately started planning the trip, the places he'd take you, the time of year you should go, etc.

Now came the time you were set to board the boat bound for Liyue's port.

At first, you thought it was just some sea sickness when you first found yourself feeling dizzy and wanting to throw up, but the closer and closer you got to Liyue, it became clearer and clearer.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the yellow tulip covered in blood you coughed up. Hanahaki disease? Impossible. You were loved back by the one you love the most. He even helped set up your whole stay in Liyue so you could see him. This revelation only made your trip worse as it made you question your relationship as flower after flower escaped your lips. How could your 4, almost 5, year long relationship end like this?

By the time you got to the port of Liyue, you started to feel pain in your lungs after every cough. You still couldn't believe it. The very thought of dying by this awful disease- heck, you don't even understand how you got it in the first place.

But you were about to find out really soon.

Ajax's open arms greeted you as you walked down the ramp from the boat, a small smile adorning his face. For a moment, you forgot about the pain in your chest and jogged into his arms. After brief greetings and a long-awaited kiss, Ajax grabs your bags and leads you through the city, explaining how Liyue Harbor is preparing for this year's Lantern Rite Festival.

As you walk hand-in-hand through the city, examining the different buildings and decorations set up, his eyes land on something. But before you could look at what he was looking at, he was already dragging you there. When he finally stopped, you found yourself in the presence of someone.

Dressed in clothes you've never seen before, with blond hair and golden eyes, they stand before you. You've heard stories of the traveler mostly from Ajax, but stories about them have already been floating around Snezhnaya since the day they saved Mondstadt. Word travels fast, and with the addition of your partner's first-hand experience with them, you're quite overwhelmed to be standing there knowing what the traveler has been up against. And now, as Ajax introduces you to each other, his words fade into the background. They hold out their hand to you for a handshake and you freeze for a moment, before hesitantly shaking their hand.

This doesn't go unnoticed by your partner, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders and giving them a light squeeze. "I've told them about you," he explained to the traveler before turning to you. "You don't have to be nervous. They're a great warrior, but once you get to know them, they're really down to earth. You'll get along just fine," he whispered.

And get along you did. They were very nice and you've come to learn how they're going around Teyvat to look for their sibling. And their swordsmanship- wow did they know how to handle a blade.

When Ajax invited you to watch them spar, you noticed their abilities and strategies in trying to push the other into a corner. Despite being young, Ajax had the strength and power that really proved he deserved a spot among the Fatui Harbingers. On the other hand, the traveler was able to hold their own and push your partner back even without wielding a vision.

You noticed the thrill and admiration in the Harbinger's eyes as he continuously battles the traveler. But even after the fight, his eyes still display that same admiration for them. You had suspicions at first, especially since you've been coughing out flowers despite being with your partner, but now those suspicions are being confirmed.

The excited tone he uses when he talks about being in battle with them, inviting them when you and him were out, even asking them to meet his family in Snezhnaya. The more you noticed it, the worse your condition grew. Up to the point both of them have started to notice how easily you get tired and how often you clutch your chest when you feel your heart burn.

They've asked about it a few times but you always reassured them that it was nothing and quickly switched to a topic you all can discuss. To get their full attention away from your state, you always change the topic to something relating to fighting. As skillful fighters, both of them had a lot to say. Even Paimon joins in on the conversation, usually to brag about the traveler's greatest battles and make remarks here and there.

You'd try to get in on the conversation too, but compared to what the harbinger and the esteemed traveler had been up against, was there really something you can brag about? That thought had kept you from saying much until you were in your own bubble and they were starting to forget you were there.

Unfortunately, this happened often during your stay in Liyue which only confirmed your suspicions even more.

When Childe had some free time, he'd take you out on a date. But most of the time, it wouldn't just be you two together. If spotted by him, he'd invite the traveler with you.

"Hey traveler! Paimon! Come join us!" or "Is that the traveler and Paimon over there? Why don't we invite them to go to Luhua Pool with us tomorrow?"

On the occasions that it was indeed you two alone, he somehow always found something that reminded him of them and never forgets to mention it to you.

"When Teucer came to Liyue out of the blue, he and the traveler followed me out here while I was baptizing the batch of new recruits. You should've seen their confused faces when I started talking about toys!" and "The traveler keeps giving me these starconches for some reason. If I were to count them all, they've given me over a hundred of these shells!"

He's mentioned many times before that he and the traveler are friends, even working together if Childe had some work to do that the traveler could help with. But after everything that's happened so far, it doesn't take a scholar to figure out he's begun falling for someone else.

The final nail on the coffin was during Lantern Rite. He promised to take you out to watch the fireworks together. For a while you were sitting by the staircase, watching the crowd and trying to find Childe amongst them but he was nowhere to be found. He said he'd be there by sundown so you can explore the festivities before the firework show began, but it's been almost an hour since the sun had set and he was still nowhere to be found. Maybe this was a bad idea - coming out here while you're sick. You felt another yellow tulip rising in your throat and quickly went somewhere private to cough it out.

Looking at the bloody flower petals, you realize it, indeed, was a mistake to go out and you should’ve stayed at the hotel instead. So you made it out of the area and started to head back to your hotel.

"There you are!" A familiar voice calls. Your body was frozen as he and the traveler came up to you. "Sorry we’re late. We’ve been investigating a domain and we got lost track of time while we were examining the place. At least we’re here now, where have you been? I thought we were meeting by the docks?" He puts his arm around your shoulder as you laughed it off and hurriedly made an excuse.

Much to your dismay, they lead you back to the docks where multiple stalls were lined up. You were just following to wherever stall they'd head to next and accept the items Childe bought for you. He would offer to buy the same things for the traveler but sometimes they'd refuse and he'd give it to you, even if he bought you one already. He calls it 'an extra'.

Nothing had really caught your attention and you continued to just follow them as they walked and talked until your eyes landed on an interesting stall. You were about to point it out to your companions, until you saw how deep in conversation they were.

They seem to be in their own little world, talking about anything and everything, while you are lagging behind and watching the whole scene play out.

And all you could think was how happy he looked being with them. Talking with them, probably about the many, many things he and the traveler had in common.

He just looks… happy. With that sparkle in his eye and his smile that never seems to disappear tonight.

He is happy. You know it.

He was killing you, and he didn't even know it.

Finally, you stopped walking and watched until you lost sight of them. The tightening feeling in your chest made you feel worse, but right now, you couldn't care less. At this point, it wouldn't matter if you joined them or not, it all felt the same. Instead of catching up to them, you explored the rest of the festival, making some souvenir purchases and taking photos even if all of it was useless. Once you felt the tightening of your chest worsen, you knew it was time to head back to your hotel, quickly.

On the final night of your stay in Liyue, you were packing up the final items in your bags. The thought of staying crossed your mind multiple times. Maybe it was pointless to pack up, seeing as your condition has taken a turn for the worst and you might not even get back home to Morepesok alive. At that point, breathing made your lungs hurt and your chest burn. Maybe you should stay and spend the rest of your nights with Childe, if you should even tell him while knowing what he'd do if you did. But you decided against it, because everything he'd do would be out of guilt. He'd deny that he's fallen out of love and would take care of you 24/7 trying to convince himself that he still loves you, only to fail.

You lost your train of thought when the sound of knocking reached your ears. Opening the door revealed Childe with a cheeky smile. "What are you doing here?" you asked. "Well, it's your last night and I wanna go on a lil' walk with you." He stepped aside and put his arm out, gesturing for you to walk out with him. You thought about it and hesitantly stepped out of your room, quickly locking it behind you before following Childe out to the streets of Liyue.

The night was cold and there were only a handful of people who were also out. Most of which were taking down the decorations of the Festival. For the most part, you both were just silently admiring the quiet streets, bumping knuckles while walking. You were too busy taking one last look at the buildings around you to see the slight smirk on Childe's face as he grabbed your pinky with his own before fully holding your hands as if you two were teenagers first discovering your love for each other.

You felt your heartbeat quicken and subconsciously take a deep breath when your cold hand was in his warm one.

He took you around the city one last time before stopping with you on the bridge atop feiyun slope. He looks out to the many boats docked at the port until his eyes land on a certain one. Curious, you peek at what he's staring at too and your eyes land on a large passenger ship, probably the one you would be taking the next morning.

He sighs before looking at you. "I wish you could stay a little longer." He pouts just a little bit and pulls you in a hug. "But that's okay. My assignment here is almost finished so I'll be back home with you, and Anton, Tonia, and Teucer--" He doesn't know, "--You said there was a new restaurant, right? We could go--" He doesn't know, "--Just a little bit longer and I'll be home again very soon--" He doesn't know. In fact, does he even realize his feelings for you are fading?

"I-I should head back." The sudden volume of your voice stops him from saying anything further and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your statement. You were quick to notice this and even quicker to explain. "I'm not quite done packing yet and I have a long trip tomorrow and the boat leaves early. You should head to your quarters now too. Now that I have a sense of how busy you are, you need your rest."

He was still confused, but he let you go for the night. "I'll come get you in the morning, okay?" You nodded your head and tightly wrapped your arm around him, to which he was surprised but still hugs back before you let go and head back to your room.

You couldn't sleep the whole night. Time being used up by packing, thinking about your relationship with Childe, whether you should stay and tell him, and throwing up more yellow tulips. Before you knew it, it was time to board the boat and head home.

You walked out of the hotel with your head hung low and your bags in your arms, practically dragging them because it felt heavier, until someone picks them up for you.

You both talk a bit during the journey to the port, discussing whatever topic comes up. When you get there, your names are called out by Paimon who flies up to you both with the traveler trailing behind. "We just wanted to see you before you go," Paimon said.

"Paimon just gets emotional and will get upset if you leave without saying goodbye." The traveler adds, making everyone chuckle while Paimon gets embarrassed.

"Thank you." You gave them a soft smile, at least it calms you down knowing Childe is gonna be taken care of well by the traveler.

The traveler leaves you and Childe alone, which should relieve you a little bit; however, it only makes you dread the next and probably final moments you have with him.

You both avoid each other's gazes for a little bit before he finally speaks up and glances at you, "Take care of yourself until I get there, okay?" You only give him a curt nod, still not bothering to look him in his sapphire eyes. Afraid that if he even spared a glance into them, he'd notice how scared you are.

You grabbed your bags from his hands and were about to walk away, but you stopped yourself. Screw it. You dropped your bags and pulled him in a tight hug for the last time. He hugged you back, but not as tight because he doesn't know and now, he never will.

"I-" You started but the quiver in your lip and the tears starting to blur your vision made it difficult to speak. He doesn't speak, waiting for you to do so. He probably knows that you were about to shed tears, and for that he didn't say a word. But he did pull away from the hug to hold your face in his hands and wipe some of the tears away.

"You mean everything to me, Childe," You started, "I don't ever regret loving you." You held on to his hands that were cupping your face, pulling them away and kissing his palms. "I'm gonna miss you. A lot." You try to give him a soft smile despite your red and teary eyes.

"I'm gonna miss you too." He responds. He was about to add something further but you needed to let him know first. "I love you. Way too much."

The call for the passengers to board the ship stopped you both from continuing the conversion and now, it was time to let go. You pull his hands from your face and let them go to pick up the bags you dropped on the ground. "Have a safe trip," He says while your hands tighten their grip on your luggage.

"Take care of yourself, Childe." You gave him one last smile and turned to painfully walk away from him and toward the boat bound for Snezhnaya.

You don't look at him the rest of the way. Once on the boat, you set your bags and find a place to settle down. Once the boat departed from the port, you completely avoid looking at Liyue Harbor. For you were too afraid.

Loving Ajax hurt, but you don't regret it one bit.

His love lies with someone else now. Although that realization and its consequences hurt you, not once did you regret making memories with him. You love him with your whole heart and you will continue to do so until your last breath.

part 2

ajsdhfjashdfjshdf idk what this was 🥴

work by milk-breadx. DO NOT COPY/REPOST/MODIFY WORKS WITHOUT PERMISSION

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 1 year

Text

A little donut - Yandere! Giorno Giovanna x reader

So I did a darling playing with Josuke’s hair some time ago, and now I’m having brain rot thinking about Giorno’s hairstyle. In short American darling seems to have a psychotic break, compares Giorno’s hair loops to donuts and then he proceeds to fluster them in return. Specific donuts mentioned are the preservative filled hostess powdered donuts. This is just a fic for funsies

He was puzzled at your request for these things considering he could literally get you the best dessert in Italy with a snap of his fingers. However he decided to indulge your craving for these artificial things, it involved little work to get them and didn’t involve you going out. Also you actually spoke to him for once since he brought you into his home, which caught the blond just slightly off guard. Perhaps your walls were ever so slightly beginning to crumble?

