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#i even started to write the whole thing with verses *but it was way too long* rejoice
luizazemi · 1 year
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I closed my eyes and I saw everything 5/???
Less wait, more Metkayina folklore!
A concert under the stars sounds very romantic to me. Also a very important device in the plot of that movie really needed to be addressed before being randomly shoved at our faces as if the characters knew what it was. Anyway that's the plot for today's chapter of my Avatar : The Way of Water fic guys, thanks for following !
[Title after this song]
Still the brother did not resurface, and the men grew weary. Strings and drums rumbled in discontent. For some reason, the youngest brother was still looking overboard. Part of him could not believe his brother had just vanished beneath the waves – part of him could still feel him, and there was no sign of danger around. So he looked at his remaining brother, before he leapt.
The music stopped dramatically, even if Neteyam did not have the critical distance to notice the effect. He felt on board with these men, and now under water with the young brother, and because he knew how uncanny the feeling was, for the first, his arm shook a little – and Aonung’s hand felt it, although there was no telling it was from fear or excitement.
The youngest brother stayed still for a moment, baffled with the submarine landscape. The dark mass that seemed to threaten them only hid a world as clear as theirs, brighter even, coloured with seagrass, shells, and fishes. Sure, he couldn’t see the bottom, but mesmerising plants and minerals led down the way. And the young brother knew that a greater force lay in these waters, and he understood why his oldest had got lost in its contemplation. However, he was surprised to not feel any distress about his brother’s loss. He felt shameful upon this realisation and wondered if he deserved to return to his eldest, less carefree brother. For the first time, his clear, hopeful notes grew a sadder tone.
At this moment, unbeknownst to him until them, the great dark shape under him started to move. His breath shaking, the brother looked for somewhere to hide, but deep inside, he knew there was no hiding – he was already too deep into the sea’s mysteries.
The shape, the greatest fish moving under water the young Na’vi ever beheld, stopped in front of him. Its enormous eyes stared into the bewildered eyes of the Na’vi. Then the creature sang, and its song was the wisest.
It sang about his brother who went to Eywa. It sang about how the Na’vi wanted to hold the secrets of the sea and was so adamant in his quest and confident in his capacities that he forgot Na’vi air didn’t flow in water currents. It sang about the brother fading away, and how surprised the creature was, for its kind didn’t often see earthly creatures in the deep sea.
When the creature sang, the strings were mute – only the dance and the rhythm of the musician persisted, as a response to the rhythm of the rolling waves nearby. The drums were as regular as the second brother had been reckless, and the attendees were as captivated as the second brother had been careless.
In its song the creature recognized the youngest brother as a better-advised explorer than his oldest. The creature would not let him meet Eywa as of yet. For life is short, and the sea is long, and by the Tulkun way none shall ever take a life, or let it be taken when it could be avoided. And the creature sang, wisely but gently, that it shall lead the brave Na’vi to rest.
So the strings resurfaced, and with them the great guardian of the sea, Tulkun they were called, the Na’vi on its back, and many other Tulkun joined along, carrying the Olo’eyktan and his clan. And as they swam across the currents, Na’vi noticed how easy the crossing was for those who let themselves flow with the water, and they hated their pride that believed they could conquer the sea. They closed their eyes to breathe the sprays, and vowed to become as free and quiet as their guides.
The Tulkun left them on a rocky formation at the swimming distance of their village. As the Olo’eyktan swore they would always see them as brothers, because for the loss of their brother, they had found many more, the solemn harmony was restored. And to honour their words, Tulkun and Mektayina built, rock by rock, the everlasting monument to their loyalty.
One for the mindfulness of the youngest, who had faced his fears to save the tribe; one for the responsibility of the oldest, watching the reef; and one for the courage of the second son, turned to the open sea.
As she recited, the string-player turned to the sea as well.
  “Beheld the shapes standing out on the shore
  And pause, before your heart risks to explore
  Old is the reef and older is the sea
  The Three Brothers are watching over thee”
And indeed, Neteyam beheld, barely visible from the sandbank, and still much further than the reef barrier, three monumental dark shapes cut into the purple mantle of the sky. With amusement, he noticed that one was much smaller than the others, probably leaning towards the depths, while the other two stood, magnified, one towards the sea, the other towards the shore.
The whistle resonated again. At the same time, the musician went back to their rhythmical gait. The reciter held her stringed box against her chest, freed her feet from the sand and her beads from the rocks. With a sincere smile, she joined the musician, and started clapping her hands in yet another rhythm. The clapping settled naturally, like an organic extension of the previous one. In turn, the attendees took it up. They tapped their hands, their thighs, their chests, all in perfect harmony.
Finally, a chant rose from the crowd. The females’ voices flew higher than the males’, and Neteyam recognized part of the tale the bead girl had recited. She was not singing, but encouraging the musician with their part, which was becoming more and more challenging, and yet more and more covered by the chorus, a cry of sheer power and joy. And although he did not dare to join, Neteyam felt warmth in his chest. And as he turned to Aonung he discovered the boy had joined the chant, and Neteyam felt warmth on his face as well, and he preferred to look away.
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mothric · 2 years
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Happy Palm Sunday, happy Autism Acceptance Month (and I'll keep saying it!), and if you live in the US, remember to do your taxes by Friday!
#taxes are such an ordeal in the states and i am TIRED of it!!!!! the government *could* calculate our taxes for us but why dont they??#because a bunch of people wanted to turn this into yet another money making opportunity#and so they put the onus of calculating taxes on the individual and made the process convoluted and stressful in order to create a 'need'#to hire companies or individuals to help you with your taxes!!#something that should be free!! isnt!! because slimy businessmen wanted to make a profit!!!! AUGH!!!!!!#there *are free services out there but they are usually not completely free if you want to be thorough and do more than the basic w2#H&R Block lets you file state and federal taxes for free - BUT if you want to calculate and claim any credits there is a fee#and the fee could very well cancel out the credit#i imagine it's even more complicated for folks who are self employed or are on disability etc etc#the whole thing is a sham. i would simply like to receive a little letter telling me what i owe or what i am owed. that would be nice#anyway earlier this week i read psalm 88 which is a psalm that starts miserable and ends miserable#the final verse is basically hello darkness my old friend#and it made me think of the time i was tasked with writing a psalm-like song and so i wrote a song of lament#and i was scolded for not ending it on a hopeful note because all the psalms end on a hopeful note & i need to acknowledge that God is good#and i said no this is a lament and the song is finished. and so i wasnt allowed to put it on the worship album because it was too negative#well guess what! psalm 88 is negative all the way through!! the psalmist complains to God the whole time#and doesn't say 'but yet i will praise you' at the end. he is allowed to sit in the darkness and be in lament#this picture of lament makes many american christians uncomfortable. we dont like a sad song without a resolution. but i do. i need those.#and that song remains one of my favourite i've ever written#sometimes the day ends and there is still darkness. maybe there will be hope tomorrow. but maybe today i just need to feel my pain#something to think about as we enter Holy Week.#love you all. how was your week? that's not a rhetorical question. i would actually like to know#apr 2022#christian
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zepskies · 2 months
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Headcanon: Teasing him under the table.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
AN: This was requested by this lovely anon:
Could you please write an imagine or something of all three boys (Dean: love the plus-sized one-shots; Ben from BMD: love your interpretation of The Boys; and Beau) - and how would they react to their girlfriends giving them a footsie? 👀
I'm interpreting this as a "playing footsie" moment lol.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Flirting, innuendo, and some smuttiness. (You know Ben. 🙄)
Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to you teasing him under the table.
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Dean Winchester
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Because of the request, I had the Espresso-verse version of Dean and the reader in mind, but this can be general Dean x Reader too.
Dean is playful by nature. (AKA: a professional flirt.)
He enjoys working you up, but he enjoys it even more when you're confident enough to tease him back...even if it somehow always surprises him.
But he's been driving you crazy all damn day. Throughout the whole damn hunt.
Flirty smiles, suggestive quips masked as "innocent" remarks, brief touches to your arm, the small of your back, guiding you by your hip, a thumb swiping under your shirt and against your skin, lightly pressing into your curves...
It's all "normal," except for the deeper, suggestively teasing glint in his eyes.
He's in a good mood, and he wants you to know it.
And it's all in front of Sam, who knows the game you two are playing. Sometimes he smiles in both amusement and fondness, and he looks away to allow you guys your moment. Sometimes he rolls his eyes, or just tries to ignore it when he's had enough of you two eye-fucking in plain sight.
Dean knows what his touch does to you, but you know one or two of his weaknesses too...
When the hunt is finally over, the three of you find the closest diner to the motel you're staying at.
Dean orders the greasiest burger you've ever seen. He also teases Sam for already looking for the next case with his laptop at the table.
Dean glances over, his lips starting to curve as he licks a bit of burger juice off his fingers. He looks at you dead in the eyes while he sucks his digits clean.
He's equal parts noisy and disgusting. But damn him, your hand tightens around your glass of water. Your lips press together, and so do your legs. You nudge his foot with your boot and raise your brows. Stop it.
He pouts, and he nudges your foot right back. Make me.
You tilt your head at him. Adopting a certain smile, you slide your foot across the floor, under the table, and graze his calf with the side of your boot.
Dean's lips twitch. Sam is seemingly oblivious as he continues researching on his laptop.
Your foot travels higher up Dean's leg, up the inside of his thigh. You only gasp a little when he suddenly reaches down and grabs your ankle. His resulting smirk is salacious, even as he challenges you with his eyes. What're you gonna do now?
You contemplate exactly that, when his brother's voice startles you.
"Can you guys do me a favor and quit it?" Sam asks. He doesn't even look up from his laptop. "At least wait until we get home."
You bite your lip and blush. Both you and Dean fight harder smiles at being caught.
"No one likes a killjoy, Sammy," Dean remarks. Sam just sends his brother a dry look.
Dean's amusement remains. He taps on your ankle in contemplation, but after a moment, he lets you go. He grabs his phone and texts you under the table.
"Quickie out back?"
You grimace, then you text him back.
"Gross, babe. There are things I promised myself I'd never do in a public bathroom."
"So...meet you in 5? Come on, I'll do that thing you like. 😈"
His stupid grin, his stupid face, his long fingers tapping on the tabletop (somehow, even that is suggestive). It all eventually breaks you down.
"...Ugh, fine," you reply. You slide out of your chair first. But as you walk past him, you let your fingers brush down his neck — in a way that always makes a little shiver run down his spine. You smirk in satisfaction as you walk away.
He might've started it, but you could damn well finish it.
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Beau Arlen
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Oh, my dear cowboy sheriff...
Beau is also a jokester. He takes his work and the people in his life seriously, but he likes to keep things "loose." Perhaps it's a coping mechanism, but it's mostly just his way of going through life.
Tonight, however, is a tense dinner with your parents, Beau, Emily, and his parents that are visiting from Houston.
It's a nice steakhouse, more high scale than you or Beau are used to, but your parents insisted on it. Beau's parents are good-natured and full of southern charm. They're just happy to see their son and granddaughter, let alone meet his girlfriend for the first time.
The night is only tense because, as much as you love your parents, they're not sure about you dating a man with such a dangerous job.
They also have a thing about appearances, and the fact that he's divorced and has a child who isn't yours, and frankly, all the things you don't give a rat's ass about.
Your back is ramrod straight in your chair (there's a tightness in your spine that comes every time your mom taps you on the hand with her fork to remind you not to slouch).
You can't even really taste what you're eating, because you're too focused on making sure your parents don't say anything insulting to Beau and his family.
Then a boot taps against your open-toed heel. You glance over at your boyfriend, and he's already wearing a smile. He gives you a teasing wink as he eats a forkful of mashed potatoes.
Your stress begins to melt, just like that. God, this man.
You smile back at him and take a calming sip of wine. Your mom begins to talk about her upcoming tupperware party. Your smile deepens, but not because of that.
You playfully tap your foot on Beau's without looking at him.
You feel his discreet stare on the side of your face, but you pretend to be invested in your mom's conversation about tupperware. (I mean really, I thought those parties went extinct. Apparently, not in the Midwest.)
Beau's foot nudges yours back. You hook your toes under the hem of his pant leg, inching it up and up...
He retaliates with a hand drifting down your thigh, over the skirt of your dress. He grabs just above your knee and squeezes. Your leg jerks up on reflex, and your knee hits under the table hard enough to rattle the silverware, making you yelp.
The whole table looks over at you in both surprise and concern. (Your mother more in disapproval.)
Beau bites his lip against a deeper smile.
"You okay there, baby?" he asks.
"Sorry, my foot slipped," you lie through a tight smile. When you turn to him, your eyes narrow a fraction, promising retribution. You grab his hand tightly, but he just uses the motion to bring yours up to his lips.
Beau looks forward to whatever you plan to dish out next, as long as you wait until after dessert.
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Soldier Boy (Ben)
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Aw hell, this guy. 😂 I'm imagining BMD-verse Ben for this one...
Ben has a decent sense of humor, but he doesn't often like to be teased.
He'd rather be respected.
But you love to tease him anyway.
You also know his "limits," but it doesn't stop you from figuratively tap dancing all over them when you have the opportunity. You're slowly but surely trying to get him to loosen up.
Sometimes though, it bites you in the ass.
Like tonight, when you've gotten him to come with you to a Broadway show. You two have your own private booth on the second floor balcony. (He likes the privacy, and it's safer for you, as he's argued.)
20 minutes in, and you can already tell he's gotten bored. To be fair, it's a drama that's admittedly a bit dry and slow. You don't want him to walk out before the intermission, so you start to hatch an idea...
Your legs are crossed, and you draw your high-heel slowly against the side of his foot. When he glances over you, you pretend to be invested in the show. Your arms are crossed over your black dress that falls to mid-thigh. Your jacket is draped across your lap.
You brush the thin point of your heel across the top of his shoe, then inch it up under his pant leg, higher and higher.
Until Ben's hand finally grabs hold of your knee. Biting your lip, you turn to him with a smile.
"Do you mind? I'm watching the show," you tell him. He allows you to peel his hand of your leg and place it back in his lap. You cross your legs in the opposite direction.
Ben raises his brows. His lips twitch slightly, but he seems to acquiesce, relaxing back in his seat.
For a while, you actually watch the play. You become invested in the story and the characters by the time it gets halfway through Act 1.
That's when you feel a strong hand slowly slip down your thigh and between your legs, slowly rucking up the skirt of your dress.
You try to stifle a gasp as you look over at Ben. He doesn't meet your hot stare, but his hand is certainly on the move, covered by your jacket. He brushes against your panties.
Against your better judgment, you let him spread your legs wider. A smile finally crosses his face. His fingers hook around your underwear and brush between your folds. You let out a shaky breath and shift in your seat.
You know you should stop him, but you can't help the warm coil of arousal starting pool in your lower belly, and between your legs. Ben feels it with a smirk. His fingers find your clit with ease.
"Ben," you gasp, warning him in a heated whisper.
He leans over and presses a raspy kiss to your neck, thanks to his beard.
"Perks of a private room," he says. His voice is a low rumble in your ear.
You start to shake your head. You know you started this, but you also know him. This has the potential to go off the rails very quickly.
"This isn't a room. We're on a damn balcony," you breathe out, even as his fingers continue to work you over. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Anyone could—"
"Who gives a fuck?" Ben says gruffly.
As usual, his raunchy brand of logic (and his talented hands) manage to persuade you to give in.
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AN: lol I had fun with this one. Let me know what you think! 💜
Dean Winchester Imagines
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Big Sky Masterlist
Soldier Boy Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Dean, Beau + SB Tag List (Part 1)
@melancholictearz @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman
@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup
@jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @mrsjenniferwinchester
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livwritesstuff · 4 months
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i hit 100 followers while i was asleep (absolutely bananas imo but i’m so thrilled y’all are enjoying my steddie dads verse bc i’ve literally never had so much fun writing before) so here's a sneak peek of a wip featuring the Harrington fam
Eddie does not understand sports. 
He may be approaching fifty years old and way past his old ways of rejecting every notion that doesn’t perfectly align with his own interests, but even after all these years, the wires in his brain simply cannot wrap themselves around sports no matter how hard he tries.
