#I could not write a vignette better than this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheapshrimpysheep · 9 months

Note

Hiii congrats on 1k followers!! I've really liked your writing for a while, it's so lovely to read <3 I hope you don't mind me requesting something, if it's okay :D

What if the reader also has a tsum? Then their tsum and the tsum of the person they like keep giving signs that they like each other, like for example Riddle tsum is very affectionate to the reader, but they don't want to admit it and get flustered. If that's okay, can I request that with Riddle, Azul, Jamil, and Silver?

COMMENTS: Hi! Thank you. I'm so glad you enjoy it. 😊

I really liked your idea a lot. I was even excited to write it. I know that on the Japanese server there was already a second event with Azultsum, but I didn't see anything about the story, I only read the vignette of Azul's card to have an idea of what to write. I still have a little difficulty writing for Silver, but I try my best to understand him.

I hope you and all enjoy it 🩵

CHARACTERS: Riddle Rosehearts; Azul Ashengrotto; Jamil Viper & Silver

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: An average of 450 words per character.

With your Tsum in your arms, you find Ace and Deuce, leaning over with their hands on their knees as if they were catching their breath after a run. They look at you first, but quickly the cute little creature you hold in your arms catches their attention. They both have that look on their faces like they think it's the cutest and most beautiful little thing in the world but don't want to admit it.

They say that Riddle also has one of those and he was the one they were chasing and trying to catch, but they lost it. The moment they said Riddle’s name, you felt your Tsum move enthusiastically for a moment.

They hear something, when they look they see Riddletsum in the distance and run towards it, starting the chase again. Your Tsum jumps out of your arms and runs with them, which makes you run after them too.

Your Tsum passes Ace and Deuce, which surprises them because they were so fast, and throws itself at Riddletsum, rolling together for a few seconds until they both stop. When this happened, Riddletsum didn't run away again, and the two were rubbing each other's cheeks happily.

Ace grabbed Riddletsum while it was distracted. It seemed upset about being caught. But the moment Deuce grabbed your Tsum, Riddletsum jumped out of Ace's arms, hits him in the face and threw itself right in Deuce's face to make him release your Tsum. Once back on the ground, Riddletsum positioned itself between your Tsum and those two. Glaring threateningly at Ace and Deuce.

You were the only one who could carry your Tsum without Riddletsum getting jealous. And after that, they would keep your two Tsums together to prevent Riddletsum from running away again or causing trouble. Or hurt someone else.

Whenever Riddle sees the Tsums being all lovey-dovey with each other, he will blush, and try to hide it. He won't comment on it unless you comment first. If you tell him they're cute, he'll shyly agree.

“You know, they remind me of the hedgehogs in a way.” Riddle says “I can't deny that I think it's cute whenever I see them rubbing their noses against each other.”

And as soon as the Tsums hear him say that, they rub their little round noses against each other. Which makes Riddle blush even more.

If at any point you pick up Riddletsum, it will look at you with a huge sparkle in its eyes as if you were the most wonderful person he has ever seen in its life. And freeze looking at you.

You went to Mostro Lounge with your Tsum because you heard that Azul also had one, and you thought maybe you could help each other take care of them. Which in itself is already a deal. You help me, I help you.

Little did you know that the place was full of customers, and much more than usual. When you arrive at the entrance, there is a line of customers still waiting to enter. You comment to your Tsum that perhaps it would be better for you two to give up on the idea of meeting Azul, at least at that moment, he must be too busy.

Your Tsum starts struggling in your arms until it manages to escape them and run into the Mostro Lounge, passing by the feet of all those customers. You try to run after it, but a hand grabs you on your arm shortly after you pass the entrance.

“HEY! What do you think you're doing jumping the queue?” A Savanaclaw student asked you aggressively.

“Probably exercising their right as VIP customers.” Azul says, in that politely threatening way. “And I suggest you let them go if you don't want to be permanently kicked out of the Mostro Lounge.” The student let go of you. And Azul sees you rubbing the area where he had grabbed you, as if you had been hurt. “An apology would also be polite.” The Savanaclaw student is reluctant out of pride. “You know, I'm not a big fan of doing business with rude customers. And this clause is usually part of my contracts. It's a shame that a lot of people don't read them in full, you know.” Azul smirks.

The student suddenly looks worried, and apologizes to you and promises that it won't happen again.

Once this problem is resolved, Azul greets you with that charming smile of his and asks what he owes for your pleasant visit? Were you there to see Azul Tsum too? You answer yes and tell him about your Tsum and what happened.

And then you start to hear a different kind of commuting in one part of the café. In the middle of the "Aw"s, you also hear phrases like “Double the cuteness.” and “They look even cuter together.”

Azul and you try to get closer to the place that is receiving all the attention, but it appears to be moving. And towards the VIP room. You arrive at the VIP Room door and only see the door closing, as if someone had just entered. Azul opens the door and you go in with him.

You see your two Tsums on one of the sofas. When Azul Tsum realizes that it was you two who entered, it relaxes and starts to cuddle and snuggle with your Tsum as if spoiling it with love and care. Azul automatically blushes.

From then on, Azultsum won't let go of your Tsum! It practically forgot the customers and only had eyes and gifts for your Tsum. As if it were Azultsum's most valuable treasure.

If at any point you pick up Azultsum, it will first look at you with a big shine in its eyes and then it will come close to your face to caress you.

You went to Scarabia with your Tsum because you heard that Jamil also had one, and you thought maybe you could help each other take care of them. But you didn't know where exactly they were. At least not until you hear Kalim apologizing to someone and saying he wasn't going to do something.

You arrive at the lounge with your Tsum in your arms, and you see Kalim apologizing to Jamiltsum while Jamil enjoys the scene.

“Not even if it has half the animals?” Kalim asks. Jamiltsum jumps up and hits him on the arm. “AH! Fine, fine! No parades this week...” He looked a little disappointed but Jamil was smiling.

Some students who enjoyed Kalim's parades began to comment about being disappointed too. Jamiltsum turned towards them with a threatening aura, which scared them. However, it seemed more stressed than upset.

You feel your Tsum jump out of your arms and see it running towards them. It stops near them and makes a cute little noise as if it is greeting them and to get their attention. Jamil looks at your Tsum with a twinkle in his eyes, like someone who thinks it's cute in a way he doesn't want to admit. Now Kalim...

“OH Great Seven! It's a (Y/N)tsum!” He crouches down to get closer to your Tsum “You're so cuteee! This definitely deserves a party!” POW! Jamiltsum throws itself at Kalim again, this time making him lose his balance and fall.

When it lands in front of your Tsum, it looks upset, but as soon as it looks at your Tsum, it freezes with amazement in its eyes. Your Tsum starts snuggling against it, and Jamiltsum reciprocated by cuddling it back.

A student comments that they look cute together, that they even seem in love with each other. Because of this, both Jamil and Jamiltsum blush. Jamil pulls his hood to hide his face, while Jamiltsum curls up, and your Tsum gets even closer to it, both because it thinks it's cute and to try to help it hide.

When your Tsum is around, Jamiltsum is more easily flattered. Jamiltsum won't let go of your Tsum either. Like Jamil it acts like a bodyguard, and that's exactly what it does with your Tsum. To the point where you start to doubt whether it's really Jamiltsum being overprotective or just jealous whenever someone approaches and starts saying how cute your Tsum is.

If at any point you pick up Jamiltsum, it will first look at you with a big shine in its eyes, but then it’s little face will get all red, and it’ll curl up trying to hide it.

You were passing through the Courtyard with your Tsum in your arms, when you see a larger than normal amount of birds and squirrels in a particular tree. You get closer and see Silver sleeping against the tree with a Silvertsum in his arms, also sleeping.

You feel your Tsum moving and jumping out of your arms. It approaches them and climbs into Silver's lap to get closer to Silvertsum, which wakes Silver up. He looks at his lap and sees your Tsum looking at him and smiling with its eyes. He smiled, that rare sweet prince charming smile of his.

“Hello little one. It's good to meet you.” He caressed your Tsum's cheek with his finger. “You are as beautiful as (Y/N).”

You make noise through the grass and bushes as you approach them. Silver looks at you in surprise, and blushes slightly at the thought that you could have heard what he had just said. And meanwhile, your Tsum catches up with Silvertsum who jumps off Silver's lap because it woke up with a start.

Silvertsum landed in a defensive position and with a threatening expression, as if its first instinct was to assume its position as a guard during an attack. But soon after it sees your Tsum and has a serene expression again.

Your Tsum is the one who approaches first and starts cuddling with the other. Silvertsum quickly reciprocates with its eyes closed as if they were both smiling. The birdsong becomes louder around you, but it is still a beautiful song.

“They seem to like each other a lot.” He comments, now with his usual neutral face. “Do you think it means something?”

You probably felt like doing a face palm, and the same seemed to have happened with your Tsum. It suddenly took a big jump into Silver's arms and climbed up to his face to caress his cheek. While Silvertsum remained serenely on the ground.

Silver chuckles and smile. “So you like me too?” he asks your Tsum, who nods with it's little body.

And to your surprise, Silvertsum also jumps into your arms. It will try to get closer to your face but it won't move very far, as if it wanted your permission to move forward. If you push it close to your face it will rub its little nose against yours.

Be careful, because Silvertsum easily falls asleep in your arms as it is so comfortable in them.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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f1-stuff · 1 month

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Girl dad Carlos please! I miss that fic so much 🥲

Okay. So.

I mustered up the energy to write a little vignette of this AU bc I also miss it and bc I didn't want to leave you two hanging! This is skipping ahead quite a bit to halfway through the season, but I'm still planning on writing and fleshing out that portion. I've just known for a while that this was gonna be an important part of the story and that I could jump into writing it right away!

It will probably be edited and adjusted for when the actual chapter is posted on ao3, but this is the 'rough draft' I guess! (Disclaimer: I know zero French and I haven’t had someone look over that bit yet!)

Anyway, enjoyyyy...

When there’s a knock on his door about two weeks into the summer break, his brain doesn’t compute for a full minute after he’s opened it.

Because why would Charles, his teammate, be here? In Spain? At his apartment? During their summer holiday, when they’re supposed to be ignoring any and all people and things related to F1, recharging their batteries, and remembering there’s more to life than racing cars? He and Charles have barely ever even texted during the summer break, let alone seen one another. So, again, why would Charles be at his front door.

Also, he’s a bit sleep deprived and delirious, so there’s every chance he’s hallucinating this.

“Uh...” he says, rather eloquently.

“Hey,” Charles says. And there’s a tentative smile on his face that Carlos can’t even begin to parse the meaning of. His brain isn’t just one step behind, it’s five steps. “Can...I come in?”

“Oh.” Again. Eloquent, Sainz. “Eh- yeah. Yes. Come in.”

“Sorry to stop by without a warning,” Charles is saying. But Carlos is too busy looking around in barely disguised panic at the absolute trash heap that is his home.

It’s not that he didn’t realize how much of a mess the apartment was before, but he sees it now through Charles’ eyes and feels a little like curling up and dying. There are bowls of half eaten food and dirty dishes piled in and around the sink. Various toys, games, books, and drawings are strewn over almost every surface, along with clothes (mostly socks, so many socks) littering the floor. Boxes and boxes of Lucy’s things that he hasn’t had time to sort through are stacked against the walls and in the corners. One of the only exposed walls by the couch has colorful marker all over it, Ana having done that particular masterpiece when he’d accidentally nodded off during Peppa Pig. (He’d been too tired to even properly get angry about it, which was perhaps a bad precedent to set if he didn’t want a repeat performance.)

It looks like a tornado has swept through his apartment. A tornado named Ana.

Not that Charles is much neater on a good day, and he doesn’t even have a kid as an excuse. But Carlos has a feeling that if this is the current state of his apartment, the state of his own appearance is probably no better. He hasn’t properly showered, shaved, or slept in days, and he doesn’t think he’s looked in the mirror in all that time either. For all he knows, he’s still got remnants of the braids Ana put in his hair yesterday. He certainly can’t remember taking them out...

Charles, on the other hand, looks fresh and groomed and sunkissed - everything Carlos would expect during the summer break.

He smells good, he thinks, unbidden. Then, immediately, Stop it.

Charles takes in the space around them, his eyes eventually settling on Carlos with an amused (and maybe slightly concerned) expression. But just as he’s opening his mouth to speak, there’s the sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall and the smattering of tiny feet running across the floor, before Ana declares in her tiny, yet surprisingly bold voice, “I didn’t have a diarrhea!”