Nevertheless you received your treat from overseas within a week or so. Made sure to be fresh (as far as they could be in his eyes anyway). A slower afternoon when he wasn’t deep into work, you were with him on a small table. Everything set up for tea, including your selected indulgence for the day. You weren’t quite as anxious as you usually were when the two of you ate together, your eyes clearly fixated on your newly obtained prize. Giorno couldn’t help but purse a small smile, it was like observing a cat with catnip almost.

He noted you had played about three of the small confections on your plate. Before gently pinching up one with your index and thumb, a bit of the powder flaking into your dish as you did so. A bite or two later and the first one had vanished, but you didn’t proceed to grab the second.

“You know your hair reminds me of donuts…”

The blond about choked on his spit, at the seemingly random nature of the question. There was a snort of laughter from a distance where Mista was sitting. Giorno paid no mind, honestly it was rather amusing. After a few stunned seconds of blinking, and soaking up this attention he chuckles.

“That’s a rather cute comparison” He responded

“The way you style it…” you squirmed in your seat “just reminds me of that, and I was wondering how you, do it”

“I could show you if you’d like” He directly offered to satisfy your curiosity.

Cautiously you accept the offer, knowing it was feeding right into his obsession. Though it was exceedingly difficult, even outright impossible to get any outside human interaction. So this event would have to suffice.

The following morning he woke you up to see his routine, you were absolutely not used to his messier than usual hair. Nor the fact it was all cascading down slightly curly from the braid he usually kept it in. You weren’t going to lie, his golden locks were attractive just sitting around his shoulder blades.

“You know, you should help me…” He mused to you while brushing his hair out in front of his bathroom mirror.

“I don’t know about that, I uh…don’t want to ruin your hair before you talk with whichever people you meet” You awkwardly deflect, however you see the slight mischievous look in his eyes.

“If I show you how, there won’t be a risk of messing up, I’ll walk you through everything” He hummed gesturing you closer

As much as you wanted to back up, something unseen to your own eyes was allowing no exit. You sigh at the grave mistake you had made yesterday. This is what you get for teasing the mad man who kept you under lock and key. How else were you supposed to keep your sanity? You didn’t want to admit either that Giorno probably knew this would’ve been an inevitability.

You jumped as a gentle touch of one of his arms drew you closer. He firmly asked you to hand him one of the items on the counter. Before shortly asking you to help with certain gestures and guiding your hands through certain bits of his hair. You were momentarily in awe at its softness once touching it.

“Do you enjoy my hair now that you get to feel it?” he mused casually You weren’t sure if you should respond to that.

“I do think we should do this more often however, I think I like the way you put my gel in my hair and of course your braiding is gorgeous y/n” He continued on.

You could tell he was slightly teasing and you were internally freaking out how much your hands would touch. As if he hadn’t been laying in bed a time or two with you.

“dammit…” you mumbled under your breath,

This is where everything falls apart.

#yandere x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jjba imagines #yandere #yandere jjba #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #jjba imagines #yandere x darling #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna x reader #Yandere jjba imagines #yandere giorno giovanna

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monstersdownthepath · 10 months

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Milestone Monster: The Oliphaunt of Jandelay

CR 30

Chaotic Neutral Titanic Outsider

Mythic Realms, pg. 58-59 (pic taken from Adventure Path: Rise of the Runelords: Sins of the Saviors, pg. 63)

Only once in all of recorded history has the Oliphaunt of Jandelay trod on soil outside its home plane, called to Golarion by a powerful archmage--one of the Runelords, no less--and used as the mother of all siege animals against his enemies. In its footprints, lakes grew and cities disappeared. Where it passed, mountains moved aside and valleys formed below it, if only to keep its back from scraping the sky. A churning storm of incredible proportions heralded its arrival and marked its departure, the weather itself seeming to fight alongside the Oliphaunt as though the grand storm saw kindred in the apocalyptic beast.

It is a titan in all but name, a monstrosity of such immense size that it appears to be a mountain from a distance. The Spindletorn, over a thousand feet tall, was created by the Runelord who sought to command the Oliphaunt to give him just enough height to look the beast in the eye. This is because the destroyer is utterly immune to all mind-affecting effects unless it can draw line of sight to the creature using them, and most creatures are simply too far beneath its notice for it to even bother separating them from the background. Even then, the caster in question must know how to naturally speak fluent Celestial or the infinitely more bizarre Jandelayan (language-cheating magic such as Tongues does not work!) AND speak loudly enough to be heard over the rumble of its footsteps and the roaring storm that surrounds it, or the Oliphaunt may ignore any attempt to subvert its will.

The feat of calling it into the world has not been replicated since, as the method of stealing the Oliphaunt from its home was lost alongside the Runelord that first performed the deed, who was either executed for his calamitous crime or destroyed by the retribution of Jandelay when it recalled its creator, slave, and guardian. When Runelord Gimmel gained command over the great beast, he thought himself unstoppable, but what he did not know was the great Guardian of Jandelay makes new saves against every effect holding it in a new plane each day, even if the effect doesn’t normally offer a save. Once it succeeds, it is pulled back into Jandelay... and everything and everyone within five miles of the beast is utterly destroyed. Every creature within the sphere is targeted with Mass Hold Monster (DC 30 Will to avoid), and then the entire 5-mile bubble is wracked with a perpetual Earthquake and Storm of Vengeance that rages for 1d12 months, assuring nothing remains but the memories of those who managed to escape.

It caused a terrifying disaster when it was present, and a worse one when it left. The armies of the Runelords could not best the beast, what hope would something as inconsequential as a group of adventurers have to best such a beast?

Quite a bit of hope, actually. In fact, I advise DMs to play with the system a little in regards to how the Oliphaunt operates, especially since the art of it remains relatively inconsistent with its implied scale. The Spindlethorn is over a thousand feet tall, yet all art of the great beast portrays it as maybe a hundred or so feet, much smaller than any of the Kaiju, which it shares much with (including the fact it’s saddled with the Massive rule). The landscape of the land it moved through is supposed to have irrevocably altered, with its footprints forming new lakes, mountains pushed aside or trod over and reduced to rubble, and entire cities wiped out just by it walking through them. It’s of impossible size and world-shaking power, far beyond anything a normal party should be able to handle were it to turn its attention on them... which is why I recommend, among other things, that the Oliphaunt’s statblock represent a small part of the beast; a section of its back or head that the party has made it to in order to break some device or magic that’s been put into place by a third party. The majority of its attacks aren’t purposeful actions, but things like incidental footsteps, swings of its trunk, thrashes of its head, the lashings of the storm that surrounds it and the backlash of the Wards of Jandelay that coat its body seeking to defend it. That last one is especially fun to imagine, as the Wards already grant it numerous defensive abilities, so why not some offense as well?

I also enjoy the potential narrative change of what its 740 HP represents. Reducing that to 0? That’s doesn’t kill it, that drives it back. It’s still the victory condition, but rather than to slay the Oliphaunt, it’s to break whatever is holding it in the plane to send it back to Jandelay without triggering the retributive destruction of the Guardian of Jandelay (and if it’s already in Jandelay and the players are somehow there too, it should be completely unassailable). The preservation of the Oliphaunt’s mystique is what I aim for with this, especially since--as written--the Oliphaunt doesn’t come back if it’s slain, which is a little odd considering what it is and what it represents.

But what does it take for a party to drive back a living apocalypse? A lot of damn effort. It has DR 20/Epic and Regeneration 35 that’s suppressed only by Acid damage from a Mythic source, and that’s just the start! The Wards of Jandelay that protect the beast raise its AC all the way up to 50, and even its touch AC is an impressive 30 despite its size. It’s also shielded by 41 SR, immune to any mind-affecting effect that comes from a creature it cannot draw line of sight to, and any attempt to get in front of it without the use of physical flight or (as Runelord Gimmel tried) climbing up and meeting the beast’s eye is thwarted by the enormous aura that surrounds it: a 500ft bubble radiating off its body in every direction that forces any creature attempting to use any form of teleportation or dimension-hopping (including but not limited to Etherealness, Shadow Walk, and Plane Shift) into, out of, or within the bubble to succeed a DC 41 Will save or the attempt fails. The Oliphaunt even shuts off Gate automatically without allowing a save unless the creator of the effect is either Mythic or an Artifact, so if you want to maneuver around in the bubble with minimal resource use, it’s going to be via actual running/flying.

... I do not actually recommend flying. Not only is this a good way to draw the Oliphaunt’s incredibly dangerous attention, but it’s also surrounded by a Weather Sphere that’s 5 miles in diameter, and inside this sphere it has complete control of the environmental conditions. It doesn’t matter the season or the setting, the Oliphaunt can create blizzards in a summer desert with nothing more than a thought. It can change the weather inside the sphere once per round as a free action, though for obvious reason it tends to stick with destructive storms (which are difficult to fly in, even with magic). Hurricane-force winds, tornadoes, and deadly lightning spring up constantly around it, harmless to the mountainous beast but devastating for everything around it. Once per round as another free action, the Oliphaunt can call down a bolt of lightning to deal 5d10 damage to anything it can see so long as its weather sphere is set to stormy, which is just a little bit more damage on top of what it can already do.

Whatever section of the Oliphaunt the players are standing on takes up an 80ft square, and though the beast has an 80ft reach, it’s also Massive, so no AoOs against a typical party anyway. Getting onto its back or head to attack it should be the plan, as fighting it from below simply shouldn’t be a viable option. Anyone trying should take the Oliphaunt’s 4d10+25 trample damage every round! Each of its other natural attacks deal 4d10+17 damage each, except for its trunk, which deals 4d8+8 damage instead. Via its stats, it has 2 slams, 4 gore attacks with its massive tusks, and a bite attack, but as per my recommendations, re-characterizing these to be lashings of the storm, the rolling and thundering of the Oliphaunt’s body, and the Wards along its form attacking any creature on it are all possible. The Wards being the aggressor especially make sense in regards to the Ruinous Tusks ability, normally allowing its gore attacks to be treated as adamantine and also automatically afflict any creature they strike with Greater Dispel Magic! which, since it can make four such attacks a round, means it shreds through buffs and defensive magic with frustrating ease and swiftness. That’s basically what creatures need at this level to overcome the buffs that high-level people slather on themselves like sunscreen, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s terrifying from the player’s perspective to have their protection AND hitpoints shredded at the same time.

Perhaps one of the few limbs of the Oliphaunt that could reasonably join in on the battle are its massive ears swatting at troublesome players (is two slams), and of course its winding trunk. The trunk deals the least damage of all its attacks, easily characterized by it simply being too big to impact a creature directly, like a gnat slipping through the holes of a fly swatter, but it carries the threat of Grabbing and constricting victims for 4d8+25 damage each round the grapple isn’t broken. Any creature grappled by the trunk (or the beast’s bite attack/imprisoned by the mystic wards) can also be drawn inside the great beast’s mouth(/constricted by the magic) to take 4d10+17 further damage every round. Unlike many creatures with Swallow Whole, cutting one’s way out of the Oliphaunt presents a secondary danger in simply falling hundreds of feet to the ground.

I find it more than a little amusing that the Oliphaunt has spell-likes, though giving up its potential full-attack to use them is silly. It can use Greater Shout at will, presumably because of its trumpeting, to deal 10d6 Sonic damage to everything in a 60ft cone and potentially stunning and deafening victims. It also can use Transmute Rock to Mud 3/day for reasons I can scarcely understand, since a single footstep has roughly the same effect as the spell upon terrain. Maybe if it needs to mire an army, rather than to destroy it? I don’t know. If the storms don’t stop an army from marching against it, I can’t imagine that a little mud will. It’s strange that it has spells with such minor effects, when compared to the destruction it can wreak simply by walking from Point A to Point B.

One of the strangest things about the Oliphaunt to me, though, is that it’s not actually a mindless beast. it has the Intelligence and Wisdom of a normal human, and even possesses enough ranks in a few Knowledge skills to give it superhuman insight into Arcana, Religion, and Planes. It has a curious amount of Diplomacy, enough to be able to sway any entity it deigns to speak to, though there’s never been a mention of it speaking to anyone. It speaks Celestial and Jandelayan, one uncommon and one unheard of, but that it can speak at all is surprising. Who has heard the Oliphaunt’s voice? What does it say, and to whom?

