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comatosebunny09 · 2 months ago

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got me in my leon x ex-assassin reader feels again (thanks, @zozo-01 and @vaaaaaiolet).

Kissing Leon for the first time in his old Wrangler you constantly give him shit for—‘why does it still have a cassette player?’

‘It’s vintage.’

‘You’re vintage, old man.’

‘Bet this old man could still give you a run for your money.’

—and he reminds you of bonfires and drive-in movies and cotton candy at the carnival and slipping into your favorite old bomber jacket at the first crack of winter.

He’s all the things you didn’t get to experience growing up. Your life was fast-paced, and you knew how to bring a man to his knees—how to sever a carotid without so much as a sound by the time you were sixteen—before you knew what it was like to be human.

With him, you don’t have to be a weapon. You don’t have to analyze everything about him, pull him apart at the seams, and reconstruct him in a way that benefits you. You don’t have to put up this seductive front and look for every way possible out of a sticky situation in case things with him get dicey.

He’s disarming in a way that’s both refreshing and terrifying. He’s real and raw, and he throws all his cards on the table upfront, so you know what you’re working with. But it’s scary because you’re not used to someone liking you out loud. Someone who isn’t in it for what you can give versus what you already present.

He doesn’t push you further than where you’re ready to go. Infuriatingly patient, never intentionally rekindling the past you ran from. Never asking why your back’s all marked up, why your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, why your head’s always on a swivel, and why you always sit in the furthest booth with a good view of the restaurant whenever he takes you out.

He never badgers you on why you know so much about guns. Why you took down an armed robber on your own like it was easy as breathing. Why you’re so good at reading people, talking people down, or why your heart’s encased in stone.

No.

He doesn’t shield you. Doesn’t selfishly bottle you up like fireflies. He doesn’t kiss your booboo when you skid your knee, promising vengeance on the pavement for hurting you. Though he is there with a playful hand ruffling your hair, some antiseptic, and a smart mouth to admonish you for falling in the first place. Dummy.

He coddles the freedom you never knew you longed for. Offers you an outlet from the cacophony of your mind without adding to your turmoil. The definition of ‘be her peace’ encouraging you to try the soft-girl life out while also allowing that spitfire to shine when needed.

He disrupts your ruminations when he draws away from your lips with a sticky, languid click, and he looks as surprised as you feel over the center console of his dusty Jeep.

“I’m sorry,” Leon rasps, lips kiss-swollen, cheeks brushed peach. Still has those fingers buried in your hair, and his eyes fall to your lips like he doesn’t regret kissing you in the slightest. “I—did I take it too far?”

Your heart pulls. Warmth washes over your insides like the spread of the afternoon sun against your skin. He’s so considerate, it hurts. No one’s ever cared this much. Checked on you as much as he has—he doesn’t make you feel like you’re not worth fretting over because “you know how to handle yourself.”

You laugh despite yourself, and the way his brows furrow with a pout pulling his lips down like a confused puppy, makes you laugh even harder.

Instead of words, you let the motion of your mouth do the talking. Pan in for another sample of his lips, and he pours a confused, gruff sound into your mouth, trading it out for something more pleased. Needy.

He holds the back of your head firm enough to keep you in place, yet lax enough for you to pull back in case the pacing isn’t right. And you’re even more appreciative because this man thinks of everything, like he’s never kissed a woman before, and like he doesn’t want his first time to be a total fuck up.

He doesn’t protest when your fingers curl into the slack of his shirt, tugging him awkwardly over the center console so you can acquaint your tongue with every wet seam and divot of his mouth. Your lip-lock grows more ravenous by the second, mouths slanting possessively over one another’s, hands stroking, pulling, kneading whatever flesh they can get a hold of.

Kissing him is almost like being an adolescent, kissing their crush for the first time on the beach, swallowed up by the comforting breeze and the lazy drag of the tide and the stars aligning just right in the sky. You’re warm and prickly and breathless, and you’re throbbing in places that haven’t been touched in months, your nipples knotting beneath the frail drag of your t-shirt.

You burn for him in a way you haven’t burned in a while—like wet logs mercifully sparking a fire amid a cruel winter. But you don’t want to get too ahead of yourself. You don’t want to chase him away with your forwardness. Sure, he plays all cocky sometimes like he knows his way around a woman’s body, but you don’t think he’s ready for the level of expertise you’ve amassed throughout your years as a stone-cold manipulator.

So, you reluctantly pull away from him. And he’s chasing your lips, nipping at them, trying to get another taste. Never enough, and he’s so cute with his glacial eyes all hooded like that. With his hair all mussed—courtesy of your fingers—lips stained from your gloss, and panting.

It takes all of you not to laugh. Not to coo as you release his shirt, leaning back against the passenger seat to gather your purse and jacket.

He gives you a perturbed look. Something heartbroken when you clasp your hand around the door handle and pour yourself out of his Jeep onto your driveway with a sly smile on your face.

“Gotta get home before my parents start asking where I’m at,” you tease, winking, and shutting the door behind you.

He tracks your every move to your door, still breathless, but smiling like the cat that got the cream, one hand propped on the steering wheel, the other covering his lips that still tingle from the aftermath of your kiss like he dreamed the whole ordeal.

And when he takes off the parking brake after you’ve slipped into your house, he realizes you played him as he studies his disheveled features in the rearview mirror.

“She doesn’t have parents here,” he says to himself. Snorts, slowly pulling out of your driveway. “Does she even…have parents?”

Of the many puzzles he’s been forced to navigate throughout his lifetime, you’re the one most worth the effort of solving.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #ex-assassin reader series

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keferon · 6 months ago

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Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

———————————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

#*until it does happen #lol #tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha bs writing #mecha jp writing

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legendofmorons · 4 months ago

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Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter three - War of hearts

Pairing: pre poly! Chain x reader

Rating: T

Summary: While you and the boys are traveling, you're ambushed. Dealing with the fallout of that shakes lose a dream (?) And leaves the boys with too many emotions. Wind and Epona are done with this, though.

Warnings: HI! The dream sequence in this includes implied character death. You can skip it and get a summary at the end. (Dream is all in bold italics.) Cursing, Canon typical violence

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

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Wind dosen’t know what is going on with the others, but he does know that they're treating you weird.

Which is such bullshit.

You are pretty cool so far!

Here you all are, though, walking to try to find the shadow, and the group is being super weird.

So far, you have been here two days total, and you don't seem inclined to speak to any of the others but him and maybe Sky.

Wind dosen’t even blame you.

He watches the others and can't make sense of any of it. The glares, awkward silences, distrustful eyes, and general tenseness the others display are off-putting even to the sailor.

Wind walks beside you, trying to keep your spirits up.

It's pretty obvious you aren't used to so much walking. He gets it. He struggles sometimes, too. He grew op on a small island.

"Hey," Wind says as he nudges you, "I think I'm on first watch tonight if you want to stay up and trade stories?"

You look to him with a relief he hates that you feel. You shouldn't have to feel relief at basic interaction.

The thought of his friend who shares your name and face being treated like this is heart-wrenching. His heart clenches, and he has to take a slow breath.

"I'd love that." You say with a soft smile.

Wind gives you a smile back."You'll have to tell me more about your home too."

"I can do that. You have to tell me more about sailing."

He laughs, elbowing you. "Obviously!"

"Keep it down." Warriors hisses as he turns around with a pointed glare, "You'll draw the monsters to us for an ambish."

"Sorry." You mutter, looking away from the captain and the sailor both.

Wind wants to kick Warriors. You two aren't being that loud, and no one else can be bothered to make you feel welcome besides him and Sky. Sky is in the back today, something about needing to think.

Wind just wants to make you feel welcome.

Warriors is throwing a wrench in his plans, though.

In fact, the look Warriors gives you is going to do the opposite.

Warriors shoots you a dirty look for your apology before turning back to face forward.

You shrink in on yourself visibly, shoulders hitching.

Wind huffs, sticking his tongue out at the captain's turned back.

You see it, though, and you crack a shaky smile.

Wind will take it.

He walks with you in silence, occasionally pointing to a cool bird.

You don't seem inclined to speak again, but you smile at the birds.

Wind just focuses on trying to be friendly. He thinks you're fun to be around, and he wants you to feel wanted.

The day wears on in tedious waltzes of time.

Wind catches the dirty and suspicious glares Legend gives you.

He watches Four and Wild share glances over your head before eyeing distrustful and then looking ashamed.

Wind sees Time stare at you with heavy gazes.

He sees Twilight hover around you with heavy silence. Although Epona seems unaffected by the man's hesitancy and is happy to walk near you.

He sees Sky flinch from your voice when you aren't looking.

Wind sees a group of his brothers, of his previous and later lives, and he sees them and cruel in this matter. As callous. As cowards even. In this one thing for sure.

His brothers are failing you in every way, and Wind feels something thick and heavy in his throat about the debacle.

He catches you quietly, slipping Epona an apple you found earlier. His lips tug upwards at the sight. (He's left curious about if Twilight is aware yet. If the rancher knows how taken with the horse you are?)

How can the others be so callous? You're the shit!

He turns when you nudge his side while pointing into the trees, looking over quickly with wide eyes. He follows your arm and finger up to the seagull that's perched in a large oak tree.

"That's so weird!" Wind gasps, "What is that doing here?"

You give a shrug. "Dunno."

"Think I could call it over?" Wind asks with a crooked grin.

You snort, the sound making his heart loosen a little.

"How? Do you call it like a cat?" You ask wryly.

"No, you mimic their bird call." He laughs.

You crack a soft smile. "So... you just say 'mine' a lot? Or do you call 'seagull seagull'?"

Warriors shoots the two of you another yet dirty look.

Wind opens his mouth to retort, but he falls silent when you grab his arm sharply, pointing to something else in the trees.

He turns, startling at the tight grip you have on his upper arm, following your finger again and seeing a lizafos.

Warriors hisses, having also looked where you were pointing.

Arrows start raining down as you push him behind you. Your frame serving as a shield between him and danger.

Sky is pulling the sailor under his shield next, and Wind is left wondering why in the name of Hyrule you were seemingly ready to use yourself as a shield.

He watches Warriors pull you under the captain's shield. The man pulling you to safety has a neutral look, except his eyes are desperate and wide.

-------

You knew you were all being followed, but the moment the arrows start raining, it seems like a bad time to say it.

You shove Wind behind you on instinct, something in you saying that you just need a shield. You don't have one.

You watch Sky grab Wind, putting his shield up.

You gasp as an arm wraps around you, jerking you close to a body as the person holding you puts their own shield up. Your hands fly up to rest on the person's chest.

You are saved just in time. Arrows are raining against the shield above you.