Carlos doesn’t even have enough shame left to be embarrassed by his kid. His first instinct is just relief.

“Stomach virus,” he mumbles to Charles, by way of explanation. Then, to Ana, in Spanish, “That’s great, mi niña! Did you wash your hands?”

“Yeeeees!”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Good, because we, eh- we have a guest!”

It’s quiet for a moment, before Ana’s head pokes around the corner slowly. But her face lights up as soon as she sees who it is.

“Cha!” she shouts, but then immediately looks embarrassed by her own show of excitement.

“Coucou, Ana,” Charles says, amused. He kneels down and encourages Ana closer, accepting the tentative hug she gives him.

No matter how much they had bonded last time, it’s still been a while since they’ve seen one another, and some of Ana’s shyness has clearly returned. Still, it’s huge that she’s even initiated a hug, and Carlos feels a telltale twinge in his sternum at the image they both make.

“As-tu été bon pour papa?” Charles asks, cuffing her gently on the chin. Ana grins and nods. “J'ai un cadeau pour toi.”

Charles reaches into a bag that Carlos hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying until he’d set it down to hug Ana, and he pulls out a pink rectangular thing, that Carlos squints in confusion at for a beat. He realizes what it is simultaneously with Charles’ next words.

“C'est une caméra. Pour que tu prennes des photos de ton papa.”

It’s a pink camera for kids, a unicorn adorning the front where the lens peeks out. Carlos almost rolls his eyes - of course Charles, with his recent photography kick, gifts his kid a camera. But the way Ana’s expression transforms with wonder as Charles demonstrates to her how it works is pretty precious.

Charles hands it over to her and she immediately points it at him. He pulls a silly expression, making her giggle. They both examine the photo, heads bowed close. Ana points it up at Carlos next.

“¡Sonríe, papá!”

He sticks out his tongue and her little finger presses the capture button. The joy on her face as the photo pops up on the screen, tilting it to show them even though it’s upside down, fills Carlos with so much warmth and love that he legitimately almost tears up.

God, he’s so freaking tired.

Ana bounds off to her room to gather her stuffed toys to take a ‘family picture,’ and Charles straightens back up, smile lingering on his cheeks even after Ana has disappeared down the hall.

Carlos wants to kiss him so bad. Becoming a father has turned him into such a sap.

“Ehm,” he clears his throat. “Thank you. That was- a nice gift.”

“No problems.”

“You know, you don’t have to buy her something every time you see her,” he says, humor lacing his words.

“I want to,” Charles insists, simply. They smile awkwardly for an extended beat, listening to the sounds of Ana down the hall in her room, talking to her animals. Charles’ eyes stray to his hair. “You have...something in your hair. Is that a braid-?”

“What are you doing here, Charles?” he asks, choosing to ignore the comment. “I thought you would be in Corsica, or somewhere.”

“I was. But I heard you and Ana had to cancel on the trip to Mallorca and-”

“Heard, how?” Charles looks sheepish, triggering his suspicion. So he repeats it. “Heard, how, Charles?”

“Your mum texted me-”

He sighs, eyes shutting briefly in frustration. He wishes his mom would just stay out of this whole- thing with Charles. But, clearly, she knew he wouldn’t accept help from anyone else. And that he wouldn’t be able to turn Charles away…

“She didn’t tell me to come,” Charles rushes to say. “She was just worried because you refused to let her stay and help, and that you hadn’t found a sitter, or someone, yet. So I just offered-”

“Charles, please...” He breaks off with another sigh, rubbing his temples to stave off the oncoming headache. But it’s already too late, if the subtle pulsating pain, slowly increasing in intensity, is anything to go by. “You should not have come.”

“Carlos, don’t be stupid,” he scoffs. “Anyway, I am here.” And he supposes that’s true. Nothing can be done about it now. “You look tired.”

He huffs a small laugh, dropping his hands from his temples to meet Charles’ gaze.

“This is what someone looks like when their kid catches a stomach virus and then they catch that same virus from their kid, just when their kid is starting to feel better-”

“Why didn’t you let your mum help-?”

“I’m her dad,” he interrupts, breathing hard. But he softens his voice with his next words. “I can do this on my own. I just wanted to...”

He doesn’t really know how to finish that sentence, though. It sounds stubborn and stupid when he starts to say it out loud. None of this should be about him. It’s about Ana. And if he’d really needed help, he should’ve asked for it. For her.

Charles seems to know that he doesn’t have to say it - that Carlos is already thinking it. So, instead, he just claps a hand to his shoulder and squeezes.

“I think,” he says, “-you should get some rest.”

“Charles-”

“No, I’m serious. Go to your room, Mister Sainz.” A slow grin pulls over his features. And along with the genuine concern in his eyes, it’s almost enough to break through Carlos’ resolve. “You are exhausted. Ana will be fine - I will watch her. Just...rest for a minute. Okay? You don’t look like yourself.”

And he knows that must be true. He knows that he needs a lot more than just a few hours of sleep to feel somewhere close to normal again (a shower would be a good start). But it’s hard to even think of himself when he’s been so worried about Ana for days - researching how to get her fever to die down, trying to get her to drink fluids, watching her fitful face in sleep, his heart in his throat despite how the pediatrician had assured him she’d be fine.

But, then, he’d gotten sick, too. And instead of focusing on his own recovery, he’d had to fit in sessions of retching over the toilet in between caring for his kid and making sure she was properly fed. And the two of them had managed, even if it wasn’t ideal. They’d grown closer, he thought, by virtue of her needing him so much.

He couldn’t keep it together forever, though. Eventually, if he didn’t take a break, he’d fall apart completely.

It takes him a stubborn moment, the urge to argue bubbling up inside despite how glorious resting his head on a pillow sounds. But eventually he nods, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.”

Charles just looks at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “You are welcome, Carlos. Now, go. You look like you are going to fall over at any moment.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall over at any moment.”

Charles laughs under his breath, pushing Carlos’ shoulder gently to aim him toward the hallway. “Well, fall over into bed, then.”

“I’m going,” he insists, letting his tired limbs and the heavy touch of Charles at his shoulder guide him toward his room.

He can deal with how insane this situation is - Charles showing up here, and what the hell it means that he’d come at all - once he’s had some sleep. For now, he’ll happily take it for granted.

He doesn’t even really remember climbing into bed before the exhaustion takes over, his body surrendering to fatigue now that he knows his kid’s in good hands. Trustworthy hands. Charles’ hands.

He thinks he can hear the faint sounds of their French floating down the hallway. It makes him smile with the last vestiges of energy he has left.

God, he is in so over his head.

----

WIP ask game

Link to fic on ao3 -> (x)

#wip ask game #anon #ask #rpf #charlos #kid fic

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dawnrider · 3 months

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@brain-rot-hour was working on a piece for today's @inukag-week prompt of Personal Space and the conversation evolved to writing about the scenario they created and here we are!

Have a citrus-scented canon universe vignette to go with brain-rot-hour's piece which you will not want to miss. 😏

“Damn monkeys," he growled. Rolling her eyes, Kagome sighed. "You always let them get to you when they aren't even youkai.” She shook her head with a wry smile. "I can't just kill ‘em. You'd make me feel all guilty.” His face was twisted in a pout, his ears laid back in frustration. “Pretty sure you'd manage to make yourself feel guilty without my help.” “Keh.” Deny it though he might, she knew she was right. He was much more of a softy than he liked to admit. “Let’s get that scratch looked at. Don’t want it getting infected.” He nudged her shoulder where his kosode draped down her arm. It was too big, but it was better than her own clothes which were in tatters from the attack.

She shut the door to the abandoned hut they’d found after herself, waiting for Inuyasha to pass one last inspection and give the nod of approval that it was safe. “Last time I let Shippou rummage through my bag unsupervised,” she grumbled, dropping said bag onto the floor. The monkeys had been attracted to the smell of fruit soaked into her clothes which the kitsune had spilled when trying to get his crayons from the bottom of her backpack. Needless to say they didn’t understand “no” and “stop that.” Kagome felt lucky that a few small scratches was all she had to show for it. Inuyasha was unfortunate enough to get bitten in the side, so they were taking the time to get cleaned up. Clean water and bandages set aside, Kagome settled herself on the edge of the table so she could get a good look at the bloodied bite just to the left of Inuyasha’s navel. His suikan had been dropped to the floor and she was met with the entire expanse of his torso. A very nice torso that has a bite in it… Swallowing, she used a soft damp cloth to clean the wound, then apologized profusely as she prepared to press the alcohol-soaked cloth to it. She flinched at the same moment he did, but not because of the sting. His large hands, previously pressed onto the tabletop on either side of her, had drifted to her knees and reflexively squeezed when he tensed. He hadn’t caused more pain. In fact… “Sorry,” he murmured. Kagome bit her lip, then went about putting the gauze and tape over his wound. “That scratch… It needs disinfected.” “I can reach it.” “Probably. What if there’s another?” Kagome sucked in a breath as his hands oh-so-carefully brushed aside the length of his kosode, baring her up to her thighs. His nose twitched. “They got your middle too, didn’t they?” “I-I can reach that.” He hummed, his face next to hers so that she couldn’t see his eyes. Kagome felt her heart racing. A shiver went through her when air hit her midriff. “Let me check.” Long warm fingers traced up across her thigh until they met her belly, which tightened at the brush. She struggled not to recoil in surprise, biting her lower lip. “Anything hurt?” A quick shake of her head. His hands returned to her legs, thumbs lightly pushing against the softer skin of her inner thighs until they parted to allow his hips between. “What about here?” he breathed, cheek brushing against hers as he spoke. “Anything stinging?” She murmured that she was fine. “Aching?” She gasped lightly in response. How did he know? She could hear the smirk in his breathy laugh. His hand brushed against the outer side of her knee, fingers curling under and lightly pressing his claws into the soft underneath. “Inuyasha?” she questioned, unable to resist the pull of his soft cheek against her own, the tiniest brush of his lips against her ear. He huffed another laugh at the way she arched into his space. “I’ll make sure there’s not a mark on you.” He paused, pressing a much more intentional kiss to the space just in front of her ear as his thumb pressed a little more into her thigh, claw providing just the slightest prick along the nerve endings. “Not from the monkeys anyway,” he promised. Kagome smiled softly.

#inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #kagome #brain rot art #inukag week #Prompt: Personal Space

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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some early fluffy msr featuring once again a very tired scully and a worried mulder. if i end up writing more vignettes like these i might start posting them on ao3. this is set a few days after the first pfaster incident.

—

Mulder should really wake her up.

Not only is sleeping on the desk incredibly uncomfortable—speaking from a lot of experience—but he also knows that her first reaction to realising she fell asleep at work will be shame. She is slumped over in her usual chair, angled towards him and with her back to the door; every now and then she makes a little noise and buries her face deeper into the cradle of her arms.

Her blazer has ridden up her back and her blouse with it, revealing not soft skin but a deep-blue, slowly healing bruise. There are several more littering her entire body, and Mulder has caught her wincing or hissing in pain more times than he can count, swallowing the needle of guilt that comes with it. The memory of her sobbing into his chest is at the forefront of his mind, impermeable and achingly bright, and he regrets not shooting Pfaster dead right where he stood.

Scully had insisted on going back to work and shrugged off any and all attempts at getting her medical attention, eventually telling him to 'leave her alone or so help me god'. Not wanting to push, he had, and yet, seeing the shadows under her eyes match her bruises more and more, he wishes he had said something—anything—if just to make sure she is not hurting more than can be avoided.

It is not difficult to guess what exactly is keeping her up at night, and this is not the first or the last time a harrowing experience haunted them all the way home. Nightmares are as much part of the job as paperwork, and he would carry it all for her if he could.

Mulder watches her lips part for a sigh, a week's worth of fatigue finally catching up with her, and his indecision disappears entirely. He quietly pushes back his chair and tiptoes around their office, first taking the phones off the hook, then switching off their cellphones too. If anyone wanted something from them (and 'anyone' was almost exclusively Skinner), they were going to have to wait.

After locking the door, he turns off the ceiling light, picks up his coat, and gently drapes it over her shoulders; the heavy fabric wraps around her like a cocoon, making her appear even smaller than she already was. Shifting for a few seconds, Scully seems to adjust to the new weight and influx of warmth, but she quickly settles again with sleep softening her features. Hesitantly, Mulder reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, disproportionately endeared by the content noise he gets in response.