And he does try because, naturally, he has three daughters, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel, all of whom play sports.
To be clear – his kids can do literally anything they want, bar none.
He’s still in goddamn awe with the whole arrangement that is the life he lives every day – kids and a house and a job he loves and all that with Steve Harrington of all people. There’s no way Eddie would start fucking all that up by projecting his own weird quirks onto his children. He refuses to be the kind of parent that prevents their kids from doing anything just because they don't get it. If the girls want to play sports, they’re gonna play sports. Nothing wrong with that.
Still, sports are one of those things he takes the back seat and lets Steve hold the reins for, especially now that thirteen-year-old Moe is pretty deep into the whole basketball thing. 
Steve understands the politics of the game, both on the court — like knowing which refs are gonna be biased towards which team and noting Moe’s play-time each game — and off. He schmoozes the coach, he’s friends with all the parents, all the things Moe, at thirteen, doesn’t even notice and Eddie, while aware of it, doesn’t understand. He still can barely follow the games themselves (and he goes to as many as he can, though he and Steve are outnumbered by one and with the prospect of the girls carting themselves around still a distant fantasy their schedule is insane so he can’t make them all). He does his best to follow his husband’s lead but Steve doesn’t always react to things the way Eddie thinks he will. He doesn’t bat an eye when a kid gets smacked in the face with a ball, nor at the impossibly loud thud when someone hits the deck (look — he gets the floor is hollow, but it is loud). He’s completely unbothered by the fit Moe throws every game whenever she’s inevitably benched for having an attitude with her opponents or her teammates or the coach or the ref or just about anybody who tries to get in her way.
As is what happened at Moe’s game yesterday.
Eddie hadn’t seen it — well, he’d seen it, but seeing something and understanding what he’s actually looking at are two totally different things. From what he gathers, Moe had missed an easy shot and gotten pissed off in her own little way about it, so she’d launched herself at whoever on the opposing team had gotten their hands on the ball after it ricocheted off the backboard. Unfortunately for Moe, the team they were playing had a reputation for being a little too aggressive for a middle school league, so when she’d hit the ground, she hit it hard. Moe had been pulled off the court by her coach (carded, maybe? Eddie still isn’t sure how that works in basketball) and scowled on the bench for the rest of the game.
Steve had tried to reason with her on the drive home (an interesting choice, in Eddie’s opinion).
“Darling,” he’d said, “I totally understand being upset about missing a layup, but I don’t know how to get it through your head that intentionally fouling someone isn’t the way to go about resolving that emotion. I love you and I support you, but I’m getting tired of watching you play for three minutes and then sit on the bench for the rest of the game.”
“Talk to the coach then,” Moe had grumbled.
“About what?” Steve exclaimed, “Moe — you do it on purpose!”
The conversation had ended not long later because Moe decided to give them both the silent treatment (a clear sign that she knew she was in the wrong even if she didn’t want to admit it) and Eddie thought that was the end of it (for that game, at least). Then, Moe threw them a curveball by spending most of that evening in the bathroom throwing up, at which point she admitted that her head had caught more of that fall during her basketball game than she’d originally let on.
Steve doesn’t mess around with head injuries (for obvious reasons), so the next morning he calls Moe out of school and brings her to their pediatrician to get checked out.
A couple hours after Robbie and Hazel boarded the school bus bound for their elementary school, Steve and Moe return home.
“So what's the verdict?” Ed asks as they enter the kitchen.
“She's concussed,” Steve announces.
“Like father, like daughter.”
“No sports, no bright lights, no reading, no school, no phone,” Steve says pointedly, and Moe only scowls harder. She’d been using the incident as a leveraging tactic in her crusade to get a phone. Not being able to play sports was a no-brainer; they’d all seen that one coming, so even as recently as this morning, she’d been claiming that she’ll “die of boredom without a phone,” while she recovers.
Even as recently as this morning, she’d been largely unsuccessful.
“Thirteen-year-old children do not need phones,” Steve had told her, “If someone wants to talk to you, they can call the house, and if it's urgent enough that it needs to be right now, you can get walkie talkies.”
“No one uses walkie talkies.”
“Your dad and I used walkie talkies all the time.”
“Uh, pretty sure it was just the one time, Steve,” Eddie pointed out.
“Yeah! And it worked out great!”
CONTINUE ON AO3
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darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 2: Dolls
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
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Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)
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Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. You attend your very first tourney in celebration of your brother or sister’s impending arrival. 
Hello! My apologies for the wait. There was a whole mess of stuff that killed my drive to write for a few days. BUT, I’ve managed to write this one, featuring baby!Babey as a POV character! I’ve tried hard to keep it in a ‘small person’ voice, which got real old real fast, lol. Keep in mind that she’s around 3 years old in this one, so she’s not hella mature or anything. My thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for reading this asshole over, lol.
TRIGGERS: child doing child things, child narrating Episode 1 of HotD, character death.
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Once upon a time, there lived a girl called Hana. Hana was the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom, and she wore fancy dresses with gold and silver necklaces and rings, and she had a pearl hairnet in her red hair. There was also another girl called Marya who was very pretty too, but not as pretty as Hana. When Hana and Marya were lit—
“Ah,” Mama says. “Rhaenyra!”
From your place on the floor in the corner, right in the middle of a patch of sunlight, you see that ’Nyra has come. It’s not nice to have your story interrupted, but ’Nyra’s visits are always fun, so you don’t mind. She is dressed the way she does when she goes to visit Syrax, which means she will smell funny and make Mama cross.
“You know I don’t like you to go flying while I'm in this condition,” Mama adds.
“You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition.”
Alicent, ’Nyra’s best friend, stands in the doorway. She is very very pretty, you think, with red hair like Hana’s and a blue dress that makes her look like a girl from one of the old stories you like to listen to. “Your Grace,” she says, smiling.
“Good morrow, Alicent.” Mama sighs. She sounds very tired. She has put her coat back on, even though it’s so hot in the room and she’s fanning herself to try and dry the sweat on her cheeks and her brow.
“Did you sleep?” ’Nyra asks.
Mama laughs, quick and soft. “I slept.”
“How long?” ’Nyra takes a seat on the stool beside Mama’s feet.
“I don’t need mothering, Rhaenyra.”
“Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants, all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you.”
That is when Mama’s eyes go to you. “I have my own right here, so there is no need to fear.”
’Nyra turns to look, too. Her frown goes away and she smiles, wiggling her fingers at you to say ‘hello’. Even though she’s your sister and that means you love her, you don’t go over to her. She is older, so she doesn’t care very much about dolls or stories or little sisters who don’t have dragons.
Mama keeps talking to ’Nyra while you listen. “You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the Realm.” None of it makes sense, but you like the sound of their voices.
’Nyra makes a rude noise. “I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory.”
Mama laughs. “We have royal wombs, you and your sister and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.”
Why would a child’s bed be a battlefield? My bed is nice and big. And what is a stiff lip? Is it something that Maester Mellos should give his herbs for? Are there bones in a lip? Can those bones break like big bones can?
You have lots of questions, but you don’t say what you’re thinking out loud, of course. The Maester only said you could be in here if you were good, so you mustn’t talk unless Mama asks you something or starts saying things to you.
“Now,” Mama says to ’Nyra, “take a bath. You stink of dragon.”
’Nyra stands up and bends down to kiss Mama on her head. Then, she comes over to you and gets on the floor so she can give you a hug and a kiss, and she is warm and smelly like Mama said she is. You like the smell, though, because it is what ’Nyra always smells like.
’Nyra leaves with Alicent, and for a while it is very calm. Mama takes a nap by closing her eyes and leaning with her head back, so you make sure to be very quiet when you continue telling yourself the story.
Once upon a time, there lived a girl called Hana. Hana was the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom, and she wore fancy dresses with gold and silver necklaces and rings, and she had a pearl hairnet in her red hair. There was also another girl called Marya who was very pretty too, but not as pretty as Hana. When Hana and Marya were little, they were best friends, and they played dolls and sang hymns and learned their letters together. But when they became older, they started to fight.
Marya was jealous of Hana. Lords from all over the kingdom wanted to marry her because of how pretty and how kind she was. That meant that not many lords wanted to marry Marya, even though she had lovely dark hair and knew all the names of the Houses and could sing even better than Hana did! So, Marya thought and thought about how she could make more lords want to marry her. She decided to hide all of Hana’s nicest dresses and shiniest jewels.
Naughty, naughty Marya. That’s not how proper ladies act. It was very nasty of you to—
“What are you and your ladies up to?”
You don’t like being interrupted for a second time, but it is Mama who is asking. Everyone’s been using soft voices since ’Nyra came to make a fuss and then left to wash the dragon-stink off. Mama’s question is louder than them all, so it must be for you.
Turning your head, you see that she is looking at you with a small smile.
“Marya hid Hana’s dresses and her best necklace and rings,” you say, holding her up high so Mama can see. You frown at the doll. “She needs to say sorry, so I’m telling her to.”
Mama laughs, but you don’t know why. “Oh, dear. How unkind of her! Why did Marya do such a thing?”
“All the lords want to marry Hana,” you say, “and not Marya. She’s very angry, but—but it’s not Hana’s fault. So I’m going to tell her that, too.”
“My, my.” Mama looks tired, like she has ever since baby Baelon-or-Visenya started growing in her belly, but she still seems happy that you’re here. Her eyes are warm the way they get when she sees you. “Quite a responsibility, you have.”
You nod. “I’m her Mama, like you’re mine. I have to teach her to be good.”
This makes Mama smile even wider. She holds her hand out to you, so you put Marya down beside Hana, making sure they’re not too close together. It would be bad if they started fighting after you’ve been busy telling Marya off so much. Making sure your skirts are neat like a proper lady, you go to take Mama’s hand, letting her pull you close-close so that you have to get up onto the daybed with her. Her skin is hot like fire is when you get too near it.
“Are you going to teach your little brother or sister to be good, too?” she asks, bringing your hand to her belly. When you touch it, you feel the kicking. It’s like a tapping from under a very thick blanket.
“Yes, Mama. I promise. I’ll sing all the hymns so they learn them, and make sure they eat all their supper, and—and say ‘no running’ and ‘no hitting’ and give them lots of hugs and tell—tell them they are naughty if they don’t liste—”
“Well,” she says even louder, smiling so wide you can see her teeth, “you already sound like a wonderful big sister, my dearest.”
Then, a new voice speaks out from the doorway, catching your interest. “Hakorje mandia kesā, sīlāvose.”
It’s one of your favourite people in the whole world.
You scramble out of Mama’s hold, nearly tripping over your dress. “Kepus!”
He chuckles as you race toward him, arm out so that he can catch you and lift you up. Mama hasn’t been able to do that since her belly became big, and Papa is too busy now. Oh, how you’ve missed it!
Uncle Daemon sits you on his hip so that you can stare straight at his face, at the way his eyes scrunch up with how much his mouth stretches. “What about you, Princess? Have you been a good girl since last I saw you?” he asks.
“I’m always good, kepus,” you say, pushing out your bottom lip to show how rude you think his question is. “But—but you haven’t. You’re naughty. You’ve been gone for so, so, so long!”
Even though his brow raises, he sounds like he finds you funny. “Ah-ah. A moon’s turn, nothing more or less, is all the time I’ve spent away. I was here for your name day celebrations, was I not?”
“That was ages ago!”
There were lots of people in the Keep for the party, and you don’t think you really knew most of them. But, because Papa is King and you are a Princess, they were invited to come and wish you a happy name day and give you gifts and eat and drink lots. It was nice at first, but the more they ate and drank, the louder they got, and soon you had to sneak off and find Uncle so that he could take you back to your rooms where it was quiet. He sang a song in High Valyrian, the language that your House has spoken for thousands of years, so that you could fall asleep even after eating so many little frosted cakes. Soon, you had to say farewell to him because he had to go back to Runestone and visit his lady wife, the one he hate-hates but Mama says he has to see.
Thinking about High Valyrian makes you stop. You can’t speak it, but there are some parts you know. Kicking Uncle in the side for being rude, you say, “And—and I’m not ann—annoying. I’m good!”
He looks sorry when you say that. “Of course you are. And I hope you’ll forgive me for returning after such a long time.” Behind his back where you can’t see is his other arm. He brings it out, showing you what he was hiding in his hand.
Oh! A new doll! And this one is special because it has pale hair and purple eyes just like you!
“Please accept this as a token of my apology, sweetling,” Uncle Daemon says, offering it to you. “Perhaps—Marya and Hana, was it?—could do with another friend.”
“Thank you, kepus!” Keeping your new doll pinned between you and Uncle, you wrap your arms around his neck so so tight and squeeze so he can feel how happy you are! You kiss him on the cheek, wiggling very close and smiling when he squeezes you back just as tight. “Thank you, thank you! I missed you so much!”
“Silly girl.”
Uncle pats you on the back once, twice, and then crouches down so that you can stand on your own two feet again. Sometimes, this makes you sad, because his hugs are your favourite and you wish they would never end. But he has to say ‘hello’ to Mama, too. Besides, you have a new lady to introduce!
“How about you play,” he says, “while I speak with Mama?”
“Okay!” You’re already thinking about it anyway.
When you go back to Marya and Hana, you can see that they’ve been good girls and not moved at all. You rearrange them both so that they are sitting, and place your new doll—Alysanne, you decide, after Papa and Uncle’s grandmama—between them, fussing with their hair so that it lies neatly. They are very pretty, you think, red and dark and silver all together.
“And how is Lady Rhea?” Mama is asking, brow lifting.
Uncle makes a noise and curls his lip meanly. “Who the fuck—who cares?” he says, rolling his eyes when you gasp. He said a bad word. “It’s not as though we spent any time in each other’s presence. Think I’d rather the company of sheep, anyway.”
“You were there for an entire moon’s turn, Daemon”—Mama frowns the way she does when ’Nyra says something rude, and ’Nyra does that a lot—“and you refused to even speak with her? She’s your wife.”
“Not one I chose. You would know that all too well, cousin.”
Mama goes quiet, looking to you. Uncle does, too. Then, she starts whispering to Uncle, and Uncle whispers back, and you return to your game.
Dolls make far more sense than people do.
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You don’t like tourneys. You don’t like them at all.
It’s loud, and hot, and there are too many smells—of different perfumes all swirling around and clogging in your nose, of dirt and manure from the ground below, of something sharp that clings to the walls that box you in and shield you from being able to see anything interesting. The horns ring out and so many people cheer that it feels like a buzzing in your head. It makes your teeth hurt.
“Be welcome!”
Papa looks happy today, so much happier than he was the last time Mama said a babe was in her belly. That babe was dead, she told you. It went away from inside her and never came back. That’s what death is, and everyone is very, very afraid of it all the time. But you didn’t know that babe like you know Mama and Papa and ’Nyra and Uncle, so you weren’t sad or scared. You wonder if this babe will go away, too.
The sound of clapping is like thunder. “I know many of you have travelled long leagues to be at these games,” he says. “But I promise, you will not be disappointed.”
You watch from beside Papa as ’Nyra sneaks to her seat, but she is not so sneaky because she is wearing a bright red dress that looks beautiful. She sits beside Alicent, her friend and Lord Hightower’s daughter, and tries to make herself small in her chair so that Papa won’t get angry.
After a pause, he keeps speaking. “When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share—Queen Aemma has begun her labours!”
There is so much noise that you have to hold your hands over your ears to quiet it just a little bit. Brella pats your shoulder, trying to make you feel better.
“It’s alright, Princess. We can play in just a moment—how about that?”
“I want Mama,” you say sadly, your bottom lip wobbling and your eyes feeling hot like they do when you really want to cry.
Mama has been locked in her chambers since last evening, when the Maester said the babe was nearly ready to come out. You asked and asked Papa, but he wouldn’t let you in to see her. When the door had opened and you tried to go inside, you were too surprised to move at the sound of her yelling. You think that the babe must have been hurting her very, very much. It makes you afraid. But then, Uncle took you away to your rooms and read you a story in High Valyrian, which sounded nice even though you didn’t understand it all.
“May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!” You are not listening to Papa’s words very closely.
“Soon, Princess,” Brella says, stopping for a moment when the horns echo out again. “You must wait for the babe to be born, first. How exciting—a new little brother, all for you!”