The arm around you holds you close and tight.

Warriors is the one holding you, silent as he waits for the arrows to let up. He looks down at you, brows knitting.

"Fucking lizafos." You grumble, a dislike of the monsters ingrained in you since you first saw them on a screen.

Apparently, they aren't better in person.

The man holds you close, arm firm around you as he looks down with an unreadable expression. His lips are pinched as he searches your form for any injury.

"When I say run, you're going to run." Warriors tells you with a sharp tone.

"Sounds great." You say quickly.

It's distinctly apparent in your mind now that you have no weapon. The idea seemed strange to need until now. (Your fingers itch to closer around the hilt of a sword that you have never weilded.)

You were traveling with nine heroes but being ambushed without a weapon has definitely changed your thoughts on the matter.

You're going to have to find a sword or something at the first chance you get.

The arrows cease while they reload.

"Run! Go hide, we'll find you." Warriors commands as he grabs his sword. His voice is stern, unyielding.

Following directions is easy. Running into the opposite tree line and away from the monsters seems smart.

You push yourself forward and into the forest as fast as you can, focusing on longer strides to go further.

You break the tree line and keep going, trying to block out the sound of fighting behind you.

Today is officially not great.

You rush through the trees, weaving until you see a branch low enough to climb up a tree with.

It's not a well thought out plan. It's more of a spur of the moment thought. Something about wanting the high ground.

You scramble up the tree quickly, lack of regard for caution in the moment. Yay, adrenaline!

You see the way the trees interlock and have branches that would be easy to get across...

Wouldn't it be harder to track footprints on the trees?

You start making your way across different branches, making sure not to look down or think beyond picking your next destination.

You don't bother wondering why traversing like this seems so easy.

You settle by the trunk of a tree a good fifty feet from the first one you climbed up. You're not too high up, but far enough up and with enough foliage around you, someone would have to really be looking to find you.

You try to catch your breath and slow your heart now. Blood is pounding in your ears.

You can hear everything.

The clash of weapons, the wind in the leaves, the shift of dirt on the ground.

If this is even half of what fighting is like... you can see why people sometimes like it.

The alertness, the heady high that adrenaline provides - it makes sense.

It dosen’t take away the fear, but it makes it matter less now that you're safe.

For a moment, you swear you hear familiar laughter in your mind, the sound of a man laughing in victory - it must be something you saw in a movie.

(Why can you imagine the flutter of blue fabric with the laugh?)

You can't say how long it is before you hear footsteps coming towards you.

You choke down a gasp, peering down to try to see who's down there.

There's a call of your name in a thick drawl.

Twilight then.

You wait to be sure, though. Could it be a trap or something? Who knows.

Twilight calls for you again.

Oh!

You see Epona walking under the tree.

"Sweetheart!" You call excitedly to the horse.

You can hear someone choke a little on the ground, but that seems irrelevant.

You start climbing down the tree.

Once you hit the ground, Epona is nudging you with her nose with a snort.

You smile, petting her neck. "It's so good to see you, pretty girl!"

"Ya really like her, don't ya?" Twilight asks as he eyes you.

He looks guarded, brows furowing, and mouth tense.

"Who wouldn't? Epona is a sweetheart." You smile, happily lavishing the horse with attention.

Epona gives a happy little whicker, nosing your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Wild asks, eyeing your form with a care you don't recognize.

You aren't sure why he's looking at you like that.

"I'm okay. Are you two okay?"

"Jus' fine." Twilight says, looking away.

"Is... something on my face?" You ask.

"No." Wild says, "Just- a few tears in your clothes and a couple scratches."

You sigh, "That's going to suck later."

Epona nudges you again, demanding that you go back to petting her.

You snort, reaching out to scatch her ears gently as you coo, "Aw, sweetheart, it's okay. You're such a good girl, I'm sure everyone agrees."

"We should... head back." Wild says. "We want to try to cover more ground before stopping for the day."

You nod, "Okay."

Twilight leads the way, Epona's reins loose in his hand.

Wild takes the rear.

Walking between the two men is tense and silent. The air is thick.

Epona is happy to walk at your side though, occasional nudging you for more pets.

You oblige the mare easily, whispering to her sweetly every so often.

Once you break the tree line, you see the others clustered together.

The moment Wind sees you, he's running over while yelling your name. He's got wide eyes again.

He skids to a stop at your side, "Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm okay." You smile, "Are you okay, sailor?"

"Those monsters couldn't take me!" He grins up at you impishly.

You smile, "Good. I'm glad. I was worried about you."

"Your warning was helpful. You don't need to worry about me."

"If you say so."

Wind just hums. "How'd you know to look in the trees for them anyway?"

"I felt like something was following us." You shrug half heartedly.

"Well, you were right." Wind says.

Wind, Twilight, Wild, and you make your way the fifteen feet or so to get back to the rest of the group.

"You found them." Time notes.

"We did." Twilight agrees. "They hid pretty well."

You snort, "No one ever thinks to look up."

Wind laughs.

Sky steps over to you, looking you over carefully. "Are you okay?"

He has wide eyes and his lips pinch. He looks a little desperate, but you chalk that up to whatever has him so upset at noght.

"I'm good. I'll probably crash later, but that's adrenaline for you." You wave off.

Epona is nudging your shoulders again. She apparently is feeling affectionate today.

"What do you mean crash?" Sky asks with wide eyes.

"Be super tired? Maybe slow?" You pat Epona's neck as you try to figure out how to explain it.

"Okay." Sky says with a dubious look over your form as if trying to once again assure himself that you're okay.

You look around the group, taking stock of their states and immediately frowning when you see Four with a bandage around his hand.

Everyone seems fairly okay otherwise, though, which is reassuring.

Hyrule and Legend are side by side, talking about something or other. When they look at you, Hyrule gives a strained smile while Legend just glares.

Warriors is with Four, examining a dagger in his hands. Although the Captain does glance your way and give you a nod. (He also looks like he might like to yell, but that's not your focus.)

Getting back on the road is easy enough, although you have been temporarily separated from Wind. (It's like when you talk to your best friend and the teacher makes you go sit in timeout or something.)

Now you are walking beside Time, who is not nearly as excitable. But he isn't horrible. He is, however, doing that thing where he stares, and you just can't prove it.

The eldest dosen’t talk, not now, at least, though he does catch you when you trip over something.

You offer a soft thanks only to get a sharp nod.

-------

Time sits by the fire with Warriors and Wild, unable to look over to where you sit. He can't stand the similarities you share with his lost love.

It isn't your fault but it's erie.

Seeing you come back with all the little scratches shouldn't have upset him so much. You were safe. He dosen’t even really know you.

"Where were they when you found them, anyway?" Warriors asks as he stares into the fire

Wild looks over, face twisting a little. His brows drawn but voice warm. "They were in the trees."

"What?"

"They said no one ever thinks to look up." Wild says with a weak laugh.

Time nods. "It's good you and Twilight found them."

"Epona found them." Wild corrects. "They saw her and came down."

"They seem fond of her." Warriors muses. "Perhaps they have a horse back home."

"Epona loves them." Wild says.

"She seems to." Time says.

"You know... they loved horses too." Wild says, the change of subject is obvious if only to those who also lost them.

Time smiles sadly, the memory of his own steed with their ever tragic soulmate. His dearest.

They left him too soon.

He got longer with them than many. (But not enough. Time is selfish, and no amount of time will ever be enough.)

"I know." Time says. "They were always helping at Lon Lon ranch."

Warriors just hums noncommittal. "They saw the lizafos before the attack."

"You said so." Time says.

Warriors sighs. "How did they know? They said they felt it but... they aren't a fighter like us."

Wild shakes his head. "(Y/n) might just have good intuition."

"Maybe." Warriors says, a bitter tone in his voice that all but screams that he's biting back emotions again.

Time finally looks over to where you are.

You're sitting with Wind, examining a wooden sword the teen holds up. You're grinning, then you laugh.

For as often as Time wishes to hear that sound again... hearing it from you instead of his beloved is wrong.

It's unfair to wish you didn't laugh.

Time wishes that anyways. He wishes you didn't sound and act like his beloved.

"I don't understand why they're here." Wild admits.

"They aren't a hero." Warriors snorts. "They've never fought a war."

"How do you know?" Time frowns.

"I asked. But also, look at them. They aren't like us." Warriors says.

"That's not bad." Wild says softer, a weight in his words only his soul brothers truly understood.

"No." Time agrees. "But it dosen’t explain why they're here."

"Because Hylia hates us?" Wild suggests

Warriors huffs a laugh.

Time supposes that makes as much sense as anything else.

He looks back to you, watching as you swat playfully at Wind's hands as the teen tries to swipe some apple slices from you. It's... nice.

You are not his beloved, but you look like them. Seeing their joyful face on you is- strange and awful, but it's nice too.

He was forgetting what they looked like. What they sounded like.

How they laughed.

You laugh with Wind quite a bit. It's awful. (He's missed the sound.)

The next time Time looks over, you are holding a wooden sword, and Wind is laughing at the bad grip you have.

"We have got to teach you to fight!" Wind laughs.

You snort. "Are you volunteering?"

"Sure, why not." Wind shrugs.

Warriors sighs. "That's going to end badly."

"Maybe." Wild says.

Time has to resist the urge to smack the wooden sword from your hands. (You shouldn't have to fight!)

He dosen’t get to make that choice. In all reality, if you are to travel with them, learning to fight will be good.

The eldest of the group falls back into memories of his beloved.

Memories of mornings spent ignoring the call of responsibilities.

Memories of a timeline that will never be (not for him).

Memories of late nights slow dancing in the kitchen to the hum of his lover.

Time can't help but wonder... how long did the others have with them?

Did their soulmate have a favorite version of them?

Time has a favorite version of their soulmate. His version.

-------

Epona is more than happy to let Twilight brush her coat out after today. It's been such a good day for her.

She has you back!

Epona isn't too sure where you went or why you wear such strange fabrics, but you're back and that's all she cares about.

She watches you with the youngest hero, wondering if you have any more apples for her. She's missed you and your penchant for spoiling her.

Mostly you though.

"Don't get yer hopes up, girl, that's not who ya want it t' be." Twilight says as he brushes out her mane.

Epona looks at him, chuffing her disagreement.

She knows you. She can tell it's you. She's lived too many lives at your side to not know you.

"It's not yet fault." Twilight sighs.

Epona nips at his arm as a chiding measure. He's being so silly!

She hears you laugh again, looking over to see the youngest helping you with a wooden sword.

It's so good to have you back. It's good to hear you laugh.