In the late afternoon twilight, her red hair is littered with specks of gold, and he cannot resist the urge to run a palm over the back of her head to smooth it down further. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss on her temple, murmuring "_sweet dreams"_ before he can second-guess himself.

Mulder knows he cannot change what happened or the lingering trauma she is inevitably struggling with, but he can allow her to get the rest she needs, if just for a little while, his gaze never straying far from her. No uninvited visitors disturb her peace, and he busies himself with expense reports and filing while she naps.

The sun sets, the moon rises, and a handful of hours later, he catches her lashes fluttering and fingers twitching as she finds her way back to consciousness.

Contrary to his initial assumption, Scully doesn't seem to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, but rather leans back and pulls his coat tighter around herself. Her eyes are clear, and he can spot the beginning of a smile tugging on her lips. He breathes against the sudden wave of anxiety washing over him, worried that he somehow overstepped.

"Better?"

Scully nods, letting out a puff of air and looking away as a blush rises to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispers, extending her arm to take his hand, which was starting to make a mess of the files without him noticing. Mulder squeezes it in return, his thumb unconsciously drawing circles along her knuckles. Unsure of how to deal with the emotions surging between them, he bites back the joke on his tongue and settles for honesty instead.

"If you ever—you can call. Anytime. Odds are I'm probably up anyway, and if-" he stumbles, mentally preparing himself to see her walls slot back into place, but she is meeting his gaze with steady, familiar affection.

"If that's something I can do, please. Let me."

Scully squeezes his hand one more time before pulling back, carefully pushing herself upright. His coat is swallowing her, merging her with the creeping shadows on the wall, and her hair is a flame, drawing him in like a moth to the light. His light.

"Dinner? Your choice."

Mulder smiles, recognising the offer for what it is: gratitude and affirmation wrapped in one.

"Let's go."

(When Scully calls him later in the early morning hours, they end up falling asleep together, and seeing her lively and infinitely less tired at work is worth the phone bills he continues to amass over the next few weeks.)

#alex writes x files #txf #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr #txf fanfic #msr fanfic

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 5 months

Note

After seeing your beautiful new piece with the cute vignettes of team 7+team kakashi, i was wondering — how do you feel about Naruto (the boy)?

o thankyou! ;u; my feelings on narts the boy are so torn tbh so im gonna throw my ramblings under a cut bc idk if i can articulate this correctly

og naruto narts? love him. adore him. i miss that dumb little punk kid i loved him challenging the system and wanting to change it and help people. i /wanted/ him to inspire people like kakashi and gai's gen to do the same and realize how fucked up their childhoods were being weapons of the state at like 6 and 7

shippuden narts? He just rubs me the wrong way. started out good with gaara rescue arc, but then all his pizzaz left and let his obsession of sasuke be the only priority. (This isnt his fault, but kishi writing it so ONLY naruto could kill or defeat most of the enemies with his new op move was so boring to me. none of the secondary cast got to do shit) He also didnt take one second to question if his endgoal is still the same since he turned out to be exactly the opposite of "anyone can be hokage" bc he turns out to have the specialist blood of all and got revealed as a nepo baby and chosen one. He licherally became complicit and changed next to nothing as hokage in the end. the status quo remained the fucking same. Naruto rejecting the hokage position bc he recognizes neji was right is so much more interesting to me

Naruto is at his best when sasuke isnt involved imho. I adore his interactions with everyone else bc he truly loves his friends and family, but him and sakura were so delusional over sasuke but didnt actually Know him and his trauma they just loved the Idea of him. the way they talk about it, they act like sasuke was kidnapped and didnt CHOOSE to leave and even tried to kill them multiple times. shikamaru stronger than me, it'd slap the shit out of both of them

I wish they'd head on addressed the whole "sasuke's whole family was slaughtered in front of him" together and not "you have to come back so we can be a team and things can be normal again like nothing ever happened and fight me!" naruto would be the first one to offer to pull up on itachi with him lets be real lmaoo. I wanted him to offer sasuke support to BOTH tackle the injustices of the leaf. it's kinda like hiruzens passiveness with orochimaru and danzo. never holding certain loved ones accountable he was the same way with obito and even hiruzen himself. (is he even aware of hiruzen's part in the uchiha massacre or obito killing his parents?? then pardoning orochimaru?? HELLO???)

There were moments where i did see our boy shine thru, but then the god powers bullshit hit. in short, bring back my punk little man. his pure intentions were ruined by bad writing

my naruto endgame for him is not stuck at a deskjob he hates with a nuclear family he neglects and more he chooses to give up the hokage job to someone who actually can enact change and who isnt from a prestigious family. travels around helping people hands on and finally gets the peaceful life with found family he never had. advocating better for the next gen.

part one naruto, my baby boy

#its so funny bc i defend sasuke when i talk about naruto bc he was..... not a great friend in hindsight to me #sasunaru toxic rivals kakagai healthy rivals truly #making naruto minatos son was probably the worst choice

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yuurei20 · 10 months

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Hiii!

I was wondering how the rooms were distributed in each dorm. I know that the housewardens have their individual room but i believe that in Hearstabyul Ace and Deuce share their room with other 2 students and in Octaville Jade and Floyd share a room, so i guess it's different in every dorm and i wondered how It was in other dorms and if there was any information abt the roomates.

I rlly like your posts, it's rlly cool learning more abt TW lore and characters.

Hello hello!! Thank you so much, you are too kind! ♡ And also thank you for this ask, it was so interesting to look into!

Some room situations have been confirmed via dialogue while others have not, there are various theories based upon the cross-referencing of dialogue, graphics and the novel, and something curious might be going on with EN-server's Octavinelle:

First-year living situations are referred to at least twice as being four-man rooms. As this information comes from Ace and Deuce it seems not uncommon for people to assume that this must be Heartslabyul's particular setup, but neither character ever specifies that this situation is unique to Heartslabyul: they say it is specific to first-year students.

And the rooming situation at NRC is described explicitly in the second novel:

"In each dorm 1st-year students are four to a room with 2nd-year students two to a room and, as a 3rd-year student, you finally get a room to yourself.

Housewardens are the one exception, with their own room regardless of year."

So it is possible that roommate arrangements are the same across all seven dorms. But! Many things have been changed in the novels from the original game (Leona's introduction, the prefect going to Pomefiore alone, etc), so it might be better to not use the novels as a reference for what is or isn't game-canon. This neither proves nor disproves the possibility of the game following the same roommate system, but it does give us something to go off of :>

Ace and Deuce were hinted at having the same bedroom in a vignette, and this was confirmed during Spectral Soiree when Ace says he can hear Deuce grinding his teeth in his sleep.

Comparing their bedrooms themselves, objects from Ace's bookshelf can be seen in Deuce's room.

Unlike the overlapping objects in the Ace/Deuce shared bedroom, there is no proof of Cater, Trey or Riddle sharing a room with anyone, which may support the "third years and housewardens have private rooms" theory.

Further support comes from Cater's comment that he and Trey only shared a room for their first two years at the school.

This might point to them sharing a room with two others in their first year, having a room alone together their second year, and now they are in private rooms.

There is an interesting situation at Savanaclaw where they have empty rooms in the dorm, but students are still rooming together rather than cleaning out a room to use for themselves.

It is possible that "first-years are four-to-a-room, second-years are two-to-a-room" is a rule at the school. Only some first- or second- years getting private rooms or fewer roommates wouldn't be fair to the others, so they have to share rooms even though there is space available.

Leona has a line about Ruggie sharing a room with at least one other person during Spectral Soiree, so Ruggie having a roommate is also confirmed.

(The Japanese language doesn't really have "the" or "a," and EN chose to write this line as "a guy in his room," as though there are multiple people besides Ruggie. It could technically be interpreted either way.)

Much like Ace and Deuce, illustrations show proof of other people living in Jack and Ruggie's rooms, while there is no such proof in Leona's.

There is also no visual proof of Azul sharing a room with anyone, while there is proof in Jade and Floyd's.

Based on visuals alone it seems there might be an argument for the twins sharing rooms with other people: the positioning of the chairs and a stack of books in Floyd's room do not seem to correlate with Jade's room. A stack of objects in Ace's room can clearly be seen in Deuce's room, so it seems like such details would be carried over if that's what we're supposed to think is going on.

But, unlike most other characters, it has been confirmed in dialogue that Floyd and Jade share a room on JP!

The Japanese language doesn't really use possessive pronouns in the same way that English does, as things like that are generally communicated via context.

Since English forces you to specify such information (which Aniplex USA might not actually know), they added "Jade's room" to Floyd's dialogue in his birthday vignette, despite how Floyd did not specify Jade having a separate room at all: he just says that Jade is always keeping an unspecified room clean. While he could technically be talking about Jade's room, he could also be talking about their shared room.

This is a kind of vague example and may not be particularly convincing either way, but there have been at least two more references in-game:

In Floyd's original, in-game dialogue, he says that he doesn't want to go back his room because he wants to be alone, but Jade will be coming home soon. The word "room" was changed on EN to "dorm," not once, but twice:

In another vignette he says that Jade smells so earthy all the time that it brings his mood down just to be in the dorm room. So I think I can understand someone playing EN and thinking that the twins might be in separate rooms with different roommates, but that does not seem to be the case!

Much like Riddle, Leona and Azul, there is no proof of roommates in the bedroom illustration for Kalim, but another student's rug, bookshelf and desk can be seen to the side of Jamil's despite how he is a vice-houswarden. This may be in support of the "two students per 2nd year bedroom, housewardens are the only exception" theory.

Neither Rook nor Vil have any proof of roommates in their bedroom designs, while what may be another student's closet can be seen to the side of Epel's.

There is no proof of a human roommate in Idia's bedroom (the blue stand off to the right is heavily hinted in Book 7 as being for Ortho), and he has a voice line about being miserable sharing a dorm room until becoming Housewarden.

Despite being counted as a first-year student (while he has technically been at the school as long as Idia), post-Book-6 Ortho's room also does not seem to have any proof of being a shared space, but it was confirmed in New Years 2024 that Ortho does have multiple roommates.

There is proof of roommates in both Sebek and Silver's room illustrations, with what are presumably other students' desks seen in both of them.

There is no proof of roommates in Lilia or Malleus' bedrooms, and we learn in Spectral Soiree that their two rooms are located next to one another:

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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tenshinokorin · 1 year

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TnK's Trigun Fic Listing

Ok now that I've got 15 fics out for Trigun (so far) and at least a couple of those are upwards of 20K and some of them are sequels and followups and ongoing, I thought maybe I should do a proper list of things, to make it easier for people who want to read in some kind of order. I'm terrible about talking up my own work but this is also for my own reference so that's fine, right? ^^; All fics are Vashwood-centric (I will get to Nai in a minute I have a backlog) and ratings vary from Gen to Explicit, though all are intended for an adult audience. This list is complete as of September '23, I will update it periodically as needed!

NB: I'm lucky enough to have gotten fanart for some of these and sometime when my head is not full of mud I'll go in and add links to those where I can. (Or please drop a link in the replies if you are one of the wonderful artists in question!)

THE BIG THREE STORYLINES:

Someday Out of the Blue & I Believe in the Kingdom Come

Trigun '98 canon. Reincarnation fic. The first one is a story I started writing over 20 years ago and quit after a chapter because I was just too heartbroken (and did not know it, but was also too young). Picked it up and finished it this April (2023) after Stampede clobbered me and I fell off the "we don't talk about wolfwood" wagon. The second story is a direct sequel to tie up some loose ends from the first one, and also to indulge my need for a proper happy ending. (I think a lot of folks don't realize Someday has a sequel but it does!!)

Black is the Color and Mysterious Ways

Trimax Canon. Resurrection/Fix-it/Angstmance with a much shorter, sillier, smuttier epilogue. Three years after the end of Trigun Maximum, Vash is having some trouble laying his ghosts to rest. (You may have seen this incredible artwork which has gotten around a bit and boosts the story better than any summary of mine possibly could.) Weird things happened when I was writing this, I don't mind telling you. Mysterious Ways was mostly an excuse to explore some of the more interesting concepts brought up by the first one, but saying anything more would be spoilery.

Eyes of the Storm

(Mostly) Trimax canon. Cryptid Vash AU, slowburn romance, ongoing. When Nicholas D. Wolfwood gets roped into being the new caretaker for the now-abandoned orphanage where he spent his childhood, he soon finds out that his own hidden memories are not the only thing haunting him. (What the fuck is a Typhoon?) Wolfwood, Vash, Livio, Elendira, et al. This is the one currently in progress at six chapters out of ??. Pretty SFW so far BUT NOT FOR MUCH LONGER CAVEAT LECTOR.