All of these skills aren’t being used to speak with the Watchers, who are always invisible to its senses (and who fear and worship it), their Inconspicuous ability bypassing its Ward Against Command entirely. So who exactly is it speaking to, if anyone? Who is it using its Knowledge to impress and understand? Who is it using Diplomacy to sway and Intimidate to cow, and who is it using Sense Motive to gain insight into, if not the Watchers or the Collected? It’s said the Collected fear it immensely, grow terrified when it approaches their lands, but this is understandable given its size and what it represents. If such a beast approached me, even with gentle intent, I would be a little spooked too. Maybe it’s Jandelay itself it communes with?

For all the lore it has which tells of the destruction it wreaks with its mere existence, for all the talk of it representing destruction and calamity, it did create Jandelay explicitly to preserve worlds that had been destroyed, at least in some fashion. It protects the realm and is protected by it in turn, and only when removed from its museum of lost worlds does it lash out so violently until its creation, its home, its child, calls it back and wracks the world that took it in the with terrible storms and neverending earthquakes. Elephants are gentle creatures by their nature, lashing out only when provoked, and who’s to say the same is not true for the Oliphaunt of Jandelay? The only example of its behavior ever seen on Golarion is when it was stolen from its land and controlled by a madman seeking conquest.

Perhaps it shares more than a little in common with its fellow CR 30 Colossal and unwillingly apocalyptic Leviathan.

You can read more about it here.

#Milestone Monster #Monster Spotlight #CR 26 and up #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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natspookie · 9 months

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zombies

an, sorry it took so long but thanks for the req, anon! i haven’t seen the movie so sorry if it’s not what you imagined:) this is loosely related to ‘the last of us’

this is also kinda bad sorry

warning: gunshots, blood, swearing, and not proofread <3

the world changed when some animal passed on this zombie part to a human and so, zombie apocalypse. natasha first initially wanted to laugh at the idea when small cases were being brought up. she then realized, if aliens exist then how could zombies not.

you were a civilian who fell in love with natasha, and natasha falling in love with you. you had basic training but natasha was extra frantic with the zombie apocalypse nearing the center of new york.

“ow nat” she had punched you in the rib while sparring now. “dekta i’m sorry” she immediately snapped out of it and helped you up. “nat what’s going on?” she hadn’t filled you out on anything, afraid to worry you. but now was the time.

“there’s a zombie apocalypse” she said seriously as you stayed quiet. what was the proper response to that? “we need to leave soon, the cases are rapid now dekta… i’m just worried something will happen and i cant protect you” she confesses quietly

“nat, i’m with you, whatever it takes” you hold her hands in between yours.

“Nat! A new variant is here, majority of the city have turned, we need to go now.” steve barges into the training room and you all rush out to the quinjet after taking some things with you.

it was quite impossible for zombies to fly so natasha could breathe easily up in the air with you by her side.

the big problem was the quinjet’s battery was dying. it soon crashed somewhere along connecticut. everyone rushed out since there was no way to get the jet working.

that was 4 days ago, everyone was low on food in an abandoned warehouse and it was only you, nat, steve, and clint. thor was off in space and tony and bruce were in a secret lab for awhile now, trying to find a cure to this.

“nat, y/n, stay here. no one leave alright?” steve instructed as him and clint geared up to find food. the both of you nodded.

you and natasha had been playing tictac toe for a while when banging was heard. natasha had her gun in a tight grip with her widow bites activated. growls of the zombies were heard.

“dekta stay behind me.” she stood in front of you as you grabbed the gun and gripped it with a shake.

the door bust open and natasha blasted them in the front. there were around 15, or so you both thought.

natasha failed to check the back when the doors burst as well. you shot almost all of them to the best you could when one of them grabbed your leg and pulled you down.

you let out a mix of a shriek and scream and natasha immediately turned, grabbing the knife on her thigh and stabbing the zombie in the head, following with a gunshot.

you let out a sigh of relief but a shaky breath replaced it when you felt blood drip against your arm. teeth marks.

“dekta, are you-” natasha was angry at the world. she took your arm and sighed. “no- it’s okay- we can fix this” she muttered to herself as she tried to rub the blood off your arm.

tears were running down both of your faces. “Natasha!” Clint ran in shortly after and saw you both on the floor, your head on her shoulder.

“shit mann” clint looked around at all the zombies on the floor but immediately saw natasha’s tear stained look. you were infected, bound to turn within the hour.

“nat you need to do it” you sniffled, handing her your gun. “no- i won’t. i- i cant” she grabbed the gun and threw it, shaking her head.

“listen to me y/n, you will live and we’ll get married okay? this is all a horrible dream” she had your face in between her hands. "i love you natasha. never blame yourself." you stood up, feeling the sting throughout your body and grabbed the gun.

you and the two boys shared a knowing look. "y/n!" natasha ran to stop you but was stopped by clint, covering her eyes.

when the loud gunshot echoed throughout the warehouse, natasha sobbed to the floor.

only a day later, tony had tracked the quinjet, revealing the cure they had created.

a part of natasha died that day as well.

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #black widow fic #natasha x y/n #zombie #zombie au #the avengers #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

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lustbile · 2 years

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Tail

JenoxReader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: kitten play, degradation, intense choking, oral (both receiving), rimming, anal play, anal sex, and sub space? (also possibly inaccurate amount of anal prep and big dick jeno agenda)

This is a part two to This fic. I don’t think reading it is required but you might want to idk

————————————————————

Waiting for boys to exit a dorm building was like waiting for hell to freeze over.

You couldn’t see them, but boy could you hear them loud and clear. Their voices carried with no effort towards the closed door of the bathroom, and it was almost impossible to not hear Haechan jeering at Jeno about all the supposedly inappropriate things you two would get up to once they were finally gone. But jokes on Haechan, you thought, none of those inappropriate will ever happen if he doesn’t fucking leave.

—

And he’s not even correct in his assumptions! Of course he had to know to some extent what Jeno was into sexually, they were long friends and also boys at the end of the day, but he was just wrong in how much he thought you could take, not giving you even half the credit you thought you deserved.

You had half a mind to abort your plan completely and bust out of the bathroom to give Haechan a piece of your mind, but finally, with a slick comment about not getting jizz anywhere on the living room furniture, you hear the door close and silence falls over the space.

You sigh in relief, your back pressed against the bathroom door as you adjust the headband seated tightly on your head. You feel a weird underlying sense of dread in your belly, something that’s absolutely not necessary in the slightest, but there regardless. It wasn’t the first time you’ve put on the kitten persona Jeno loves so much, actually it had become a rather common reference ever since that first time, but this would be your first time initiating anything. So, it was a battle of your thoughts, quietly reassuring yourself that Jeno would be over the moon to see you like this, before you turn and open the door as quietly as you can manage.

The apartment suddenly feels so quiet, the silence absolutely deafening as you assume Jeno waits for your return before hitting play on whatever movie he’s pulled up on the tv. You’re so aware of every step you take, the padding sound of your feet combined with the tense feeling of the butt plug seated within you making your knees buckle a few times, before you finally reach the open mouth of the living room.

You had expected him to look up, if not hearing your hesitant steps than at least sensing you standing only a few feet away from him, but he doesn’t. His eyebrows are so furrowed you worry he’ll develop a headache, his shoulder scrunched and his breath huffing as he keeps his phone no more than a few inches away from his face. You can’t quite remember the exact name of the phone game he’s become invested in recently, but you’re both grateful for the developers of the little racing game as well as your sweet boyfriend’s ability to get lost in his own world as you take the opportunity to make, what you hope is, a better reveal.

You take a few slow, quiet strides towards him, creeping as if you were about to jump and scare him, before you gently sink to your knees. After a slight cringe towards the feeling of your kneecaps digging into the hardwood flooring, you start to crawl towards your still clueless boyfriend, until you’re settled between his spread open thighs.

Again, he doesn’t take notice, a small scoff coming out of his mouth and his thumbs fly rapidly across the small screen. You take this time to admire him a bit, his lips jutting out into an endearing pout and the muscles in his forehead twitching slightly out of stress. It’s almost laughable how detached he is from the real world that he doesn’t even realize that you’re sitting so obediently in front of him, and if you weren’t so impatient to get what you wanted, you’d probably see how long you could go before he noticed you.

“Jenoooo,” you hum finally, pressing your cheek to his knee while pulling a pout to your face and tugging at the leg of his sweatpants when he only hums in response, “Jeno, please.”

The desperation must have a different effect on your voice the second time you speak his name, because he finally pauses the game with a curious noise slipping from his lips.

There’s a blank look of acknowledgement on his face when he looks up, his brain taking a moment to catch up with what he sees, before his eyes widen with gleeful surprise as he drops his phone onto the couch. He wears this look of a child being handed their favorite candy for a moment, until you watch his eyes go dark and the corners of his mouth curl up.

He lets out a soft sigh as his eyes trail the parts of you that your position and his legs don’t cover, his eyes glossy and full of admiration as he reaches out to brush his fingers across your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, a soft hum rolling out of you at the feeling and your own hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, keeping his fingertips pressed to your skin.

“Well,” he starts, clearly trying to collect his thoughts and come up with an appropriate response, “does my little kitten need attention?”

You nod softly, falling gently to sit on your hip as he continues to pet at your skin. He touches you so gently you can’t help the way your eyes slide shut as you curl your free arm around his calf and lean your head against the inside of his thigh.

“What? Too shy to come out when the boys were still here?” He asks rhetorically, knowing that he wouldn’t want the boys seeing you like this just as much as you, “afraid to let them see how pretty you are.”

“Just want you,” you speak honestly, fluttering your eyes back open to stare into his, “wanted you all to myself.”

“Well you have me sweet one,” he smiles, finally moving his hand to wrap around the back of your neck, “now come show me how bad you want me.”

You have no choice in following his command, even though you would with no question, before he’s pulling you back up onto your knees until he can place his lips on yours. Your chest immediately tightens at the feeling, every kiss he gives you feels like the first, and you can only melt against him when his hand shifts enough for him to dig his thumb into the side of your cheek and force your mouth open for his wandering tongue.

The way his tongue flicks at the back of your teeth has you huffing deeply through your nose, your eyes shut tightly as you’re wrapped up in the taste of him. It’s your turn now to be detached from the world around you, and you’re so deep you don’t feel the way his free hand starts to trail down the dip of your back.

You come to slightly, a rattling gasp spilling into his mouth from yours when you feel his wandering fingers grab at the base of the plug seated inside you. When he tugs on it slightly, and starts to twist it around, you can’t stop the way your thighs flex together and start to shake as your hands cling to his arms desperately. You’re sure without his hold on you you’d crumble, but regardless of the new weakness that overtakes your lower half, you still find your body rocking backwards into his movements.

“Such a good kitty,” he grumbles when he finally finds the strength to pull away from your lips, nudging the end of his nose against yours as his tone lets you know he’s falling into the same delirium as you.

He pushes the plug fully into you again, pressing against it to make you loudly whimper before he takes a hold of the tail connected to it. He lets the fuzzy white fabric run through his fingers as his fist trails down until the end, letting it fall against your back softly as he pulls away.

“How about you show me how good you can be for me, my love,” he says with a smile that doesn’t match the sudden rough actions of him pushing you back down until you sit back on your heels.

You watch with wide eyes as he leans back into the couch, his nimble fingers moving to fiddle with the string that keeps his sweatpants tied to his hips. The bulge that you’re suddenly faced with through the thin fabric makes your mouth water with anticipation, and when he starts to tug the fabric away from his body you can’t help but to start bouncing in anticipation.

“Don’t get too worked up now,” he warns with a soft laugh, even though he knows that he loves nothing more than when you get jittery and excited. He loves you more than anything just the way you are, but something about the way you leaned into the kitten role he assigned you so quickly makes him feel like you were sent from heaven right to his doorstep.

When he releases himself from the fabric of his pants, it takes everything in you not to jump him immediately. It’s not lost on you that he chose to not wear anything underneath his sweatpants today, and that’s all you need to know that he’s been anticipating your time alone just as much as you.

“No hands okay?” He asks softly, tempting you forward with a gentle hand on the curve of your jaw, and once your nose bumps against the soft skin of his belly you have no doubt that your greedy mouth can do all the work.

He’s not fully hard when you start to sponge kisses down the dip of his stomach, your tongue laying flat on his hip and trailing down to his thigh in hopes to make him twitch in the same way he did to you. The way he groans in impatience above you makes you grin against his skin, and when you glance up at him with innocent eyes, his face is twisted up as if he’s angry.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip when you pull slightly away, your heart fluttering in your chest when you see the way his length rests against his stomach. You’d love for him to offer you even an ounce of his ability to tease and draw things out, but when you see him fingers flex and his hips shift, you can’t stand the gnawing need you have to have him in your mouth.