Twilight sighs heavily beside her. "Oh, Epona, we're in it now. They look just like 'em an' I don't know how I'm s'posed ta go on like this."

Epona neighs.

She is going to have to buck some sense into her master. Silly man.

They're always so silly when it comes to you. Smitten and fawning all over you and assuming you don't like them at first.

Her silly Links.

She watches you, wondering where you've been.

It dosen’t much matter she guesses.

You're here now. With your boys. It's all going to be fine.

Epona chuffs again. However long you have left, she's sure it's going to be good.

Twilight pats her side sympathetically. "I miss 'em too, girl."

She has such silly boys. She knows Twilight will figure it out, though. They always do.

After Twilight is done with brushing and feeding her he goes to check on Wild.

Epona hasn't met several of these boys but they are all her Link. She Knows.

She goes over to you, nudging you. Epona will be getting her night time kisses from you now, please and thank you.

You just smile at her, petting her gently. "Hey sweetheart. It's late shouldn't you be ready to sleep?"

She chuffs happily, leaning into the touch on her muzzle.

"Aw, you just want some love, huh?" Ypu grin.

Epona is left, thinking once again that you are the better half to her boys. Always perceptive when it counts.

You press a kiss to her cheek. "Good night, sweetheart. You get some sleep."

She nuzzles her face against you in thanks and to wish you sleep too.

Epona lets you go on your way to finish setting up for bed.

She knows you'll need it.

She watches you stay up with Wind for first shift.

She falls asleep before you do though.

-------

You can't say you love fighting, but it's much better when you fight at Link's side. There's a heady high of adrenaline, trust, and adoration when you fight at his side.

Adrenaline is a hell of a high, but something about fighting for your life back to back with the man you love is even better.

The way his back flexes as he moves about behind you, the reassurance that Link is alive and okay. The reassurance that you are alive and okay.

It's a unique experience.

The sound of his breathing is a familiar cadence that helps you focus.

There is no regret you can find in your choice to follow Link into the royal army, especially not now when you get to fight at his side and help keep him safe.

You can hear Link laugh behind you, back vibrating with the victorious sound as he takes down a particularly vicious enemy.

"That's my man!." You call back with a grin as you knick aside a blade.

"Focus on your own fight, dove." Link says with a fondness that makes your heart swell.

You're not sure how a man can be both so loving and so vicious on the battle field.

You laugh again, blocking a volley of arrows before kicking the next enemy square in the chest.

The enemies fall quickly, the two of you a formidable duo. You both ebb and flow around the other, covering weak spots and prompting moves that are otherwise to risky alone.

There is no meaning beyond this moment. For now, there is only you, Link, and those that stand against you.

The moment the last one hits the ground, Link is spinning you around, so you are in his arms. His sword drops to the ground behind you, unimportant as he looks you over.

Blue eyes flit over your form as his brows draw together.

You smile, dropping your own sword and reaching to cradle his jaw with one hand.

"You're hurt." Link frowns heavily. His hands on your waist light but solid as he tries to tell how bad it is.

"Not bad. You're hurt, too."

"That's not important."

"What's important is we kicked ass!" You laugh, shooting him a wink.

Link laughs too, eyes crinkling and lighting up. He shakes his head at you fondly, indulgent, if only for you. "Of course we did, dove."

"Get over here," You demand lightly, the hand not cradling his face settles on his shoulder.

He does. He moves closer until he can kiss you, and then he does that, too. His lips press against yours as if he has all the time in the world.

As if you aren't both filthy from the fight.

As if you are precious.

There's a soft hum from Link, nothing but an innocent sign of affection as he uses the moment to reassure himself.

He pulls back, pressing his forehead to yours. He breathes heavy, but there is a deep understanding between you and him that this is where you both want to be. Together.

His gaze meets your own, and he gives a soft exhale.

You rub your thumb across his cheek.

He smiles at you softly, a warmth reserved only for you floods his eyes.

"Why don't you head back, I need to go find my dagger." You prompt.

Link frowns at you, "I'll stay."

"No, go ahead. You have to speak to Impa."

"She can wait." He says with a soft voice, arguing to stay by your side.

You smile, pressing another kiss to his lips. "Go on, captain, I'll meet you there."

Link sighs before he leans back in, cupping your face in one hand as he presses a kiss to your mouth a third and final time. "You better get back before dinner."

"I will."

He gives you a smile before he turns and picks up his gear.

You feel something prickle in your mind, an intuition. Danger is here.

It's somewhere to the right-

You turn, seeing the spear with just enough time to react. A desperate bid to protect your lover.

It's not thought through. You launch between the spear and Link, catching the tip through your lung with a strangled scream.

There's piercing pain and the distinct knowledge this isn't going to end well.

You land on the ground, impaled and wheezing heavily.

Link screams your name before whipping around to kill whatever threw that spear-

Time blurs as blood wells up in your mouth. You cough and wheeze.

Link falls to his knees by you. "Dove, stay with me. It's going to be okay."

"Li-nk." You croak. You know you don't have much time or strength.

Based on his face, he knows it, too.

"Lo-ve you." Your voice cracks over the words, but they are important.

Link is openly crying, shaking as he reaches for your hand. "I love you too. It's okay. It'll stop - it'll stop hurting soon."

You smile weakly-

You bolt up right with a strangled sob and an ache as if impaled through your lung.

It was a dream.

Why are you dreaming about the heroes?

Wild is the one one watch and it's his voice that asks "Are you okay?"

You whip around, eyes landing on the champion. Your still heaving shaky breaths.

Wild looks genuinely worried even as his eyes look far away.

You swallow hard.

"Just- a nightmare." You manage. "I'm- I'm fine."

He dosen’t look convinced.

-------

Dream summary: You and Warriors are in a battle. You guys finish it off and are sappy. You convince him to head back while you stay put to find your dagger, but when Wars goes to pick up his things, you are ambushed. You basically die, but it's not explicitly show, your last words to him are 'love you'. He cries.

Tag list: @vrsin

#misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu written in the stars (forever on loop) au #lu written in the stars au #written in the stars au

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roseyodditea · 5 months ago

Note

totally love your work especially Lighter part then i saw u open the request, so.. if u don't mind or busy, may i request Lighter with a deaf and mute reader. Lighter, who has trouble communicating with them, decides to learn sign language but sometimes he messes up so the reader decides to teach him and as time goes by, the two become closer and you know how it ends, i imagine Lighter trying to express his feelings using sign language (but again he fails because he's too nervous). tysm 💕💕

This is based off of ASL since I am American. Also, please let me know if there are any mistakes! I don't know sign language and I'm not surrounded by people who do.

Just Give Me A Sign - Lighter x gn!Reader

Summary -> 1000 words (exactly!). Lighter's favorite nurse visits Blazewood, and he's trying to learn sign language. Warnings -> Brief moment of an injury (not in detail). A/N -> I think I'm so funny for that title. Also I made the reader a nurse. I know it wasn't in the request but I felt a draw to this storyline.

It was rare you had to make a trip all the way out to the Outer Ring for work. Normally the bikers had a pretty solid trade schedule and wouldn’t need to order emergency supplies, and even if they did Piper would drive the truck back and forth. Today was a special case, and Blazewood had been hit with a bacterial contamination in the well water, so you were hauling antibiotics from the clinic you worked at. You parked your car and shot a text to Ceaser, who immediately exited Cheesetopia and ran up to help you unload the supplies. You saw her lips moving very quickly and since you were distracted you couldn’t lip read entire sentences.

Lighter… back… Hollow… Her face then contorted to frustration and you saw her lips form “Lucy” and decided to not pay attention for the rest of her ramble. After six months of being the nurse contact between your clinic and Blazewood, you think they’d remember you’re deaf. You carry more boxes into the makeshift clinic, storing them properly so the town could start to recover before stepping back outside. Technically you could drive straight back to New Eridu, but you decide to enjoy some time here. Hey, you were getting paid, might as well stretch out the clock.

It was a beautiful day in Blazewood. Little wind so sand and tumbleweeds were at a standstill, a thin layer of clouds to dampen the scorching rays from the sun. You walk over to the random couch and sit, closing your eyes to simply enjoy the warmth as it seeped into your skin. You only bother to open your eyes when you feel a small tap on your shoulder. You open them to see Burnice standing above you, holding a glass. Oh no.

Instead of watching her trying to clumsily fingerspell ‘Nitro-Fuel’, she gestures to the lower level, signing out ‘help’. You follow her only to see a repeat patient sitting on an empty oil drum, his leather jacket and scarf laid across his lap, his chest scratched and bruised and bloodied, a particularly deep wound on his shoulder. She leaves you to him and you quickly grab your phone out of your pocket, typing out a message.

What now, Lighter?

Lighter glances over to the phone and shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his forearms with his fist’s balled. Fight. Of course that's a sign he knows. He didn’t learn any of the basic conversation signs, but he learned ‘Fight’ and most of the curse words.

You look at his shoulder and know it wouldn’t need stitches, but it would need to be patched up. You shoot him a frustrated look as you snap on your gloves, Lighter offering a sheepish smile. Your hands move quickly, practice. Lighter was a good patient, sitting still and only minorly twitching away from the antiseptic. You had his shoulder wrapped up tightly before you took off the gloves, typing something out on your phone before handing it to him.

Change the dressing daily. Rest.

Lighter nodded before thinking for a moment, his movements uncertain as he placed his hand on his chin, gesturing it downward to you before holding a hand palm out, tapping his fingers together on his wrist.

Thank you, Doctor

You shake your head, taking his hand and closing some of his fingers so only his pointer and middle finger are out, correcting him to sign ‘nurse’ instead of ‘doctor’ before bringing your fingers in the shape of a v up to your forehead, knowing he’d recognise ‘dumbass’. Much to your enjoyment, he looked a bit offended, but eventually smiled.

**********

With the waterborne illness still running through Blazewood, you came back a few days later to push IV fluids into the dehydrated, lending a hand to the Sons of Calydon when you could. Lucy and Lighter had joined you for a lunch break, Lucy being the only Sons of Calydon member who knew enough sign language to keep up in conversation with you. Lighter was in his own world, eyebrows furrowed tightly like he was deep in thought.

Lucy points to him, taps her chin, and then points to you. He missed you. You smile and look over to the man who was just scooting food around his plate.

You roll your eyes, gesturing to him, and curling your pointer finger before tapping your lips and then your chest. He should tell me.

You and Lucy conversed for a bit, secretly talking about Lighter who was just watching the back and forth silently. He was getting better at picking up signs, but you and Lucy went too fast for him to keep up. Once Lucy left, Lighter looked at you over the rim of his sunglasses with those big puppy eyes. He might not be quick at picking up sign language, but every time there was a bit of free time between the two of you, he asked for lessons.