List continues with standalone and shorter fics below the cut!

Honeymoon

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Plant Heat, Wingfic, Tentacle Fic, What the fuck is Hay Fever. Wolfwood offers to help Vash out with a personal problem and gets a little more than he bargained for.

Strange Powers

Generic Trimax/98 setting, comedy/smut/potato jokes/fisting with a loaded prosthetic. What if Vash and Wolfwood (accidentally) got really, really hella high?

Hurricane

Trigun '98 Canon.

Vash: Make money? As a priest?

WW: Well. *mysteriously* Not only that.

Vash: (oh my gosh he's a prostitute)

Shortfic. Wolfwood tries to figure out how to offer his services to someone he doesn't really want to be a paying customer. Short and smutty while also demolishing Wolfwood's professional boundaries.

Skin Tight

Generic Trimax/98 setting. The Infamous Red Dress. PWP, Wolfwood needs to be in the Vash Sensory Deprivation Tank, Vash in high heels, the dress gave its life for this fic you should read it and honor its sacrifice. Look. This is just porn, guys. You want the porny fic? This is the porny fic. (just kidding most of them are porny fics but this one is especially so.)

Secondhand Secrets

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Introspective/Vignette/Wolfwood POV. Vash's artificial arm always moves in his sleep, and Wolfwood wonders what he's looking for.

Personal Jesus

Badlands Rumble canon (post-film), Wolfwood has poor emotional coping strategies, hurt/comfort (Wolfwood provides both), first-time. That red hotel minifridge never stood a chance.

A Fool From Any Direction

Trigun '98 Vash's weird horny schtick is a front, and self-respect doesn't save lives. Which is too bad because when Wolfwood finds out what Vash is planning next he's gonna kill him.

Benediction

Trimax but could also be '98; Sometimes being a hero is not all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe Vash is the one cracking up. Hurt/Comfort, Wound Care & Bible Quotes, Noman's Land is a bitch of a planet. Shortfic, feels, non-explicit/no sex.

A Bit of a Tight Spot

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Costume Porn, PWP, No corsets were harmed in the making of this fic. I feel like this one gets missed a lot which is MADDENING because you guys. WOLFWOOD'S DOUBLE Ds IN A CORSET. And like, in a gender euphoria way, not in a comedy drag kind of way (though comedy drag does make a small appearance). I don't know how the good minister tightlaced in cuban stockings while giving Vash a blowjob in front of a mirror in the attic of a whorehouse can get so often overlooked, maybe my title or summary is lacking, but it's one of the hottest things I've ever written and its engagement is just in the basement? When (emphatic baffled hand motions to Nicholas D. Wolfwood wearing a garter like a thigh-holster). Anyway.

The Quick and the Bed

Trigun '98 Comedy, Romance, First Time. The single bed trope. Drunk Idiocy. Wolfwood's vows are in serious danger. (Wolfwood does not have vows.) Readers have let me know that they find this one amusing. Roommates of readers have sent me threats of bodily harm due to badly-stifled hysterical laughter at 3am.

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW MORE STORIES WILL BE ADDED AS THEY OCCUR!

SMALL DISCLAIMER: I'm a full-time working writer and my fanfic is something I give away for free out of love. Please don't copy, alter, plagiarize, feed to AI in any form, fold, spindle, or mutilate. I'm not in the market for concrit, but if you like my stories please feel free to leave me a comment/kudo, download/print/fanbind for personal use, or let other readers know!

#trigun #vashwood #trigun fanfic #tnk fic #trigun '98 #trigun maximum #trigun stampede

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hardlyinteresting · 7 months

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Hiya! I read your Aaron Hotchner x reader fic 'guilt, love and other wounds' and I was so blown away you have a gift you write him so well! Then I read through the rest of what you written and I'm obsessed ~ thank you for sharing ~ I saw you reblogged some prompt list and I was hoping if you were accepting requests you could write the "Are you sniffing my hair?" Prompt for me. I'd love to see more fluff on my feed.

Moments

Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader Request here! | Masterlist

You’ve learned to live in moments, managing to love in vignettes. It’s work, but it’s worth it. Life continues to find new ways to keep the two of you busy beyond belief. Work, laundry, dinner, meetings, parent-teacher interviews, homework, taxes, housework, home repairs, and soccer practice fill every inch of your free time. The list stretches a mile long. It wraps up your schedules and leaves your hands tied when finding a moment alone. Tonight is the rare exception-- coincidental openings in both of your calendars. Jack is having a sleepover with a friend from school; work is quiet-- for the time being; and there are no chores worth trading for a cozy night in.

The TV is on, with the volume low. Without any lights on, the room is bathed in a soft blue glow. Your empty plates from dinner sit abandoned on the coffee table since neither of you has felt any desire to leave the other’s side. You lay across the couch cushions, Aaron’s body draped haphazardly; half beside you half on top of you. His commentary about the show you’re watching together fans warm breath across your collarbones. He punctuates the ends of his thoughts with kisses. Lips, cheek, jaw. He brushes the silent affections wherever he manages to reach when he tilts his face up towards yours. These are the moments you wait for. His fingers trace mindless circles on your hip, while your own card through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. It’s not often you get to see him like this. Relaxed, and nearly carefree. He deserves more tenderness. With your lips pressed to his forehead, you can smell his shampoo--yours. Eucalyptus and lavender. A soft gentle smell you’d hardly notice if you didn’t know it so well. "Are you sniffing my hair?" he asks, pulling away to get a better look at you. You meet his question with a shrug and a playful smile, “Maybe I was. What are you going to do about it?”

It’s easy to live in the moment when the world feels no larger than the sofa you share with your husband.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic

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merlinfromberlin · 12 days

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Bumblebee & Ratchet Fic Recs

It's my birthday, so let me treat myself (and you) to some of my favourite fanfics exploring the dynamic between Ratchet & Bumblebee in TFP. Because I am a sucker for Ratchet and Bee and Ratchet having a soft spot for Bee.

Bumblebee & Ratchet Fics

Do You Like Bees? by @thinkingheron (Stardustjinn on AO3)

TFP. Ratchet needs a break from his Synth-En project, so Bumblebee takes it upon himself to make it happen. The Team is amused, Ratchet is not, and Bumblebee pays with a scratched paint and a dent. Oneshot. Warning we have an angry Ratchet.

I honestly love this story so much. It's incredibly creative and funny! :3 I love how cheeky and mischievous Bee is. I love how helpless everybody else is to stop his shenagigans. I love that, yeah, he's playing a prank and it's infuriating to Ratchet in the moment, but in the end it's not actually malicious. No one is hurt, it can be reverted easily and Ratchet recharges for a bit.

On another note: this fic is basically canon to me.

If Language Were Liquid by @equivocaleternity (equivocalEternity on AO3)

Bumblebee's voice box is malfunctioning again, and he joins Ratchet and Raf for a perfectly timed lesson on Cybertronian grammar.

This fic just hits all of my boxes: Ratchet, Bumblebee and an super interesting exploration of Cybertronian languages/linguistics/grammar. It's absolutely amazing! :3

Minus One by @gentle-hero-blog (carrot_top_monk on AO3)

A rewrite of the season 3 episode “Minus One”, in which the Autobots’ interrogation of Soundwave goes horribly wrong.

I almost wish that this was canon. It's such an interesting way to explore how Minus One could have gone differently. It's also a super interesting angle at a "Tyger Pax fic". I also honestly love the relationships between Ratchet, Optimus and Bumblebee in this fic so much.

And, maybe most impressively, it made me sympathetise with Smokescreen a little bit more than I did before. I still don't really vibe with him, but I feel like I understand him a little bit better now.

Spark of Courage also by @thinkingheron

TF:Prime, Aligned. Pre Earth. After a surprise Decepticon attack near the Well of AllSparks, Ratchet manages to save a sparkling from near death... or was it the other way around? Origin fic. Rated for mild violence.

Aaaahhh. I don't know how to even describe this fic but I honestly love it so, so much. Bee's immediate attachment to Ratchet is honestly so, so sweet. How Ratchet gets attached to Bee against his will. Bee's sparkling adventures are just absolutely amazing. He's got half the Autbot force exhausted with his shenanigans within the first three days without even trying to. And at the same time he's got all of them wrapped around his little finger. It's honestly one of the best portrayals of Bee I've ever read. I can only aspire to one day write such an adorable, fun and mischievous version of Bee. :3 Also: the background War politics/plot. And, Jazz is in it and he is absolutely glorious.

Honestly can't recommend this enough. <3

Dadchet Fics

Because, for some reason childhood trauma, grumpy old medic dad having a soft spot for his little yellow robot is my greatest weakness.

A glimpse in the Past by arctic_lotus on AO3

When they say you see your children before you die, it isn't always the good memories. ~ Ratchet seems to walk through the events leading to his deepest regret as a recon mission goes up in smoke.

Featuring lots of incredibly sweet vignettes of Bee's and Ratchet's relationship leading up to Tyger Pax. Sparkling Bee is absolutely adorable and Ratchet has a soft spot for him that is bigger than Cybertron itself. It's incredibly sweet. There is also some incredibly heart-warming Optiratch in there. ^^ It's a bit bittersweet but in the best of ways. :3

Autobots, Pass Out! by @yamiquietshadowflo (Quiet_Shadow on AO3)

Ratchet is far too busy and stressed to just drop everything he's doing and go to sleep, even Optimus gives him his best 'So-Disappointed-In-You Look'. Recharge? Who needs that when there is so much to fret about? (Un)Fortunately for the medic, Optimus isn't the type of mech who give up and he's not above for the most underhanded, sneaky tactic at his disposition: Sending in Bumblebee and Raf.

Adorable. Funny. Sweet. :3 I love that Ratchet knows exactly what Bee and Raf are doing, but is absolutely helpless to it anyways. Absolutely adore that it is implied that, now that this has happened once, Bee will keep making it happen. They deserve their cuddles. Optimus is absolutely hilarious, too. :D

Napping Spot by @keef-a-corn (Keef_A_Corn on AO3)

I have a soft spot for Bee and Ratchet. Sometimes you just gotta hold your little Bee. It's short and cute. I have nothing else to say.

Honestly, this is just utterly adorable. 10/10. Could read it every five minutes. I should probably read it every five minutes.

Promises and Failures by @theiceemperor (Windify on AO3)

He’d made up his mind the moment they found out that the scout’s T-Cog was missing. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to fix Bee.

Now this. Whenever I read this story, I just want to shake some sense into Ratchet because he ist just infuriatingly reckless. Because, yeah, he should definitely not have operated on himself and then not told anyone. At the same time, however, I absolutely get why he is doing it. That's his baby boy who's hurting, after all, and there's all that old medic guilt and self-consciousness and love for Bee that drives him to his decision. In the end I'd probably be too much of a sap to wrench him before hugging him. Even if he'd deserve it for endangering himself like that.

I also just love Bee and Ratchet's interaction at the end of the story. That just oozes their love for another. :3

Now go and read at least one of these fics, they are all absolutely amazing.

#transformers #bumblebee #ratchet #fanfiction #recommendations #I'll probably look back in a few days and realise that I forgot a few stories #my anxiety will probably NOT like that at all but I'll just try and see it as a chance to do a second rec post #however I absolutely adore all of the stories here and can't recommend them enough #they are absolutely amazing #so bye I'll write some more stuff for angstober now #I hope I manage to finish writing this on my b-day #I keep making weird pauses and there's only a few hours left of today #I MADE IT #For some reason I'm incredibly nervous about this post #so now that I've posted it I'll probably go and hide from tumblr for a bit #yeah. that sound good. I kinda need to go and bake a cake anyway #although it is a bit late for that #so maybe I'll just... go and write something for angstober.#or try to sleep

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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edgar allen poe + twst??

***Spoilers for book 7 part 4!!***

In the latest main story update, Lilia tells us about the princess of the Briar Valley (ie Malleus’s mom) and a fae messenger that went to an human fortress to the east (Malleus’s dad). If you’ll recall, Malleus tells us in present day (in his Birthday Boy vignettes) that his “only living relative” is his grandmother, which implies his parents are gone. The update leaves us on a cliffhanger where Lilia and co. are at the eastern fortress while the humans are launching a surprise attack on the palace where Malleus’s mother resides. It is very possible that she will die as a result of this encounter (for as powerful as she is, the humans greatly outnumber her). His father had gone missing prior to this while going to deliver a message to the humans. It is not confirmed if he is dead or just… missing at the moment.