You feel the drool your mouth had accumulated drip down your chin when your tongue sticks out to lick at his tip, the salty taste that hits your tastebuds making your nose scrunch slightly. You lap at his skin gently, enjoying the way his breathing labored, and when he swears quietly under his breath you move your tongue to lay flat against the base of him, trailing the wet muscle up until you can wrap your lips snugly around him.

Your hands fly to grip at his thighs when his hips jump, his dick only slipping an inch or two into your mouth when you moan happily around him. And when his hand moves to tangle your fingers together, you start bobbing your head gently as your lips try to curl into a smile around him.

The feeling of him hitting the back of your throat is familiar, the way the size of him stretches your lips and makes your jaw ache is a feeling you’ve become more than accustomed to within your time of being with him. The first few times you’ve eagerly wrapped your mouth around him was a struggle, but now that you’ve gotten used to it, you pride yourself in being able to handle his impressive size.

Still, it takes a few seconds to get adjusted to the way he starts to roll his hips towards you, the hand that isn’t clinging to yours coming back to the back of your neck to help you find a compatible rhythm. But once you both find the motions, you feel your spit falling and coating every inch of him, and the weight of him on your tongue makes your stomach warm.

The sounds he makes above you go directly to the space between your thighs, the arousal that builds there is almost painful as your hips twitch and turn. You can’t help but whimper and whine as he fucks gently into your mouth, and when you lay your tongue flat against the pulsing vein that runs along the side of his length, you hear him swear loudly as his head falls back.

“Enough,” he coughs out with a winded breath, his hand pulling you by your neck like a kitten’s scruff. And you’re sure you do look like a sad, pathetic kitten when he does this, the pout filling your face and joining your teary eyes immediately as you try to pull against the strength of his hand and fill your empty mouth again.

The command of no hands leaves your mind immediately when your mouth becomes empty, your hand leaving his thigh to tug at him gently and you pat him against your cheek as you feel the drool that now covers you start to dry. He doesn’t allow you enough motion to bring him back into your mouth, but he lets you wiggle enough that you’re following the movement of your fist with the soft skin of your cheek against the side of his length.

His hisses through his teeth when you start to twist your wrist, his head lifting to look at you again with his eyebrows drawn tightly together. He does love everything about the sight in front of him, your shaky hand failing to fully wrap around him, the way the tag that’s engraved with his name on your collar jingles with your every move, and the look of you so hungry for him to be deep in your throat showing so obviously in the petulant scowl you give him, but he’s not sure he can last a moment longer when you press your thumb against where his own arousal spills from his body.

“You seemed so well behaved when you came in here,” his grunts witty faux disappointment as he sits up to swat your hand away. He must know you have little interest in sitting obediently after that, so he gives you no chance to act out again before his hand circles around your throat and he sticks out his leg to sit you down against.

“You can never listen to what you’re told,” he clicks his tongue in disappointment. With the grip on your neck, he shakes you slightly, matching the way he shakes his head in disbelief. He thoroughly enjoys the way you resemble a rag doll in his grip, and he grins when he sees the telling signs of lack of blood flow reach your face.

“So pathetic,” he sighs as he watches you start to grind against the bone of his shin, his tone softening slightly when you let out a quiet gasp and wrap both your hands around his wrist again, “so desperate for the smallest something, you can’t help but grind on the first part of me you can reach. Isn’t that right?”

“Nnhmm,” you respond in agreement, nodding your head as much as his hold on you will allow as your hips start to rock faster against him.

You’d be lying to say it was the best form of friction you’ve felt, the drag of his pants against your clit only doing so much as the motion of your hips is too sporadic to give you any consistent pleasure. But he must enjoy the sight more than you enjoy the action, because he just lets you continue the desperate movements as he leans down to kiss your messy mouth.

“How can something so pretty be so nasty?” He whispers against your lips as you try to fight his grip to chase his mouth, “open your mouth and be good and I’ll give you what you want.”

You do as he says almost immediately, your tongue sticking out again and your body starting to bounce again in excitement, as your jaw struggles to move against the grip of his hand. You let out a struggling moan when you watch him suck his cheeks in and roll his tongue around in his mouth, and when he leans in to spit harshly onto your tongue, you let out a heavy sob.

“Don’t swallow,” he commands quickly, moving the hand that’s not still shaking around your throat until his thumb presses your tongue into your bottom teeth. He watches with sadistic enjoyment as his spit slips around your tastebuds, and he grins when he tilts your head back until it slowly travels down into your throat.

“See? You can listen, like a good kitty,” he says with a smile, shining with pride as if you’re not crumbling in front of him, “now get up here and lay down.”

He lifts you from the floor by your neck as he stands, with your legs wiggling beneath you for purchase, but the moment he lets go of you, you bolt as quickly as your dizzy head will allow. Your body scrambles on weak legs before you collapse onto the cushions, and he only laughs at your clumsy eagerness.

He lays himself gently on top of you, his mouth meeting yours again when he pulls you against his chest. Your legs wrap around his hips and your arms twist over his shoulders as you relish in his weight against you. And when he begins gently sucking at your tongue, you feel the heat between your legs intensify and every muscle of your body tensing with the desperate need to be fucked.

You hate the indecisiveness you feel in your chest when he starts to slowly move down. Your lips miss him as he licks and bites against the side of your throat that peeks out from above your collar, but your body shivers happily at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your shoulder and him nipping at the center of your sternum.

You’re left squirming and huffing with your back flat against the couch as he moves down the center of your chest, his lips tracing your collarbones as you feel his length still coated in your saliva bumping against the inside of your thigh. And you can only glimmer in pride at the few groans he lets out when your squirming hips force his length to feel the friction from your dampening skin.

Your fingers tug harshly at his hair when he traces one of your nipples with the tip of his tongue, his teeth biting gently against the sensitive bud as you guide his head in a way similar to how he had done to you. And when you give one particularly painful pull to his roots, he retaliates by sucking roughly and drooling against the nipple he made sensitive with his teeth until you're crying out and arching against the couch below you.

You know he could spend eternity with his mouth latched to your chest, and if you weren’t itching for something more, you probably would have let him. But with the ache growing between your thighs, and your arousal starting to drip down onto the fabric of the couch, your hands start to push gently at the top of his skull as if they have a mind of their own.

Your back arches and your shoulders lift towards your ears when he licks down the center of your stomach the way you had done to him, and when he bites harshly at the flesh of your hip and tickles you with his heated breath, you can only assume that was his form of revenge.

Your muscles stretch wonderfully when he takes your thighs in his hands and shoves them over his shoulders, your upper half sinking deeper into the couch as he all but folds you in half. You hear the soft laugh he lets out at the sight of the tail covering you almost as if to keep your modesty, but he destroys the slightly soft atmosphere it creates when he brushes the fur out of his way before shoving his face between your thighs with a deep breath.

You squeak in a level of embarrassment you were unaware you could still possess, your feet kicking gently at the curve of his back. But he’s unfazed by your small tantrum as he moves to press his hands into your stomach and starts to lap his tongue against your skin.

The way he licks at you is always obscene, similar to the way he treats your mouth when you’re heatedly making out. His saliva mixes with your arousal as he dips his tongue inside you, and when he nuzzles his nose against your clit, you tug tightly at his hair until he groans.

His shoulders shift as he starts to grind against the cushion below him, his face pushing deeper against your body as he moves. His head pushes against the hold you have on him, bobbing similarly against you the way you had done to him and he covers as much space as his mouth and tongue will allow while groaning deep and loudly. The sounds he creates against you are obscene, and you worry momentarily for your boyfriend’s complete lack of shame.

You feel his spit spreading against your skin, the way he moves his head side to side making a mess between your thighs. And when he tilts his head up to latch his mouth around your neglected clit, your head digs so deeply into he couch you’re shocked that the cat ears you wear remain on your head.

Your body jerks around when he moans against your body as he shifts his arms, one pulling away from being wrapped around you to wiggle between your bodies as the other moves until his hand can press against your chest. And when his hand wraps around the base of the tail you wear to begin twisting the small metal bulb inside you at the same time that he starts to roll his tongue roughly against your clit, you start to let out babbling noises that aren’t even remotely close to coherent words.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, one of your hands moving from his hair to smack and scratch loudly at the couch as your body starts to twist in on itself, his hold on you being the only thing stopping you from curling into a ball of tears.

He lets out a sound against you that can only be described as a growl, before he starts fucking you roughly with the plug. The feeling is no longer unusual or foreign, but still has your body almost thrashing from the unexpected amount of pleasure it adds. The arches of your feet start to ache as your toes curl, and your sight turns blurry as you feel a tight knot start to form in your stomach.

You think you’re warning him about your oncoming orgasm, but the static in your ears is too loud for you to even hear your own voice. You feel the bead of sweat that accumulates on your chest and beneath your collar, and with a begging shout you start to fall apart.

He doesn’t slow down when you start to come, instead moving to dig his blunt nails into the skin of your stomach to keep you against his devilish tongue and his movements of the plug. Your eyes roll back far enough that they begin to ache, and you’re sure he struggles to hear just as much as you when your thighs clamp tightly around his head.

He finally relents when you start to sob, the lashings he gives you with his tongue becoming too much for your spent body. And when he slowly pulls away and pulls the plug from your body as he sits up, he beams proudly down at your twitching form.

With your eyes shut tightly, and your body melting into the cushions, you don’t notice the absence of his hands. Your mind is too far from your own body to hear him standing to walk away, and when he returns and lifts you up to lay you on your stomach, it feels like he was never gone.

“You still with me?” He asks with a far too cocky tone. His hands knead gently at your aching body before laying gentle taps against your ass, his touch making you sigh softly along with your panting breath, but the entire time he looks at nothing but the wrecked state of what he’d done between your thighs.

He doesn’t really care for a response, knowing that if you truly weren’t able to take anymore that you’d have at least enough capacity to voice a safe word. Instead of waiting for confirmation, he knocks one of your legs until it slumps off the side of the couch. Your body is close to just dead weight at this point, and if it weren’t for him grabbing your waist and shoving you down, you surely would have collapsed on the floor.

“Jeno,” you start quietly, your voice muffled by the cushion you have your face pushed in, but your quiet acknowledgment falls on the too focused mind of your boyfriend.

You want to call out again, no thoughts really forming in your mind other than just his name, but the syllables turn to murmurs when you feel his hands falling to spread your ass apart.

You want to scramble up the couch when you feel his tongue on your skin again, his hands keeping you in place regardless of how much you squirm. And when the tip of his tongue presses against your tailbone and starts moving down, you try desperately to mentally calm and prepare yourself for what he’s about to do to your worn body.

You run out of steam when his tongue rolls against your asshole, your body sinking down again and your jaw falling open with a deep moan when the foreign feeling runs up your spine. You’re grateful for the break you clit gets from his hungry mouth, and you let your body relax at the feeling of him prodding gently at your rim.

You feel his saliva slipping down as he laps at you, his tongue pushing in shallowly as he presses his fingers into the tense muscles of your back and ass. You somehow find enough strength in your bones to rock back against his face, and surprisingly you feel your body calming enough that arousal begins to build in your core again.

Jeno pulls away a bit, returning to greedily lap at your rim a few times as he pushes your body flat. He turns his head to sink his teeth into the curve of your ass, sitting back up once his teeth leaves marks in your skin, and he stares down at you and takes in the sight that makes his dick strain painfully against your thigh.

The clicking sound of an opening cap is unignorable, and the cool wetness of the lube dripping onto your ass makes you hum happily. Somehow the feeling of his finger circling your rim feels heavenly, and when his middle finger slowly sinks into you, you let out a dreamy sigh.

“I’m going fuck your ass,” he says, so assured and soft that it leaves no questions hanging in the air as he pushes the digit in and out of you slowly. It’s not much compared to the plug, but it feels like a calm before the storm as you know it will be nothing compared to the size of his length.

You mumble out a soft ‘okay’, regardless of whether he was waiting for a response or not, but once the syllables leave your lips, his ring finger slips in next to his middle and you feel your body relax and start to stretch for him.

The reach of his long fingers inside you is a maddening feeling, and when he shifts until his knee pushes against your clit, you think it might become too overwhelming.

When he starts to move his fingers inside you in a scissoring motion, you feel a heavy heat fill your chest. And when the thrusting motion he started begins to speed up, you start to whimper and swear until he’s curling over your back to press his lips against the side of your face.

“So good, kitten,” he praises, feeling the way your entire body relaxes from the sound of his voice, “always so good for me in the end.”