You don’t want a brother if it means that Mama has to be in pain. Papa would be very happy—you are three whole name days but you still know he wants the babe to be a boy and not a girl, that you were supposed to be a boy and he was sad you were only a second daughter—but you are happy with the way things are.
It would be very rude to say so in front of Papa, so you keep quiet and nod, letting your nursemaid bring you off your seat and down to the floor so that you may sit amongst Alysanne and Hana and Marya.
It has been very difficult to teach Marya to be nice to Alysanne, because she doesn’t like it when Hana makes new friends and Alysanne is a very pretty new friend. But she has decided she rather likes Alysanne after all, and so you can serve their tea without being scared of anyone being silly or bad to each other. Brella is very helpful in braiding Marya’s hair to look like ’Nyra’s does, and then she pins Hana’s back like Alicent’s. You decide that Alysanne should have hair that looks like yours because you look nearly the same, like she is your baby and you are her mama.
You are interrupted very quickly when Septa Marlow bends forward to speak straight into Brella’s ear. “It is unseemly to coddle her so. She is nearing the end of her infancy—you ought to be preparing her to pass over into my care, not indulging in frivolities!”
You shiver. Septa Marlow is mean. The last time that ’Nyra said something rude to her, she was rapped across the palm by Septa’s willow switch. It left a bright red mark that made you cry when you saw it, but ’Nyra only muttered something nasty under her breath and smiled in a not-very-kind way. You wish you could be as brave as her.
“When she is five summers old, she will pass into your care,” Brella says. It is polite, but the way she looks at Septa makes you think she is not being so nice after all. “Until then, I shall do as I see fit. And that means allowing the Princess to indulge in these frivolities while she can.”
Septa wants to say something rude back, you can tell—but then, the whispers start. It makes you look out onto the field so that you can see what’s happening.
“… of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!”
Uncle rides out on his horse—a great stallion named Varlet that you sometimes give apples to if he is very, very good and doesn’t buck anyone out of the saddle—wearing his nicest armour with the tail of feathers that comes out of the helmet. You think it makes him look a bit like a bird from one of those old books in the library. Uncle takes Varlet up and down the line of men on their own horses, but you don’t know why. You cannot see his face.
Your dolls don’t seem very exciting anymore. You pass them back to Brella and move past Papa to where ’Nyra sits at the very front. Even though there is an empty seat next to Alicent, you go to ’Nyra anyway.
All you have to do is hold up your arms to her and she smiles. “Do you want to see Uncle’s bout?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you say, nodding. You can hear the sound of hooves on the dirt, which means you are missing it, so you stamp your feet and wiggle. Maybe she will hurry up if you do. “Please, please!”
“Oh, alright.” She rolls her eyes and lifts you up so that you can sit on her lap, tucking her head next to yours and wrapping her arms tight around you so you don’t fall off. She is warm like Caraxes and Syrax are, like a dragon, only this time she doesn’t smell like smoke and rotting meat but like flowers and soap. “Can you see?”
You look down. Uncle is at one end of the field and the man he has chosen—Ser Gwayne, you think, from the green he has on and the funny shape of his helmet, like a tower—on the other, their jousting poles held out in front of them. “I can see,” you say.
When Uncle and Ser Gwayne start riding, you really do try to keep your eyes open. But, as they get closer and closer, you cannot help but shut them because you don’t want to see anyone get hurt, or worse­—the horses. Sometimes, it happens. All you can see is the insides of your eyelids when a big CLANG happens, but ’Nyra doesn’t clap so you think it might not be finished yet. Then, you hear a horse neigh and a big thud, and lots of applause. This time, ’Nyra does clap, so you open your eyes and see that Uncle is still on Varlet but Ser Gwayne is on the ground.
Your sister stops clapping when she sees Alicent with her hand over her mouth. Ser Gwayne is her brother, so she must be very worried for him. You reach out and pat her arm, which makes her stop and stare at you for a moment before giving you a small smile. ’Nyra grabs at her hand, too, which seems to help.
Uncle brings Varlet right up to the balcony with his jousting pole all the way up high, so ’Nyra puts you down and grips your shoulder to steer you forward. You are still very small, so the railing is too tall for you to reach, and that means you could fall very easily if you lean too far down. You grab onto your sister’s skirts.
“Nicely done, Uncle,” she says, holding onto the rail.
“Thank you, Princess.” Uncle looks at you, and his face changes—he is friendly now where he wasn’t exactly when he was looking at ’Nyra. He doesn’t say anything to you, but he does wink, which makes you giggle and him smile. He turns to Alicent. “Now, I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favour would all but assure it.”
She goes toward the table where two wreaths lay, one for her and one for ’Nyra. You are not old enough for your own yet, or so Papa says. Taking the green one in her fingers, she comes back to the balcony. Instead of putting the wreath on the jousting pole, though, she holds it out to you. “Perhaps your niece would like to give you my favour?”
Beaming, you accept the wreath and let Alicent pick you up under the arms. It doesn’t feel very nice, but it makes you tall enough to put the favour over the pole and watch it slide all the way down to the bottom, near where Uncle is holding it. He grins, then rides away to have another bout.
’Nyra takes you back to where she was sitting, placing you back on her knee. “Are you going to thank Alicent? She was very nice, letting you give Uncle her favour.”
“Thank you, Alicent,” you say.
She brushes some of your hair out of your eyes. “You’re welcome, Princess.”
You find it strange when Papa rises from his chair after something Lord Hightower says in his ear, a troubled look on his face. He was the one who had been the most excited about the tourney, so why is he getting up to leave?
’Nyra doesn’t notice, holding tight to you when you start squirming. For a while, you stay with her—but the jousting starts to get frightening. When the knights knock each other off their horses, they start using swords and axes and maces and trying to really hurt each other, striking and kicking so hard that it makes your heart race really fast in your chest and your belly rock like it does when you need to be sick. To take your mind off it, you start listening to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys talking to each other.
“…and we expect them to act with honour and grace,” the Princess is saying to her husband. The sound of her voice makes you shiver a little. Whenever she stares at you, it is unkind. You don’t think she likes you very much. “It’s a marvel that war didn't break out at first blood.”
Everyone gasps when the knight below brings his axe down on the man below him, hitting him over and over so that blood sprays everywhere. The man twitches at first, then goes still, the dirt below him turning dark red very quickly.
You cry and cry, loud and ugly. You don’t like it here anymore. You want to go back to the Keep and find Mama and let her hug you until this cold, awful feeling goes away and warmth and happiness comes back.
“Nurse!” ’Nyra says, but you aren’t really listening. You can see that people are pointing at you from the stands and whispering, which makes you even more upset because you truly tried to be good and quiet and not make a fuss this time.
“Oh, Princess.” Brella lifts you off of ’Nyra’s lap and carries you to the back of the royal box, past Papa’s Councilmen and all the lords and ladies that are gathered, heading toward the stairs. “Come now, my sweet. Time for a nap, don’t you think?”
“I want Mama,” is all you can say. “I want my mama!”
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It is darker than normal when you wake up from your nap. Usually, the sun is still up, the colour of Papa’s crown as it shines through your window, hot and blinding even though supper is not far away. But now, you have to blink a few times before you realise that you cannot see because night has come.
Your chambers are empty, save one other.
“Papa?” you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning. You can just barely see him through the shadows. “What—what—”
There is a sharp clack and a fizzle of orange fire, which Papa cups in his hand and takes to the candle beside your bed. As he lights a small flame, you look at his face. Even in the darkness, you can see how sad he is, the shine that forms lines down his cheeks and the red puff of the skin around his eyes.
Oh, no. Something bad has happened. Something… something terrible.
“Whe—where’s Mama?” you ask, voice wobbly. It feels like a hand has reached down through your throat and your stomach to peel your insides out, to turn it all over so that you’re bleeding and broken where the Maester cannot see. “Mama—”
“Sh, my girl.” He is trying to sound soft and kind, but you hear how he cracks a little, how the words seem almost stuck on the tip of his tongue. “Listen to me. Come here.”
You still don’t know why it is, but the rule of life is that you obey ’Nyra who obeys Mama who obeys Papa, which means that you have to obey Mama and Papa even when the others aren’t there. So, when Papa asks you to do something, you have to listen. You’re a good girl, after all.
Kicking away the covers that have made you too-too warm, you crawl on your hands and knees to the edge of the bed where Papa sits. He is solid and real under your fingers, smelling like the Maester’s medicines as always, but also like something sour. Like metal.
He grabs you and puts you on his knee like ’Nyra did before, during the tourney, only the hand on your back is large-large, almost covering from your neck to your bottom. You can feel his thumb moving up and down as he speaks, up and down, up and down.
“Something… something has happened. To Mama,” he says, taking lots of pauses and shaking under you like he is cold. You reach up to pat his face. Your hand comes away wet.
“Is she okay?” you ask. That horrible feeling comes back, and you have to swallow so that you don’t get sick all over Papa. “Where is Mama?”
“Mama… she couldn’t bring the babe out. A boy—Baelon.” This time, you can hear him cry, but it’s quick, not long and loud like yours.
A brother. I have a baby brother. It doesn’t feel very special or interesting. Maybe meeting the babe will make you more excited?
“Where is he?”
Papa cries more. “He… he lived for three hours. Three. Then he—”
“—died.” That’s the word for when someone goes through death. Papa didn’t look like he could say it, but you can. “Sorry,” you tell him quietly. You know how much he wanted a boy. “Mama must be sad, too.”
“She—she—Mama didn’t survive the birth.”
You frown. What does that mean? “So… she is sick?”
Papa shakes his head, eyes scrunching. “No.”
“Where is she, then? I want to say ‘sorry’ to her, too.”
“She—died. She’s dead, my girl. Only, she passed before Baelon.”
You have to stop and really think, think so hard that your head hurts and you feel dizzy from holding your breath. Being dead means going away and never coming back. Mama is dead. Which means…
After Papa says those terrible, awful, horrible words, he pushes his nose into your hair and hugs you so so tight until you feel his tears sliding over your head. You hug him back, pressing your face to his chest and letting his shirt soak up all the crying from your eyes. You don’t know if you understand it all—but you know one thing for certain, one thing that makes you cold and sick and afraid.
Mama went away. Mama will never come back.
Mama is gone.
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Read on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/48798151/chapters/123751342
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sordidmusings · 6 months
Text
Switching Up Roles - Part 1/2 (Buggy x Reader)
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A/N: So the request got insaaaaanely out of hand cuz I can't shut the fuck up about this stupid clown 🙃 In the future I gotta have requests ask for headcanons, full fic, or headcanons with drabbles in the future so I can put a cap on my brain lol I had also been wanting to write Switch!Buggy learning to embrace the sub part of himself. I wanted to get part of it out and the set up cuts off pretty cleanly here. There is a taste of smut in it, but it stays with the style of the exposition for the most part instead of really delving into it.
Word count: ~1760 (The draft is at 8100 rn 🧍🏻‍♀️)
Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), switch!reader, switch!Buggy, NSFW, p in v, creampie, they're like probably too into each other, Buggy leans towards opla Buggy, I have a propensity to just keep sentences going man
I hope you enjoy a taste and thank you for your patience 🙏🏻
Part 2
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
You’d always had a hunch about Buggy. It started with little things like how his grunts and moans would sometimes slip in and out of something more whiny and breathy. How the look in his eyes would turn from something rabid and devouring into something desperate and uncertain. Maybe he was just more comfortable using the whole range of his voice than most men. Maybe that look just came from the insecurity in him that you were constantly trying to wring out with every lingering hug and reassuring whisper.
Speaking of those, he drank them up like an addict. Now, it’s not like you think it’s abnormal to enjoy soft touches and sweet words; everyone wants those from their partner in one form or another. The thing is, Buggy seemed to hang on those words with extra ardor. He’d focus on you like nothing else existed. He’d twist and turn both himself and his comfort zone in order to receive them. Whenever he accomplished something, whether it was as big as defeating a new enemy or as small as making a new joke, he would turn his face to seek you out like a plant’s leaves reaching to feel the sun. He’d go to you whenever he was uncertain. Difficult announcements were made with you within arm’s reach, vital decisions were made with you sitting thigh to thigh, and battles were fought with the two of you back to back.
Despite his status as captain, Buggy was always following you. Of course, he was the one in charge, the one who gave orders, but you were the one for whom he would change those orders or redirect his path. When you entered a room, he was the one to go to you. It was only on rare occasions that he’d order you to him like an owner would a dog. His calls for you were greetings, that is if he wasn’t getting up to lead you in himself. Buggy did know how to demand but he preferred to handle you with invitations. 
Even so, you were well versed in Buggy leading you to touch or lay where and how he wanted. The extending months of your relationship have been filled with the two of you pushing and pulling at each other, empty of any thoughts and aims other than the need you had for each other. He has growled out commands and desires, expecting you to do just as he asked and he fit the role of manhandling you into a compliant sub very well. There were times when it seemed to be just that though - a role. Not every time; the more starved for your body he seemed, the more he’d take you just how he wanted. Now that you were months in and the pent up “what if”s were easing into the new joy of deep connection, his need for your body settled to hunger while his appetite for connecting to You became insatiable. Being able to allocate more time to exploring each other let latent behaviors break through the frantic way that you two tried to consume one another. Buggy had always aimed for your pleasure, hitting steady bullseyes, but now he was consciously seeking it and looking for new avenues to sate you and file them away for the future. He gained the clarity to observe while he was flooding himself with you.
You also noticed that with this change of pace came his need to chase your movements. You don’t think Buggy was even aware of the way he would lean his body towards you no matter the time or place, the way he would follow your lips whenever you pulled away, or the way his body would seek out your hands and happily mold to their movements like you were an artist working with clay. There was the way he seemed almost relieved when you would guide him. It appeared that he savored the time to unload the responsibility of decisions onto someone else but he had never known anyone he could trust to give him that peace before.
You understood that need. The rush you got when you only had to think of pleasing him and then hearing him tell you how good you were at doing just that? It was euphoria all on its own. It had you feeling like you knew in your core that you were doing something right and that you were making your love feel good - feel proud and happy. While you enjoyed partaking in it yourself, you had no problem taking control to give that to Buggy. Honestly it was a dynamic that was sounding tastier by the day. Seeing him act out of need for your direction and approval made you crave it more each time. You were eager to see him when he loses himself in the role of being what you want. You’re positive he’d take to it well; all you want is him after all, but now that he’s given pieces of himself to you, you want all of him. You want him to expose his needs to you, right down to the core of his desires, so that you could feel the thrill of holding that trust and vulnerability. You want to prove to him that he is always safe with you and that you can fulfill all that he wants and more.
One night a few weeks back, you got the final evidence you needed to feel confident labeling him as a switch like yourself. It was one of the few times Buggy was letting you ride him when he was close (he seemed to be embarrassed of the way it would pull out higher pitched moans from him, no matter how you complimented them), and he had let himself fall further into acting without thought than he usually would beneath you. His typical grapple with composure was replaced by him melting into bliss, leaving you a Buggy who was slack-jawed, glassy eyed, and trembling. You could still feel some hesitancy in the way he kept making his eyes focus on you even when they wanted to roll back or the way he would reign in his volume after a particularly (and deliciously) loud moan. His hands still went through the motions of guiding your hips, but this time your hips were pushing into that heavy grip instead of his hold directing the bounce and grind of your body on his.
Even though the feeling of his cock splitting you open and rubbing deliciously from your clenching entrance to the deepest stretch of your cunt left you struggling for thought, you were determined to keep an eye out for his tells that he would try to flip you back over. Whenever Buggy blinked some focus back into his eyes, you leaned down and captured his panting mouth in sloppy kisses. His eagerness to feel your swollen lips and teasing tongue made it easy to kiss his mind back into a blur. When he planted a hand down and sat himself up, you tightened your core to clench down on him and changed to the heavy grinds that made him weak with the way he could feel every hot, plush inch of you gripping him. He fell down to his elbow, but when you followed him to nibble at his ear and fill it with moans, he lost all his strength and collapsed back on the bed.