Both Malleus’s mom and dad are referred to by name, but the fandom is finding it difficult to settle on one variation until an official English localization of book 7 comes out. “Mallenoa” appears to be the commonly accepted term for Malleus’s mom, whereas “Levan/Revan” is for his dad.

Well… what if we looked at the works of Edgar Allen Poe?? More specifically, at the two poems Lenore and The Raven? 🤔 Stay with me here—

The first poem, Lenore, was written by Poe to cope with his wife Virginia contracting tuberculosis. It speaks of the passing of a young woman (Lenore), and those who mourn for her. Important to note is that Lenore is described as “the queenliest dead that ever died so young”.) Her intended is not crying at the funeral, so others accuse him of not caring for his now deceased fiancé. He counters by claiming the other mourners are the ones who never really cared for her. The poem finished with Lenore’s husband-to-be saying that she is in a better place now than this “damned earth”.

What does this have to do with Malleus’s mom? Look at how her name is written in TWST JP (the two characters that follow the name refer to her title):

Now notice how Lenore is written. All of the characters match except the missing first one (which is understandable, since that is the “Malle”/“Mare” part missing). I confirmed this by typing in “Mallenore”; the end result was the exact same writing as how Malleus’s mom’s name is written in game.

Knowing that Mallenoa is in a dangerous situation that puts her life at risk and Lenore is a poem all about someone who has passed... PLUS Lenore is a woman who is described as “the queenliest dead”, and Mallenoa is the princess of Briar Country, destined to be queen one day... AND how their names are written matching up, it’s possible that “Mallenoa” will be localized as “Mallenore”.

But what about Malleus's dad? Well, I see two possibilities: "Levan" could be a reference to "levin" or lightning (something which Maleficent is associated with) OR it could be "Revan", which is just raven with the vowels swapped around. (It's difficult to know for sure which one would be "more" correct, as the /r/ and /l/ sounds tend to blend together in Japanese.) As we all know, Maleficent is also known for Diablo, her pet raven. Levan/Revan also serves a very similar role as Diablo did for Maleficent to his wife and princess (ie he advised her and acted as her right-hand man; hence why he was the one who departed for the diplomatic trip).

Edit: TWST EN has confirmed that the official localization for Malleus's dad's name is "Raverne". Back to Lenore for a moment, Levan/Revan could be filling in for the role of the upset husband-to-be. Thinking about it, after his wife has died (and assuming he is still alive at that point), the world really would be like a "damned earth" to him. His wife is gone, his country in tatters because of how the human invaders have ravaged it, etc. And worse yet, if he is fae himself then it will be years and years before he is able to rejoin his wife in death.

This brings us to The Raven, which was published 2 years after Lenore and serves as a sort of companion piece to it. The Raven refers to a creature that visits an unnamed man, who laments the loss of his love, Lenore. (Note that even though the same name is used here, it’s not clear if this Lenore is the exact same as the one in Lenore.) The bird continuously antagonizes the mourning man and drives him to madness, reflecting the poem’s sentiment that lingering grief can interfere with one’s ability to live in the present. The Raven, then, is said to be the spirit or presence of Lenore paying a visit to her lover and/or “haunting” him.

The Raven doesn’t have parallels as clear as the ones between Lenore and Mallenoa—however, the motif of the raven itself would match up with what we know of Diablo. “The Raven” is a bird that refuses to leave the mourning man’s home no matter which room he goes to. This could refer to the relationship between Malleus’s parents, between princess and her trusted aide that follows her like a shadow. Alternatively, since the mourning man is Lenore’s lover, this could be foreshadowing. It could mean that Levan/Revan (again, assuming he is still alive by the time his wife dies) will be deeply affected by his wife’s passing.

All of the canon details and stuff aside, this makes some sense thematically if we think about Poe’s general themes. He often talks about death and the loss of loved ones, both of which are major themes in book 7 and now, as we can see, in the history of Briar Country.

So 👁️ 👄 👁️ in conclusion, you should read Edgar Allen Poe… 👉👈

ADDENDUM: HER OFFICIAL NAME IS MELEANOR, BOYS... We were so close...

#twst #twisted wonderland #Lenore #Edgar Allen Poe #Malleus Draconia #Maleficient #Diablo #The Raven #disney twisted wonderland #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #notes from the writing raven #spoilers #Lilia Vanrouge #Meleanor Draconia #Raverne Draconia #Maleanor Draconia

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puppyxaegon · 5 months

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Yours, pt. 1 Captor!Ramsay Bolton x GN reader

Okay, realizing I teased this fic like A MONTH ago and just left yall hanging so I do apologize for that,,,anyways this was another of those situations where I start writing HCs but I get overly invested and filled with ideas so I want to make it a fic but then I get overwhelmed and overthink and excessively scrutinize and end up just putting it off. The neverending cycle as it were. But I've decided to take some pressure of myself and just make this a short part one/teaser! So here you go, please enjoy and leave feedback if you like!

Tags/warnings: SFW, Captivity, memory loss, mention of drug use

As you awake, the first thing you feel is discomfort. You’re groggy and vaguely stiff and sore all over. Your mouth feels dry and stuck together, and crust around your eyes begins to sting as you come into awareness. Everything is oddly fuzzy, muffled or blunted somehow and your whole body hums with a kind of numbness you can only associate with a limb that’s fallen asleep and lost most of its sensation. ‘A dream’, you think. Every breath feels like a concerted effort.

It doesn’t take long after you open your eyes though to take in your surroundings in the fairly well lit room. You use all the strength you can muster to lift your head enough to look around. You feel your stomach cramping with the effort as you shake slightly, but the pain is far away. The room seems empty, barren of furniture or any semblance of décor. The grimy concrete floor combines perfectly with the stone walls, weakly buzzing lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling, and the rickety wooding staircase ascending into nowhere to create the stereotypical image of a ‘creepy kidnapper basement’. It was something straight out of a trashy torture porn exploitation film. The thought made you chuckle, but you were faintly aware that the sound was more of a dry grunt.

As you move to sit up further, you feel your right arm weighed down by what you turn and see is a cuff and heavy chain, no longer than a foot and attached to a disused radiator. As you trace the links with your gaze, you notice what you’re sitting on, a lumpy and yellowed mattress which had certainly seen better days. ‘This is too fucking good’, you think to yourself. You’re well used to strange and foreboding dreams, but this one feels a bit on the nose. You want to laugh again, but recognize the feeling of your mind becoming more and more withdrawn from your body and lacking control of its functions.

You feel yourself lay back, suddenly uninterested in the previous line of thinking. Your head was beginning to spin, and the pain in your stomach threatens to break through the delirium. All you want to do is sleep, but aren’t you already asleep? The quietly growing pain is what makes you question your state of consciousness because as far as you can remember, dreams were not supposed to feel this sharp.

As you recede into exhaustion, your vision dims and your mind attempts to reach out past the island of your thoughts in the moment.

Where was I before this?

What had I told Alys before I left her?

Who was the man with the dog?

You can’t answer any of these questions for yourself or make out exactly what they mean. You fall back into what should be sleep, but are assailed by images, vignettes, fragments of some story or memory that nags at you.

Alys’ copper hair catching the glow of the streetlight and her radiant smile that evaded the appreciation of the man who’d wrapped himself around her.

“GO, have fun! I’ll be fine, its beautiful out anyway, I could use a walk.”

The night which got so dark and so quiet more quickly than you expected when it’d felt like you just left the concert. As if the world had simply fallen away from you.

The park bench where you lay, staring up at the stars and ignoring the cavernous pain in your chest and the urge to cough as you inhaled again from the device Alys had left you with.

“She’s friendly, help yourself.” The voice of the man shrouded in darkness which carried an odd tone as you found yourself kneeling and reaching out to pet a huge back dog, with floppy ears and some of the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.

“You know, It’s not a good night to be out here all alone.”

A cruel stare.

Rough hands.

A sharp pain at the back of your head.

And then nothing.

No more memories, no more thoughts, no more images.

Nothing but the bitter, coppery taste in your mouth as the last of your consciousness winked out of existence.

#ramsay bolton gif #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #ramsay bolton x reader

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balsamfir-fics · 3 months

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a hope redefined (part 2)

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition, some fluff

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities. she/her pronouns, but no use of YN.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family -- retelling these events through vignettes and letters to his daughter.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2

Chapter Word Count: ~6.2k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship.

Little bird, my Robin,

I’m not sure if you quite understand what a charming little one you are. I admit your burbling is beyond my comprehension despite my best efforts, but even when you are cranky and tired and screaming at us at the top of your miniature lungs, I somehow manage to find you so precious. (Though, of course, your mother and I fervently long for the days when you will allow us to sleep; I have never known this depth of frustration and I was known, before you arrived, for terrible sleep schedules).

Mama and I, we have had quite the story. I’ll tell you about it one day when you’re better able to understand what I’m saying to you, but for now I want to get into the practice of writing you letters in the same way she had written and saved many for me. I will, of course, be much better than your mother at communicating the contents and intents of each letter to you in real-time, so that you grow up only knowing love and never knowing loss. For now, I write this first letter to you. You’ll learn about the things I will tell you later on again, in history books perhaps or in your studies. But it might be interesting for you to learn about them directly from me, as well, so that you may learn about how the things in history-books tend to have real impact for real people.

Robins are cheerful little birds, signs of hope and promise after seasons of strife. You, my dear, were born in a particularly difficult season, one that Mama and I continue to live in now. To best explain the story of how you came to us despite all the odds, I suppose I should start at the very beginning.

Now that I think about how I’d like to begin describing these events to you, it strikes me that I’ll likely only give these letters to you when you come of age and maturity; I don’t think these are topics that you should learn when you first become reasonably literate. We will store these in a safe place for you, so that the pages are fresh and strong when you first look upon them; rather than crumbly, yellowed, and strained.

I digress. Where was I? Ah, yes.

It starts, my Robin, with a disaster that builds into tragedy. In the midst of it all, I was blissfully unaware of what transpired; Mama bears the brunt of the emotional fallout from this time so you must always be respectful to her, because I unfortunately had been quite rude to her in the immediate aftermath of this disaster. I’ve been atoning it for it this whole time, my dear, but I do have a secret: I think you are a large part of my absolution, especially because whenever Mama is irritated with me these days she tends to look at you, see how much you look like me, and is a little less grumpy after basking in your company. Let’s keep it that way, little Robin.

(I fear that your feeding schedule and its interruptions to my rest have left my thoughts unsorted, I apologize for the side-tracks.)

When your teachers tell you about the attack on the council, take care to consider the events beyond words on a page or facts to memorize for a test. We have all been impacted by it, and you are here in part as a result of the things that happened that day.

It was a tense time. I… was in very poor health, and near the very end of my tether to this mortal plane. Nevertheless, I came to the Council with your Uncle Jayce (who, at them time, was beginning to feel like a stranger to me despite our years of partnership), because he and I wanted peace in a world that seemed to disagree. Imagine! Me, a frail and deteriorating Zaunite, crushing myself under immense guilt, and Uncle Jayce, strong in body and conviction but wavering under the pressures of entire societies. But we were doing what we thought was right; Uncle Jayce had made choices I never thought he would make and we both were seeking the abundant optimism and encouragement we wanted to bring to the world through our research in our younger days.

I’m not sure what they’ll teach you about Jinx. It depends on how the future shapes itself. I’m inclined to think that we are all complex beings that are subjected to chaos both inside us and around us, and even choices we are confident in may have the ability to grow into monstrosities we never anticipated. That happened to your uncle and I; I believe this, too, happened for Jinx.

I’ll spare you the details that you will no doubt learn in school. It was a missile attack, and the outcome was devastating. This was especially so since in those fleeting moments after I spoke to the Council and relayed Jayce’ plans, he and I were filled with that hope we were once so aflame with (and this hope, Robin, was in spite of the anger we incited instantly amongst the Councilmembers). It was radiant, my darling, with the bright light reflecting the explosive aspiration we held in our hearts. As you will know later, of course, everything broke mere heartbeats later.

————————————————————————————

The first thing Jayce noticed was shrill, all-encompassing ringing in his ears. He tried to brush it away with his mind, but his body did not obey this command. Then in a panic he realized he noticed nothing in sight; merely black and grey and clouds billowing. His heart seized; where had he been last?

Finally the picture before him came into focus, in streaks of visibility between billowing, noxious clouds.