Without his words, you would have completely forgotten the streak of brattiness you had earlier, and now as you lay beneath him you don’t blame yourself in the slightest. You are glad though, that he didn’t succumb to your attitude earlier, because if coming down your throat had stopped what he does to you next, you would have gone mad.

You quickly grew to love the feeling of the little tail plug resting inside of you, and you grew to love the feeling of his fingers fucking your ass even quicker. But once they slip from your body to join his other hand in holding you tightly against the couch, you can only whine and pout at the lack of friction for a second before his length starts slowly pushing you open again.

The size of Jeno was overwhelming the first time you had sex, and it still was every time you fucked after that, but it was nothing compared to him pushing into your ass. The pressure made you gasp loudly and your body tried to squirm under his rough hold, but the unusual stretch still made a shiver roll up your spine and your stomach flex in pleasure regardless.

“Ah fuck,” you cry out as your warming face falls flat into the couch, your voice coming out more gravely than you’ve ever heard it before. He’s patient and slow, but even with his slow pace, the few inches he is inside you already feels like you’re being split in two.

“Relax kitten,” he mutters, pressing his thumbs into the tensing muscles of your back as he pushes in farther. The shove is easier than you’d expect with how much lube he’s covered you both in, and you’d swear he was almost fully in you if he hadn’t spoken, “we’re already halfway there.”

“Jeno, I-“ you start to voice concern in not being able to take him, but when he moves a hand to push between your shoulder blades and starts to slowly rock his hips, your teeth begin to chatter and your eyes flutter in pleasure.

“Always wanted to come in this pretty ass,” he grunts, his crude words holding a jarring amount of truth, and when you feel the light brush of his hips against your ass you can’t help but crave the exact same thing.

“Need your come,” you whimper, your voice pitching higher at the end of your broken sentence when your leg that still hangs off the side of the furniture allows for your clit to drag against the rough fabric with every one of his quickening trusts, “need it so bad.”

You feel hot tears forming at your waterline as he moves until his chest sticks against your back. He must have taken his shirt off at some point during his absence, and you can’t be any more grateful at the skin to skin contact that anchors you back to earth.

It’s a weird feeling, how loved you feel when he presses his lips against your face and jaw. Your breathing is rough and labored from how deeply he pushes you into the cushions, and the combinations of foreign pleasure that you’re subjected to between your weak thighs makes your brain feel like it’s melting, but something about letting him use your body this way and his ability to still treat you like your the most delicate thing he’s ever gotten to hold makes tears stream down your face as violent sobs start to rack through your chest.

You hear the faint tearing noises of fabric through the static that fills your brain as you claw at the arm of the couch, and along with it you hear the legs of the couch start to shift across the floor slightly as his movements start to pick up. Your body becomes more and more accustomed to his size, and when you feel the gentle pricks of your oncoming orgasm, you feel small amounts of drool start to build on the corners of your mouth.

“Not gonna last much longer,” he warns, and his tight tone of voice is a strong indicator that he’s right on the edge. And the need deep in your belly to have him fill you completely is all you need to push your hips up the few inches his body allows and rock back against him in sync with his hips.

Your orgasm is a shock to your system, and even though you can’t hear the words that leave your mouth, you know they’re a garble of loving praise and pleas for some type of mercy.

You know your body is confused at the way your orgasm surrounds you, but your mind is reeling at the new feelings. And when his hips press tightly against you as he turns his head to sink his teeth deep into the stiff muscle of your shoulder, a completely new wave of overwhelming pleasure has you twitching below him as your foot kicks up to wrap around his thigh.

His voice is muffled as he tries to swear around the flesh he has locked between his teeth, and his fingers dig into your body so hard it causes his nails to scratch and bruise your skin. You can feel his own orgasm start to fill you, and you can only gasp and hum in pleased surprise when he collapses against you and starts to shake himself.

He’s still rocking gently against you, fucking his come deeper into your body as manically moves his arms to wrap tightly around you as he turns you both to lay on your sides. And when he cuddles his face into the side of your neck, you feel the tiredness that pulls at your worn body and you’re shocked at the fact that you feel like you could be lulled to sleep regardless of the sticky feeling of his body against you and the way you’re still stretched around his length.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he speaks after a beat of quiet, your combined heavy breathing being the only thing that was filling the air before he let one of his many rambling thoughts escape his mouth, “you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

“You sound delirious,” you finally huff in response, your voice cracked as you sniffle and whine. But to say you didn’t love it as you reach to run your clammy palm against the length of his arm would be a dirty lie.

“I let you fuck my ass once and you lose your mind,” you find the last bit of strength in your body you laugh softly, and when you feel his chest shake softly against you as he laughs along with you, you feel your chest tighten in endearment.

“I lost my mind the day I met you,” he confesses as you curls around you to press a sloppy and loud kiss against your heated cheek, “and you’re holding it right in your claws along with my stupid heart.”

#nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #kpop smut #nct imagine #jeno imagines

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signiorbenedickofpadua · 17 days

Note

Talk about your sense 8au

(For the WIP title tag game, list of titles here.)

More than gladly, my anonymous friend!

So I was rewatching Netflix's Sense8 dubbed in German as part of my effort to get better at it and not forget everything I learned at the course I took, and I was reminded of how compelling the premise of that series is, and then the brainrot, predictably enough, grabbed a hold of me and basically forced me to apply the premise to the characters from the Sandman.

(For anyone who isn't familiar with Sense8, the basic premise is that there people - sensates - who are born with a genetic mutation which allows them to psychically connect to each other and visit each other through (more or less) astral projection. Each of these people go through a "rebirth" at some point in their lives when these abilities are awakened within them and they are immediately connected to a handful of individuals scattered across the globe who happen to have been born (their first, physical birth) at the exact same moment. These people form a "cluster", and within a cluster it's possible to not only visit one another but share emotions and sensations and knowledge such as how to speak French or fight or cook or ski or most anything really. Through eye contact, it's possible to connect with other sensates outside of one's cluster. The ability to utilise connections can be inhibited with medications called "blockers".)

So, naturally, I thought that the Endless siblings should be a cluster of seven. It's a well-established cluster, it's been years since they were reborn and their abilities were "activated" so to speak, and they are famous within the sensate community for...reasons which I will refrain from spoiling here. Suffice it to say that everyone knows there should be seven of them, and seven only.

Except...one day a certain Hob Gadling runs out of the somewhat mysterious medication the doctor at work prescribed him, and he starts getting headaches and then he runs in to a feisty, trench-coat-clad brunette at the pharmacy who accidentally makes eye contact with him and suddenly she's standing right in front of him, telling him to forget they ever connected, while she's also simultaneously hurrying out of the store several yards away? And oh god, if he's hallucinating already he really needs a refill of his meds, except the ghost/hallucination is telling him she's real and that he shouldn't trust doctors???

Thankfully, he runs into her again at the pub and manages to bribe her with whisky to explain what's happening and prove that this not-quite-psychic-power she has is actually real and that he has it too. She seems surprised that he hasn't seen any of his clustermates even after a couple of days of being "reborn", so when Hob accidentally visits a pale, black-haired stranger later that day he's excited to get to know this handsome man who must be in his cluster. Except the man accuses Hob of being a spy for an evil organisation that once held him prisoner and claims that it's impossible for them to be clustermates, but then why do they keep visiting each other and why can Hob hear and smell the ocean the man lives by and how come he can suddenly speak Greek?!

Ah, it's so much fun to play around with weird psychic powers and deep intuitive connections between people who maybe shouldn't allow themselves to act on their attraction to each other and Endless family drama ❤️ It's at 38k words so far and boy oh boy is there more to come. (One-shot fics? I don't know her. Never heard of it. Sounds made up.) You can blame this fic for making sure the other ones on the WIP list will remain there a good while longer, but you can also thank this fic for making me write at all after a bit of a creative slump, so silver lining! I'm really excited about this one. I have no idea if people who aren't already into Sense8 will even choose to read this (though they should, as I've tried to write it soa as to be comprehensible even without prior knowledge), but I do not choose where the inspiration takes me! I guess Calliope just really digs Sense8 at the moment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Snippet under the read more!

“Is there anything else I could help you with today?”

The woman grunted and turned her head to look around the store, as if searching for inspiration. “Suppose I might as well stock up on nicotine pl—” She immediately interrupted herself the moment her gaze fell on Hob, and her eyes widened as they met his.

Realising that it might have been a little rude to listen in on a stranger’s pharmaceutical order just to procrastinate deciding which of the plethora of almost identical painkillers to buy, Hob politely averted his eyes, only to utter a decidedly impolitely loud yelp as he turned his head to find that very same woman suddenly standing right beside him in the pain relief aisle.

Their eyes met again, and she said, “Oh, shite!” and promptly disappeared into thin air.

Head spinning, Hob turned around again in time to see the woman—yes, definitely the same woman with the same brown hair and the same light trench coat that had seen better days—tell the pharmacist, “Never mind,” and turn on her heel to walk towards the exit, looking very much like she was intentionally avoiding looking Hob’s way again.

“The fuck?”, he breathed, then started following her before he could think better of it, raising his voice to call, “Hey, wait!”

She did not slow down or turn her head, and Hob suspected he would have to break into a jog if he was to catch up to her before she left the store. However, he was saved from making a decision on that point by the fact that he suddenly found himself walking right by her side when they should, by all rights, still be in entirely different aisles.

“Wha—” he began, but she interrupted him by abruptly stopping and reaching up to seize him by the front of his shirt.

“Don’t even think about following me!” she hissed with all the intimidation someone at least a head shorter than her opponent could muster—a not inconsiderable amount, considering how the perspective shifted again so that he was once again back in his own aisle, watching one version of the woman reach the door and slipping out of the store while an identical version pressed him up against a shelf of cough syrup.

“I’m…sorry?” was all Hob managed to squeeze out, too baffled to even consider putting his professional experience to use to extricate himself from the woman’s grip. Were hallucinations supposed to be able to touch you?

“You look familiar. Have you been shadowing me while on blockers?”

Now that she said it, Hob realised she looked vaguely familiar too, but the question as to where he might have seen her before felt much less important in that moment than the one at the top of his mind, namely, “What the bloody hell is happening? Blockers— Who are you? How did you do that? Are you…real?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not— You actually don’t know, do you? Aren’t you a bit old to be a newborn?”

“What?”

From the direction of the counter, Hob heard the pharmacist ask, “Sir, are you feeling all right?”

He looked over at her, then down at his assailant, then back again. The pharmacist showed no signs whatsoever of either seeing or hearing anyone other than Hob himself. “I…think I really need to talk to my GP.”

“Do you need me to call someone?” she asked, at the same time as the other woman—hallucination?—said, “Don’t. No doctors. The regular ones will have you institutionalised, and the ones in the know can’t be trusted yet.”

“Trusted—?”

“Look, mate, I’m gonna leave you with this advice: the headaches will pass soon; you’re not crazy; don’t talk to outsiders or doctors; and find someone discreet to get you blockers. They’re good to have at hand, though they’ll be expensive if people will have to resort to synthesising the main component themselves for the foreseeable future. Oh, and never visit me ever again!” This last piece of advice was delivered with a pointed shove that rattled the contents of the shelves at Hob’s back, then the woman disappeared again, as if she’d never been there at all.

“Sir? Do you need someone to escort you home, or to a hospital?”

Hob blinked and closed his gaping mouth. With some effort, he composed himself enough to say, “No, I…I can manage.” He passed a subtly trembling hand over his eyes and cleared his throat. “Just tell me one thing?”

“Of course,” replied the pharmacist, still sporting a concerned frown.

“Is it safe to combine ibuprofen with Anadin Extra, or will that fuck up my stomach?”

#personal #ask games #tag games #wip game #snippets #my writing

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maximwtf · 1 year

Text

“Finish what I started.”

Mycroft x reader

words: 2048

google docs pages: 3

warnings: description of torture and death, trauma response, ptsd, nightmare, comfort

opening: You come back from a mission that was in another country. Something seems to have happened, since Mycroft notices you waking up to repetitive nightmares and acting odd.

AN// obsessed with him rn– reader can be any gender. Also I’m sorry if he’s ooc, It’s 2am and I wrote this while half asleep :”D!

“Finish what I started.”

It had only been a couple of weeks since you came back from the latest mission you had been sent on. This one had lasted for almost three months, and it included you having to go undercover and take down a medium size crime web. Working in this field, you had seen and experienced a lot that a normal everyday person couldn’t even imagine. These experiences had frozen you to your core, making you come off as a cold and an emotionless person. So far only a couple people had you allowed into your life, seeing the person you used to be. One of them was your partner, nowadays husband, Mycroft. You bonded with him well because of his cold persona, but it didn’t take long for the both of you to find out the true personas behind the cold outer looks. Finding some solace within each other.