You sat with him for what must have been an hour, running through basic conversational signs. Lighter was learning, slowly but surely. It was sweet. All of this work for him just to learn to talk to you in something other than typing or writing and passing notes.

After the little lesson, Lighter looked up at you, his hands idly fidgeting. He was nervous, that much was clear. He points to you, taps his chin with his middle finger, before tapping his pointer finger and middle against his wrist. You, favorite, nurse… You’re my favorite nurse. Cute.

You saw how nervous he was. How he had practiced those movements. So you decided to see just how much he had learned just for this cute little confession. You tap the tips of your flattened hand to the corner of your mouth and then up to your cheek. You smile to yourself as you watch his face explode into a deep blush, almost matching the color of his scarf as he looks away.

Adorable. He already learned ‘kiss’.

Here are the resources I used for the signs! https://www.signingtime.com/ https://www.signingsavvy.com/

#oneshot #zzz x reader #lighter fluff #lighter lorenz x reader #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter #lighter x reader

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jamesmcalover · 2 months ago

Text

i'd let you break me

Simon Kalivoda x afab!reader

Warnings: slowburn, fluff, awkward!simon, so cute

Summery: Reader and Simon get assigned to do a project together

Part 2

3k words - not proofread!

do people still read simon fics?

Simon rested his cheek against his hand, eyes on the clock. Almost ten minutes left, and Mr. Harris was still droning on about genetics. He wasn’t even listening. Just pretending to take notes, mostly drawing tiny skulls in the margins of his notebook.

That’s when the words “partner project” snapped him out of his daze.

Mr. Harris tapped the whiteboard with a marker. “You’ll be working in pairs. I’ve assigned them already, so no trading.”

A few students groaned. Simon didn’t really care. Until Mr. Harris said his name.

“And Simon… you’re with Y/N.”

He blinked. Y/N?

Of all the people in class. Of course it was her. The one girl who made him forget how to function like a normal person.

He glanced across the room, heart thudding a little too hard.

You were sitting near the window, twirling a pen between your fingers. Head turned slightly at the sound of your name, but your expression didn’t change. You didn’t look surprised or annoyed. Just calm. Focused. Like always.

Simon didn’t really know you, but he’d noticed you. Everyone had. You weren’t loud, but you didn’t shy away from anything. You asked sharp questions in class. You walked like you had somewhere to be. Confident. Collected. Kinda terrifying.

He swallowed and looked back at his notebook, suddenly very aware of how dumb his skulls looked.

Mr. Harris moved on to the next pair. You started gathering your things before the bell even rang. No hesitation.

When it finally did, Simon stayed seated a second too long.

Then you were there.

“So… Simon, right?” you ask, sliding into the chair next to him.

He nods quickly, caught off guard. “Yeah. That’s me. You’re, uh, Y/N. Right. I know. I mean– I knew that.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirk just barely tugging at your lips. “Cool. Want to meet after school to plan this out?”

He hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Where?”

You shrugged. “Library?”

“Cool. Sounds good.”

You nodded again and walked off, already slipping your headphones on as you left the room.

Simon stared after you for a second, then sat back down with a quiet exhale.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself.

He was so out of his depth.

The library was quiet, like always. You liked it that way. Just enough noise to think, not enough to distract. You’d claimed a table near the back, dropped your bag, and pulled out the project sheet before Simon even showed up.

You expected he might be a little late. You didn’t expect him to show up five minutes early… and hover awkwardly near the table like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down.

You looked up. “You can sit, you know.”

He startled slightly, then gave a quick nod and slid into the seat across from you, clutching his backpack like it might protect him from whatever storm he thought you were about to unleash.

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Totally.” He unzipped his bag, fumbled with a binder, dropped a pen, muttered something under his breath, then finally looked up with a forced smile. “Just, uh, unprepared.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t call him out. It was kind of cute, honestly, how someone like Simon could be nervous around you. You’d seen him around school a dozen times. Loud, funny, always joking with someone. The kind of guy who never took anything seriously.

Except apparently now. With you.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him a little.

“So,” you said, flipping open the project sheet, “we have two weeks, and we need a presentation and some kind of visual on sleep and circadian rhythms. What’re you good at?”

Simon blinked. “Good at?”

You nodded. “You know. Are you a research guy? The talker? The one who makes a slideshow at the last second and somehow still gets an A?”

He laughed, awkward, but real. “I mean, I have done that. Once. Or twice. Maybe every time.”

You smirked. “Figures.”

He looked up at that, like he wasn’t sure if you were mocking him or not. You weren’t. You were just curious. There was something disarming about him, even if he was fumbling through every sentence like his mouth wasn’t connected to his brain.

“I can handle the research,” you offered. “If you can handle visuals and talking. Deal?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Deal. You’re, uh… really organized.”

You shrugged. “I like getting things done.”

There was a beat of silence, then he blurted out, “Do you, like… ever get nervous?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Just– like, you always seem like you have it together.” He looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s cool. Just… intimidating. Kind of.”

You stared at him for a second, surprised. Then you smiled. Not the polite one you gave in class. The real kind.

“Of course I get nervous,” you said softly. “Just not about biology projects.”

That made him laugh again, a little less tense this time.

You looked down at the paper again, but not before catching the way he looked at you. Still a little in awe. Still a little overwhelmed.

You liked that.

The library became your go-to. You met there again a few days later, a little more comfortable this time, your folders more organized and your conversation a little less stiff.

By the third meeting, things were different. You invited him to your house. Casual. Easy. You needed a change of scenery. So did he.

You hadn’t really expected him to show up on time, but this time, he was actually late.

It was almost fifteen minutes past four when the doorbell finally rang.

You opened it, ready to tease him, but stopped short when you saw what he was holding.

A coffee in each hand, and an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry, I got caught up at the store,” he said, a little breathless. “I thought caffeine might soften the blow.”

You blinked, surprised. “Is that… for me?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed. It’s vanilla something. Didn’t seem too risky.”

You took it from him, fingers brushing his as you did. How thoughtful.

“Thanks,” you said, softening despite yourself. “You’re forgiven.”

He smiled, clearly relieved, and toed off his shoes like last time. This time, you noticed the way his eyes lingered on the little details of your space. Your bookshelf, the photos on the fridge, the candle burning low on the table. Vanilla and sage again.

You’d cleared the table already, the project folders waiting.

“You can sit,” you said, already sliding into your usual seat.

He joined you, a little more relaxed than before. Still awkward. But trying.

His hair was a mess today, like he hadn’t even tried. He probably hadn’t. But he smelled like laundry detergent and mint gum, and you were starting to recognize that combination before he even sat down.

You didn’t say it out loud, but… it was kinda nice.

He pulled out his half-crumpled notes and gave you a hopeful look. “So, you’re gonna save this whole thing with your brain again, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You do realize we’re being graded as a team.”

“Right, right. Teamwork. I’m great at moral support.”

“You highlighted an entire paragraph in pink last time.”

“Bold move. Very memorable. Teachers love that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. You hated to admit it but he was growing on you. Fast.

There was something weirdly sincere about him. He didn’t try to impress you. He just existed, nervously, like being around you short-circuited half his vocabulary.

And maybe you liked how he looked at you like you were made of something sharper, something cooler, something untouchable.

But you weren’t. And you kind of wanted him to figure that out.

For a while, you worked. You read a passage aloud. He listened. Asked a question. Wrote something down.

It was going fine until you reached for the same notebook at the same time and your hands brushed.

You didn’t pull away. Neither did he. For half a second, the contact lingered.

Simon cleared his throat and quickly scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry. You go.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Totally.” His voice cracked. “I mean. Yep. Normal.”

You watched him fumble with his pen, drop it, mutter a curse under his breath. It was so obvious now. The red in his cheeks, the way he kept glancing at you like he was trying to memorize your expression but didn’t want to get caught.

So you leaned back a little. Testing something.

“You always this flustered around girls?”

His head snapped up, eyes wide. “What? No. I mean– kinda? Not usually. I mean–”

You laughed softly. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.”

He gave a weak smile. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

That made you pause. Your smile faded. Just slightly. Not because you were offended. But because there was something in his voice. Something that almost sounded like admiration. Respect. Like you were this mythical creature in his head, and he wasn’t quite sure how you were real.

You looked at him for a moment too long.

“Simon,” you said carefully, “you know I’m just a person, right?”

He blinked. “Yeah. I mean, obviously.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “So stop looking at me like I’m gonna turn into a dragon.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, very quietly:

“I’m not scared of dragons.”

You arched a brow. “No?”

He held your gaze this time. Something steadier. Braver.

“No,” he said. “Just… fire.”

You didn’t smile right away. You just looked at him, heartbeat thudding a little louder in your chest than you meant to let on.

Then you stood, slowly, and walked toward the kitchen.

“You want water?” you asked over your shoulder.

His voice was a little hoarse. “Yeah. Sure.”

You worked a little longer. Not much talking now. Just the quiet scratch of pens, the soft clicking on your laptops keyboard, and the occasional clink of your coffee cups.

After a while, Simon shifted in his chair with a quiet groan and rolled his shoulders back.

“You okay?” you asked without looking up.

“Yeah. Just… back’s killing me.” He gave a sheepish smile. “These chairs are, like, spine assassins.”

You glanced at him, then at the couch a few feet away. “You wanna move?”

His eyes followed your gaze, then flicked back to you. “Uh– if you don’t mind.”

“I offered, didn’t I?”

You both stood. He grabbed his notes, you grabbed yours, and you plopped down onto the far end of the couch, legs curled under you. He settled onto the other side, leaving just enough space to be polite, but not too much.

The shift in setting was immediate. Less formal. Less focused. You leaned into the cushions. He sat with one leg tucked up, notebook balanced on his knee, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. His hair was still a mess. So was his posture. But he looked relaxed.

“So,” he said after a beat. “Sleep and circadian rhythms. Weirdly appropriate, considering I haven’t slept in, like, three years.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Let me guess– insomniac or night owl?”

“Bit of both. My brain’s allergic to silence.” He tilted his head. “What about you? You seem like you sleep with a perfectly balanced routine and one of those white noise machines that sounds like gentle rain on a tin roof.”

You smiled, slow. “That’s oddly specific.”

He grinned. “Just a vibe.”

You stretched your legs out a little, knee brushing the edge of his thigh. You didn’t apologize. He didn’t flinch.

“I sleep fine,” you said. “Most of the time. But I like being awake at night. It’s quieter. Less pressure to perform.”

Simon looked at you then – not just looked, but listened, like he’d never heard anyone say that before. “That makes sense,” he said softly.