The other sensations followed quickly after, assaulting his nervous system with acrid stinging in his lungs, shocks of pain in his body, and the increasing awareness of other sounds beyond the internal ringing. What were those? They were screams of anguish, of pain, and of terror.

As he tried to physically orient himself, Jayce realized he was not where he had been before. Wasn’t he standing? He’d purposely put himself between Viktor and the Council, if only to metaphorically shield his dying friend from the brunt of the Council’s fury. Where was Viktor? Where was —

Mel. Mel! Jayce scrambled to his feet, a feat that took nearly a minute in the confusion but felt like milliseconds. His mind quickly began to sort events into a timeline; he vaguely understood this to be a fight-response, a survival tactic in disaster. There must have been an explosion, judging by the jagged edges of curled steel and broken glass he could see in pockets of clear air. If there was an explosion, it was from outside, given the direction of debris and decay. If it was from outside — Jayce shuddered, all the while staggering forward towards where the window once hang — then Mel had been the first to be hit.

He found her after tripping over objects that should not have lined his path; objects that were pieces of the ornate Council desks, shards of glass, gnarled metal, and also people. He screamed her name, maybe, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. She was slumped over a section of broken desk at an awkward angle, but to Jayce’ relief she appeared whole, if not unconscious and likely severely injured. It was impossible, really, based on what he knew about ballistics and explosives and physics, but he would receive any miracles that the gods would allow. He thought to shake her, but managed to remember that this would be unwise — she might have internal injuries — but he checked for a pulse. With confirmation that she was, in fact alive, he yelled for a medic, before realizing his voice was not the only one doing so. Instead, Jayce then set his jaw and glanced frantically around the room.

The dichotomy between Mel’s relative lack of being harmed and the rest of the room was jarring; the hall was completely unrecognizable and nearly everyone in it had been sent far from their original seats. Then Jayce noticed an odd pattern in the path of destruction; the people closer to the window and the main circle of desks seemed reasonably intact, but the building and furniture in that same radius was most certainly not. Attendants and assistants, most of whom had been standing near the periphery and the elevators, seemed to be in much worse shape (Jayce found his stomach rising in his throat at the sight he saw, but stepped away in time to vomit further away from Mel’s unconscious form); but architectural structures there only saw streaks of soot and flame and far less impact.

A wavering light caught his eye, but he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just the reflection of flickering fire or something emanating from the golden patterns on Mel’s back. He ignored this, instead lifting Mel’s body onto his shoulders with as little disturbance as possible. Jayce brought her past the elevators, past the carnage and into an unaffected corridor deeper in the building. He lay her to rest by the wall, whispering for her to stay alive even if she couldn’t hear him, then stumbled back into the fray.

Viktor. He had to find Viktor; no matter what miraculous defense Jayce suspected Mel had mounted, Viktor had already been on the precipice of death.

Jayce first spotted the mangled remains of Viktor’s crutch; scanning that area, he found his friend crumpled beside debris. He quickly took stock of the smaller man’s injuries, wincing at what he recognized as serious impalement, but found Viktor’s condition reasonably safe enough to move out of the chaos. With Viktor’s impossibly thin frame in his arms (and taking care not to jostle the debris embedded into his friend’s body), Jayce struggled back to the corridor. Flashes of the terror around him seared themselves into his mind that night; he later remembered Councilwoman Kiramman lying beneath a frighteningly large panel of destroyed stone, or pieces of Bolbok lying far away from the Councilman’s main frame, but he focused on getting Viktor to safety before returning to assist other less-injured people with rescue.

He rode in Mel’s ambulance, of course, in part because Heimerdinger had materialized shortly after the blast to watch over Viktor. The rest of the evening came only in fragmented blurs; Jayce suspected a concussion, but considered himself to be lucky if that was the only injury he would get away with. He kept Mel’s hand in his and made it a point to be grateful for the fact that it was still warm.

—————————————————————————————————————————————

The peace we called for was obviously fractious. We hadn’t known then that Silco was no more and that Jinx was behind the attack. Rather, I knew nothing. I only came to later, then promptly entered the darkest fury of my life as I only knew that I’d been betrayed by Jayce through your mother’s assistance. This, in hindsight, I regret, but nevertheless there will always be a part of me that wonders what might have happened if the Hexcore had been destroyed completely — and a part of me that secretly longs for that alternate universe to the suffering so many have endured since then.

Of course, I am now mostly grateful for that ‘terrible decision.’ My mixed feelings do not negate the very real truth that I can be your father today because I was saved by your mother and Jayce. I have decided to not let this gratitude go to waste, but it shall forever be a cautionary tale for others.

In those first few weeks, Zaunites and Piltovans fought fiercely, though in smaller, renegade groups. We were all fearful that either side would escalate into all-out civil war. It was a very real risk, back then. With nobody sure who started what, and families vengeful for their own fallen, any slight overreaction could have blown up the whole powder keg. We hadn’t known that there were greater threats beyond, but we could only see what was in front of us, what was local. And yet we couldn’t remember, for some reason, the shared origins of our two cities. We only saw the differences and the hurt.

Many people made bad decisions then. In fact, I was quite worried about those that your Uncle Jayce might make with his power and influence. We are lucky he’d chosen to attempt peace before the attack, because even if Jayce struggles to find the right answer, he does, fortunately, try his best. It’d been his decision to offer Silco what he wanted, and in those early weeks, Uncle Jayce tried to hold to that as much as he could even in the face of dissenters. I imagine he was still reeling from his own sins, and trying to hold onto his own hope — or better yet trying to emulate Auntie Mel’s measured stances. Regardless, we had a fragile stability despite many citizens entering into altercations. Or should I say that the ups and downs averaged out to something more even? It seemed that every other weekend we were promised a war between the two cities, and there were many weeks where we came very close. I think it is a miracle that the many battles fought didn’t tip over into much longer, formalized conflict; at least, between our two cities. We knew it would not hold for long, however, and when your Auntie Caitlyn’s mother finally succumbed to her injuries a few weeks later, we were incredibly concerned.

——————————————————————————————————————

You couldn’t recognize the woman before you. What happened to the little sister figure who you’d watched grow up? Where was the fierce, intelligent girl who (like you) sought to break free of the shackles of upper-class decorum and instead work for a better future? No, the person staring back at you from the printed posters around Piltover was someone hardened by loss. It was someone who cut their teeth on the blades of their own hurt, and used their pain to fuel their development.

Caitlin had always been a serious markswoman, but you would never have expected her to rise in the ranks so quickly. How much if her meteoric rise had been due to the absence of her mother’s influence, or her own dogged pursuit of power, you’d never know. She was too young to be a sheriff, you thought. Not because she was immature but rather because she should have had more time to enjoy her twenties. You supposed that there were much smaller spaces for leisure and entertainment in those times; though most life went on as a hushed normal at the surface, the simmering resentments and fears underneath were never far from mind.

While the cities had not yet sought the other’s total destruction, festivals and the like had been cancelled for safety concerns. Fewer people wandered in the streets without company, especially after dark, but people still needed to eat and to sleep and to live, so children likely hadn’t noticed the suspicion and concern in adults’ eyes.

You glanced to Caitlyn’s right, surveying her personal hire to her investigation team. Through your father, you’d heard more about this Violet — or Vi, though you’d never met her. You tried to ask Jayce more about what had happened in the weeks leading up to the Council attack, but he’d been tight-lipped and more concerned with preventing societal collapse. It wasn’t possible to blame him, however. Mel was still comatose, though stable, and you knew Jayce was trying to keep Piltovan warmongers at bay while tamping down his own grief and rage. He slipped every so often, particularly if it’d been a bad day and he’d come back from visiting Mel’s bedside. With Viktor long gone to sequester himself away in Zaun, you took it upon yourself to remind Jayce that the previous undercity was not a monolithic hotbed of crime and terrorism. Heimerdinger tried as well, but he, too, disappeared frequently — and you suspected he had gone down into the depths in his own efforts to rebuild peace.

He certainly had no time to tell you about a former prisoner he’d made a tenuous ally of, much less one that appeared to be the sister of the attack’s primary suspect. You squinted at the poster again, frowning in reflection of Violet’s own conflicted expression. Your gaze flicked back to Caitlyn’s hardened gaze, and you realized that both young ladies were wrought with their own grief. In Caitlyn, you saw the tortured guilt of someone who’d long argued with her mother and now broke under her father’s mourning. In Vi, you saw a clearly uncomfortable Zaunite looking for any opportunity to find the remnants of the little sister she once knew, forced to join the Piltovans who had tried to subjugate her. At least, that was the best you could come up with given the shreds of information you knew on this new Caitlin and this stranger Vi.

You had no immediate sympathy for the woman named Jinx, especially not within the first few weeks after the attack when you discovered Viktor’s dance with death and he lay, unconscious and severely injured, in his hospital bed. But your rage needed somewhere to go, and since you were by no means a fighter, you channeled your anguish into providing aid directly. It was just as well; wealth Piltovans were not in any mood for philanthropic deeds, especially if any mention of Zaun was involved — thus you had little fundraising to do. You stayed local in those weeks, helping the poorer Piltovans who might have been targeted in smaller skirmishes, if only to stay close enough for any news of Viktor’s recovery.

You hadn’t expected the extent of his anger when he regained consciousness, but you’d been equally as furious that he’d hidden his prognosis from you until he was finally on death’s door. Viktor directed most of his fury towards Jayce, who knew the risks involved and the threat the Hexcore posed, but you were still surprised when he decided to move out of Piltover and into the new Zaun in the middle of this odd detente.

On worse days, you blamed the mysterious Jinx for your woes, but over time — and as Viktor’s mood began to thaw — you learned more about her through Jayce’ intel grapevine. Now glancing again at Vi’s tortured expression in a fading Piltovan sunset, you considered the splintering of their sisterhood and recognize the heartbreak in that uncomfortable gaze. Could those two (and their team) accomplish what they set out for? You weren’t quite sure. Jayce insinuated that there was a relationship between the two Enforcers, but you worried that the overlap between their investigatory objectives might wear thin. You wrote to Viktor in his absence, relaying your thoughts, but he’d only given inscrutable references to a former mentor of his who he suspected of being involved with Jinx.

Lost in thought on the steps of city center, you didn’t notice when your adoptive father pulls up beside you. Heimerdinger patted your hand, leading you to jump back in shock, but once you realized who it was and settled your nerves, you picked up on the weariness in his face.

"She’s likely a bright young woman,” he sighed, shaking his head in sorrow. “Her sister, I mean.”

You balked at that. “You’ve met Jinx?”

“No,” Heimerdinger replied. “Prior associates, perhaps, but not her. I—“ He paused. “I remember when our two cities were one, and I’ve watched brilliant young minds in both triumph and fail under the circumstances they never asked for.” His expression grew long at that, and you realized he was thinking of Viktor’s own time under his care.

Your wounds still raw, you bristled. Your father knew about Viktor’s death sentence and failing health, and yet he never deigned to clue you in. He’d given you excuses that he was under Viktor’s instructions, but that hadn’t mattered to you. It shouldn’t have mattered to him, and you felt betrayed by your father’s discretion. He seemed to understand where your thoughts drifted, and remained silent for a few beats more.

“My dear,” Heimerdinger tentatively began again. “I am gravely concerned. There are more threats than those from between our two peoples.” He took your hand in his, patting yours gently. “There are those who would take advantage of our strife to bring both our cities to their knees.”

You told him he was being cryptic, and started for the gates of the Heimerdinger Estate. But his words remained in your mind, always at the edge of your uncertainty and concern, and it would not be till much later that the premonition he anticipated would come true.

————————————————————————————————————————

But never mind all that; by the time you read these letters I hope we will be living in a vibrant, thriving world and not one besieged by war. Thus I turn to the silver linings from that period.

I angered your mother very much when I left for Emberflit Alley. I don’t know if we’ll be living there, or at your grandfather’s estate, or somewhere in between, but I hope that by the time you see this you will have been to my little laboratory in the Entresol. I have many fond and not-so-fond memories there, but all the unkind memories are long in the past now that you are in my world and my heart. Your mama visited me as soon as I allowed her to. I recall that reunion with great clarity; it was a very exciting few days back in each others arms, but after the excitement faded away we were still left to grapple with my guilt, her hurt, and an uncertain future. I sent her away several times after that, and moodily so, so if you end up rather impetuous I might be to blame for that part of your personality (though Mama is as well). Still, we’d been apart for so many years that we couldn’t help but keep gravitating back to each other even when we tried to stay away for safety, self-healing, and individual growth. Your mother says she wanted to have you as early as then, but I was in no shape for that.