After the mission was over and you had been picked up, something in you had already changed. What had been done to you and what you had witnessed was way worse than anything else from any past missions. The group was violent to even it’s own members, making you a target to the tortures they held every now and then. They would leave you alone after the beatings, without any water or food. If it wasn’t you getting tortured, it was someone else. That didn’t mean you were safe though. They made you and the others watch, and many times the tortures ended up with someone dying. You could sense the paranoia in the air from their leader, not trusting his own troops.

You had killed a lot of people because of your work, but never had you tortured someone to their death. All the kills that had been completed by you were fast, not giving the target time to suffer before officially dying. You had a steady hand and a cool mind, making the fatal shots easy for you to make. But with the latest mission, you were not allowed to use a gun to end someone. None of the others did either. You could only torture them to their limits, and wait for their screams to die down, taking that as a sign that they had officially died. There had been many times you had been at your limit to blow the cover, but you weren’t the type to give up. Knowing that the mission was nearing its end, you just pushed through even if every day disgusted you.

After the plane had landed the first thing you saw was Mycroft’s car. It had been almost three months since the last time you had seen him or talked to him, and the stress from before just kept on building up.

Walking up to him felt strange, and you knew he must have picked up that something was wrong, but he just didn’t say anything. Considerate as always. He was clever, even if he didn’t use his skills the same way Sherlock used them. With a quick greeting, you stepped in his car, closing your eyes to calm down as soon as you sat down. For once it felt safe to just sit and be, because for the past three months doing something like this had been impossible.

The ride home was quiet, only the radio making noise as it played songs silently. Not even after getting home did you speak, deep in thought. The plane ride had been long, and it was quite late when you finally stepped foot inside the familiar apartment. Everything seemed to be in the same place as it had been when you left all those months ago, but somehow the house still felt strange. Mycroft stepped in the house as well, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze followed him, as if your mind was automatically waiting for something bad to happen. Feeling your body get ready to fight and to survive made you cringe. Why couldn’t your mind see where you were? This was your home, and especially with Mycroft here no danger could get to you. Anger filled your mind because of your behaviour, and while gritting your teeth you walked into the more familiar shared bedroom.

Emotions like these were something you usually kept to yourself, but right now your chest felt tight and crying for some reason felt like a good option. You knew what you were signing up for when you started to work as an agent, but not once did you consider what your limits were. Those limits had been crossed over so many times in the past couple of months, it was no wonder your mind couldn’t handle it. And the fear of this possibly ending your career shook your very core. You didn’t react to Mycroft walking into the room as well, it was only when he turned off the lights that your mind reacted to him being there. “You didn’t want to eat?” He asked as he walked to his side of the bed, past you. You shook your head and slipped out of some of your clothes, only leaving on a t-shirt and undergarments before getting under the covers. After a while the mattress moved as Mycroft laid down as well and found a comfortable position to sleep in. Due to the darkness of the room, you didn’t know if the older Holmes had fallen asleep or if he was awake as well, but you couldn’t fall asleep.

Even though your mind knew you were safe here, your body was still ready to defend itself at any given moment. Suddenly a hand took a hold of yours, startling you. You stiffened up, almost getting up to slap the hand away, but before being able to do that you saw who it was. Mycroft’s eyes were on you, examining your reaction. “What happened?” His voice asked, a hint of concern apparent in his voice which he hid quite well. You laid back down carefully, letting the man’s hand rest on top of yours, knowing he has missed you even if he didn't say so. “Nothing, I’m just tired.” You explained, turning your back to him and trying to fall asleep. You could almost feel Mycroft’s eyes on you in the darkness until he closed his eyes.

You stayed awake for a while after that, making sure that the man was fully asleep before being comfortable enough to even try to sleep. After getting used to not being able to sleep before everyone else had been taken over by sleep, your body still couldn’t let go of the habit. Sleep was still something you knew you needed, and after trying and forcing sleep to take over you, it thankfully happened. You finally passed out, and drifted into a light sleep. You had never been a heavy sleeper, and even some of the slightest sounds were able to wake you up. Most of the time you’d just lay in bed awake and decide if the noise was worth getting up and checking where it came from, but after the mission it felt like you were even more sensitive to sounds during the night. Sleeping made you vulnerable and an easy target, due to not being able to check your surroundings. So during the mission sleeping was only possible in rare places where you felt safe enough.

Hours passed before your mind began to form a dream, a nightmare. You were right back at the gang’s base. An old lamp was hanging from the concrete ceiling, only lighting up a small section of the cold room. The members you had gotten used to seeing were there, watching you get beat up for making a mistake. They had tied your hands to a pair of ropes that were hanging from the ceiling, taking turns to keep hitting you. The world was spinning and the taste of blood was disgusting, making you keep your mouth open. You didn’t have the energy to keep your body up anymore, now leaning onto the ropes, hoping that they were strong enough to take your full weight. One of the members kicked your stomach, making your body swing back and forth on the ropes. The last hit was from a whip that came in contact with your back, making you let out a growl through your teeth. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you in pain, resisting was all you could do so they would give up. There was no energy left in you, but even without looking you could hear most of the men walk out of the room one by one, leaving you alone to hang there by your hands. Your breaths were turning into steam in the cold air as your head kept drooping.

You broke out of the nightmare, taking air in as fast as you could before sitting up on the bed. ‘Fuck….fuck..’ you kept whining quietly while leaning your palms against your face and bringing your knees closer to your body. Keeping on repeating the same word, you sat there, trying to remove the images from your mind. The sudden movements started to stir awake your husband from his sleep as well, first making him groan silently before opening his eyes. It was only then when you realised he had woken up that you went quiet, only leaning to your hands in the darkness of the room. “What- hey, what happened?” Mycroft’s sleepy voice asked as he slowly sat up as well, trying to shake off the sleep from his eyes. His movements frightened your already tense mind, making you automatically try to drag your body away from him, towards the edge of the bed. “Hold- hold still-” The man said, trying to calm down his voice after seeing the state you were in.

He got closer to you, bringing you into a tight embrace, not sure what else to do. You resisted for a moment, trying to get away from him by thrashing around. This didn’t last long though since you were already drained, and soon you gave up. “There…okay..” Mycroft mumbled while easing the embrace, feeling you lean against him. “What did they do to you?” He then asked, feeling his hand around your back, soon feeling the rashes from the whip through your shirt. “They used to have beatings.” Your voice shook the same way your body did, filled with fear and the need to let the tension go. You could feel how tense Mycroft was, clearly surprised by your reaction, knowing something bad must have happened to cause a reaction like this. “Why didn’t you inform us? We would have pulled you back immediately.” He raised his voice a little, not being able to help it. He was worried, a hint of anger in him sparking at the news being broken out to him. You hid your face away from him before speaking up again. “I didn’t want the mission to be left unfinished.” Mycroft sighed, understanding what you meant but still angered by the fact that you hadn’t called out for help when the beatings had started to happen. “We could have at least helped you.” He then replied, hand placed over the scar going across your back, tracing the top of it before stopping. “I can’t fucking sleep because of this.” You whined, finally turning your eyes to him. He didn’t say anything, but something about him told you that he understood and felt bad for what you were experiencing.

Mycroft nodded slowly. “I know, but we can see what we can do tomorrow. I’ll be there for you, but I need you to sleep.” He then said, looking directly at you. “I’ll try.” Was all you could say, feeling your chest tighten again. “Promise me?” He asked, slowly letting you go from the embrace. “You know I can’t do that.” You sighed, laying back down to take a breath. Mycroft followed your actions, bringing you closer to him. He rarely ever ‘cuddled’ with you, but over time you had noticed that he did it on his own when he noticed you weren’t doing well. You relaxed after a while, slowly starting to drift back to sleep, hoping the dreams wouldn’t haunt you anymore.

#sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock holmes #mycroft #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader fanfic #bbc sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader

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love-that-we-were-in · 6 months

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Build Callouses

Not quite a comeback fic, not quite a drabble but a secret third option (wordvomit)!! If you've ever read my Seblaine stuff before you'll know I love soulmate aus so i really had to take this chance to return. But I hope you at least enjoy it for what is is!!

@seblaineworld

Freckles. That’s what they are. This tiny, sparkling smattering of multicolour freckles across the bridge of his nose. They’re not the most noticeable, nothing like the thick scar that splits Jeff’s left eyebrow into two (a childhood incident of Nick’s that landed him in the emergency room), but it’s something. Some characteristic that ties him to his future. A characteristic that damn near everyone apparently seems to have if he’s being honest.

Even Kurt, who Blaine tried his best with, has freckles. Granted, they reside more on his cheekbones, and they only come out when the sun is blinding, but they’re still freckles that other people can see. They’re just not super distinguishable is what he’s trying to say. In a world where One Thing is supposed to help you find your soulmate, they’re actually kind of shit. Almost enough to give up searching altogether.

However, even in the face of unlikeliness, of the improbable (veering on impossible if he’s being truly honest) it’s not quite enough to stop Blaine being hopeful that one day it’ll happen. Someone with freckles is going to walk through the door and he’s going to recognise the pattern in the shades of brown that normal people have like they’re his own.

(He knows he might recognise his soulmark on them. It’s this long, thin scar stretching from the crease of his elbow to an inch above his wrist - a play fight with Cooper turned rough when the dog got involved - and it’s a whole lot easier to spot in vivid multicolour, he assumes.)

He’s got years ahead of him though, teenage angst and a college degree to power through. There’s heaps of time, is what his mother tells him when he rings her at 8pm wondering why he got so unlucky. Not everyone meets their soulmate in high school, or college, or even the first few years of being a real adult. It happens when the universe is ready, is what his therapist tells him when he gets pensive over the topic.

So he holds onto that. Forever is relative, no matter what way society wants to spin it. Regardless of everything, forever is a really long time, and he’ll get to experience Their forever. Sharing forever is what counts, is what he tells himself as he counts the freckles in his reflection every night while brushing his teeth.

Long sleeves are what Sebastian favours. He always has, since turning 7, when he woke up to a scar on his right arm. It takes up too much space. It’s too bright. He doesn’t like to look at it. There’s no guessing what it is, not when there’s information leaflets on soulmarks on every college campus within a 50 mile radius, but he can ignore it. Hide it away. Dark clothes with long sleeves are where he’s most comfortable.

Inherently, he has no personal issue with the idea of soulmates. In some ways, it might be nice - the belief that destiny has something incredible in store for you. To him, and his mother, they’re restrictive. Sebastian is young, at the point in his life where figuring out who he is should be prioritised over who he’s meant to be with. And his mother is jaded, sick of life of being told what to do by archaic ideas of romance. She’s a free spirit and he’s happy to walk at a leisurely pace behind her.

Once, during a vacation, he’d considered the moment it happens. What it would be like. How he would react. Under the stars in Greece, shoes dusted with sand, he’d rolled the sleeve of his top to his elbow, twisted it so the moonlight bounced off the colours and made them glow. Asked himself what he’d even see if he met his soulmate, since he was lacking in scars and has no birthmark that he can find.

Maybe, he’d though as he climbed the stairs to his hotel room, it would be so unnoticeable that he’d miss it completely. Bypass his soulmate and never know what forever could be. It was gone in the morning, back to pretending he was ignorant to fate, but it lingered in the Grecian air when he went back years later.