You shrugged. “People assume confidence means control. But night makes it easier to just… exist.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I think I’m more alive at night. But not in the cool, mysterious way. More like… I do my deepest spiraling between 1 and 4 a.m.”

That made you laugh, warm and real. “Honest. I like that.”

He smiled again, almost shy. “Yeah, well. Not much of a filter up here.”

You watched him for a second. The distance between you was smaller now. The air warmer. Like the conversation had shifted from project talk to something that didn’t have a deadline.

“Hey,” you said after a moment. “You ever think about how weird it is? That we’re all just… wired to shut down for eight hours a day?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Vulnerable as hell. Whole species just, like, agrees to play dead for a third of their lives.”

You kept talking. About sleep. About how REM cycles worked, and how dreams were still kind of a mystery. But the conversation kept drifting, like neither of you really wanted to talk about biology anymore.

Eventually, Simon slouched deeper into the couch, his head resting against the cushion. His notes had slipped onto his lap, mostly forgotten.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low, “this couch is dangerously comfortable.”

You glanced over. His eyes were half-lidded now, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. “Uh-huh,” you said, amused. “That sounds like the beginning of an excuse.”

“Nooo,” he muttered, drawing out the word. “I’m just appreciating the… ergonomics.”

You snorted. “Right.”

He yawned, tried to blink it off. “Okay, but seriously. I might be dying. Of comfort. It’s a rare condition.”

“Tragic,” you said, setting your own notebook aside. “Should I call someone? Maybe a teacher? Let them know you couldn’t finish the project because you were terminally cozy?”

He chuckled, a lazy sound. “I mean… they’d understand.”

You were quiet for a second, just watching him. He looked softer like this. The usual tension in his shoulders had melted. He wasn’t overthinking his every move now. He was just… here. Honest in that way people only get when they’re too tired to pretend.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper now. “You’re kind of scary when you’re awake. But this version of you? Sitting on a couch, talking about sleep cycles? It’s actually… kinda nice.”

You tilted your head, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted. “You think I’m scary?”

“Terrifying,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut. “But, like… in a hot way.”

You stared at him.

Then: “Simon?”

No answer.

He was out.

Just like that.

You blinked, unsure if you should be annoyed or charmed. You settled on both.

The candle on the table flickered low. His coffee sat forgotten beside him. And Simon, the boy who could barely look you in the eye two weeks ago, was now completely asleep on your couch. Breathing soft. One hand curled under his chin.

You reached over and gently tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over him without a word.

Then you sat back, legs tucked beneath you, and just watched him for a second.

He looked peaceful.

You smiled to yourself.

Terrifying, huh?

Sure. If he said so.

You glanced over after a few quiet minutes and found him slumped a little lower than before, head tilted toward the back cushion. His eyes were closed. Mouth slightly parted. Completely out.

You didn’t move right away.

It was kind of funny, honestly. The way he’d spent the whole week fumbling his way through every conversation, half-tripping over his words like you might bite him if he said the wrong thing. And now here he was. Asleep. Next to you. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stayed quiet, letting the silence settle. Your leg brushed his, just barely. He didn’t stir.

Maybe five minutes passed. Maybe ten.

Then he shifted slightly, exhaled, and blinked awake with a faint, confused murmur.

“…Shit,” he mumbled, sitting up straighter. “Did I–? Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” you said. “You were out cold.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, clearly mortified. “Ugh. Great. That’s a strong first impression.”

You tilted your head. “Pretty sure we’ve already had a few of those.”

He laughed under his breath, still groggy, and dropped his hand back into his lap. “Right. Yeah. This one just comes with snoring.”

“You didn’t snore.”

“Good. Would’ve been a dealbreaker.”

You let the smile linger on your lips for a moment. Then, more softly:

“You really that tired?”

Simon hesitated. Then shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“How come?”

He looked down at his hands. Picked at the dead skin on his thumb. “Sometimes I just… can’t. Like I’m tired, but my brain’s still going. You know?”

You nodded, quieter now. “Yeah. I get that.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

For a second, you thought he might say something else. Something heavier. But then he huffed a soft laugh and leaned his head back against the couch cushion again.

“This is gonna sound dumb,” he said.

You glanced sideways. “Try me.”

He didn’t look at you when he said it.

“You make it hard to think straight.”

Your chest tightened just a little.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him. Messy hair, tired eyes, flushed cheeks and all.

Then, steady as ever:

“Good.”

That made him glance your way. Surprised. Hopeful.

You looked back at him with a small, knowing smile.

“Means it’s mutual.”

And suddenly the space between you felt smaller than it was. Softer. Like something important had just shifted, but neither of you were quite ready to name it yet.

So you let the moment breathe. Let it settle.

Then you nudged his foot with yours.

“Now drink your coffee before I start thinking you only came here to nap on my couch.”

He grinned, the warmth returning to his face.

“Honestly? Best nap I’ve had in weeks.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile said otherwise.

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Part 2 <3

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Taglist:

@reidsstuff

lmk if you want to be added to any specific or general taglist!!

#simon kalivoda x you #simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #fear street #fred hechinger #fred hechinger fanfic #fred hechinger fanfiction #fred hechinger x reader #fred hechinger x you

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Text

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster.

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom.

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door.

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder. With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden.

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.”

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second.

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail.

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person.

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom.

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.”

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show.

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart.

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.”

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. “I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?”

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months ago

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Blazing Lust - An Aemond Targaryen/Reader/Daemon Targaryen One Shot Story.

Is it pure sinfully hot, totally indulgent, far removed from canon, porn without a plot? Yes. Is it exactly what I needed to write because of my hormonal duress? Also yes. Be warned, it's pretty filthy. Will there be a part two? Maybe. ;)

Words - 1,405

Warnings - Smut (but not any TargCest, they're both just here for you) below the cut. Minors DNI!

It streaks through you, like a hail of comets, a celestial starshine of pleasure, light rushing over your nerves. It’s always like this with them, the masters of mindless pleasure, the two men ravage your senses so thoroughly, it is almost as if they exist solely for that purpose.

The furnace of your desire is stoked to roaring flame, two mouths full of indulgent hunger and filthy promise gliding over you, one settling between your legs, the other sucking at your nipples until they stand pebbled.

The crush of teeth has little pricks of pain skipping down your spine, puddling at your cunt, the heat of a tongue lapping it away with a ravenous grunt. Your silver haired, violet eyed lovers; how easily they have you toppling like an ancient tower under the pressure of their touch.

And yet, they’ve scarcely even begun.

You never contemplated that perhaps it might be too much to withstand, but they are nothing if not apt at forcing your regular reconsideration. Could such a thing as too good ever exist?

With them, it is entirely possible. With them, it's never anything less than blazing lust.

Your sweet, breathy moans flutter through the air, adding to the orchestra of sin that is two deeper voices both groaning with desire. Your little sexual soprano is only muted when Aemond moves his mouth to yours, his kisses all hot yearning as he fucks slowly into the lubed grasp of your hand around his cock.

While your tongues dance together, the heat within the candlelit room burning to tempest, Daemon licks at the soaking velvet of your cunt so thoroughly, you know the touch of his mouth will never truly leave you. Gods be good, he’s divine.

The sound of it is filthily sultry, sucking on your pearl as Aemond’s teeth move back to your nipple, the bite going straight to your apex, a connection tingling from the dual stimulus, meeting in a glide of pleasure like satin being dragged over your nerves.

Aemond’s tongue laves over the red indentations from his bite, a slow, long lick gliding up your chest and over your throat, his rumbled groan flowing like wine from his mouth to yours. You drink it back, feeling his cock jerk in your hand as you grip the silky steel of him, your grasp tugging upwards and fingers teasing the head, slowly sliding back to the base once more. You know well by now how to render him mindless by your prowess.

“Fuck,” he grunts, teeth crushing against your lower lip, his reaction warming your insides further, watching dark violet fire dance in his beautiful eye. “Do that again, my little vixen.”

You oblige his gravelled request, your mouths locked, your thighs writhing against Daemon’s face, soft skin meeting the rough prickle of a hint of silver stubble as his tongue draws a delicious circle over your bud, your walls clenched hard around the thick of his fingers. A little crook has you spasming, that nudge so precise, you’re mindless for a moment, panting against Aemond’s mouth as Daemon ruins your sanity with his.

Your hips quake almost violently as he draws it from you, Daemon beating his tongue rapidly over your bud. “That’s it, beautiful temptress,” he encourages, voice all smoke and grit. “Come nice and hard for me.”

It blazes like a beacon through the ink of the darkest night, your lover smiling against your soaking folds, sucking on your bud as you flood his mouth with the honey of your release.

“Gods above,” he smirks, kissing your petals, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself. “You all but drowned me.”

A quick trade of places gives you time to cool down, before the intensity Aemond kissed you with is matched as he begins to eat you thirstily, sucking on your slit until you swell against the hard beat of his tongue, Daemon moving astride your chest, a hand beneath your head raising it up, his cock pushing between your lips.

“Be a good girl for me, yes, fuck. That’s it.” He groans, watching his thick cock sinking into your mouth inch by inch.

The pleasure invoked is razor edged yet kitten soft, your hands touring the ridges of Daemon’s chiselled hips and abs as he slowly pumps into the wet grip of your mouth, the pressure of your tongue perfect against the underside of his shaft.

His hands wind through your hair, fisting tight, each deep groan more a predatory rumble as your mouth stretches around him, your eyes meeting his as he watches himself vanish right into your throat.

“You look so very pretty when I fuck your mouth, temptress.”

Your heart skips a beat at his praise while your cunt flutters in spasm as Aemond’s tongue breaches your opening, his nose sliding over the pearl of your sex until his licks return to it, the vibration of his moan searing through you.

His hands stroke scorching paths of heat over your thighs as he makes you melt over his tongue, his groans so rumbling and delicious, you feel weak to your very marrow. They impose such thrilling pleasure on you, your body host to tumbling glimmers, bliss streaking your spine as you feel Aemond move, kneeling before you, his hardness meeting your folds.

It sends a strong shiver through you, your hips bucking, desperate to feel him spear you. “Insatiable little vixen,” he chuckles, the head of his cock sliding over your bud. “I see it, how much this needy little hole aches for my cock.”

The thick head catches at your entrance, the slick drag of him rubbing himself over your slit having you whimpering with the need to be filled, finally stretched wide when he arrows into you. Just that first thrust is a delicious satiation for your ache, Aemond muttering cusses at the divinity that is the wet heat of you clasped around him.