You see, the reason I’m alive today is because of a peculiar technology and the greatest sin of my life. You’ll likely have seen one of my Hexcores by the time you read this, but the one I’m referring to was the first — and it was corrupted. I carry deep grief as a result of my stubbornness with that Hexcore specifically, and thus I promise to teach you everything I have learned from my mistakes so that you will never have to experience them.

With this one, something was gravely wrong. We hadn’t known that at the time, your Uncle Jayce and I, and it is only in retrospect that we know about the Void and its corruption of this specific Hexcore. Your papa was very foolish back then, little Robin, but I was also quite desperate. This Hexcore wanted to control me, to use me as its vessel, but at first I’d only seen it as a gift. I realized later that it must be destroyed; I asked your Uncle Jayce to do so but after that disaster — that tragedy — your mother asked him to use it to save me. And so he did.

It became a part of me then, a part of my survival and part of my story. But it couldn’t stay; I knew that it would consume me and then I wouldn’t be the papa you will get to know. I learned many things in those months, because I worked hard to figure out a way to stay alive but be rid of that corrupted Hexcore. That’s where I learned to be a surgeon of sorts, and I studied feverishly to find a way out of my predicament. I also continued with engineering, just like your Uncle Jayce, and through the technology we developed I made Blitzcrank what he is. In Emberflit Alley, I built a great many things to help our fellow Zaunites; some things to clean the air more affordably, other things to make work easier for weak bodies, and more to bring prosperity to those who had little of it. Some of Uncle Jayce’ Piltovan colleagues were not pleased about this, and even some Zaunites (who, you should never ever interact with, little one — stay far away from chembarons and their people, even if they are your fellow citizens) truly disliked my work.

All of this progress, however, was not enough to ease my concerns over the Hexcore. Yes, living conditions improved for others, but I never felt safe with that first corrupted prototype. And if I wanted a future — a real one, not just borrowed time — then I needed to be in control of it myself. So with great effort I replaced the void-touched parts with mechanical ones I built myself. That may sound scary, but living with the Void was much more frightening and I couldn’t bear with myself if it endangered your mother in any way. Besides, if you saw those parts you’d laugh; they were clunky and ugly, but by now they’re much improved.

You may have been told a number of things about that time period. Not everything you’ll hear will be the truth, from either your Piltovan or Zaunite friends and teachers. Remember that you are always welcome to ask me or your mother, and we will carefully tell you the truth we witnessed with our own eyes.

————————————————————————————————————————

Viktor was backed into a corner. What madness was this? The little Kiramman girl, emerging from the shadows with a hard look etched into the lines of her face, seeking to take him in?

He figured her investigation had turned up his name; Heimerdinger kept Viktor appraised of the topside Enforcers’ campaign against this Jinx, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the new sheriff in town connected the man called Singed to both himself and the blue-haired fugitive. It was odd, though, as it had been Caitlyn herself who had provided Jayce and you with a small vial of Shimmer when he stood with one foot through Death’s Door. She would have known about his involvement and his research and how benign it must be, but why would she have been looking for him now of all times, weeks after her campaign was well underway, and weeks after Viktor had sequestered himself in the Entresol with his golem, his tools, and his loneliness? If anything, Viktor was grateful he’d made it a point to send you back topside when Emberflit Alley became suspiciously quiet. Having you by his side in this specific moment would have been disastrous.

As he surveyed the look in Caitlyn Kiramman’s eye, he knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to put the members of her own circle under surveillance if it would help move along her objectives. He glanced to his peripherals, noting several cloaked Enforcers circling towards him at the end of the alley. Not ideal, but he would be damned if he was taken in on nothing more than a paranoid suspicion. Now was not the time to be separated from his work in Zaun; with a dogged sheriff on the chembarons’ tails, the innocent civilians of Zaun needed medical assistance without strings attached more than ever.

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” he warned, fingers tightening around the latest prototype of his Hexcore-powered staff. (‘It’s a deterrent, not a weapon,’ he’d told you when you first saw it. But he was decreasingly convicted in his own definition; whatever deterrent effect he’d hoped the Hexcore would have seemed not to be working as intended. “I am no traitor, and you of all people should know that.”

“Forgive my inability to take your words at face value,” Caitlyn replied steadily. Her finger remained on her rifle’s trigger; eyes still squinting through the scope. “First you run from Piltover, then I learn you’re one of her—“ The sneer in her voice made apparent to whom she was referring. “—known associates? You’ll need to come with me, Viktor, if you want any semblance of a topside future with Heimerdinger’s daughter.”

He flared up at that; how dare anyone threaten the fragile hope he held onto for decades?! His emotions ran wild and angry, and the Hexcore — damn, he hadn’t yet managed to completely purge his biomechanical connection to it still — responded with its own flicker of crackling energy. Viktor sensed the whole alley tensing at the sensation, and he knew then that there would be no saving his insistence that the Hexcore wasn’t a weapon of destruction.

“I fail to see how I might be a known associate if I’ve never met Jinx,” he replied. It took every bit of his personal pride to keep his temper stable. “So without reasonable suspicion, I believe I will not be joining you.” Movement to his left caught his eye. “And I wouldn’t take another step closer, if I were you,” he warned the Enforcer.

“I have no time to dance, Viktor,” spat Caitlyn. “Lower your staff, now!”

Viktor remained where he stood, amber eyes glaring out at her from beneath the dark fabric of his hood. He kept silent, attuning his senses to the several Enforcers eyeing him warily with weapons raised. He wouldn’t hurt them, not first, and not unless it was a last resort. What he feared was being backed into his final corner.

Caitlyn began to pull on the trigger, a minute movement that Viktor noticed through instinct alone.

So be it. He couldn’t be taken; people needed help and protection, not only from criminals within Zaun but from unwarranted topside aggression. He couldn’t be taken; he needed to continue his work on severing his physical connection to that angry, disturbing Hexcore — months imprisoned would impede any hopes of progress. He couldn’t be taken; his arrest, no matter how unjustified, would irreparably damage Heimerdinger and your reputations by association alone, and he’d worked too hard to let his family, topside or not, be taken from him.

When the Enforcers nearest him lunged, Viktor exhaled, closed his eyes, and allowed the Hexcore to release a burst of pure, radiant energy. Then he ran, ignoring the cries of surprise and fear and squinting past the blinding light he’d unleashed on his adversaries. He bounded past Blitzcrank’s hiding place towards the opening of the alley, beckoned along his golem, and darted into the nearby safe house he’d kept anonymously registered for this purpose.

You’d hear about this, certainly. But Viktor hoped that your faith in him would help you see past the propaganda and widespread fear, and trust in his character. It was a weak hope in fraught times as these, but Viktor hoped nonetheless.

————————————————————————————————————————

Once I was confident that the void was gone from the Hexcore and it could be developed in complete safety, I let Mama stay with me for good, and I stopped pushing her away. She was much happier about that, but we were mostly relieved that I could stay alive, healthy, and strong without the corrupted core. Lots of things happened before then, many difficult things, but I was very happy to be safe for Mama eventually.

Even so, our relief was short-lived. The fragile peace we had was broken by external threats, and many bad things began to happen to everyone in Valoran. These problems are not yet fully resolved, I’m afraid, but everyone in your life is now committed to fixing them for the betterment of your future.

In the midst of the sheriff looking for me and everything being quite scary for the regular people in both our cities, Auntie Mel’s mother was incredibly cross with Uncle Jayce and how he responded to the big disaster. Remember, Robin, Auntie Mel wasn’t healthy as she is now. She was in the hospital, stable but unable to wake or to fully recover, and she was there for many months. Auntie Mel tried to save all of our lives because she believed in diplomacy and peace, and she saved mine even though I imagine many of the other Councillors wouldn’t much care about my life. But while your Uncle Jayce was very angry with Jinx, and very worried about Auntie Mel, Auntie Mel’s mum was even more angry. She wanted revenge, and in Uncle Jayce’ decisions she saw weakness. She interpreted that to be an opportunity; one for her people to exploit.

It was chaos, little bird. Your grandfather stopped appearing in Piltovan public, too distressed at the warmongering he saw. In fact, your brave grandfather met me often, in secret, to help me care for the injured Zaunites and yes — sometimes Piltovans too — in all the fights that were to come. I, regretfully, had to fight too, as did your grandfather, but we did our best to only do so when the alternatives were worse. I hope that by the time you can read this letter that I won’t need to fight anymore; you deserve a future that lets children play in the streets and enjoy a life without fear. Where was I? Ah — Ambessa. (That’s Auntie Mel’s mum’s name. I imagine she’ll be in your history books…)

Noxus, where Ambessa and Auntie Mel are from, is a strong but frightening place. I’m lucky I’ve never had reason to visit myself, but they are a rather proud, fearsome people who value strength immensely. Remember when I said that Ambessa saw weakness in Uncle Jayce’ decisions? Whatever Uncle Jayce and his colleagues said was what Piltover was saying, and Ambessa thought that Uncle Jayce was being a bit soft in trying to find the woman named Jinx. As unforgiving as Ambessa is, Auntie Mel is still her daughter; I believe in some sort of way, Ambessa loves Auntie Mel just as much as we love you (although Mama and I will never try to hurt thousands of people for you. You have our promise). Because Auntie Mel was very badly hurt, Ambessa wanted to catch the culprit and felt that a strong military response from Piltover to Zaun was necessary. When Uncle Jayce didn’t do this to the extent she expected, Ambessa brought Noxus down upon our two cities.

This was very scary for everybody; remember, lots of people kept fighting between Piltover and Zaun, too! But of course the most troubling part was that the very rich, very powerful, and often very corrupt were the ones who stayed the most safe through this all; they could afford better medical care or hiding places or all of the above. No, the people getting hurt the most weren’t even the ones behind what happened to me, your uncle, and Auntie Mel on that disastrous day. It was regular people, just like you and me and mum; people who just wanted to eat their meals and enjoy their time together in Valoran like every other day.

In fact, it was humans specifically who suffered most. Unlike your grandfather, or Councilman Bolbok, survival for these regular humans was very difficult. Many sick people were pulled into fights or injured on accident; they often weren’t strong enough to recover, if they didn’t have good health or money or a safe place to live beforehand.

Blitzcrank tried to protect a lot of them, but when I went to these people and helped stabilize broken bones or reattached limbs, it became very clear that what they wanted was their own strength — not to rely on groups with questionable incentives like the chembarons to keep them safe from Ambessa or Enforcers. I started using my new skillset to help them, too, the way I started to mend myself.

Lots of people didn’t like that. People who hadn’t known why I was doing what I was doing thought I was doing very bad things to the people I tried to help; they didn’t understand the benefits of mechanical augmentation and thought I was trying to change people into something they were not. Uncle Jayce was very uncomfortable with it as well, but we didn’t talk much then so I didn’t have to hear him argue with me about it. I was trying to do what he and I wanted all along; use Hextech for the betterment of society. But I understand; progress can be scary and foreign and it was even difficult for us to have Hextech accepted by the public. I didn’t expect most people to accept physical modifications that quickly, but I did often think that many disagreeable opinions were driven by fear and uncertainty.

Mama, you must understand, did the best she could to accept and comprehend my work. She did really well; even if she was unsure about man-machine supplantation, she knew that I was only trying to help people who wanted it. But I made her really mad one day, Robin. I learned a lot that day about how I might perceive my life’s work and discovery, and how others might as well; it was an important experience for me, and I was deeply humbled by her.

Well, I say this now. But I was just as mad at Mama back then. Adults aren’t perfect or smart most of the time, but we do our best.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane x reader #viktor smut #viktor arcane smut #viktor fluff #viktor arcane fluff #viktor arcane x you

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crepe-of-wrath · 2 years

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"Benefits Package" (Alucard x Fem Reader)

I kind of like this general concept for a x Reader, so it's likely that I'll write loosely-connected vignettes that revolve around it as the mood takes me. This is more teaser than anything, but is still rated for 18+.

As far as jobs with the Hellsing Organization went, yours was pretty normal. You were Sir Integra's private secretary, and you performed your duties in the same tradition of Lady Stanhope, Miss Layton, and countless others. The hours were long, but the people were interesting (to put it mildly), and Sir Integra was everything one could hope for in an employer: she took your expertise as an article of faith and was consistently occupied, allowing you to operate at your discretion.

Even the wages, benefits, and perks were good. Better than even you knew, as you found out one evening...