You kept at it because you needed to cum on top of him. The promise of a body shaking orgasm always came to you in the squeeze of your thighs around his waist, the grind of his pelvis on your clit, the way you could change your angle to have the head of his cock massaging whichever spot felt the most electric in the moment. It took hold of your mind with the way you got to look down on him spread out beneath you while he looked up at you with that desperate face. You could see how steeped he was in pleasure and need from his furrowed brow and shining eyes. Buggy always fell into the most beautiful, incoherent mess when you were the one leading him. His long blue hair spread out wildly, the few strands sticking to his face bringing out his pink flush. His gorgeous eyes, highlighted by stripes of blue makeup and long fluttering lashes, glistened up at you. His painted red mouth looked all the more tempting with how his kiss-wet lips parted for him to gasp in air and breathe out moans.
With little warning, Buggy sobbed out an overwhelmed, “Fuuu-hah-huuuuck,” and the next thing you knew strong hands yanked you down and he trapped you close in an iron grip. His forehead dug into your neck and his humid breath tingled down your chest. All you could feel, hear, smell was Buggy - so much burning skin, jumbled curses, lingering sea salt. His hands scrambled on your back, pulling you closer like he needed it to live, and amidst all the sensation you felt his cock pressed tight into you, twitching heavily with each wave of hot cum it pumped into you. It shoved you immediately far over the edge and you curled into him, squeezing and shaking and grabbing and gasping. You got what you were promised and your body shook, letting you get extra jolts of friction against his still pulsing cock.
The come down was slow and lethargic with the two of you molded to each other and unwilling to leave the moment behind. Your breaths eventually slowed while you both enjoy giving and receiving little trailing touches. Your brain was high from the intense orgasm and the building joy that you can finally open the door on this aspect of your relationship where Buggy lets himself submit.
That is, until he ruins it. 
Both of you were too tired to say much of anything through the swift cleanup and release to slumber. You didn’t think anything of it, because it wasn’t the first time it happened. You did start to catch on to Buggy’s avoidance when he would find convenient ways to dance around the topic or disappear when you were leading up to it. It became unquestionable when he started to run out of clever escape routes. The final straw was when you approached him with an “I wanna talk about the other night” and he did a 180 with a panicked “forgot some captain stuff for the thing” yelled back to you. So you let it drop. For a time.
You spotted your opportunity just over three weeks after you’d dropped the subject. Buggy continued to slip around you for almost two of those weeks, approaching you with the same caution a child would when entering a haunted house on a dare. He held the same nervous excitement and insatiable curiosity too. The whole time, you pretended that you hadn’t noticed. You were well practiced in the art of playing blind; Buggy wore his emotions on his sleeve whether he wanted to or not, and he loved that you would let him pretend some of it didn’t happen. Even though he knew you sometimes played it to your advantage and still let most of your comments and cackles out during his outbursts and foibles. He just paid you back for those with his own tricks and teasing and all’s fair in love and war.
You knew not to strike right away. You needed to reaaaaally let him settle back into normalcy between you two so that The Incident wasn’t on his mind. Not that you’d been able to get it out of yours; you were endlessly replaying the memory of him being seized by instinct and impulse so violently that he clung to you like he could never be close enough while you made him cum so hard that his dick felt like someone was jolting a toy inside you. Whether the imagery came to you on purpose or involuntarily, it always had you squirming and looking for some way to get off.
Today had been especially filled with that memory, but luck was on your side, finally ready to reward you for your patience. Buggy had been getting a bit exhausted recently, prepping the crew, the ship, and everything on it for a risky raid happening next week. It would be the culmination of a few months planning, and he had been running himself ragged making sure that everything would go smoothly. And, when it didn’t, there was a backup plan and at least two more backup plans for that one. 
He had been seeking rest from you more than interaction the past few days - falling asleep almost immediately after getting back to his room late, giving you long hugs where he’d close his eyes if only for a minute and let you hold up some of his weight, scarfing down his food so he could power nap with his head on your thigh while you finished your own meal. If he was doing something that only needed one hand, he’d send the other to you so he could have the comfort of your touch and the pick me up from feeling your occasional squeeze on it. He had to find and stop you the time you decided to massage his overworked hand, because the relaxing feeling had him zoning out through full conversations.
All that to say, the man clearly needed someone to force a break on him and take care of him. Just as clearly, Buggy was needing that care from you so much that he was allowing himself to seek you out in ways that he (wrongfully) feared would annoy or drain you. His exhaustion outweighing that sea-sized insecurity of his was the cue you’d been looking out for. If he really didn’t want to be submissive to you then that’s fine, but you’d be damned if it was just his own negative self-talk keeping the two of you from feeling that way again or from bonding even closer with another dynamic to exchange trust and affection. After all, that act of trust being met with affection is one of the best ways to chip away at his self-doubt and self-loathing.
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
More to come - hope you enjoyed 🤍
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centipedelightning · 7 months
Note
Could you do an Undertale, Underfell, and maybe Underswap with an enderman-like S/O, like they're really tall, jet black skin, can teleport, the whole shebang. But instead of eye contact making them aggressive, it just makes them really anxious and on edge.
(To clarify, I see teleporting and short cutting as to different things. Teleporting is instantaneous disappearing and then reappearing while shortcutting is more like a portal type thing)
(Love your hcs, btw. Here, have some chocolate 🍫 ❤️)
Enderman-like OCs and stuff are always so cool bc Endermen are cool. And thank you!! can't have chocolate without strawberries though! so here !! 🍓🍓🍓. I agree btw! I don't always write it, but I've always seen shortcuts as needing to happen at the edge of the screen/at certain points in the world like doorways. So portal-like if you don't think about it too much!
| UT/UF/US x Enderman-esque!Reader || Romantic || Fluff |
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Sans
How neat!
Up until meeting you, he's been the only Monster that can disappear and reappear he knows.
On the surface, he definitely likes to race you and see who can get further faster. The deciding factor is genuinely only on if you can teleport before Sans can get to a shortcut.
Y'all's score is about even.
Listen. This man is like 5'2" (~157cm). Even if you aren't exceptionally tall, like 6' (~182cm), he has to try to look in your eyes.
Try to tell him pretty early on in the relationship, but even if you put it off you really don't need to worry too much.
For others though, he tries to act as a mediator to give you a second to prepare yourself.
His life as a stand-up comedian has also given him a few tips and tricks to help you.
Things like "Look just slightly past the person you're talking to" and "Look right between their eyes"
Once you guys are pretty established in your relationship Sans makes sure to keep something for you to hold onto in his pocket.
Sometimes it's a fidget toy. Sometimes it's a roll of tape he snagged out of the junk drawer on the way out the door.
Truly depends on the day.
Papyrus
"PLEASE TELL ME YOU DON'T USE YOUR TELEPORTING TO BE A LAZY-BONES LIKE MY BROTHER"
Tred... Carefully here.
He thinks it's neat sure, but if he catches you teleport from the couch to the kitchen for a snack back to the couch prepare to be lectured.
He's not mad at you he's just passionate.
You can buy his silence very easily if you are willing to surprise him with a grocery run without needing to drive.
Papyrus is scary good at reading people, so if you don't mention that you can't do eye contact, he'll figure it out by the end of the day.
So, regardless of whether you tell him or not, he will start fully turning his head away from you while you guys talk.
He doesn't even need to be able to see your face normally.
He can be doing something with his back to you and he will instinctively turn his head.
Yes, that does probably mean he turned enough to see you slightly.
That also means he can see what he's doing less so you might want to remind him to look forward lest y'all have a mess.
As a crafty guy, he'll make you some little item for you to hold onto if you need to.
Introduce him to fidget toys. He'll lose his mind.
Red
Stressed mostly.
Underground, someone who can teleport is bad news.
Once you get into his good graces, he's your biggest fan.
Have you ever been a living taxi? Do you want to be? regardless of the answer Red is gonna try to mooch a free trip out of you all the time.
Similar to Sans, he's short. You really don't need to worry about constant eye contact from him.
Or any Monster for that matter. I've always seen Fell-verses as not being eye contact heavy for probably obvious reasons.
Red still does try to give you some tips and they are somewhat similar to Sans'.
He likes to whittle things with interesting textures for you to hold and mess with.
Think something like a little animal figure with ridges and bumps and stuff.
Edge
So here's the thing about Edge.
He is not dumb and he is very emotionally intelligent.
That awareness of the world does not overpower his lack of chill.
He makes the Most Intense eye contact with people and you are going to need to tell him to knock it off.
Because you can be completely turned away from him and you will still feel his gaze.
Once your relationship progresses more, he stops trying to turn you to stone with his eye sockets.
By that point, he will also be comfortable telling you to do whatever you want so you don't need to worry yourself about looking in other people's eyes. If they say anything he is more than ready to tell them off for you.
Obviously, he also has a similar worry to his brother about your teleportation. At least initially. He's in the royal guard and a high-ranking member at that! He has a right to be a little wary.
What he won't tell you is that he's easy to please so you can do the bare minimum to prove your friendship/interest in him and he folds.
If you're the type that's into it, he really enjoys sparring with you. He thinks your teleporting is a really fun challenge.
Edge will find you the tiniest, most obscenely complex puzzle boxes on the market to give you.
He says it's something about keeping your mind sharp but it's more so insurance that you won't get bored of it too quickly.
That and he likes bragging about his datemate being able to solve complex puzzles.
Blue
Despite the height difference, he looks you in the eyes super hard all the time.
It's not to be mean or anything! He's just passionate and forgetful.
This is one of the few guys where avoiding eye contact is gonna be more on you.
He'll notice after a bit during conversation and relax a bit but until then...
He thinks your teleporting is pretty neat!
He's not crazy about the lazy applications of your ability, but who's he to tell you to stop teleporting?
He complains even less once he realizes you can take the both of you on spontaneous, last-minute date nights.
He likes to give you his things to hold onto.
He tries to keep it to a reasonable size but you have ended up with one of his action figures before.
Guess you can carry it in a bag?
If you like much smaller objects he'll give you cool rocks out of his collection
Stretch
He was already a couch potato before meeting you, he's even worse now.
To shortcut he still has to get up and walk to a spot where he can but you? You can just poof from wherever?
Yeahhhh you're on snack duty from now until forever. That includes the convenience store.
Force him to come with you. Don't let him get too comfortable.
Stretch isn't big on eye contact himself, so neither of you has ever had a problem with it.
Stretch will find you cool knickknacks to hold onto. usually super little ones with a button or switch. Something tactile.
If it's your style, he is also willing to sew you a little stuffed animal or something. It makes it happy to know it's being loved regularly.
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avocado-writing · 7 months
Note
Your wrintings are so yum!!!!! How are you able to write them so good!!! I read and feel, easily visualizing everything you describe!!! (if you're up for it, I'd love to read about Aziraphale being smothered with love, pampered, adored, worshipped by reader(or both of his lovers!)(sfw or nsfw, whatever you're inspired to do!) Thanks for sharing your works!
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notes: this is absolute filth. i'm so sorry (no im not).
pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley
rating: E, minors dni
tags: TLTDATSIB-verse; cum play; light praise-kink; dirty talk
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There are many things to love about Aziraphale.
His soft body. His pretty eyes. His little breaths of ecstasy as you pleasure him. No wonder you and Crowley have committed every part of him to memory. After all, why wouldn’t you want to remember a perfect thing down to its finest detail?
The three of you are in bed. It’s a rainy Friday evening, and at the moment the two of you are playing one of your favourite games with him: who can get the angel to blush the hardest? You’re pretty equal at the moment, and with your hands all over him, Aziraphale is utterly at your mercy.
“I love his hair,” you mutter, carding your fingers through his soft blond curls. You make sure to snag them a little, pull them in that way he loves. Aziraphale moans and keens into your touch, his cheeks a rosy pink.
“I love his chest,” Crowley counters. The demon dips down to snare one of Aziraphale’s pretty pink nipples between his teeth, half biting, half sucking, and in turn you reach to take a handful of soft pectoral and squeeze. He goes from blushing to a bright red.
“Oh… oh my…”
You and Crowley look at each other and grin. Individually you can get Aziraphale hot and bothered, but together? You’re a force majeure on your poor husband.
“You know what else I love, Crowley?”
“Go on, nightingale.”
“I love the sounds he makes when he wants to come.”
“Oh, me too.”
Aziraphale whimpers, actually whimpers, and as Crowley snares his lips in a kiss you bend over to take his cock in your mouth. You swallow him down until you feel him hit the back of your throat, making him languish there for a moment as Crowley steals the sounds of lust straight from the source. Going further, you press your nose against the fair curls at the base of his shaft before pulling back all the way to the tip to tongue his slit, letting the taste of his angelic precome flood you. Your eyes roll back in your head.
You’d fuck these two forever if you could. Really. You’ve never become bored of each other’s bodies, in fact to know them as intimately as the three of you do only means you know the ways to drive each other wild. Crowley buries his hand in your hair, knowing Aziraphale is far too polite to do it, and begins to help you move up and down his length, smearing him with spit as you keep trying to take him deeper. 
“Go on, nightingale. That’s it. Fuck, you look good doing that.”
“I’m… I’m going to…” Aziraphale breathes, breaking Crowley’s kisses just long enough to stammer out a warning.
“Come, angel,” Crowley says with a grin, encouraging you to go faster, “we want you to.”
With a moan that you’re sure is loud enough for the whole street to hear, Aziraphale orgasms in your mouth. Usually you’d swallow him straight down but you don’t have a chance, because when his hips stop their little ruts upwards while he spends, Crowley takes your face in his hands and guides you up to kiss him. 
You unhurriedly entwine your tongue with your husband’s, making sure he knows he’s just as appreciated, and the two of you hum in pleasure as you share the taste of Aziraphale’s come. 
“Oh,” Aziraphale manages, because it’s all he’s capable of at this sight of abject lust. To be adored is a wonderful thing, and by the two of you? It floods him with a pride he isn’t accustomed to.
You and Crowley both swallow before turning to look at him.
“Not done yet, are you angel? We’re just getting started.”
Aziraphale moans.
-
taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry
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sxnniiwrites · 4 months
Text
So, you want to write fanfics.
Here are my top fanfic writing tips!
You don't have to waste time on physical descriptions of characters, since your target audience already knows them, UNLESS: - their appearance is different in your fic in some way (timeskip, different verse, etc) - OR it's genuinely significant, like character A being struck by character B's beauty at first sight and having to swoon over their gorgeous features. Other than this, if it's not plot significant nor important to the readers' perception of the story, then don't worry about it if you aren't confident with physical descriptions!
Pay attention to character voice. What's that, you ask? Well, everyone's inner thoughts sound different, right? It matches your own personality and speech patterns. This is the same with characters. This is much easier if the franchise you're writing for is a book series, of course; you already have somewhere to go to reference the style this character's thoughts are written in. With shows and movies, it's a bit harder to find each character's voice, but important nonetheless. If you don't have distinct voices for each character's POV, the writing and characterization can fall flat. A good way to find character voice is to write a few diary entries for each character (even if your story isn't going to be in first person POV, do it for this exercise). This will help establish individual voices, and then your characters will really start feeling like their canon selves.
Cater to your audience. This is the nature of fanfic. But seriously, don't be afraid of cliches! If your fandom loves hurt/comfort for a certain pairing, write that in! If your fandom is obsessed with tooth rotting wholesome fluff for a pairing, try that too! You don't have to, of course, but this can help keep your target audience interested and attract more readers through tags.
USE BETA READERS. Oh my gosh I used to not use betas and would just "edit" my fics all on my own, which of course meant scanning it briefly for bad typos because my brain was so fried from writing it that I didn't want to thoroughly read the whole thing and look for in-depth edits. I know it's scary to have someone else pick through your work but trust me, they LOVE what you wrote, regardless of how many edit suggestions they leave. They'll also help you see things from a reader's perspective that you may not have caught before. Remember, critique is just opportunity for improvement.
Please don't stop because you're embarrassed. Trust me, I've been there. For a while I didn't write fic because I felt "cringey" and was scared of my irls finding my fandom works. But honestly? Screw that. Write for yourself. Write because you love it. Cringe culture is dead, so write the stories you want to tell, and to hell with anyone who thinks it's weird. Besides, there are probably more fandom "weirdos" around you than you think.
Don't be afraid of creation. Happy writing!