#seblaineworld #10daysofseblaine #blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #seblaine #glee

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ya-killin-me-smalls · 4 months

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Tell me about Presley (smol gift)

ough he's a little guy I want to squeeze him

he's my orphaned-street-rat turned mercenary turned SQ-asset

Presley (pronounced like Wesley not Leslie) grew up in a bandit settlement that was all but torched by the Agency/Nexus when he was ~14ish, his family included. by that point he was no stranger to crime or death, so once the dust had settled he knew he was on his own and needed to stay moving. no time to mourn

pretty theft turned into the occasional odd job in Nexus City. deliver letters and packages, make evidence disappear, sometimes just playing as an inconspicuous decoy. it wasn't easy but keeping his nose clean and a roof over his head would've been impossible. he found people that needed work done and wouldn't ask too many questions

by the time he was 16, he'd built up a decent network of connections, clients, and long lists of people and places to avoid. by 17, one of those clients needed a loose end tied up, offering more money than Presley would've known what to do with, all he had to do was cut someone's brakes and then wait

blood money became the new game and by 21, he had a full-scale operation running, a sizeable armory, and was taking out high-value targets. much like Icarus, hubris was his downfall. a hit gone far too well on the wrong person caught the attention of far more powerful people. said-people weren't the type to shoot the messenger, but they did send a message of their own in the form of his eye being carved out with a spoon and the nerve cut. overall clean operation and he got to pick which eye got sent to his client, so could've been worse

after that he scaled back quite a bit, picked up work that wouldn't need fully-functional vision to accomplish. body augments weren't exactly cheap or easy to come by

luckily for him, the SQ had more than plenty of freelance jobs that would be a walk in the park for him. more than anything, he needed to stay moving. he'd lament his eye when he died

his relationship with SQ was very on-again off-again for the next couple years but always positive, so it wasn't a surprised when Doc offered him an actual position rather than contracts (Arena Mode). of course he takes it, if for no other reason than Doc's notorious reputation throughout the criminal underground and the protection that would offer. once he proves to be a worthy investment, he's greenlit to have bionic eye implanted (one of the older, sturdier models since he does mostly field work). he still runs his own ops when they come up but is more focused with SQ goals as of right now

he's British as fuck which I'm really glad Krinkels went ahead and stuck British people in MPN because otherwise I'd have to figure out why there's Brits in Nevada

has a tiny little massive crush on Deimos since day one but sshshsshshshhh doesn't matter

has not, will not, won't ever sit down and try to process the things he's been through. everything gets shoved in a box and then buried somewhere where he doesn't have to look at it

he does his best to fit in with all the hardened killers within the organization but the pathetic wet cat energy is palpable so he still gets treated like a kid by most

his backstory did get a pretty big overhaul from when I'd first designed him mostly because of MPN but he's still one of my favorite stress balls

#also also thank you for the art I love it #madness combat oc #asks #presley #my ocs #fanart

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ahdriking · 1 year

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So, Blue Blood is finished. And,,,, I have a lot of feelings about it.

Let me tell you a story! Six months ago, I decided to open up and engage with tumblr for the first time in almost three years. It was a random evening, I was bored and had nothing to do, so I decided to see what was going on in the world that had once consumed my life, but which had been absent from it for quite some time. Almost immediately (a testament to how well past me curated my blog) I came across a gifset from Kinnporsche. Can’t remember what it was of, but it appealed to me enough that I hunted the show down on a whim and put it on.

And then my entire life changed.

I’m not being dramatic, I’m genuinely serious. I used to waste my days playing phone games and watching TV because I had gotten out of using my computer and accessing fandom, but after I watched Kinnporsche, I literally put down my phone and forgot about it so hard I literally broke it accidentally and have gone without one for five months. I reactivated my tumblr from its longtime slumber, I created a twitter for the first time ever, I logged into ao3 for the first time in almost two years, and I stepped into fandom with the burning passion of a woman who’s entire life had been consumed. Because this show made me feel more than any show I have ever watched has made me feel, more than any other piece of media has ever made me feel. I have never been so emotionally enraptured by a fictional relationship, one which was enriched by the most sensual and stimulating sex scenes I’ve ever seen captured on film, one which played into all of my interests like it had been tailor made for me. I have never been so intrigued by the potential of a plot or world. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible. I could never ever in a million years have prepared myself for it; to hope for something even close to a pale shade of what we got would have felt unreasonable before. And yet, Kinnporsche exists. Despite all reason, logic and odds, Kinn and Porsche exist. And I found it, while it was still airing at that, and got to participate in one of the most exciting and enrapturing tv show experiences I’ll probably ever have in my life.

Maybe it was in part due to the euphoria of the impossible happening, or maybe it was simply the novelty of experiencing passion for a creative IP for the first time in years, or maybe it was the enthusiasm of the community I found and the ability to connect with people again, but something fundamentally shifted in me because of this show, and not just in what I did in my spare time. A creative spirit I had not felt in years came roaring to life in me with an unholy vengeance the likes of which I have truly never experienced before. My generally poor mental health, which had numbed me for so long, was drowned out for days at a time by the most intense and compelling feelings of excitement and anticipation and adoration and obsession and fixation I’ve felt probably ever felt, a literally perfect cocktail of emotions that reactivated something long dormant in my mind. It left me inspired, more than I have ever been in my life– my ao3 can serve as proof! My greatest achievement before had been writing 50,000 words in a single year. I wrote that much within the first month and a half of watching the show. I went from averaging 12,000 words over 3 years to 200,000 in 6 months.

My point is, Kinnporsche was entirely unprecedented in my life, and it changed me down to my marrow. It made me capable of writing in a way I have never, ever been able to before. And that was why I found myself in the position of entertaining the idea of a longfic for the first time in *years*.

Some important context: I have never finished anything. I’ve been writing creatively since I was old enough to hold a pencil, dreaming about the stories I would one day tell, but the idea of ever being able to actually finish one? That sort of achievement felt out of reach all of my life. I just wasn’t good enough, and I was certain that I never would be. So thinking about writing a longfic so soon after taking up writing again really felt like a risky, no good idea. I promised myself I wouldn’t, not unless the idea was so good it just HAD to be attempted. Something genuinely exceptional.

It was a series of cascading coincidences that led me to Blue Blood. First, a particular photo of Apo with eyeliner. Then, a series of meta posts investigating the potential darkness of Kinn’s character. Finally, joining a discord server of people who were excited by and receptive of the initial ideas that intrigued me: fighter!porsche and dark mafia!Kinn. It was a perfect storm. And fuck me if it didn’t make me feel really, really excited by it. So I did the improbable: I started to plan.

One of my problems has always been that I start something without knowing how to finish it. I set off before I have the destination in mind, hoping to somehow figure it out along the way, but inevitably run out of steam and, without an ending in sight, the process feels hopeless. But I was determined not to do this for Blue Blood. So I comprehensively planned out the entire arc of the fic, and gave myself as much structure as I could (as I’ve told a few people, Blue Blood boils down to a 5+1 fic in structure. It’s 5 fights plus the final boss showdown(altho I only had to write 5 total cos I did a cheeky). And I really, really fucking liked it. It felt really fucking tangible. Writing the first chapter, after that, was the easiest thing in the world. Genuinely, chapter one was one of the most fun writing experiences I’ve ever had, it just fucking poured out of me. And the reception to it was amazing; the number of people who took a chance on the first chapter of a WIP, on a dark fic one at that, truly thrilled and excited me. So we were off to a good start.

But Blue Blood wouldn’t remain mine alone.

I picked up @kissporsche sometime after the first chapter, but before the second. We had exchanged a few random messages on tumblr, and they seemed like a really cool person, so when I wanted someone to take a look at my work I thought of them. All I wanted, initially, was someone to beta what I’d written and maybe give me a few encouraging comments. I sent her the doc, and waited to hear back. And what I got blew me the fuck away. I’ve had beta’s before, but never one who so comprehensively attacked the editing process, in such a way that I genuinely felt was perfectly targeted to identifying my weaknesses and expanding on my strengths. And not just that, but she was excited to just *talk* to me about it, she was excited for me to bounce ideas off of her and explore difficulties with her and just generally bitch about whatever with her. And she was more than open to the idea of working on the next chapter. And maybe the one after that.

Before I knew it my usually solitary and isolated experience writing fic was just a thing of the past. I suddenly had someone who would not only listen to my every random thought or concern I had, but who would genuinely encourage them and do the same right back at me. It was fucking INCREDIBLE. As a person who lives for feedback, I found myself writing things just to be able to send them to kissporsche for her edits and reactions. I found myself driven, almost supernaturally, to produce content just so we could pour over it together and explore it. It changed everything. It *was* everything.

Kissporsche is responsible for so many, many parts of this fic. From being instrumental in determining key plot factors, to being the reason for the switching POV’s, to being the saving grace of Porsche’s characterisation, to instigating and perpetuating the presence of Vegaspete, to fixing up my many grammatical errors and word repetitions, to encouraging me through hard times, to cheering for me through easy times, to being a voice of reason during the dark times. For being a friend when I needed one, a voice of love and support, one that cut through and silenced the worst of my insecurities. For being someone I could turn to for whatever I needed, for being someone who made me feel competent and capable, for being someone who I could rely on. For being someone who opened up to me and let me in and gave me nothing but love and acceptance and validation in return. There aren’t many people out there in the world like you, and I want you to know that I appreciate that fact. I know how lucky I am.

There were times when it was fucking hard and I struggled, and I thought very bleakly about the future of this fic. But never once, not even for a second, did I truly feel that I was going to abandon it. I couldn’t. I had someone waiting for me, with genuine and loud excitement, to carry on. And so I did. I carried on and I carried on and I carried on and then, all of a sudden, it was almost over. And I had nearly done it. *We* had nearly done it.

These last few weeks have been truly fucking insane. We’ve spent a lot of time losing our shit over the fact that it’s getting closer and closer to it being over. To it being finished. And now we’re finally here, we’re actually fucking finally here, at the final page. At the end. And it just feels surreal! It feels like a dream. It’s finished.

Blue Blood is finished.

I’m proud of us! I’m proud of myself. I’m damn fucking proud of myself for writing this fic. I’m proud of the plot, I’m proud of the characters, I’m proud of the world, and I’m fucking proud of finishing it. I’ve proven to myself that it’s possible, that I’m capable, and it feels like an entire world of possibility has opened up as a result. Who knows what I might write next?

I know this was a lot, but it feels important to me to mark this event with such an introspective post, because I want to remember everything about this. I want to come back years from now and re-read this and remember exactly what it was like, exactly how it felt. And I want all of you to know what it meant. This fic has changed my life, as dramatic as that sounds. It has fundamentally changed me in more ways than I can really express. It will always be my first.

But not my last 😏

#blue blood #hoo boy this is quite a lot #but every damn word comes from my soul motherfuckers #its the end of an era #and i had to say goodbye properly

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sixty-silver-wishes · 1 year

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Tumblr's Guide to Shostakovich- Part 4: Establishing a Star

It's been a while since my last Tumblr's Guide to Shostakovich; I'm so sorry! I've got a ton of projects I'm working on and I just haven't had time for this one. But now that I'm back, it's time to cover the late 20s and early 30s, which is quite a bit of ground.

So, after the composition of his First Symphony in 1925, Shostakovich was quickly becoming noticed, both within the USSR and internationally. 1927 proved to be a consequential year for him, as he began performing as a concert pianist and participated in the First International Chopin Competition in Warsaw, although he did not place among the winners. Nonetheless, he regarded the competition as a success in a letter to his mother, from February 1, 1927. The pianist Nathan Perelman characterized Shostakovich's pianistic style as such:

Shostakovich emphasized the linear aspect of music and was very precise in all the details of performance. He used little rubato in his playing, and it lacked extreme dynamic contrasts. It was an ‘anti-sentimental’ approach to playing which showed incredible clarity of thought. You could say that his playing was very modern; at the time we accepted it and took it to our hearts. But it made less impression in Warsaw, where [Lev] Oborin’s more decorative, charming and ‘worldly’ approach, albeit somewhat militaristic, was the order of the day. However, Shostakovich seemed to foresee that, by the end of the twentieth century, his style of playing would predominate, and in this his pianism was truly contemporary.

(Participants and jury of the First International Chopin Competition, 1927. Shostakovich can be seen third from the left in the second row.)

1927 also saw an event that would once again change the course of Shostakovich's life- in addition to the composition of his Second Symphony (subtitled "To October"), we see in correspondence his first mentions of a foray into operatic composition. While Shostakovich had set words to music before (for instance, "To October" includes an ideological text by Aleksandr Bezyemensky), he decided to choose a work familiar to him as the subject of his first opera, The Nose by Nikolai Gogol, which he mentions in a letter to his friend, the critic Boleslav Yavorsky, on June 19, 1927. (Yavorsky was one of Shostakovich's primary correspondents until August of that year, when he met the polymath and scholar Ivan Sollertinsky, who was to become his closest friend. For more on Sollertinsky, I have a whole post on him here.)

Shostakovich was a lifelong Gogol enthusiast and even had many of his stories memorized by heart, which he was often fond of quoting, both in correspondence and conversation, so it should come as no surprise that he decided to adapt a Gogol story as his first opera, even writing the libretto himself and adapting long passages of the original short story into it (as well as references to other Gogol stories as well!). However, to those unacquainted with Shostakovich, The Nose seems like an unlikely choice for an operatic adaptation, especially considering the great canon of Russian-language literature that has historically been used for operatic adaptations, such as Tchaikovsky's Evgeny Onegin and Pikovaya Dama (or The Queen of Spades), both adapted from Pushkin. The Nose, on the surface, is a bizarre and comedic story, in which the main character, Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov, wakes up to find his nose removed from his face. The Nose is later found walking around Saint Petersburg, where it has gained sentience, talks, and even receives a promotion, much to the status-obsessed Kovalyov's chagrin. Kovalyov is unsuccessful in getting people to believe that his nose is now sentient, shenanigans ensue, and by the end, he wakes up once again to find his nose reattached, as Gogol's narrator remarks on the absurdity and ridiculousness of the story.