It’s slow and rolling for all of a few seconds before the desire flickering through him demands greater ignition, his sparks roaring into flame as his hips gain power, driving into you deeply, your nails grazing Daemon’s back as you swallow his cock whole.

Your muted moans rend sharply into the air, your body quaking as the dark lust of it sizzles through your veins, lights you up, their hardness heavy within you as they make your theirs. The hot silk of your arousal bathes Aemond thickly, and you wish you could see him in all of his beauty as he fucks you, but watching the intensity of Daemon’s gaze keeps you transfixed, his cusses of how amazing you feel, how you’re his good girl, how well you take him adding to it.

Such praise is mirrored by Aemond, exclaiming at your wetness as his cock glides through it, his nails dug hard into your hips as the thick head of him pounds you deep, sends sparks skittering through you, pleasure spiking hard over every nerve ending inside you.

Both of them become boundless within you, their groans sinfully erotic, deep gritted and full bodied, their cocks dragging at you with more speed as they race towards it. Aemond’s thumb working in slick strokes on your bud keeps you simmering until you bubble over with him, your body keening against his as he fucks waves of white hot into your soaking core, Daemon’s hands clenching in your hair tightly as his release trickles down your throat.

The aftermath is soft, Aemond returning his mouth to you, pressing kisses over your hip, thumb languidly stroking through the mess of your folds, Daemon moving to your side, kissing your neck, his deft fingertips chasing the beads of sweat that roll slowly down your breasts.

“Happy?” he asks, clasping your jaw in a strong grip, turning your head. You receive his mouth in a languid, lustful kiss, your stomach fluttering pleasantly. You might be spent, but these men of yours, gods. How they know how to reignite you rapidly.

“For now,” you purr, your fingers stroking over his wide chest. “I will be even more so when I have both of you inside me, though.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You just did.”

“Not like that,” you whisper, softly biting his cheek. “You know well what I want.”

While Daemon chuckles deeply, Aemond runs his tongue up your thigh, fingers returning to the soaking chasm of your cunt. “I think that can be arranged.”

A/N - Did you enjoy this story? If so, please be kind and leave a little comment/reblog. Thanks!

#aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #HOTD #aemond smut #daemon smut #aemond x you #daemon x you

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ego-osbourne · 6 months ago

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Sam Guevenne (Revamp)

I am addicted to remasters

He’s just. So cute to me. Went into this hoping I could make him sleek and unique without complete and total blorbificaiton (I cannot and will not defend his Prince design in that regard). General art woes under the cut + the base bc I thought the pose was cute <33

Tbh making remasters of the Masquerade one by one has been very fun. I know I keep doing it but I think remasters are a nice way to showcase improvement and progression aside from what only technical artstyle improvements can do. Also, I just like doing redesigns. So I’ll probably keep doing them lol.

Not sure which of the Masq will be next on the roster. Ego needs an established set of armor, Rakell needs some casual clothes, I need to showcase Serana’s hood but also would like to give her a new hairstyle, I need to find a way to make Miraak’s mask easier to draw maybe?? And Sanguine needs actual clothes in his Prince form, I still haven’t decided on a set outfit for him yet.

But before I do that (I think, maybe) I will have a commission to post, a secret santa, and the end of the year wrapups that I usually do. Then an art trade and probably advertise commissions again after that

But, as promised, here’s the base :]

#Sam guevenne #tes #tesblr #tes art #Skyrim #tesv #Breton #the dez illusion #my art

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dethtallica · 8 months ago

Note

heyy im requesting again cus i liked the work you did for me so much :) could you do one with Jason/Anyone based on @hexxeddorm’s drawing on a waitress Jason? (im pretty sure you’ve seen it) the rest is up to what you want to write, just need to have him dicked down in that uniform 👀

again, love your works so much and take your time if you need to :) ❤️

GAHH had to make this into a halloween fic! i love that fanart so much this ask made me SO happy :)

Prove It

1987 • James/Jason

CW - semi public sex, toxic yaoi lmao, cross dressing, dubious consent kind of i don’t know, use of the F slur, internalized homophobia

Jason always looked forward to Halloween.

He’d dress in a fun costume, drink, maybe play a Halloween show if he was lucky. The Flotsam guys were even bigger on Halloween than he was and dragged him to countless costume parties with hookers hanging around; they’d give him a look, that look, and one of his bandmates would push Jason to go talk to a prostitute with a smirk.

“Cmon man, she’s like, totally your type! Blonde hair, blue eyes, looks like she could kill ya… go get ‘er!”

Yeah. It’s his type.

The girls were almost always wearing a sexy outfit. Skimpy, cheap clothes that accentuated their curves. The costumes were predictable— Sometimes a nurse. Sometimes a slutty witch who wants to trade her potions for your semen. Maybe a particularly naughty angel who decided maybe a little defiance would be good.

Or, a waitress.

Jason stares at himself in the mirror, regretting everything about this. He was still the Newkid, had to do everything the band told him. What James told him. So, when he was ordered to embarrass himself by wearing a very feminine, very revealing Waitress costume for the upcoming Halloween party, he obliged. Jason shuffled to the side to check the rest of his costume. Remembered how these costumes were made to show off ass and curves. It’s not a nice memory. His thighs seemed too muscular for the thin fabric of the light pink skirt, his chest and shoulders too broad and thick for the revealing top. Trying on costumes had been enjoyable in the past; now wearing his costume is the last thing he wants to do.

Jason’s eyebrows furrow as he continues to check himself out in the mirror. Maybe, he thinks, if he was a chick, there was a chance he would look good. But he’s not. No, he’s a guy in a fucking waitress costume too small for him just because James would get a kick out of it. Everyone else had a normal costume— a vampire, a werewolf, an imp. And, fuck, here he is. In a women’s skirt and top. In a shitty halloween store’s changing room where plastic decorations hang from the ceiling and walls. The painted on smiles of the plastic spiders don’t help Jason’s mood.

Jason sighs. He really doesn’t wanna do this. Surely there’s a way he can convince James to have mercy on him, right? Maybe he’d offer his personal stash of weed or Heineken. Embarrassed, Jason stops staring at his masculine figure in the mirror and takes a deep breath. James is on the other side of the dressing room, impatiently tapping his foot, and Jason assumes it’s because he wants to hurry up and get back to the guys.

“James? You’re.. really serious ‘bout this? Don’t wanna like, take my hash instead? This is stupid. Really fuckin’ stupid.”

Jason hears the other man grunt from the other side.

“What, too pussy? If you can’t even dress up in a stupid costume, why should I even keep you around?”

Well. Fuck.

“I- Fine. Whatever. I’m ready.”

A pause, then James is opening the door from the outside, not realizing how tantalizingly slow he’s going. Why did he do this again? To be honest, he wasn’t really thinking when he asked Jason to wear the costume. He was drunk. And, yeah. He’s usually drunk. Caught him there. But it was different. Jason was the one who brought costumes up in that stupid cheery voice, and you couldn’t blame James for wanting to mess with him. Not when he’s waiting for Jason to snap.

Here’s how it happened; the two were sitting in Jason’s room together with the steady beat of Electric Eye. Jason and James left all alone because Kirk and Lars wouldn’t do a damn thing without the other and Lars was tasked with getting the band more beer. Jason eyed James. James eyed Jason. Jason spoke up, blurting out a stupid question about Halloween, earning a groan from James. Like he wanted to make Jason believe talking to him was a chore. The conversation went on— if you count Jason sheepishly blabbering in hopes of entertaining James a conversation. It was when Jason mentioned those parties with his old band, Flotsam, that the blonde got an idea.

That’s when he asked Jason just how far he would go. Jason looked confused at first. The guitarist enlightened him. James asks the brunette what his problem is first, because of course he does, and follows it with something that made Jason determined.

“You always just take everything. All the pranks, all the jokes. When are you gonna snap at us, huh? When are you gonna snap at me? How far can you really take it? Prove to me you’re good enough.”

That’s how they ended up here. Jason showed him how much humiliation he can take by allowing James to lay eyes on him when he’s dressed like this. Because Jason is strong, Jason can take it. He can take all the shit James and the guys give him. In fact, he has to. So the bassist doesn’t hide when the door is finally opened all the way, only looking to the side, his cheeks dusted a light pink.

It hits James like a truck. He feels absolutely winded after he first takes the first look. The waitress skirt perfectly hugs his hips like it was specially tailored and crafted for Jason to give the guitarist a boner. His mouth goes dry, scanning the bassist up and down. The boy in front of him wasn’t supposed to look so damn perfect, the whole thing was supposed to be a joke. A stab at Jason, to see how far he’ll take it. To see if he’s good enough to be in Metallica. He is a replacement, after all. However, James would be lying if he said that replacement wasn’t making him short circuit. And James was also a dirty fuckin’ liar, because the waitress gag was more than just a gag to him.

“You. You, uh. You look stupid.”

There’s silence for a few moments. Then, Jason starts laughing. It throws James off, and he scrunches his eyebrows. The bassist giggles for a few moments longer before shaking his head.

“Is that all you have to say?”

James shifts uncomfortably and looks to the side. Walks in, closes the door behind him, then scowls. Like he didn’t just invite himself into an occupied dressing room like a freak. And he wasn’t! He swore. He only shut the door so no one else would see Jason like this. Which, fuck, wasn’t a great reason either, considering that’s the whole reason he’s forcing Jason to buy this stupid costume anyways. So people can see. And laugh. The only one that’s laughing is Jason, though, because he realized he’s got the big James Hetfield’s panties in a twist ‘cause of what was supposed to be a prank on him. Ironic.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me. Be grateful I’m closing the door so only I can see you. I should be the one laughing at you.”

Jason rolls his eyes. He’s not dumb enough to not pick up on what the situation is, though it is much different from what he expected. He really did expect James to laugh at him, to think he looked stupid. Instead he got that look, yes, that look, and a couple stuttered words when James stared at him like a dog staring at a treat. Jason’s no virgin. Maybe surprised, but he won’t let that show. What he does plan to show is dominance over this perverted blonde who was slowly getting closer to him.

“You look conflicted. Got something to say?”

Jason asks quietly, watching James get closer like a cartoon character floating to a pie. Pathetic, he thinks. He’s supposed to be the intimidating one and Jason’s got him hardening in his jeans from a simple costume like a homo. If you asked him, James was not a homosexual. He only liked girls. That was his justification for quickly hardening in his jeans at the sight of Jason. He looked like a girl, okay? That’s it. That’s the only reason.

But it wasn’t. Because James was inches away from the bassist, staring down at him with a hard on.

“I’m not- I’m not conflicted. Fuck are you trying to say?”

“Well.. I can see your boner through your jeans, but you’re trying to make yourself look like you’re mad. How’s that for a conflict?”