The Hellsing Organization was a laboratory of sorts, as there were always various prototype technological toys floating about, but you still preferred to keep old-fashioned back-ups of important records. Finishing these records often kept you quite late, and tonight was no exception.

It was after midnight when you stepped into a darkened hallway and turned back toward your door to turn the lock. Before you could turn and face the darkness, a hand materialized from behind you, clamping over your mouth and absorbing your scream.

"Shhhh, little human."

You didn't need to see to know it was Alucard. Your body did not relax, but your tension was quickly morphing from the tension of fear to the tension of arousal.

"Alucard," you spoke into his glove. It felt oddly fuzzy--or was that your head?

He dragged his fingers away slowly, running them down your neck, murmuring in approval as you reclined your head back, giving him more room to slowly wander. By the time the last of his fingers had traced your collarbone (alas, only through suit jacket, curse the wretched thing!), you had to actually take a second to make sure you were still breathing.

You turned to face him, and somehow managed to ask, "Do you require my services, sir?"

Polite. Formal. Dutiful. Stoic. Your ancestors would be proud.

He laughed and used his long arms to pull you into his chest. You gasped in a way that would not make your ancestors proud.

"I do not. But our Master is convinced you need mine."

Panic seized you again--Sir Integra wanted you drained?

Alucard let out a hearty laugh--his red eyes were twinkling, which was not a visual you would have though possible--and then leaned down to whisper in your ear:

"Not drained, little human. Filled."

It took you half a heartbeat to get it.

He tilted your chin up so you were looking into his eyes. "Master worries that the long hours you devote to her service leave you...lonely. "

You didn't know if you were blushing because of, you know, this, or because you had apparently not been as circumspect around Sir Integra as you had hoped when it came to the topic of her most handsome servant. Your breathing got shaky again. His other hand--his huge, powerful hand--was rubbing and lightly pinching everywhere. Your impulse to decorum yielded its control, and you leaned in, resting more of your weight against him.

"Goodness," said Alucard (so low and so deep!), "our Master is so wise and observant, as always. You are lonely."

He swept you up into his arms and carried you through the corridors until you reached the guest wing.

"My master suggested this wing would be quiet and discreet," Alucard said as he swung open the door and turned on a rather dim lamp. The room had seemed large at first, but Alucard had crossed over to the bed like it was nothing, depositing you gently so that he could get to the work of--oh God--removing his coat, and his jacket, and his tie, and...

You looked down and your hands seemed to have taken on a will of their own, as you didn't remember consciously deciding to remove the suit jacket, but there it was next to you. That just left your sheath and its notoriously difficult zipper.

You tried to maneuver your arms into position without alerting Alucard to your undignified situation, but no luck. One of his hands closed around your wrist, and he pulled you toward him. As you tried to steady yourself, your hand landed on the bare part of his chest exposed by his partially unbuttoned shirt.

"I'm sorry!" you exclaimed.

He chuckled and pulled you so tight--you writhed a bit but could not move. That sent a jolt through your body that did not escape Alucard's notice. There was a powerful yank and the telltale sound of fabric tearing. Cool air hit your shoulders and back as the now-tattered dress fell around your feet.

Alucard backed you toward the bed and pressed you into the mattress, climbing on top of you, caging you in his arms.

He leaned down as though he was going to kiss you, but stopped just short. His smile was toothy and terrifying, yes, but also oddly endearing. "How lovely, little human."

Then, almost too low for you to hear, "My Master is too good to me."

You were fairly certain your breathing had stopped yet again. Was it possible for pleasure to actually kill someone? As Alucard shifted so his mouth could settle on the softness of your breast, you realized you were about to find out.

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard imagine #hellisng alucard #alucard hellsing #my writing

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 6 months

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That First Night

POC!Reader x Nomad!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 1986

Summary:

A retelling of the night you both finally gave in to your thirst for each other.

Content Warnings:

Nomad Steve Rogers, Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, POV First Person, Post-Civil War (Marvel)Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light BDSM

Notes:

I'm a sucker for some Nomad Steve and I just couldn't get this idea of him meeting someone while hiding out on the run and just having this casual relationship with them. Starting as friends and turning into more naturally. I might turn this into a series of one-shots/vignettes told from the readers POV, possibly Steve's as well. I'm not sure yet. We'll see how this one goes. This is written in first person from the readers perspective. It played out like movie in my head while I was writing and this is how it turned out.

Banner by @cafekitsune

So here's the thing. We'd known each other for only a little while. Yes, but there is nothing I find sexier than a man who's tall, dark, and damaged. I just couldn't resist him. And dammit if I didn't try.

He's standing in front of me while we chat at a party and my eyes can't help but roam all over his form. Memorizing the sway of his hair, the tilt of his eyebrows, the dark pools of cerulean he calls eyes. That jawline that just kills me.

I catch myself staring at his mouth when he speaks. Biting my bottom lip, wishing that I could just lean forward and bite his instead. My eyes continue their journey over his body, his biceps I want to wrap my hands around, his large hands that could easily engulf mine, his solid chest rising and falling with each breath, his long strong muscular legs that support his tall stature.

I take my time gazing at the bulge in his pants. Knowing that right behind that zipper there's a glorious cock waiting to give me nothing but the utmost pleasure.

A sly smile spreads across my face as I continue to stare at his crotch. I can feel a pool of wetness forming as I'm thinking about all the lovely things I want to do to him. I squeeze my thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure from my throbbing and aching clit. It feels a little too good and before I can catch myself I let out a soft whimper.

I quickly look up to his face, hoping he didn't hear me over the chatter and music surrounding us. I watched his pupils dilate with lust and a devious smile spread across his face. Oh he definitely heard me. Damn supersoldier hearing. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours? Please, do tell, Doll. Inquiring minds want to know." I should play coy, but why do that, I want him so badly my whole body is vibrating.

I wiggle my finger in a come hither fashion so he can lean forward and bend down to my level. I place my right hand on his chest and whisper in his ear, "I'm thinking about how badly I want you to pin me up against this wall so I can slip into your pants and finally get my little hand wrapped around that big cock of yours." I then lay a sweet kiss right below his ear.

"But there's people here all around us", he mumbles into my neck. With a light chuckle and a mischievous look in my eye, I tell him, "I know. That's the fun part. How long do you think you can last before you either A. Cum in your pants and all over my hand, B. Drag me to the first open room or bathroom you find or C. Want to leave so we can continue this at your place?"

"Challenge accepted baby". With a chaste kiss to my lips he places his hand on my hip and guides me to the wall until my back is pinned against it. His large frame pretty much hiding me from sight. I waste no time, running my hand over the ever growing tent in the front of his pants. He lets out a low groan. "Tsk, tsk there Captain. You better keep it quiet and look like we're just talking. Wouldn't want to get too much attention now would we?"

Right as I finish my question I slip my hand into his pants and wrap my fingers around his stiff length. I slowly start to play with his foreskin and begin to move my hand up and down his long, velvety soft shaft. Making sure to sweep my palm across the head every few strokes to gather up the precum leaking from the tip.

As I increase my speed, I begin to talk to him. "So, seen any good movies lately?" I giggle as he looks me in the eyes with a strained face and clenched jaw. Clearly trying desperately to stay quiet. I tighten my grip and he presses his pelvis into me. Pinning me harder against the wall, stopping my hand from moving any further.

"Ready to cum already? That was quick." He smiles, "More like, turnabout is fair play darlin."

Before I can even fully register what is happening his hand is down the front of my pants. His middle finger making small circles against my sensitive clit. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning. "Someone's playing dirty. This was supposed to be about you Steve."

To which he replies, "I just had to see you squirm for me". He sinks his middle finger in my dripping pussy, curves it and lightly strokes against my g-spot. "Now who's ready to take it someplace else?", he whispers against my ear and then pulls his hand out of my pants. Licking his finger clean, "Mmmm even sweeter than I imagined".

"If you want an even better taste we're certainly gonna have to find some place a little more private", I respond in a lust filled voice, pulling my hand out of his pants after one more slow and teasing stroke. He grabs my hand and heads down the hallway. Pushing his way through the line of people waiting for the bathroom. As we are about to pass the bathroom the door opens and he rushes us inside before the next person in line can even realize what is happening and locks the door.

He grabs me by the hips and lifts me up and onto the counter, not wasting any time. "I wanted to take it slow with you. Take you out first, but you've got me so worked up that I have to have you right now." He kisses me hard. Our tongues dancing a tango together as I wrap my legs around his waist and grind against the steel rod that's just begging to be released from the confines of his jeans. I moan into his mouth as I grab his hair, trying to get as close to him as possible.

We both come up for air, panting as we try to get our lungs to settle back down. "These leggings have got to go. Hold on to the counter and lift your ass up for me." I do as I'm told and he practically rips the pants, panties included, off of me.

He sinks down to his knees so that his face and my pussy are level with each other. He looks up at me with lust filled, hooded eyes and licks his lips. "What was that you were saying about a better taste?" Before I can even get a word out in response he licks a stripe up my folds to my swollen clit. Moaning into me, delighted with the sweetness flowing onto his tongue.

I grip his head for balance and he starts to really go to town. Feasting on me, like I’m his favorite meal and he’ll perish if he does not devour it all. As he adds 2 fingers inside me I begin to squirm and grind against his face, fucking myself with his fingers. He curls them, hitting that sweet spongy spot that has me seeing stars and coming undone on his tongue. Letting out a long guttural moan, gushing my sweet nectar and making a mess all over the lower half of his face.

I release his hair from my hands and he looks up at me, lips and beard covered in my juices, looking like the cat that got the cream. I cup his cheeks, pull him up to me and kiss him; tasting myself on his tongue.

I unbutton his pants, slide down the zipper, free his raging hard on and drop to my knees. As I start to lick the head, savoring his precum, he pulls my hair and makes me look up at him. "As much as I want to watch and feel your mouth bob up and down on my cock, I need to be inside you right now." With him still in my mouth I sink down as far as I can take him before releasing him and standing up.

"Turn around, put your hands on the sink and look into the mirror. I want you to watch me ruin you Doll." I turn around and slowly place my hands on the counter. He smacks my ass once, rubs his dick up and down my folds, teasing me, before he sinks in slowly, bottoming out, giving me a moment to accommodate his size, stretching me out. I feel so very full and begin to swivel my hips, looking for friction. I look back at him. "Please fuck me, Captain. I don't think I can last much longer. I need to be cumming around your cock." He grabs my hair turning my head to face the mirror and starts moving his hips.

Fucking me hard and fast. His balls slapping against my clit with each thrust making me see spots from the pure ecstasy of it all. I'm staring into the mirror watching his face as he grunts, swears and groans while he fucks me hard from behind. He throws his head back "Fuck baby, your pussy is so damn tight, feels so good wrapped around my cock. You ready to cum for me? I need you to cum on my cock before I can cum down your throat."

"Mmm fuck yes Steve. Fuck me harder. I want to cum all over you". He begins fucking you even harder. You know you'll most likely have bruises on your hips from the counter but you don't care. His hand still wrapped in your hair pulls tighter, the pain setting of your orgasm. "Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at yourself. See how gorgeous you look when you come undone for me." I scream out as my pussy clamps down on his cock and my legs begin to shake. He tightens his grip on my hips and continues to fuck me through my orgasm.

When my pussy finally stops clenching around him he starts to fuck me slow and deep. Hitting all the sweet spots. I begin to squirm against him again. He watches his cock sink in and out of me. Hypnotized by how well I can take his dick and still be so tight. He starts to pick up the pace again. "I'm close Doll. You ready to take my big load down your throat?"

"FUCK! Yes please" is all I could manage to say with a swivel of my hips.

He pulls out and I spin around. Sinking to my knees and taking him in my mouth before he had a chance to even pump his cock. I bob my head up and down his shaft, moaning against the taste of us mixed together on his cock. That was all it took and he was cumming hard down my throat, slowly fucking my face. "Fuck. Your mouth is just as dangerous as that sweet pussy of yours" I release him from my mouth and grin from ear to ear.

"Don't sell yourself short Captain. That mouth of yours is just as deadly", I say right as someone pounds on the door. "Guess that's our cue", I say with a laugh. He pulls me up, grabs my ass and kisses me deeply. "Oh we're not done tonight. That was just round one. We're heading to my place now and I'm really gonna make you scream. Now get your pants back on."

"Yes, Captain."

I quickly get dressed and we head out of the bathroom to a line full of eyes casting glances of annoyance and jealousy. We make our way to the car and on to a night full of orgasms and no sleep.

#poc reader #nomad steve #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #avengers au #steve rogers

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