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daegall · 8 months
Text
Bewitched.
pairing: bf!mark x reader
genre: fluff, established relationship!AU, college!AU
warnings: mentions of cheating (a past relationship)
word count: 1.2k words
a/n: happy late mark day!!!!!! our watermelon boy deserves the whole world <3 wrote a little drabble a little too late, so I hope you'll forgive me for that (had a very busy first few weeks of school!!) anw, other than this, i think im gonna start of my spidermark fic!!! (if i get motivation lol) i hope you guys enjoy <3
networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy @justalildumpling <3
🎧 :: Bewitched (Laufey)
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The last time you dated someone was in your junior year of high school, before swearing off boys after the boy you had been with cheated on you. Plus, you needed the extra hours to get ready for all your AP exams and your final year of high school.
But now, you find yourself in your second year of college, and with another guy.
Mark Lee is unlike any guy you've ever met in your whole life. Who could be so human, yet so flawless? He was so raw and was never afraid to show himself to anyone, and god knows he was the one to make the first move. How could you ever, after being date-less for more than 2 years?
Nonetheless, you find your rhythm with him quickly, naturally, everything falling into place as if it's always supposed to be like this.
And here you are, walking in the lonely streets of the city, clock indicating you've been out long after the curfew you had given yourself in the beginning of the year.
Fuck that curfew, because you would trade anything for this moment, laughing at Mark's lame dad joke, bumping your shoulder with his.
It's been so long since you've felt so genuinely happy with someone, someone you could be yourself around and not be scared, someone who could match your energy just as easily.
Mark plays the guitar. He showed you on your second date, when he came back from a tutor session (he teaches kids, for fucks sake! He's perfect!) and was fully willing to play a few songs of your choice. That was the first time you felt fully comfortable with him, and felt okay to be yourself around him.
He likes watermelons. He adores watermelons, more than he should. On a random hang out to the local market, Mark unintentionally charmed up one of the store ladies, running his mouth on and on about how much he loves watermelons, eventually ending up in getting a free watermelon. You found the way he grinned and cradled the watermelon adorable.
Mark takes his time.
'It's better that way, kinda like fermentation, you know?'
You get what he meant just a little bit, but with every moment spent by his side, you completely understand. He takes time to write his songs, even when he gets a surge of inspiration in the middle of the night, staying up until 5 in the morning just for 1 verse.
Another thing he claims he wants to take his time on, is your relationship. He had asked to be your boyfriend about a month into your little situationship, and he does not rush into things.
It's a nice change of pace, you admit. The 2 other guys you had been with both definitely rushed into things very fast, and you felt way too overwhelmed by the speed. With Mark, you don't have to worry. He'll wait for you.
When you had asked him for the reason he would even try waiting, your heart seemed to be plucked from your chest, taken into the warm and (not so) safe hands of Mark Lee.
'The best things are worth waiting for. You're worth waiting for.'
And now here you are, and you want to savor each moment spent next to Mark, taking your time.
He's walking you back to your apartment, after a date to the movies. You barely even paid attention, you really were just there for the popcorn and soda, and maybe just a little cuddle with Mark.
"Thanks for tonight, Mark," You mumble with a smile as you two halt in front of your apartment lobby. He beams at you, grinning.
"Thank you too, Y/n, I really liked tonight,"
He looks absolutely dreamy right now. So cozy with his sweater and baggy jeans, the genuinely smile tugging at his lips, the sparkle in his eyes. You continue to observe him, not wanting to let go of the oddly intimate moment.
He seems to think the exact same thing, reaching out to take your hand in his, swinging it side to side as his gaze shifts from your eyes, to different parts of your face, and back to your eyes.
Mark's thumb stokes across the back of your palm, and it's like a spell, disabling you from taking a single step away from him. He's got you bewitches, and you don't mind one single bit.
Finally, be breaks the spell, tugging you closer to wrap his arms around your waist. Your own automatically circle around his shoulders, hands settling for the hairs on the back of his neck, playing with the strands, just like how he always asks you to do.
"Call me once you get to your room, okay?" He murmurs with a smile, tilting his head to the side. He's got an adoring look on his face, entranced.
"I promise, Mark." You respond, taking one hand back to hold your pinky up, urging him to do the same.
That's exactly what he does, taking his hand off your waist to wrap his pinky around yours gently. "Good."
With one more sway of your intertwined fingers, you pull away, slowly, as if to remember every little detail. "I better go to my room now then, huh?"
"You do that,"
After what seemed like hours, you peel away from each other, parting. There's no sadness, not a single bittersweet smile, because you know he'll be there for you, always. As you will be for him as well.
"Goodnight, Mark!"
He simply waves as he watches you walk away little by little, each step resonating through his ears, along with his heartbeat.
Mark Lee likes to take his time. He's always preached this. But now, as you walk away, it's like his clock quickens a tenfold, and you have a string to his heart, tugging on it.
Before he knows it, Mark's reaching out, jogging slightly, calling out your name. "Y/n!"
You feel confusion flood over you at the sudden call of your name, turning to reply, but you don't even get to. Mark has his arms around you, leaning into you, as his lips place against yours clumsily.
'Take your time,' you've always told yourself. And yet, you don't even waste a second to reciprocate the kiss, head tilting to the side with a sigh.
'Take your time,' Mark remembers saying over and over again. He's wanted to kiss you for months, he's taken his time, and it feels perfect. He knows its perfect as his lips part to deepen the kiss, he knows there's nothing better as his hand cradles your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist.
You know as well, as your knees grow weak, as your lips smile against one another, as he leans in for yet another kiss as you pull away, chuckling into his skin.
And when you pull away, Mark Lee looks even dreamier than before, if it was even possible. He's got a goofy smile on his lips, the lips that had just kissed yours, his eyes shining with nothing but absolute pure love for you.
"Goodnight," He mumbles.
"Goodnight," You echo back, smiling at him. "a-and, thank you,"
Mark chuckles, shaking his head, as he pulls away from you, stroking your cheek one more time. "Hey, can we make this a thing now? Can I get a goodnight kiss every time I walk you back after a date?"
"Go home, Mark! It's late!" You push him away playfully, shooing him away.
"Fine, fine!" He throws his hands up in a surrender. He has an awfully boyish smile on his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief. "We'll see tomorrow, after I take you home after our date, right?"
Mark Lee has you bewitched.
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0oolookitsme · 8 months
Text
Melted Ice Cream
Type - Blurb
Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n
Word Count - 901
Warnings - None! Maybe some cursing here and there.
A/N - Wrote this on my phone and that too in a hour or so. This is just a cute little scene, hope you like it <3
(Just the Harry I pictured while writing this:)
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The room remained silent, neither of them spoke a word but it was a known fact that both the pair of eyes were wide open.
"H?"
"Yep?"
There wasn't anything funny but the two still chortled. "Why the hell are you still awake?" Y/n asked, releasing his hand to rub her eyes.
"I don't know, why are you?" He asked back, turning on his side to face her. Out of habit, one of his legs swung up on her thigh.
Y/n didn't exactly turn on her side, but she still tilted her head in a way that she was facing him. Nothing but the A/C's light penetrated the darkness in the room, and they could still tell where the other one's eyes and mouth and head and nose were. Silence lingered around for a while before Y/n decided to speak up again.
"I can’t sleep, can we have ice cream?"
“I was about to say that!" Harry exclaimed silently and y/n could just tell that he had this wide grin on his face and that his eyebrows were probably closer to his hairline than to his eyes now.
It was as if they were little kids, the way they jumped off of the bed and scurried to be at each other's side – not exactly fitting in the door frame but still squeezing their way through. Sounds of small, high pitched giggles filled the whole house as they raced down the stairs. "No!" Harry cackled, fisting y/n's shirt from behind when she ran him out. Pulling her back into him he grabbed a tight hold of her by wrapping one arm around her waist and twisted to swing her behind and run ahead.
"That's cheating, H! You're such a loser!" She yelled, laughing and slightly wheezing.
Neither of them know why they are racing, it's not like they only have one scoop of ice cream left. But it was still obvious that the one who reaches the fridge first, wins. And while Y/n is a competitive freak, Harry wouldn't necessarily give himself that title – yet it's clear that if he's playing, he aims to win.
Harry opened the freezer with a smug smile on his face, pulling out a tub of vanilla ice-cream.
"Stop smiling like that or I will slap that off your face, you fuckin' cheater," Y/n grumbled from where she was sitting on the kitchen counter.
His frown started to melt into a lopsided grin on his mouth as he opened the drawer to pull out their ice cream bowls. "Oh please, you're just salty your loser ass couldn't win." He said, looking at her as if waiting for her to tell him to fuck off – and she did, indeed, flip him off.
Their ice cream bowls, on the other hand, are a whole nother story. They had gone to a ceramics class from their school's side and at the end of the workshop, had to make some bowls to show what they had learnt. The only thing that went wrong was that their bowls ended up looking like 'too-tiny bucket hats', as the incharge there had joked. They were so unbelievably tiny for a bowl that their crafts teacher at school believed that it had to be intentional.
But it was absolutely unintentional. They were just talking so much that the goal had escaped them, that's all.
On Harry's cup, Y/n had painted small footballs and written 'balls out' in the smallest font. And Harry, on the other hand, had painted small cherries and white doodle-flowers all over her cup. They had even gotten detention, for allegedly making a joke of a representation of their school.
"Want sprinkles?" Y/n asked him, kneeling on the floor in the front of the lowest cabinet. Harry only bummed in return, busy in scooping out equal amounts of ice cream in each bowl. She stood close next to him as she sprinkled the colourful bits on top of his ice cream first, and then onto hers.
"Hey! No fair! You have more sprinkles than mine!" Harry claimed, grabbing her hand and forcing her to put more on his. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" He rushed, trying to take the jar out of her hand as she leaned on the slab to keep her body up while she laughed.
Whining, Harry took a few steps back. "Oh my god, now that's too much sprinkles!" He gritted through his teeth, frowning at her wheezing figure, then slowly and slowly, joining her. Before he knew, they were both kneeling on the kitchen floor, curling up because they were laughing so hard their stomach hurt.
"Why the fuck are you la-laughing?" Y/n asked in the midst, sitting up straight to calm down. "What's funny?" She asked seriously but then Harry spurted out another laugh and she was laughing again.
Tears were rolling down both their cheeks as they finally gained control over themselves. "Wait, wait, wait – this is melting!" Harry shrieked, grabbing ahold of his cup and raising a full spoon to his mouth.
"I told you eat it right away, you idiot!" Y/n panicked from behind, also reaching for her cup. "What?" She asked when Harry passed her a suspicious look.
"You never told me that."
"Do i really need to tell you to eat your ice cream before it fucking melts, Harry?"
Prompt Creds to @me-writes-prompts <3
Tagging: @reveriehs <3
MASTERLIST <3
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whitemancumslut · 8 months
Note
since you’re obvi a swiftie can u write something inspired by the clip from miss americana of her playing call it what you want on the guitar and joe’s filming her where like y/n is a singer/songwriter and Harry’s filming her plssss 🙏🏼🙏🏼
SUMMARY: Y/n plays her new song to Harry and it brings him back in time.
WORD COUNT: 1.2k+
a/n: hopefully this is something compared to what you requested:)) this is so ugh!!!
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It was no secret; Harry wrote songs about her consistently. She was continually present in his thoughts. Every little thing she did was meticulously noted, retained in his memory and jotted down. She was his muse.
As was he for her. Y/n writing songs about Harry definitely wasn’t rare. But she never released them. She always felt like she was unable to fully express how much he had done for her. But, this song did just that. This song was something she was confident about. It definitely broke down some of the most vulnerable parts of her, but it also put together the pieces of how much she loved Harry.
“Ready when you are, m’love,” Harry announced from behind the camera. Harry sat across from her on the couch of their living room as she sits on the floor, holding her guitar in her arms.
Y/n takes a deep breath as she rubs her hands around the guitars set and replays the song in her head before she starts. She looks up at Harry who’s giving her a reassuring smile with a tight nod giving another go-ahead.
When she began to sing, Harry was so captivated that he felt as if his whole mind had been transported to the realm of folklore. Her voice was like a real life Heaven. He couldn’t describe it.
“I wonder if you know,
if you can tell I’m losin’
I’m going down without a fight,
I don’t know how you do it.”
For a moment, his focus was taken away from her elegant voice and was brought the tone and lyrics. The last line stirred up a vivid memory of the first time he ever saw her cry. It was a night he wish he could forget.
He held her tenderly, as she crumbled in his arms in a way he'd never seen before. His heart ached for her in that moment, and he fervently wished he'd never have to witness her in such a vulnerable state again.
“Wish I could be more like you. You handle everything so well.” She cried as she looked up at him. His heart broke more as he saw her lip quiver as she spoke.
Harry’s face softens as he began to realize exactly what she meant. Harry always seemed to put on a strong front for Y/n, as if it would be too much for her to bear if he were to show any vulnerability. He knew, deep down, that Y/n would have done the same for him, and would have been by his side in his darkest of times. But a part of him was scared to open up and he couldn't understand why.
“I don’t know how you do it,” She whispered.
When she spoke, a deep sense of guilt surged through him. He had shed a few tears in the shower and when he was alone, so that she would never know. Harry couldn't bring himself to be honest with her, even though she was crying about his courage and strength. In truth, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for not being able to demonstrate any vulnerability to his lover.
Constantly being a source of strength and solace from the start of their relationship, he was well aware of all the hardships that had been presented to him. Despite the lack of sleep due to his selfless efforts in supporting her through anything she was going through, he still perseveringly stood by her side.
The only time Harry’s ever heard of the song is when he overheard her singing it and and practically begged for her to play it for him. But he never knew about this verse. The man before her was in complete awe.
“You say we share a brain,
Apologizing for it.
But take it as a compliment, you make me really nervous.
This line refers to some of Harry's words at the start of their relationship that have left a lasting impression on her. She can't help but recall them even now. No one had ever loved Y/n like Harry does. From the way he looks at her to his unwavering devotion, his love for her overwhelms her. She can't help but feel slightly anxious, scared of accidentally damaging the bond they've built together. His love is one-of-a-kind, and no one has ever been able to compare.
“Ugh! Harry stop!” She giggled. “I did not!” She expressed loudly as she turned her way in the bed so she’s laying directly across from him.
“You did so!” He said back, “You were so thinking it! And you know how I know?”
She smiled, “How?”
“‘Cause we practically share a brain m’love.”
Her voice was so soft. The gentle shake her voice held as she sang those exactly lines had Harry mesmerized. His heart was beyond full as she sang to him about him.
“What are you doing to me now?”
“You came out of the blue like that.
You came out of the blue like that.
I never could've seen you coming
I think you're everything I've wanted…”
Y/n never thought she would find someone like him. He’s everything she didn’t know she needed or wanted.
“Send me every song
That keeps you up from sleeping.
I bet I could recite ‘em all”
“I won’t forget the feeling
Of staying up with you.
Despite the space between us, I’ve never felt this close to someone
What if you’re my weakness?”
Didn’t take long into the relationship for Y/n to realize being with Harry was all she needed to feel okay. He was her person and she was his. It was simple.
Both of them being on tour did happen to take a toll on their relationship. Although they made an effort to call each other every night, it could not replace her lack of having the only person who brings her comfort close by.
Obviously, phone calls weren't quite the same as when they were actually together. Still, it was a source of comfort for her, hearing from him every night. They would stay on FaceTime until one of them, usually Y/n, would eventually succumb to sleep. It was these little moments that kept her going.
When Y/n's tour ended, she planned to get up right away and stay with Harry more regularly and travel across seas with him. But Harry encouraged her to take some time for herself, to rest and recuperate after her arduous year-long tour. Eventually, when she felt ready and both of them were content, she joined him on his journey. It definitely made them ten times more happier being with each other after being so apart.
She gazes up at Harry, whose mouth hangs open in awe as he looks back at her.
He’s speechless. Harry was deeply touched by how she used intimate and pressurized moments between them in her song. He absolutely adored it.
“So?” She asked, “What do you think?” She placed the guitar against the couch, and made her way over to Harry. Smiling like a school boy with his crush, he stopped the video and placed the device down.