The blonde snarls. That was it. James shoves Jason against the back wall, rattling the little decorations in the dressing room. Jason yells with surprise and slight panic as he’s tossed against the wall like a ragdoll. Really hot once the initial surprise wears off, but he keeps that to himself. Jason’s chin is yanked up to look up at James’ flushed face. They meet eyes, the waitress boys’ gaze teasing and hungry while the guitarist’s is angry and lustful.

“I am not a fucking fag. Okay? I’m not. You- you just look like a woman, that’s IT. I don’t like guys. I don’t like you. I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Instead of a reply, Jason forces his lips on James. Expecting resistance, he doesn’t go too hard— but, instead of being met with a punch to the gut, he feels the blonde hungrily reply by kissing him back like he’s been waiting for this moment for years. And, that’s not true. Because he’s only been waiting for months. Which is, like, significantly less gay. And this isn’t gay. Because right now Jason’s a just a slutty waitress. But, no matter how much James tells himself these things, they both know the truth. Thankfully, James’ worries melt away as they make out against the wall. Jason’s tongue finds its way into the blonde’s mouth and the taller boy whines, hands finding their way to Jason’s hips. It’s an ego boost feeling James fall apart in literal minutes all because of Jason. Jason did this to him. Made him straining against his jeans, begging to be inside the waitress boy. Made him shaky and whiny (to James’ dismay). He can’t think about that too long because everything’s happening so quickly—James’ hips start to rub against the bassists’ clothed dick as he nearly eats his face off with those sloppy kisses. It’s all teeth and spit as they dry hump each other, both sporting a full erection.

The kiss doesn’t last. James is pulling back, chest heaving, face red, and hard as a rock. His cock still rubs against the brunettes, and he can’t help but look at their strained cocks brushing against each other. Jason notices this and looks at the erotic scene too. He silently wonders if this costume will be ruined before he can even wear it for the party.

“If.. If you tell.. anyone about this.. I swear you’re a dead man..” James promises, trying to catch his breath and keep his desperate moans down at the same time.

“Won’t tell a soul.”

For some reason, that’s believable enough. ‘Cause James doesn’t miss a beat rubbing his length on Jason’s slightly shorter cock. Both are impressive. James thinks Jason’s is impressive. It’s got a pretty pink tip and girth that would make any girl drool— it’s too bad Jason’s using it on the Mighty Hetfield. Don’t ask James how he knows this. But, really, it is a beautiful cock, because all James can think about is how perfect and (probably) delicious it is as he ruts against Jason who is now leaning in to lick and suck at the blonde’s neck.

Shuddering, James’ grip on Jason becomes tighter as the tongue on his soft skin glides over him before picking a particularly sensitive spot and sucking. The bassist smirks against the taller boy’s neck as he sucks a hickey into the crook of James’ neck. Probably not a good look to have purplish marks all over your neck after you just walked out of a changing room with another man, but that was a worry for future James. He could always just say it was a vampire. And, ouch, Jason bites down on his flesh just like one, making James shiver and stutter. His hips trembled against the flushed cock below him and he bites his lip to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from his lips. It was already shameful enough he was doing this with another man, he doesn’t need the whole fucking store hearing it.

With a slick popping noise, Jason removes his tongue from his neck, leaving James dizzy. He stumbles back slightly, which he realizes is actually from Jason pushing him back to remove his skirt. The brunette’s fingers slowly push down that delicious pink skirt along with his boxers to reveal his weeping cock, and James swears he could’ve came right then.

“Don’t worry big boy, you can fuck me soon.”

Actually, he changes his mind. He could’ve cum to that. While he’s busy losing his goddamn mind, Jason’s fingers soak themselves in his wet mouth before dipping down to his hole, making sure James knows he’s teasing himself by circling his rim before dipping in. Jason makes a breathy noise as he works two fingers in and James can’t help but wonder if he’s starting with two because he’s done this before. His chest swells with jealously but he’s quickly distracted by realizing his hand made its way down to his cock to rub himself off while he watches his bandmate finger himself. He’s so goddamn horny his body’s doing shit on its own.

“‘S gonna feel so good, James. Just wait a- fuck- minute..”

James doesn’t respond. He can’t. His mouth feels like a desert. A third finger is added. When? It didn’t matter. James’ burning hot desire made everything feel like it was moving in both slow motion and high speed. Like he’s drunk, but really it’s just Jason making him feel like that. Because he can do that for some reason, which is really frustrating. It’s usually not very acceptable to fall for your bandmate, let alone fall for your male bandmate as a male.

But when Jason’s fucking himself on his fingers up against the wall, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat as he moans like a girl quietly in his very much girly costume, it’s different, okay? It’s different. Not, but Jason will have to get James to realize that a different time, because now he’s focused on getting James inside him and doesn’t really care if it’ll haunt both of them for the rest of their lives. James almost seems angry when Jason reaches to undo his jeans, like he’s trying to make himself angry so he’s not embarrassed. Typical James behavior. Typical James behavior is also fucking people till they break, which Jason is a little too excited for.

A position change and a few desperate kisses, and they’re back against the wall with James’ cock pressed against Jason’s hole. The guitarist twitches against the tight rim and he goes to bite his lip again, which does not go unnoticed. The bassist almost wants to laugh again at how badly James wants this.

“Desperate, huh?” Jason teases.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

Jason smiles lopsidedly, and James wants nothing more than to wipe it off his stupid, pretty face. So he grips Jason, white knuckling, and forces his hole down on his swollen cock, making them both groan. Jason’s eyes are wide as he’s stretched out and his legs shake and tremble . Hurts like a motherfucker, but damn, he knows it’ll be the best he’s had so far.

James doesn’t wait to prove that. He’s immediately ramming in and out of Jason, trying so desperately to hold back his embarrassingly girlish moans. It’s cute to Jason. He knows the poor guy is in the tightest hole he’s been in to date, because Jason knows himself, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. James can only tremble and watch his masculinity fade away as he’s being pleasured so immensely by a man, no, not a waitress, not a woman, no matter how much James wants to tell himself. James can’t control how fast he’s shoving himself in and out of Jason’s hole and the smaller boy almost feels bad— he’s really falling apart like a virgin. It almost reminds Jason of the first time he touched himself to a man. Except teenager Jason was exploring hormonal wants and James is fucking the prettiest guy around.

The bassist brings his hand up to the blonde’s face to gently caress it, the juxtaposition between the gentle touch and the rough sex below almost hilarious. His grayish eyes look into James’ blue ones, and he sees how vulnerable the boy is. He may be the one in Jason, but Jason’s done this before. With the Flotsam guys. With groupies. It’s not new. This is new to James because he’s denied himself for so long, and despite how awful James has treated the brunette, he feels the need to make the best for him.

“You’re doin’ so good- mmghh-, so good for giving in for me. Good boy, good boy-“ The bassist praises, tightening around him.

“S-stop-“

Jason pants, being cut off by a particularly hard thrust to his prostate. He seizes up, panicking, realizing he’s gonna cum. He’s gonna cum all over this costume he hasn’t bought and, well, it’s gonna be hot as fuck. James must’ve realized he’s gonna cum too, because he speeds up and goes even harder if that was possible. Jason cries out softly, trying to grab on to James as he feels his climax approaching. The humping the fingering, the fuck— it’s all gonna come crashing down into a brain numbing orgasm.

And that’s what happens when James stutters his hips and spills into him with no warning. Jason tenses, legs shaking and eyes watering, cum spurting out of him in thick ropes. It’s almost embarrassing how much he cums, and, James didn’t even bother to touch his cock. So why is he coming like a bitch in heat? And, funnily enough, James still isn’t convinced he’s gay despite cumming in another man’s ass. And liking it.

The two ride out their orgasms and catch their breath, thoughts spinning in their head. Am I gay now? What does this make us? Can we do that again? Did I seriously just cum in 5 minutes? The various hickeys become forgotten.

Questions left unanswered, because all that really matters is that Jason proved himself.

“…I still hate you, Newkid.”

#metallica #james hetfield #jason newsted #metallica fanfiction #fanfic #jameson

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sawnickrings · 6 months ago

Text

2024 art recap

My favorite piece from each month! I can't say I've grown much over the past year, but perhaps a little. Open the post to see my reflection on each piece. 💙

Tw for first two months mentions of $H

January

This was the only thing I could find from January, since my old phone got busted and all the dates on my photos got messed up. But luckily I really like it anyway so I guess it's my favorite of the month by default! During this time I was still battling with s3lf harm and so this character was supposed to represent that. Yes it's edgy, no I wouldn't have picked this one if I had any other image from January. This one was also very experimental, I've used this brush a grand total of 1 time other than this one. I felt it fit the aesthetic.

February

Again, this period was sort of like the dark ages in the fact that most of my images got screwed with after switching phones, so I don't have many drawings that I know were from February. However, this one again is a favorite of mine in general so it's not so bad. This is the only other time I used that brush. I also created this character as a sort of way to cope with my s3lf harm urges, except she's far older than the last one. This image doesn't feature it, but they have lots of scars and often open/bandaged self-inflicted wounds due to how their power works, which is blood manipulation. Again, edgy as all get-out.

March

I'm not super happy with some aspects of this but I worked really hard on it. This is a character of mine that I didn't design but still cherish lots. Her name is Coralina or just Coral for short. You'll see her again soon.

April

Once again I could not find much for April, but luckily I remembered that I did a bunch of chalk stuff at a school event that month and this one is both relevant to my blog and one of my favorites. I did a good ring too but that's in a different image.

May

This was something I designed as a contest entry that I don't believe I won so as far as I know it's my character now. I think the spots on the tail clash with the gradient but oh well.

June

There were a lot of good options for this month since I got back into commissions and art trades, but there's something about this one that I especially like. It's not fancy or anything but it showcases my style well.

July

Artfight season! Surprisingly this wasn't an attack but rather a character I made specifically for Artfight. They're based off of Miracle Musical's album Hawaii: Part II. I'm really proud of the design but I haven't really done anything with him since besides a couple drawings.

August

Here she is again! I used this image a lot to show an example of my work when offering art trades. I think I made it with that in mind? It's hard to remember. But anyway, here she is again! Plus one of my sonas, Pop Rocks!! I love her to bits. I originally made her as an adoptable that I traded to someone else, but I regretted it later and luckily my friend got her back for me! I have so many drawings of that little goofball but this is my favorite.

September

There are absolutely parts of this that suck balls but there are parts that I really like too. And I remember enjoying drawing it. This was for an art trade.