It seems like impossible subject matter for an opera, and yet, Shostakovich makes it work. With his penchant for sarcasm and the grotesque, as well as his use of inverting conventions of comedic and tragic music with the effect of making tragic situations seem ridiculous and ridiculous situations seem tragic, Shostakovich enriches Gogol's original Nose (assisted by the author's trademark skaz literary style) in his adaptation, while keeping it distinctly Gogolian. The Nose would be completed in 1928, and premiered in 1930, although it was not a success among the general public at the time, largely due to the avant-garde music and absurdist themes. It would not be performed in the USSR again until 1972.

(A poster for the premiere of The Nose at the Maly Opera Theatre, Saturday January 18th, 1930.)

In 1928, Shostakovich would make a strong connection with the theatre director and playwright Vsevolod Meyerhold, and wrote music for his theatre in Moscow. Shostakovich's stay with Meyerhold, as evidenced from letters to Sollertinsky, was less than ideal- he found Meyerhold and his wife, the actress Zinaida Raikh, to be at times obnoxious in the way they fawned over each other and their two children, and their nanny made unwanted advances on him- but found a career writing music for stage plays, most notably in collaboration with the poet and playwright Vladimir Mayakovsky, whose play The Bedbug he composed accompanying music for.

Shostakovich accepted a position at the theatre collective TRAM (Russian: Театр Рабочей Молодёжи, or Worker's Youth Theatre) in 1929, where he composed music for a number of ideological plays. Scholar Elizabeth Wilson notes that while Shostakovich enjoyed writing music for some of the TRAM plays, he also joined TRAM in an effort to shield himself from criticism from the RAPM (Russian Association of Proletarian Musicians), a more conservative musical branch that was, at the time, amassing power. The RAPM was in opposition at the time to the ACM (Association For Contemporary Music), and encouraged many elements that would later be incorporated into the Socialist Realism style that would take effect in the mid-30s. However, neither organization was around for long; the ACM was dissolved in 1931, while the RAPM was dissolved in 1932. While we know that Shostakovich was growing increasingly aware of the gradual restrictions being placed on music, in the coming decades, the intersection between Soviet politics and music would become unavoidable, and the next opera Shostakovich would compose in just a few years' meant he would find himself straight in the crossroads.

Thank you for reading! In the next entries, we’ll get further into the 30s, where there’s a lot to cover!

#shostakovich #dmitri shostakovich #tumblr's guide to shostakovich #history #soviet history #soviet music history #music history #classical music #composer #classical music history #classical composer #opera

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shesgabrielle · 3 days

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Doctor Who #4

Still on series 2 but getting towards the end, I have some opinions:

Once we got past the problem evident in the first four episodes, (four was also awkward, as the female single episode actress was playing it very seriously, like a period drama, rather than with the tongue-in-cheek attitude that episode, and most episodes usually need, but otherwise an intriguing plotline which was effectively pulled off)

Two cyberman episodes follow, which is also where they offload poor Mickey in the plot, and it's ironically the time this actor seems most appealing and emotional (he starts a new life in another dimension) and then we have the interesting episode The Idiot's Lantern, the only part I thought didn't quite work was at the very end when, bafflingly, Billie's character encouraged a young boy character to run after his father, who throughout the episode was very clearly an abusive menace, (like it was very overt) and his mother was finally brave enough to kick him out at the end - and there was also the implication that the young boy was gay - a character calls him a 'mommy's boy' and the father retorts that it should be 'beaten out of him' plus the boy gives an impassioned speech at another time, including a line about people being able to love whoever they want, so it's heavily implied - the son seems like a very endearing character too, and this guy is very clearly a nasty man in the plot and a threat to his son, and it feels like the lines at the end where Billie/Rose says he should go after him 'because he's your dad' go against everything else that happened in the plot before that, and even how Rose behaved towards the abusive man (very sternly) through the rest of the episode, yet suddenly now she sympathises. Seems like some overzealous editor took it personally and changed a few lines, since that boy should absolutely not be running after that man. Anyway, otherwise very good, quite an unusual and complex world they created within ordinary surrounds and a single episode. I remembered the next ones, The Impossible Planet and The Satan Pit as being very good and special, and they were. Very much serious sci fi, no silly elements, with an amazing plotline and concept which is well worth the two-parter and payoff, and great performances all round. And then followed by an episode which I remembered as being pretty poor and silly, and phenomenally, it was even worse than I remembered on the second viewing - it exists entirely outside of the main plotline of the series, and the actual Doctor and Rose barely feature in it, (and feature in a really odd way where they are not quite playing their characters, it's like a joke version of them told in third person) it really feels like a bunch of actors requested to be in an episode and to appease them, they cobbled together a 3/10 plotline and literally barely bothered to include any science fiction aspects or even the lead actors. It's both boring, unpleasant, creepy (in terms of Peter Kay's alien, which is somehow incredibly boring, mundane, and creepy all at once - and yes him being a main character probably explains half of why this episode is so bad) and just plain random, like it's not even making any kind of relatable point, truly the shoehorn of shoehorned episodes. They truly should have accidentally lost this one in some irreplacable way, right after filming was complete so it would never see the light of day, but the actors who wanted it to happen still got to have their fun. Three more episodes left of this season, highlights are New Earth and The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit with every other episode being intriguing and worthwhile so far, except for Love and Monsters, which is truly terrible and entirely skippable since it exists outside of the ongoing plot.

#Doctor Who #TV Review #Tennant

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heartsmadeofbooks · 2 years

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New Fic: Underneath it All [Preview]

Hi everyone!

It’s been a while since I finished posting my last fic, Sleepless in Brooklyn. My plan was to start writing and sharing a new fic right away, but life got in the way. It’s been a few difficult months, with lots of up and downs, and writing was sort of relegated to the last spot in my list of priorities. But a few weeks ago I finally managed to find some balance in my life again, and I’m now in a much better, much more creative and much happier place.

And nothing makes me happier than announcing that my new story, Underneath it All, will start on August 3rd. This fic is a book!AU that I’ve wanted to write for the longest time. It’s been a bit challenging, because it’s based on the first romance novel I’ve ever read, Wildest Hearts by Jayne Ann Krentz, a book that was written and published in the late 80s/early 90s, so it was quite challenging to adapt the story to our times and for a gay couple. But I had lots of fun with it, and I hope you guys will enjoy the ride.

Without further ado, here’s a preview of the first chapter, plus the cover art made by the amazing @nerdishedits. My beta for this story is once again the one and only @christinejaneanderson, who’s been my partner in crime for a decade now. I’d be lost without her ♥

See you on August 3rd!

The first time Blaine saw Kurt Hummel was at his older brother’s engagement party.

It was a very lovely night, still warm for the end of September, and both drinks and food were flowing freely in the cozy yet expensive restaurant Cooper and Joanna had chosen for the occasion, the one where they’d had their first date a few years ago, where Cooper had stopped, just outside the doors after dinner, and kissed her as pedestrians swerved around them, as the Manhattan traffic played for them like a symphony. He hadn’t been able to wait until they were at her doorstep, Cooper had told Blaine the next day. He just knew he had to kiss her right then and there, afraid there wouldn’t be another chance, afraid the magic would be spoiled.

There was music playing and a space had been cleared amongst the tables to allow for some dancing. For a few minutes, Blaine stood with his champagne glass and watched as couples danced, a little smile on his face, maybe a wisp of wistfulness behind his hazel eyes. But there would be time for that, he told himself as he turned to find his brother.

For a while, Blaine was distracted, chatting amicably with friends and colleagues, making sure everyone was having a nice time. It felt like it was his duty as best man to make sure this night went wonderfully for both Cooper and Joanna.

And then he was there.

It was hard not to notice his arrival, because the crowd suddenly grew very, very quiet. It was eerie. Blaine had been talking to his future sister-in-law, and hesitated, unsure. He spun around to see what the problem was and saw a man walking in.

He was tall and lean, but even from a distance Blaine could tell that under that designer suit he was wearing, he was deceptively strong. His chestnut hair was swept off his face, not a single strand out of place, and his eyes seemed to morph from blue to grey, an icy quality to them that seemed enough to make people part as he walked. He was so handsome it was impossible not to stare, but the set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the way he moved told Blaine there was something about this man that was unlike anyone he had ever met before – he seemed powerful, and in complete control of the room within a second or two.

Cooper had warned Blaine and Joanna, when they were working on the invitations for the engagement party, that it was more than likely that Hummel wouldn’t make an appearance. He was rarely out in public, let alone social affairs, and when he did choose to attend one, it was in much higher circles than the ones the Anderson brothers moved in.

Cooper had met him five years before then. Hummel had hired Cooper, who had always been sort of a tech genius, to set up and strengthen the security systems in his extensive business empire. When Cooper had left the company he had been working at a few years later, wanting to start his own firm, Hummel had invested heavily to help him get started, becoming his biggest financial backer. They had done business together a few more times since then but, as Cooper had said to his brother and future bride, it didn’t matter how much time he spent with Kurt Hummel, he didn’t become less of a mystery.

Despite Cooper’s warning, here he was. Blaine saw his brother from across the room, the obvious surprise and pleasure at seeing him arrive. He immediately made his way to him, his arms open in welcome, a bright grin on his face. Hummel hadn’t smiled, only recognized Cooper’s joy with a brief nod. There was something about him, some sort of dark fierceness that made it hard to look away.

As he followed Cooper, who no doubt had just told him he wanted to introduce his fiancé to him, people once again parted to make way for him. Blaine was at once impressed and slightly struck by this – the way he moved, so in control, so determined, like he knew what he wanted and nothing would stop him from reaching it, made Blaine think of a leopard gliding through a flock of sheep.

“Hummel, I want you to meet my family,” Cooper said, grin still intact, when he reached them. “This is Joanna, my fiancé.”

“Nice to meet you,” Joanna said, but there was hesitation in her voice as she looked at Kurt Hummel, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. She shook his hand so briefly they barely even touched.

“And this,” Cooper said and reached to squeeze Blaine’s shoulder, “is my little brother, Blaine.”

When Hummel’s eyes turned to him, Blaine felt torn between wanting to run and hide from that deep, steady gaze, and a much louder, larger part of him that wanted to get closer to Kurt Hummel, regardless of the risks.

A shiver went down his spine as they shook hands and Hummel’s fingers settled, very briefly, on the pulse point at his wrist.

He didn’t stay long. He stood in a corner by himself, sipping champagne absentmindedly, for less than half an hour. Except for the brief minutes he spent talking to Cooper, he held himself apart from the crowd, and no one dared approach him, as if there was a magic invisible border between him and the rest of the party.

Blaine had been intensely aware of the way Hummel’s cold eyes followed him as he danced with some of Cooper’s college friends. He could feel it, like a tickle on the back of his neck, but Hummel never stepped away from his little corner to ask him to dance.

He didn’t dance with anyone else, either.

He left as quietly as it was possible for a man that couldn’t help but pull everyone’s focus, only Cooper trailing behind to see him out. Blaine couldn’t deny the peculiar disappointment that went through him at seeing him leave. Discretely, he made his way to one of the windows and took a look outside. There was a slick black limousine parked at the curb and Kurt Hummel stood right beside it, chatting quietly with Cooper. His brother was gesticulating wildly, explaining something in that very Cooper way of his. It was such a stark contrast, seeing them side by side – while Cooper was light and breezy, always smiling, always laughing, always trying to make whoever was with him have a great time, Hummel was dark and heavy like a rain cloud, his lips set in a straight line, his posture one that showed he was always alert, that he didn’t let himself relax, not here, not now, maybe not ever.

Just as he was about to get into the limousine, once Cooper had patted his back in a friendly farewell, he turned and stared right at the window where Blaine was standing, looking at him, like he had known all along that Blaine had been there. His only acknowledgement was a small, court inclination of his head, before he got into the car and disappeared.

Blaine stood at the window for another minute, feeling, strangely, like he needed to catch his breath.

#Fic: Underneath it All #SO FUCKING EXCITED YOU GUYS #Can't wait to share this one #Klaine #Klaine fic #Klaine fanfic #Klaine fanfiction

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