He hung out his arms so she can enter his embrace as he repeats how amazing she sounded and how great the song was.
“It was beautiful, love.”
a/n i’m a huge gracie fan as well so this was so fun to make:))
214 notes · View notes
cozydeku · 4 months
Text
r. braun reporting for duty
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mdni
tags included: fem bodied reader and descriptors, canon-verse, canon typical violence, post-timeskip (don't think to hard about it), reader was in the 104th cadet corp with reiner, enemies (rivals?) to lovers, cat and mouse (???), dub con if you squint, switch!Reiner, switch!reader, possessive reader and Reiner, name calling (slut, good boy, good/pretty girl, whore, dumb little slut, big boy), oral (f! & m! receiving), pussydrunk Reiner, piv sex, spit kink??, rough sex (let me know if i missed anything, nicely!!!!)
word count: 5.8k
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author's note: so this one took me a while and many rewrite's, i am very proud of it tho. it's my longest fic to date and i feel like i'm getting more comfortable with writing so we'll see what that means for the future :)
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Your breathing was erratic and you couldn’t slow it down. But you were all alone, your squad had most likely already moved on with the impression that you were dead. You’ve practiced this a thousand times, this time should be no different than the simulation. Strike the titan in their weak spot and move on to the next one. That’s how it should’ve gone in theory but here you are hiding with your tail between your legs in someone’s abandoned house. 
You knew you were better than this, you were the top of your class in the cadet corp, of course only behind Mikasa. However, everyday you were reminded how close that spot was from being taken away from you. Reiner Braun took every chance he could to rub it in your face that he could simply take your number two spot for himself. Well here you were by yourself sacred out of your mind and your ranking in class meant nothing. 
You were taken out of your thoughts when the ground shaking became too much to ignore. You held onto the last bit of strength that you have to keep yourself from shedding a tear. If you were to die here, you want to die with your head held high and make a stand against this monster. 
You start to head towards the door, making a plan on how you’re going to take the giant down outside by yourself, when you see a flash swing by the window. It doesn’t make any sense, there shouldn't be anybody over on this side of the city. Next thing you heard grunting of exertion and the beast started to fall towards the ground like it was in slow motion. You felt dumbfounded, you had worked up all the courage you had left just for someone else to take the glory. 
The situation had only soured once you realized who was standing at the titan’s vital spot. Reiner was standing there, looking like the hero of your story, making you blush. Wait, no. It’s Reiner, you can’t be blushing because of Reiner or anything he does. You hadn’t fully processed your thoughts before you noticed that he’s caught you looking at him and is walking in your direction. 
Even the way he walks has you flustered, he has some sort of swagger to his stroll. You duck down under the window trying to hide from his gaze and from your own 
embarrassment. You’re in your own head, trying to calm yourself down because of the whole situation that just transpired. You were spooked from your thoughts when you heard three short taps against the window that you were hiding under. Slowly peeking through, you seek a charming smile splayed across the blond’s face and in that moment you knew it was over for you. 
“Can I come in?” Reiner spoke loudly enough that you could hear him through the glass. 
The only answer that you gave him was a short, curt nod before slumping back down.
“What, the big bad monster scared you into hiding, pretty girl?” he asked with that smirk that made you weak in the knees.
 “No, was just by myself and I wanted to regroup with my squad before making my move”. You had to admit that it was a poor attempt at an excuse but anything to get his piercing hazel eyes off of you. 
“Uh, yea… sure. Anyways, let’s get out of here before another shows up and before ‘your squad gets here’”. He says with a wink.
 Oh great, now he’s mocking you. At this moment the dumbest and maybe the brightest idea popped into your head. If he wants to get out of here so bad then he’ll have to catch you first. 
You took this opportunity to run to the opposite side of the kitchen table to tease him like you were young again. It felt good to have a different form of adrenaline running through your veins.
 “You’re mine, little girl.” His comment almost made you trip over your own two feet and almost lose this little game that you’re playing. 
However, your fun was soon ruined by the all too familiar thundering sound of a titan closing on your location. You and Reiner in that moment stopped your game and shared a look that said so many words without saying anything at all. Reiner took two large steps and all but snatched you by your arm and led you toward the basement. 
Once at the bottom of the stairs, Reiner pulled you to the floor, to which you fell in between his legs. You had almost let out a yelp when a large hand had been placed over your mouth. Feeling his pacing heartbeat against yours made you feel a little less alone in this cruel reality that you were living in. The reality that you were being pulled back to now that the booming footsteps sounded like that they were right over top of the two of you. 
You gently placed your hand on top of Reiner’s, thinking that if this would be your last hour you would like it to be spent in someone’s embrace rather than whatever position you were in right now. 
You moved his hand slowly and whispered “Reiner, please just hold me”. 
“W-What?” he choked over his words. You were supposed to be rivals, constantly trying to beat the other at their own game. You weren’t supposed to fluster him, especially not at a time like this.
 “Reiner, please don’t make me repeat myself. I’m scared and I just want to be held right now.”
Fuck, the way you said his name and pleaded in the same sentence was driving him up the wall. It’s not that he would ever say no to you, it’s just that the question took him off guard. 
“Of course, y/n.” he breathed into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Now that you had his granted permission, you turned around and straddled him and rested your head on his shoulder. 
Reiner couldn’t believe this was actually happening right now, and of all times to be happening. He wanted to properly comfort you, not in this dark and damp basement in a strangers house, but in his own bed. He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you were squirming around too much. 
“Uh, y/n? You okay? You’re moving around a lot.”, he whispered into your ear closest to him.
 “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’m just scared and I hate that I’m admitting that to you”, you whispered barely above a breath. 
The confession felt like a punch to the gut to Reiner. In retrospect if he could go back and take back every time that he laughed at your mistakes or critiqued you too harshly he would. You were just a human, you didn’t deserve his constant nagging to do better. He only ever did that because he wanted you to be the best so that he knew that you could protect yourself. He now knows that he has the emotional intelligence of an infant. He feels like such an idiot, but he does know that he’s past having a crush on you. He wants you for the rest of his life. 
“Y/n, please.”, He sounds like he’s struggling. You look up at him to see what has him out of breath. You’re met with his cheeks and the tips of his ears bright red. Before you’re able to ask him what’s wrong, you feel what’s wrong. 
“Reiner”, you whimper. It’s not adding up in your head that he wants you the same way you want him.
 You may never tell him that the whole “I’m scared” thing was a ploy to get closer to him. 
“Y/n, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours”, he moved closer and his lips are right against your ear lobe. 
“Reiner, I think we have a bigger problem right now”, you say in reference to the titan that may be very well still outside but of course he takes it to mean something entirely more lewd.
 “Reiner, don’t think with your dick right now”, you whisper-scold him. 
“Calm down, have you heard anything above ground in the last five minutes?”, he shoots back. 
He had a point but you also still didn’t like when he was right. You couldn’t get rid of your competitive nature with him that easily. 
“Fine, but just keep your voice down just in case”, you say trying to sound as stern as possible with Reiner’s bulge growing underneath you. 
“Yes ma’am”, his voice like honey, dripping slowly down to where you want him most. 
If he wanted to tease you, then you have no qualms about doing it right back. Smirking to yourself, you grind down onto the tent of his pants just to hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Reiner whimpered for you. You can only imagine how far your pupils dilated from the delicious sound. You wanted more, you didn’t care how entirely greedy you sounded. 
“Reiner, you sound like such a slut, baby” you say while rolling your hips into his and breathing into his neck. With this, he moans seductively. You want to ruin him and you want him all to yourself. 
“You like when I call you a slut, huh? You’re adorable.” you giggle to yourself and he whines. My god, you just had to keep pulling more of these sounds from him. 
You stop your movements and sternly ask, “Reiner, I need you to tell me that it’s okay to move forward”. 
He only nods to answer your question.
 “No baby, I need to hear your words like a good boy”, to which he whines again, obviously not trusting his voice. 
“Yes, please keep going”, he finally says before throwing his head back against the wall.
You never thought that Reiner would submit to someone in a sexual situation but now seeing it with your own eyes you couldn't imagine it any other way. With all that he’s been through and the weight that rests on his shoulders, you made it your mission to help him find a release. 
“Let’s start slow, baby. Kiss me” you say innocently. 
With no hesitation, Reiner grabs your face with one hand and kisses you softly. His bulge is not forgotten underneath you, you know that he has to be in pain by how long he’s been hard. You want nothing but to ease his discomfort but that will come with time, he will have to wait just a little longer. He starts kissing you harder, tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him explore your tongue with his own and your core is aching. 
You know you told him to take it slow but you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to follow your own rules. His one hand is still on your face while the other starts to grab and grope at anything it can get a hold of. Unfortunately, your uniform doesn’t offer much give and you can tell Reiner is starting to get frustrated. 
“Rei, calm down baby, I’ll take my clothes off” -his face lights up- ”but I would like you to undress too”, you didn’t even finish before he was stripping himself of his shirt. You had to let out a giggle at his ridiculous behavior but it was endearing. When Reiner realized what you were laughing at he slowed down and his face lit up red with embarrassment. 
“Oh no Reiner, I think you’re cute to want me to undress, no need to be embarrassed”, you say gently. 
You start to work on taking your own clothes off when you stand to take your pants off with Reiner following to do the same. He turns to notice that you were struggling to take your bra off and steps close behind you and places his hand on top of yours. 
“Let me help”, he simply states. 
Your hands fall down to your sides and Reiner starts to unclasp your bra until it falls from your shoulders. 
There’s one breath before Reiner reaches around and places one hand on your breast, squeezes and groans. 
“Can I please kiss them?” he asks hesitantly. 
You turn around to face him, “Yes, of course Reiner. You’re so sweet to ask”.
With that he leans down and kisses your chest before slowly making a trail lower to your nipple. Once reaching your nipple he stops and breathes, not realizing what he had just done, he wasn’t expecting your reaction. When you moaned, it’s like a fire had been lit in his stomach and he wanted you to make that soul bending sound again. 
He sticks his tongue out cautiously, it’s not like he’s completely inexperienced but with you this close to him and your beautiful skin exposed has him feeling like a virgin. He kitten licks at your nipple once, twice, and on the third time, he brings your whole nipple into his mouth and sucks. You throw your head back and moan, Reiner’s mouth feels so good and his other hand is massaging your other breast giving you no rest. You run your fingers through his hair and grab, pulling him closer, now being his turn to moan around your nipple. 
“Reiner, wait. I want you in my mouth so bad”, you would’ve thought that his brain exploded inside his head. There was no response besides him hurriedly unbuckling and unbuttoning his pants. He was reluctant to take his boxers off and for that you were grateful, you wanted to leave the reveal to your own hands. You kissed him one more time before lowering to your knees. You hooked both hands on either side of his boxers and pulled down to be greeted by a bright red tip with precum leaking from it. Without thinking you grabbed him and licked the pre, eliciting a loud whine from the man above you. 
You hadn’t even noticed how small your hand looked wrapped around him until you backed away.
 “Reiner, you’ve been hiding such a beautiful cock from me this whole time, baby?” you asked in your most sultry voice. 
“Please don’t say things like that, y/n. It’s too embarrassing” he whined right back, hiding his face behind his arm. 
Seeing him like this was just too exciting for you, you couldn’t get enough. You were betting yourself on what noises he would make after you actually took him in your mouth. 
Starting at the head, you licked to then come back and put half his length in your mouth. 
“S-so warm, baby. Your tongue, please lick me more”, he whimpered down at you. His wish was your command, there was no way you could say no to him right now. You took him back into your mouth, trying to take more of his length. You started to swirl your tongue around his girth just like he had asked, and got the exact reaction you hoped for. 
He toppled over and pushed you both toward the wall with your back against it and him crouched over you. 
“Fuck! If you keep going you’re gonna make me fucking come, y/n” he spoke through his teeth. 
You pulled off of him smirking, completely satisfied with yourself. 
“And what if that’s exactly what I want” you smile up at him. He bends down to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together.
 “Keep looking at me like that and you won’t be able to walk out of this basement”. That shut you up. 
“I want to return the favor”, he stood you up so he could lean down closer to your ear. 
“Oh, well no one has really done that for me and I don’t want you to feel like you have to return the favor” you rambled on, the mood being ruined. 
“Y/n, stop. I want to do this, please. I’ve been in love with you since cadet training and I obviously wasn’t very good at making that known but now that we’re here I want to show you how much I really like you”, Reiner starts to trail off the last of his confession but you got all of it. He’s in love with you? 
You had to process that for a second. 
“Reiner, I think I love you too” your confession coming out before you could stop it. Before you could even make out what was happening, Reiner all but lunged at you to kiss you. Mouths tried to fight for dominance until Reiner abruptly stopped and fell to his knees. 
“Use my face”, was all he said before starting his work on taking your bottoms off. 
Removing your ODM gear and uniform pants, stopping to admire your panties that were really nothing special to you. Looking up at you for your permission to remove the last barrier between the two of you, you gave a nod.
 “I need you to use your words like a good girl”, he smirked. 
You were about to combust, you hated that he was trying to get you to understand how he felt just minutes ago. 
If he wanted to be cheeky then you could play that game and play it so much better than he could’ve ever hoped. In your most seductive voice that you could muster, 
“Reiner, can you please take my panties off so that you can eat my pussy? I’m so wet and I need you so bad right now”. You knew how to play, and more importantly, you knew how to get him wrapped around your finger. 
You knew you had accomplished what you set out to do when he started stammering over his words and a deep blush was creeping over his entire body. 
“What’s the matter, Reiner? Cat got your tongue?” you giggled. 
Seemingly gaining his confidence back he stated, “A different kind of kitty will have my tongue in a second”. He removed your panties and gave your mound a gentle kiss. 
“Open up for me, pretty girl” he whispers. 
You lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder to give him more room to explore your pussy. 
Without saying another word, he dives in and kisses your clit. Dragging your fingers through his hair you pull him closer to which he obliges and dips his tongue to your hole. 
“You’re so wet and you taste so good and…” he doesn’t even finish his sentence before diving back in and savoring your taste and scent.
 He was eating you like a man starved, licking from your clit to your hole. Spelling his name on your clit. But it felt like the world stopped when his hand snaked up your leg and spread your lips, massaging your tight hole. 
“Be a good girl and let fuck you with my fingers” he slurred, not fully backing away from your core. 
You just nodded, and at this point Reiner didn’t care about making you say it out loud, he wanted it as bad as you. He prodded one thick finger at your entrance and traced the opening before slowly pushing it in. Your reaction consists of leaning your head against the wall behind you and letting out a long moan. He attached his lips back to your clit and started to pump his finger in and out of you. 
The feeling was euphoric. You had no other way of describing it. But you needed more and you knew that he could give you more.
 “Reiner, put another one in, please”, now you were the one whining. 
If he wanted to make a joke about you being the bratty one now then the words were lost on his tongue. When he pulled his finger out, he added another one before going back in. 
“You are so fucking tight, and just around my fingers. I don't know if my dick is gonna fit”, he said under his breath. 
Your eyes widened when you connected the dots. Shit, you’re not sure why the thought never occurred to you that Reiner will want to have sex. 
“Shit, y/n. We do not have to have sex if you’re not comfortable with that”, he stated sternly and matter of fact. 
You can feel him pull his fingers out of you.
 “No no, I absolutely want to have sex, baby. I just am kind of nervous taking that inside of me”, your eyes fall down between his legs. 
Once more Reiner is covered in a full bodied blush. 
“Oh”, was all that he said before standing up and kissing you again.
 “I can prep you some more if you would like”, he sweetly suggests. 
“Oh no, I think I’m good there. I think you’re just that big, baby. How about this? We start slow, and if it’s a no-go then we’ll both help each other finish in other ways”, you try wagering. 
“Sounds perfect to me, but please tell me if you need to stop. You will not hurt my feelings”, he was being so incredibly sweet to you and it only made you want to fuck him that much more. 
He turns away from you and grabs both your uniform capes and lays them side by side making a makeshift bed. You take the hint to lay down with Reiner coming to crawl in between your legs. 
“I wish I could do this in a better place, you deserve better”, he seems genuinely upset about not being able to be at least in a bed. 
However, in this moment you couldn’t care less, wherever he is, is the same place you want to be. 