October

During this time I made matching bust drawings of all the 10 main characters from my comic. (calling it a comic is a bit of a stretch, I only have 2 chapters drawn and it's been well over a year (maybe two?) since I've touched those pages) Although I've made next to no progress on actual pages, I draw the characters often and love them with all my heart. I especially like how this one turned out.

November

At the time of drawing this I hadn't practiced drawing ferals in ages, so I was very worried about the result, but it turned out better than I could have imagined! This was another art trade, and I love the character design so much!!

December

And now we're here! I've been doing more scenes recently with my fanart, but I just love how Sonic turned out in this one so I had to include it. It almost doesn't look like my art, though the hands give it away. At first I wasn't impressed with how Shadow was looking but it's grown on me. ❤️🖤

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softguarnere · 1 year ago

Note

Hey. I'm really sorry if I came across pushy or impatient bc that was not my intention at all. Of course school is more important. I hope you like my ideas but if not that's totally fine.

Ok, so here's the first one. You have been a member of Easy co. through almost the whole war. Down in the mud with them and forced to wear the same uniform. Other than being the only girl in the company you just blended in with the guys. That is, until the end of the war came.

My request is a headcanon of the guys reaction to seeing you actually look like a girl for the first time. I mean the works; pin up hair, make up, killer dress, and heels. Also, if it's not too much trouble could you please make sure to include Doc Roe, Babe, Malarkey, and Liebgott? If you want to include any of the other boys please do. Thanks!

Hey hey! Me again sending in my second idea. Again you're the only girl in Easy co. and at some point during the war you took quite a bit of shrapnel; especially to your chest and abdomen.

This is another reaction headcanon request (of a more romantic nature) of the guys seeing all your scars for the first time during a more private moment. Again can you please include Doc Roe, Babe, Malarkey, and Liebgott? Thanks! ❤️

Since you sent two requests, I decided to combine them for the sake of ease and time.

Even though I'm a writer, I'm a historian by trade, and I've never been comfortable with the whole "unexplained sole female member of the company" because I could never stretch my imagination to come up with a proper explanation for why that would be, so I hope you don't mind that I had to change it slightly. I also don't write NSFW, so the second part had to be left pretty vague.

Because of the time crunch, these haven't been proof read or edited!

Reactions to seeing you dressed up for the first time, and later, your battle scars

Doc Roe

When a women's division was added to Easy Company, a lot of the men found themselves getting somewhat distracted

If he's being honest, then yes, Gene has spared a glance at some of the women. But he's been so busy with the constant work of being a combat medic that he hasn't noticed anyone in particular

Until the end of the war, that is

Everyone goes wild once Berchtesgaden is taken. People are looting the jewelry and clothes for themselves, for friends and family, for sweethearts back home

And you happen to take a dress and some jewelry that make you absolutely sparkle - when Gene sees you for the first time, it takes his breath away

Once he works up the courage to talk to you, the two of you take it slow

With everything that has happened and the fast pace of the war, he completely forgot that you took some shrapnel back in Bastogne

You seem so ashamed when you first show him the scars it left you with, but he thinks nothing of it

"We all got 'em," he assures you

"You don't."

"Yeah, I do." He places your hand over his heart. "You just can't see 'em."

Babe

Okay, I think he would actually take notice of you for the first time after the war

It's at an Easy reunion. He happens to look up from his drink as you walk in

He chokes, which draws Bill's attention

"Who the hell is that?"

Bill squints over at you. "Oh, I think it's (Y/L/N)."

"Who?"

"(Y/N)? From the women's division, remember?"

Babe tilts his head. "No."

"Well, she looks different outta uniform, I guess."

All this to say, Babe has taken an interest in you, and he has no qualms about telling you exactly that when he (re)introduces himself to you

You have a great time at the reunion, and although you and Babe keep in touch and become close, he's a little shocked to realize how many things he didn't know about you

Like about the scars that the war left you with

You're shy, almost timid, when you show him, even though you trust him by now

"I had no idea," he admits.

"I don't usually bring it up," you hesitate before continuing. "It, uh - some guys haven't liked it. It makes them uncomfortable."

Something about the way you say it is so open and honest that Babe can't help the rush of emotion that comes over him. He grabs your hand and squeezes it tight

"Then doll, they weren't good enough for you."

Malarkey

Unlike the others, he knows you got hit, because he was there

But it's not something that he thinks about. He's busy trying to forget the war, after all

And as the war draws to a close, he gets so used to seeing you in your Ike jacket and thinking about how it makes you look like some sort of goddess of war that it's distracting

It's not until your last night in Berchtesgaden, when your relationship becomes official, that he learns about the scars the shrapnel left you with

"Does it hurt?" he asks, immediately remembering that awful day back in Holland when he saw you go down as the shrapnel struck you.

"No." You only smirk. "You should see the other guy."

He knew there was a reason that he liked you so much.

Liebgott

Listen, he's such a flirt that I'm convinced he noticed you before and has been subtly throwing flirtations your way throughout the war

But once he sees you at the war's end in a dress and some bright red lipstick that you stole? WOW - you're a knock-out. The pin-ups back in the States have nothing on you, and he simply can't wait another second to make a move

"Hiya, your Highness." He kisses the back of your hand and gives you a deep bow. "My name is Joe. Have we met before?"

All the other women would be giggling while watching the interaction. You can only roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Maybe once . . . in your dreams."

Joe has always thought you were pretty, and he'll think your gorgeous no matter what

Seeing your scars has a different effect on him.

The anger that would course through him at the realization that the war left its mark on you in the most literal sense? Unmatched.

"Joey," you have to tell him, hooking his chin with a finger and guiding his gaze back up to your eyes. "If it makes you uncomfortable I can - "

"No." He grabs your hands. "Sorry, doll. I didn't mean to make you self-conscious. I just - "

"I know," you assure him. "No use being angry now, though. The damage is done."

But he doesn't want you to see it as damage. And slowly, he comes to see it as character instead; one more piece of you that makes you who you are - and reminds him of why he fights.

#these are not my best work #I'll have to edit them later when I have more time #band of brothers headcanons #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #babe heffron #babe heffron x reader #don malarkey #don malarkey x reader #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers x reader #my writing

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midwesternvibes · 1 year ago

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This one is currently winning on my little motivation poll so here we go

SEPERATED LEO AU!!! (because we don't have enough of those already lol)

Link to original post

So, I wanna talk more about how they all refound each other (link to how they met here)

Just to recap, Big Mama has Mikey, Draxum has Raph, and Splinter has Donnie. Big Mama's in her Nexus Hotel, Draxum is in NYC with a cloaking broach, and Splinter's in the ever iconic sewers.

Big Mama is actually a very kind mother to Mikey! She loves her little baby, and especially loves how he has her beloved Lou's smile. She spoils him to death and lets them express himself however she'd like. (If you haven't picked up on it yet, Mikey is genderfluid in this au and generally presents as a feminine man) Mikey absolutely adores skirts and zip-up hoodies, and usually wears a very bright suit top with a big orange ball gown skirt to formal events that Big Mama matches at Mikey's whims (I cannot draw for the life of me so if anyone is willing to draw this for me I will work out some kind of trade with you if you'd like 🙏)

But yeah, Big Mama does not let her fight in the Nexus, and has even toned down the brutality of the Nexus due to Mikey's pleading. There aren't any more lethal fights and she rarely makes binding, lifelong contracts because it made her baby upset to see all the sad and scared people.

They are a very cute duo and both genuinely love each other very much

Then there's Draxum amd Raph! Draxum luckily snagged two cloaking broaches before his lab exploded and slapped them on both him and his 2 year old son before heading up to the surface. The two of them then got a apartment in the.....*shuddder*........human world. Draxum tries to hide them in mostly secret, only leaving the house for groceries and necessities, but eventually realizes that poor Raphie is very lonely.

This is made so much worse when he meets the little girl downstairs and wants so desperately to follow her to school after their playdates.........Draxum finally caves.

With the help of Mr. and Mrs. O'Neil, he enrolls Raphie in the same Kindergarden as April and lets him finally go to school after years of homeschooling. Raphie struggles with the transition a bit, but eventually he gets the hang of it and thrives! Draxum encourages him to join as many clubs as he can (without getting overwhelmed of course) and is his biggest fan.

Once Draxum is able to settle down, he's actually a huge soccer mom and goes to all of Raphie's events, he gets totally embarrassed sometimes. Draxum and the O'Neils are really good friends and try to have dinner at least once a week

But once again, a very happy family! They struggle to show it sometimes, but they truly love each other and only want what's best for each other

Then we have Donnie and Splinter! Splinter was mutated with the DNA from his pet rat that he picked up on his travels with Big Mama and Draxum to get the turtles, and he was only able to grab Donnie and retreat to the sewers before Draxum's while lab collapsed. He, along with the other two, belive his partners and other children to be dead, so he never goes searching for them. Instead, he raises his son in the sewers on his own, foraging for all that they need just like in canon.

However, their sewer home is PREEEEEEEETY nice, since Donnie doesn't really doesn't have anything better to do other than make their home as nice as possible. He's has all major appliances working since he was 6 and only makes improvements from there. He also has his little pet project, but Splinter doesn't know about that yet!!!!

Speaking of Splinter, he varies pretty dramatically from canon. He's a lot less depressed because he had a much better experience with the yokai world and doesn't feel nearly as ashamed to BE a yokai (or yokai-adjacent) and keeps himself in much better shape, helping him with the dysmorphia that he does have. Overall, Splinter's doing pretty well, and he's a pretty attentive parent overall!

He was able to access some of his funds from his Lou Jitsu days and pays for Donnie to go to online school, and by the time Donnie meets up with the rest of his family at 11, he's halfway through high school work and has plans to go on to college so that he can start building up his tech empire by the time he's 18

But yeah, yet again, a overall happy parent/child relationship!

(Then there's Leo. All the angst had to go somewhere, right???)

Moving on! Now, the adults all lived separately with each of their respective kid, but when Raphie was about 8, he got really sick. Like, really really sick. Draxum went to as many human doctors that he could trust, but none of them were able to figure out what was wrong with his baby. He finally musters up the courage to go down to the Hidden City, and finds out that Raphie has Mystic Overload Syndrome. While he's running around trying to find stuff to help his little boy (he's so affectionate guys), Raphie sneaks out! He starts running around the Hidden City unbroached, and he feels truly seen for the first time in his life.

While running around, he literally runs into another turtle yokai, one who's dressed in expensive orange clothes...........

This post got REALLY long, so stay tuned for more! Next post will probably be how Draxum and Big Mama finally met, and then how Splinter and Donnie come into play!

(Don't worry about Leo this isn't about him he's fine)

First // Previous // Next

(Also stay tuned for the name reveal of the AU!

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