“Reiner, baby, I really appreciate you trying to be sweet but I think I might die if you don’t fuck me like a whore right now”, and with that he lets out a deep guttural laugh that if you were in any other situation, you would be proud to pull it from him. 
“Okay, baby, okay. I hear you loud and clear”, he says after coming down from his laughing fit. 
“Take a deep breath for me”, he gently states, trying to ready you for insertion. 
You do as you're told and let out the breath as he pushes in. The pain is definitely there, Reiner’s size and girth were not something to joke about. 
“You keep squeezing me, baby. You doing okay? Can I move?”, he asks but in a tone that is not meant to rush you. 
“I’m okay, you can move, just go slow at first”, you sigh out your response. 
The stretch around him was intense and you could feel every vein of his cock but you wouldn’t have it any other way. He slowly retreated only to come back and press a chaste kiss against your lips. Before he was able to move away, your lips chased after his and you deepened the kiss. It was now your turn to trace your tongue across his lips and explore his mouth. You were answered with a whimper, the melodic sound that you loved so much. 
“Faster”, was all you needed to say for Reiner to get that you needed more. 
He picked up the pace that his hips were moving, now pistoning into your own. 
“So fucking tight and warm. I love this whore pussy”, he mumbled into your neck. The way that he talked about you only turned you on more, thus making you want more from Reiner. 
“Reiner, fuck me harder. I’m not gonna break, I promise”, you smiled at him. He only smiled back before leaning back onto his haunches bringing you with him. You didn’t even have time to ask him what he was about to do before he started fucking you like a mad man. His hands secured around your waist were tight enough to cause bruises but you honestly didn’t care. 
You knew this was the kind of release that he needed, that you both needed really. Being here with him gave you the chance to forget what was going on outside and your responsibilities for a little while. You were damn sure that he was just as thankful for it as you were. 
Coming back into reality by a charge of electricity shooting up your body, looking down and realizing Reiner is playing with your clit. 
“Eyes on me, pretty girl”, he sounded out of breath but also looked to have no intention of slowing down. 
Your eyes were hooded and out of focus from the amount of pleasure Reiner was giving you so it was hard to keep looking at him. 
“Look at my dumb little slut, bit off more than she could chew, huh?”, now he was laughing to himself. 
With that he woke up your competitive nature once again and you knew you still had a foot in this race. Pushing off of him, you pushed him down on the capes and straddled his lap in one fluid motion all catching him off guard. 
Here he was thinking he did something wrong or hurt you, not that you couldn’t live with the fact that he was questioning your abilities. You slowly, teasingly, lowered yourself down his length. Not quite taking it all, just enough to make him want more of you. And you kept doing it, and again, and again. You were driving him insane. 
“Please, y/n”, he tried putting his hands on your hips to drag you further down his cock but you weren’t having it. 
You took his wrists into one of your hands and placed them at the top of his head. 
“Keep your hands to yourself, big boy”, you knew you had him where you wanted him when he answered with a whine.
You felt that you teased him with your pussy enough so you sank down all the way, moaning the whole way. Now you couldn’t take it anymore, you started riding him without abandon. You both lost in pleasure and lust, the basement smelling like sex and echoing the sounds of skin slapping against skin back at the two of you. 
“You’re riding me like such a slut, my slut. Right, baby? You’re my slut?”, Reiner was desperate for you to admit that you belong to him.
 “Yes, Reiner. I’m all yours. I belong to you”, you saying that seemed to only spur him on and he picked you up to start bucking up into you.
 You almost were okay with relinquishing control to him and letting him fuck you like a whore. 
Actually, no you were completely okay with it. You wanted Reiner to take control and do what he wanted with you.
 “Reiner, get behind me”, being the one to tell him what to make you feel like you had some control in the long end but who cares at this point. 
“Fuck yes, baby”, you get off his lap and move to turn around so Reiner can get behind you. 
Reiner gets in position and grinds his cock between your pussy lips. He puts one leg up beside you to make sure to get a deeper angle once he pushes in. 
He bends over your back to get closer to your ear, “You ready for me, beautiful?”. 
At this point you’ve lost all you inhibitions so you weren’t above begging for what you want; “Reiner, please just fuck me. Please, please, Reiner!”.
 For a second, Reiner’s brain was short-circuiting and he could not process that the girl that he used to pick on was begging him to fuck her. 
Coming back to the scene in front of him, Reiner makes good on your begging and gives you exactly what you want. Before entering, he spits into his hand and strokes up his dick just for added lubrication, and you now know that you’re attracted to Reiner spitting. Something to work out with yourself later. He grabs a hold of the base of his dick and positions it at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The stretch is absolutely delicious, the pain slowly turning into pleasure. 
Once he is fully sheathed inside you he stops any motion and asks if you are okay and to let him know when he could move. Though you were grateful to him asking for reassurance, you weren’t being dramatic when you told him that you felt like you were going to perish if he didn’t move soon. He just lets out a small chuckle before he starts to move, excruciatingly slow. 
“Reiner, I truly appreciate you trying to be gentle with me but you’ve already fucked me crazy before, just do it again”, and apparently that's what you needed to say to kick him into gear. 
You look back and his eyes have darkened exponentially and his face is taken up by a devious smirk. You know there’s no going back now and you need to accept your fate of what Reiner is about to give you. And before you knew it, Reiner was pulling out of you only to slam back into your core. You felt like the breath had been literally knocked out of your lungs. 
“Reiner! Fuck! You’re so big, stretchin me out so much, baby!” 
He was groaning and snarling like an animal in a rut. His pace was picking up until he was fucking you like a man crazed and you were eating up everything that he was willing to give. After having to tell him multiple times how you want to be fucked, you guess it finally clicked in Reiner’s head that you want to be treated like a slut. 
If that’s what you wanted, then who was he to disappoint. He was fucking you harshly, exactly how you wanted. To the point where you couldn't tell where once thrust started and the other ended. He starts to bend over your body to get closer to you, just so he could hear your moans and how he was making you feel. 
“You sound heavenly, making so much noise all because of me”, he chuckles next to your ear. 
The way that he was fucking you was so pleasurable that you felt like you could cum any second. The pain of Reiner stretching you had completely transformed into rapture and you wanted to share the feeling with him.
“Reiner, you’re gonna make me cum”, you whined out.
“F-fuck, baby. You gonna cum around my cock?”, you could practically hear the smirk on his face from behind you.
His hips started to become more frantic with their movement and you could tell that he was just as close to finishing. Reiner wanted you to finish before he did, so he reached around your body and started massaging your clit in circles. You were seeing stars, the mix of pleasure between the two different stimulations made your brain feel like mush.
“Please come inside me, Reiner”, you didn’t even think before talking but you don’t regret what you said. 
“Wait really? Are you sure, y/n?”, he had slowed down to a stop so that he could have a coherent answer from you.
He leaned down close to your face, using his free hand he turned your face towards him by your chin wanting to hear your answer.
“Y/n, look at me. I need to know you’re being serious”, he stated sincerely. 
“Reiner, I’m being completely serious”, back in your head and able to make cohesive thoughts, your answer couldn’t be closer to the truth.
You wanted everything that Reiner had to offer. You wanted all of him. 
With the answer that he was given, he gave you a sloppy kiss on the cheek and leaned back into a position that he could properly pleasure you. His pace picked up again and now he didn’t even try to keep back his own noises. You were so lucky that the whole part of town that you were in was deserted. The sounds that you two were making were so incredibly lewd, turning you on more, getting you close to climax again. 
“I’m gonna come, gonna come inside you. Fuck, can’t believe I get to come inside your pussy. I get to fill you up, and I get to watch it spill out of you”, Reiner was just rambling filthy nothings as he got close to his own climax.
You couldn’t get enough of it, the things he was saying made your pussy clench around his cock. 
“Shit, I’m coming, y/n. You squeezing around me like that, making me feel so good. I’m coming”, Reiner whimpered out. 
And he did, which his climax triggered your own. You had never come at the same time as someone but nothing could replace this feeling. You felt so close to Reiner at this point. He kept fucking you both through your orgasms and it made your head spin.
“Reiner, slow down, baby, slow down”, you said trying to catch your breath. 
He leans down close to your ear and whispers, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Just know, you won’t be able to get rid of me now, this pussy belongs to me”. 
You felt shivers rack through your entire body, you liked seeing this side of him. Him being possessive of you, awoke something in you and you truly knew that you loved Reiner.
“Reiner, I meant what I said when I said that I loved you”, you told him as sincerely as you could. 
Reiner lightly directed you to lay on your back so that he could look at you when he tells you what he’s about to say. 
“Y/n, I meant what I said when I told you that I’ve been in love with you for years now, you are my endgame. It’s you or nothing”, he seems so genuine it brings tears to your lash line. 
“And next time we do this I’d like to actually give you what you deserve. I want to worship you, take my time with you, and make love to you”, if fairytales were real then you’d be convinced that you were in one right now. How could the man that picked on you relentlessly for your entire cadet training be this endearing. 
You could look past that when you swore that his eyes were sparkling in the low light coming from upstairs. 
“I’d really like to Reiner, but only because it’s you. I don’t want to experience this feeling with anybody else. You are my endgame too. You or no one else”, you said, matching his sincerity. 
“Now, let’s get dressed and find everybody. I’d like to see the looks on the guys’ faces when they see you with sex hair”, Reiner chuckles.
Oh shit, you forgot that you’re going to have to endure the endless questions from everyone when they see you and Reiner coming in together looking disheveled. However, you try your best to smooth out your wrinkled clothes and “sex hair”. You turn to look at Reiner and realize you need to work on smoothing out the smirk on his face too, but you can’t help but smile at yourself. This is your new reality and you’re happy with it. 
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livwritesstuff · 2 months
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uh so i was feeling like writing something angsty and ever since i wrote this a little bit ago i can’t stop thinking about the idea of what the upside down coming back decades later would look like, however it’s a bummer and not the vibe i want for my steddie!dads verse so consider this an au for an au or whatever idk
It’s a normal, average, mundane, regular Wednesday when Dustin calls.
They don’t talk as much as they used to, but that’s adult life, Steve supposes. 
They both have entire lives now, spouses and children and jobs that consume pretty much every waking hour. The near-1000 miles that separates Steve and Eddie in Massachusetts from Dustin in Indiana doesn’t help things either, and seeing as how Dustin had long-since inherited the Hawkins Lab research from Owens when he retired back in the mid-2000s, that won’t be changing any time soon.
Steve is home when Dustin calls, and between counseling clients, so when the phone rings and lights up with his name, Steve picks it up with a grin.
“Hey man, what’s goin’ on!”
Nothing but silence comes through Dustin’s end for a while – such a long time that Steve checks to make sure that the call didn’t drop or his phone didn’t die or something (and neither had happened, so it’s definitely a Dustin thing).
“Dustin?” he asks, “You there?”
Silence, still.
Then –
“Steve.”
Dustin sounds…not normal, and Steve feels the grin slide off his face.
“What?”
“Steve,” he chokes, “It’s…it’s back.”
Steve feels his heart stop for a second, feels it like all the blood in his veins came to an abrupt halt for just a moment.
“The Upside Down,” Dustin continues, “It…all of…it’s back.”
He sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe Steve’s the one sinking beneath the surface, just like he’d done forty years ago when he’d taken Dustin’s place on that boat and got dragged into hell through the depths of Lover’s Lake.
Steve hangs up the phone, his hands shaking.
His knees feel shaky too, like they can’t support his weight anymore despite doing so for nearly sixty years.
They’ve been giving him problems lately – his knees. Nothing too crazy; he can still go on his runs and putter around the yard and all that. It’s just a part of aging, he supposes, and he hadn’t minded aging before – liked it, even. Liked his greying hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes and his achy knees, because there’d been a period of time many years ago when he wasn’t sure he’d make it long enough to experience that inevitability of life.
Right this second though, he hates it, hates the way it makes him realize he’s not as nimble as he used to be, the way his reaction time isn’t the same anymore, because he knows that’s what had gotten him through those horrible years back in the mid-eighties.
He lowers himself down, and as his ass hits the tile floor of the bathroom – his daughters’ bathroom, the one they’ve shared practically their whole lives, the one Moe lost her first tooth in, the one Robbie pierced her own ears in, the one Hazel will be getting ready for prom in soon – Dustin calls him again.Steve doesn’t pick up, too busy kicking himself for not considering sooner the possibility of this sooner, for not having a plan ready to execute to keep their daughters safe the way no adult had done for him.
He can feel an old instinct – the urge to gather his loved ones close – starting to kick in, his mind starting to race as he catalogs the people who make up his small corner of the world. 
Hazel is easy – she’s at the high school just down the road. He can have her back home, back within arm’s reach, in a matter of minutes.
Robin and Nancy are next closest, still living in Boston after all these years. Steve would wager a guess that they’ll be hearing from Dustin soon if they haven’t already, and then they’ll probably head Steve and Eddie’s way, and then they’ll all regroup. 
They’ll figure out what their next moves are.
Moe and Robbie are trickier with both of them living in New York City and likely unwilling to leave their school and their jobs and their friends without any warning whatsoever. Moe is getting more and more reasonable the older she gets, so Steve may have to start with her and hope that Robbie follows.
Moe is twenty-two now. 
Moe is older than both of her dads had been when Eddie had nearly died, when Steve had carried him out of hell and made sure he didn’t. All three of their daughters – even seventeen-year-old Hazel – are older than Steve had been when he got sucked into that horrible mess, and they’re still so damn young. 
With two decades of parenting under his belt, he finds it kind of unbelievable that anybody had looked at his sixteen-year-old face and seen anything but a child, nevermind actually asked him to do the things that he’d done.
Dustin calls him two more times before he gives up. Only a moment later, Steve hears Eddie’s phone ring downstairs, and then he hears Eddie’s jovial tone as he answers the call. 
He goes quiet real quick after that.
Just as Steve is deciding who to call first – Hazel’s school or Moe – his phone vibrates, two quick buzzes that can only indicate a text from Robin.
He opens it.
did dustin call you?
Steve lets out a heavy breath because, fuck, it’s real.
Yeah, he texts back, then adds –
This fucking sucks
40 years
As Steve watches the bubbles of Robin’s incoming response, he can vaguely hear Eddie’s ascent of the stairs, still on the phone with Dustin. 
The bubbles disappear.
“Fuck you, Dustin,” he hears Eddie snarl, “This is on you.” There’s silence for a while, and Eddie seems to pause in the hallway just in front of their bedroom door. Then, “Yeah, I’ll talk to him…I know…later, man. Love you. Be safe.”
Steve looks down at his phone to see that Robin is still typing, only for the bubbles to disappear again a second later.
Finally –
nance is going back
i’m going with her
Steve could throw up.
He almost does, he’s pretty sure, although he’s not positive because he might be having an out of body experience, or maybe he’s dissociating, or maybe it’s a fucking PTSD flashback or something. He doesn’t know.
He should know, or so his handful of psych degrees would suggest, and he probably would know if it was happening to someone else, but then again, he’s always worn blinders when it comes to himself.
That was true about him when all this shit started in 1983, and it’s still true now, almost forty years later.
Forty fucking years.
He doesn’t look up when Eddie comes into the bathroom, joining him on the floor with his back against the bathtub.
“Dustin took offense to you hanging up on him,” he says, and Steve can hear the way he’s forcing humor into his tone.
As if any of this shit is funny.
“Erica and the kids left with Claudia,” Eddie continues, answering a question Steve probably would’ve gotten around to asking Dustin himself if it weren’t for the whole hanging up on him thing, “Erica went kicking and screaming, obviously. I offered up our house, but they’re still deciding where they want to camp out. And everyone has agreed not to say a word to Jim and Joyce.”
Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and perpetually acting like they’re thirty years younger – at a minimum.
Not that Steve would know anything about that.
Definitely not.
“He said he’s one-hundred percent positive that it’s all still contained to Hawkins, so…” Eddie pauses, “We don’t have to, like, track down the girls or anything. Just make sure they don’t go anywhere near Indiana.”
And that, at least, is an actual relief.
“Robin’s going back,” Steve tells him, because there’s no point waiting to address that particular issue in this whole fucking mess.
The so I’m going too is implied, because that has never needed to be said when it came to Steve and Robin.
The way Eddie’s face changes evades Steve’s ability to describe. It makes him regret saying anything – that’s for fucking sure. Makes him wish he’d just snuck away in the dead of night.
“C’mon man, we’ve picked up a whole fuckin’ litter over the years,” Eddie says, and he’s still forcing humor into his tone, “You can’t leave me to fend off the masses alone – the years have made me weak-willed, I’ll surrender immediately.”
Steve manages a snort, but he still looks down at the floor all the same.
Eddie doesn’t say anything else for a while, but his hand wraps around Steve’s ankle as if there was enough brute strength in the one appendage to keep him rooted to the bathroom floor.
(Strangely enough, it feels like there might be).
“Steve,” Eddie finally says, his voice stiff and hard in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, “We are way too old for this shit – Robin and Nance too.”
Eddie pauses.
“Steve,” he says again, “I know how important Robin is. I know, but our children would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you. Don’t think they wouldn’t – and something would most certainly happen to you.”
“Eddie.” 
He’s still avoiding his husband’s eyes.
“Steve,” he pleads, something desperate in his voice, “We talked about this. Remember? Last spring, when we watched that stupid zombie show with Hazel? And there was the episode with the old gay guys? We talked about this. You told me not to let you go if this shit came back.”
Steve makes no response. Ed lets out a heavy breath, looking to the ceiling.
They have this conversation every now and then – one of those conversations that always teeters on the edge of an argument – in which Eddie insists that Steve could be fine if their relationship ended in a way that Eddie himself would not. It’s a conversation that Steve hates, because he hates the idea that Eddie – his husband of twenty years and the love of his whole entire life – could still be thinking so low of himself, that there’s any part of him that doesn’t think Steve would be fucking wrecked by losing him.
Still, it had always been a hypothetical. It had never been real.
Suddenly, Steve feels claustrophobic sitting on the floor of his daughters’ bathroom. He gets to his feet and, as he heads for the door, Eddie scrambles up after him.
Halfway down the hall, Eddie lunges for him and catches his arm, wheeling him back around to face him.
“Steve,” Eddie says one more time. 
Then, because he apparently has no words ready to follow with, he stops.
“Steve,” Eddie starts again, “Please. You’re everything. I love the girls and I love our life, but Christ, Steve, you’re my entire world. You changed everything for me. You showed me how life could be worth living, and you keep showing me, and I’m not ready to let go of you yet – not even fucking close. Please don’t let this be the way we leave each other.”
Steve finally lets himself look at Eddie’s face, the face he’d fallen in love with decades ago, the face he’s still in love with decades later. He looks at his big eyes and the hint of grey at his hairline and his crows feet and the scarring that creeps up his neck from underneath the collar of his shirt (it’s a shirt he’s had for ages – since before even Moe was born by the looks of it, but so is the rest of his half of their closet).
And he finds himself nodding.
Eddie’s exhale is all desperate relief as he tugs Steve into his arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Steve immediately reciprocates the hug, pulling him in even closer, surprised to feel tears pin-pricking his eyes
“I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie tells him, gripping the back of his t-shirt so tight he feels the collar pulling taut against his throat, “I don’t say that to you enough.”
“You say it all the time,” Steve replies with a wet laugh.
“Not enough,” he shakes his head, and Steve decides there’s no point in arguing.
A minute goes by.
“Fuck,” Steve half-laughs, half-chokes as he lifts his head to meet Eddie’s eyes, “This fucking sucks.”
“I know,” he says. 
Again, he reels Steve in, and again, Steve lets him, holding onto his husband like a lifeline, like they’re standing somewhere far more perilous than the carpeted floor of their upstairs hallway.
“I know,” Eddie repeats, “And we’ll…we’ll talk about it but for now, just – can I just hold you for a bit, okay?”
Steve nods again.
“Okay.”
read the extended version on AO3 (i.e. feat. added “flashbacks” so it fits the formatting of the rest of the series)
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asexual-abomination · 9 months
Text
This is the first part of a rewrite of the series that brought attention to my blog in the first place! When I wrote this series originally, it was at midnight when I couldn’t sleep because I had COVID, so I always wanted to come back and rewrite it with a clearer mind.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted, cause I’ve been real stressed about university, but waking up to new notes on this blog is always a highlight of my day! I have so many WIPs for hxh, Overwatch, ff7, the batfamily, and now the spider-verse movies, but I’ve been struggling to complete them to an extent that I feel is worth posting.
Please leave a comment if you want me to rewrite the rest of the series!
Platonic!Yandere!Phantom Troupe X Autistic Reader (Soulmate AU)
Content warnings: Yandere, vague mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.
“To my dearest soulmate.-“
No, too affectionate.
“To my soulmate, I am incredibly excited to welcome you here-“
The sentence is jarring, start with an introduction.
“To my soulmate, my name is YN, and I am so excited to finally have the chance to communicate with you!”
Good enough. You were so happy to be writing a letter like this, being able to rewrite and start over as often as needed, without the pressure of saying it right in the first try.
Having finished one sentence, you sighed as you looked down at the number of things you had crossed out before it seemed right. Then, you turned to your notebook, where you had spent years collating everything you wanted to put into this letter, trying to find some inspiration for what to do next.
“I have been awaiting this day, carved into our bodies, for my entire life.”
Was that too formal? Too strong?
Ugh. This was hard.
You despised knowing nothing about your soulmate, the enigma of their identity making them feel otherworldly and strange. Without knowing even the slightest bit about who they were, you had no frame of reference for what they would consider too much or too fast, leaving you to blindly feel your way towards a half-coherent letter.
Jo was sat across from you, in their favourite shabby armchair, pretending to watch the football you had put on for background noise, and not-so-secretly keeping an eye on you. From your dejected sigh as you curled up on the sofa, your childhood friend could tell what was bothering you from a single glance.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, they’re your soulmate, they’ll love you no matter what.”
“But they shouldn’t!” You sighed, “I want to impress them, make them feel welcomed and happy!”
“And that’s what I’m gettin’ at! Their personality must be suited enough to yours that they’ll find your way of doin’ things loveable!”
You grumbled with no coherent response, looking again at your paper.
They’d find your way of doing things loveable.
You could work with that.
“I hope that I, and my friends, can make you feel happy and welcomed in my home. The time we will spend, with our bodies swapped, will be precious, and there will never be another time like it in our lives. You are precious to me.”
Your lips tugged downward in a frown at the last line, the irritating thoughts about potentially annoying your soulmate flooding you again. You had just let the pen run wild, trying to encapsulate even the smallest fraction of your feelings about the situation, which always ended up feeling like too much as your emotions overwhelmed you.
Just as you considered scrapping the whole thing and starting again from scratch, Jo caught your eye with a stern glare, as they always did when you doubted yourself.
“I have longed to know who you are for years; your mystery has entranced me. I want to see the destiny the universe has seen fit to bestow upon us both."
As you relaxed into the motions of the pen, the waterfall of words falling from your fingers, you stunned yourself with short poetic verses.
"Even though romance holds no place in what has been destined for us, I want to make you so happy that you may bear your heart to me as I may for you. Please take care of my body while you have it. I hope that one day I might trust with this on more than just blind faith.
All my love, from the bottom of my heart, your soulmate."
It felt weak. You felt weak.
Was it really right to say you loved someone you hadn't met? Even as soulmates, it felt like a betrayal.
"Hey Jo, do you mind reading through this for me? If I keep looking at it, I'll either throw it away or throw up."
"Ahh, YN, you know I'm not so good with words and that stuff, yeah? That's your job, ain't it?"
"Oh, hush, I've read your poetry, you big romantic!"
"What?"
You quickly hurried past them, dropping the drafted letter onto their lap before heading to the kitchen. Your hands were shaking; you needed to get some water before you passed out.
Your breaths were coming short as you downed a second glass of water, one arm shakily holding the lip of the sink for support as the anxiety began to weigh on your mind. You had less than a week; on this Sunday evening, you'd lie in bed and wake up in the body of your soulmate. It was Tuesday evening, the soft autumn air swirling dead leaves outside your window.
A phone began ringing in the living room, so you set down your glass on the draining board and began heading back through, only to realise the call wasn't for you when you heard Jo's voice.
"Yeah, I hear ya. No need to yell, old man... Oh, shut yer trap; you know I'm only half joking... You know I said wasn't working tonight... Yeah, yeah... You piece of shit! Fine, I'll be there, but you better be payin' me double time for this shit."
Jo rounded the corner, grumbling under their breath. They paused at your side, leaning in slightly to speak, the smell of beer on their breath and thankfully not overwhelming.
"Listen, yer letter was grand, okay? You've got a talent for these sortsa things. I've gotta head out, alright? Probably won't be back until morning. I'll bring you back something nice alright, repayment for skipping what should have been a nice night together."
"It's alright, really. Just take care of yourself, okay?" You reassured them.
They walked out into the biting chill, heading down a dark alley like it was their own front door.
--//--
Chrollo looked himself in the eyes, the cold water he splashed on his face dripping from his hair.
He had felt strange the past few days, like something was clinging to the back of his mind, tugging his attention away from his work. As if a song was stuck in his head, but he couldn't remember the melody.
The Mediterranean heat must have been getting to his head; that was the only explanation. He composed himself, wiping his brow before he went to slick his hair back, turning his focus to the heist he and the Troupe would be carrying out that Sunday.
--//--
The week had been long and stressful for everyone involved. You tried not to be too much of a perfectionist, but you wanted to make the best impression possible.
The morning of the day you would switch was upon you, and you came downstairs to find Jo asleep on your couch, as they often were. You smiled at their sleeping face, very peaceful compared to their usual furrowed brow.
Their face was made up of sharp lines, almost geometric perfection, except for the mess of freckles covering their cheeks and forehead, adding just a hint of softness.
As you prepared breakfast for the two of you, Jo woke up with a sleepy groan, trudging over to the kitchen counter.
"Today's the day, huh? The last day of me being your best friend?"
"Jo! Don't say it like that! I'll always love you, you know that!" You defended yourself.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm just joking. You deserve to be happy with your soulmate."
You frowned at that again, remembering the situation with Jo's own soulmate. You had both been so excited to look her up after the switch, only to discover that she had died in a sudden car crash within an hour.
After that, they became much more clingy with your time. When they were around, at least. They had also begun taking on many more "jobs" that took them far away.
You sympathised with their situation, but you could tell they harboured jealousy for your soulmate.
You sat down on the couch, breakfast in hand, as Jo came to sit at your side. You flicked through channels on TV, trying to alleviate the awkward tension that fell over the room.
"Listen, I'm not jealous."
"It's okay to admit it; I can understand your perspective! But you can't keep me from my soulmate!"
"No, it's not that! It's more that I'm... paranoid."
"Paranoid, about... what, exactly?"
"About your soulmate! I can't explain it, but I've got this bad feeling!"
"A bad feeling? What kind of bad feeling?"
You learned a long time ago that Jo's intuition was often correct, but were they really concerned or just trying to pull you and your soulmate apart?
"I just said, I can't explain it! I just don't want anything bad to happen to you!"
You sighed as you felt that both of you were becoming too worked up.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. I think... we're all quite stressed right now. Let's have a proper talk when we're not all so high-strung."
"Yeah, yeah."
Today was gonna be fun.
--//--
Chrollo smiled at the carnage surrounding him, watching as his friends unleashed their power on these pathetic guards. They heard the approaching rumble of reinforcements, which, by their calculations, should contain the man they were after.
His incredible enhancer ability would be handy for Chrollo, so they had spent days sieging the fortress he defended. As Nobunaga took to whittling down the primary reinforcements, Chrollo found himself distracted once again. That strange feeling in the back of his head, the itch he couldn't scratch, saying that something was wrong.
He shook his head to free himself of these thoughts, as the intimidating man faced him, seemingly unaware of exactly who he was fighting.
--//--
Despite your small fight with Jo, the day had gone well. You had prepared several cakes, which you poured plenty of love into. You also wrote your letter into one coherent piece and placed it in an envelope, which you taped to inside of your bedroom door.
A group of your friends arrived, all bearing various snacks and drinks to add to the table. As the conversation began to flow, you anxiously reminded them of the careful limits you had gone over for what they were allowed to say to your soulmate. They all laughed and smiled, promising to go along.
Almost on autopilot, you turned to Jo for reassurance, and they were in a good enough mood to laugh softly and promise to keep the others in line.
You knew Jo wouldn't go back on their word, no matter their personal feelings about the situation.
With everything laid out enticingly on a coffee table, you retired to your bedroom for the night, your gut swirling with anxiety and excitement.
You laid back on your bed, crossing your hands across your stomach. You had until exactly 21:29 to wait for the switch.
Looking over at the clock you had bought for this express purpose, you saw 21:27.
It'll probably feel like forever, you thought, plenty of time to get comfortable.
21:28
That's fine; you took a few deep breaths, settling down into your pillows. You closed your eyes softly.
Breathing deeply. With your eyes closed.
In, and out, in, and out.
Curiosity got the better of you.
Your eyes snapped open, turning back to the clock, getting to see just the slightest glimpse of 21:29 before everything changed.
--//--
Chrollo sighed from the driver's seat, just a straight highway unfolding seemingly infinitely in front and behind him. Confident in his ability to avoid traffic by instinct, he allowed his eyes to drift to the clock on the screen, 00:28 blinking back at him.
That time bothered him.
It wasn't unusual for him to stay up past midnight, more common than not, in fact, but that itch he couldn't scratch, that sweet song that slipped his mind's grasp, was back in full force, making him grit his teeth in irritation.
He returned his eyes to the road before him, though he only caught a glimpse of the asphalt-laden horizon before everything changed.
--//--
In a moment, you felt everything shift. You could feel it down to the change in the structure of your skeleton. Every muscle was different, every sensation infinitely sharpened by the new body you inhabited.
You felt that you were sitting, not lying down. You saw that you were looking out at a road.
And then, finally, you realised you were driving the car.
It was common knowledge that the swap allowed people to speak in the native tongue of their soulmate, but you wondered if you would be the first to discover that the same thing applied to driving skills.
You focused on the road and on keeping your breathing steady, aware that a panic attack here would result in much more than a headache and a sore throat in the long run.
Once finally began to calm down, you briefly peeled your eyes off the road to look your soulmate in the eyes in the rearview mirror. His grey eyes were striking, and his raven black hair was slicked back to his head, revealing a strange tattoo in the centre of his forehead. He was quite attractive, all things considered.
You felt a brush of air across your chest and again glanced down to notice you were completely shirtless, other than a feathery collared jacket that did nothing to hide your soulmate's toned body. Definitely a bold outfit choice, but you couldn't deny that it suited him well.
After a few more moments assuring yourself of the safety of the road, you tried to look at the other passengers of the car. You had seen them when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to think about them at that moment.
In the passenger seat was a pink-haired woman, her face stoic as she stared ahead. Behind you was a grumpy-looking man with black hair leaning into the window. In the centre of the backseat was a blond man with a cute face, tapping away at a modified phone of some kind. Furthest from you, behind the passenger seat, was a gruff-looking man with slicked-back blond hair.
None of them seemed to have noticed a change in their driver's behaviour, so you had a few more moments to collect yourself before you spoke up. Although you were still grappling with the fact that your soulmate had entirely forgotten about your switch, you didn't want to waste your time.
"I don't know... quite what's happening here, but I'm this person's soulmate."
You could taste something sweet with just the slightest hint of bitterness on your own breath.
The car had been silent before you spoke, but the silence grew heavier. Now every eye was on you, and you almost wished you hadn't said anything, that you had let the switch play out in complete silence before returning to your own body.
"What?" The taller blond man finally replied.
"I'm... their soulmate? Did they not tell anyone?"
"Boss had a soulmate?" He turned to the other blond man, ignoring you completely.
"Not as far as I know!"
"Look at me."
That last bit was said by the pink-haired woman next to you. With no small amount of fear in your heart, you ripped your eyes away from the road to look her in the eyes. Her cold, calculating eyes pierced you through and through. After what felt like aeons that she spent observing you, she let out the slightest gasp.
"You're not lying."
As soon as you had the reassurance that they believed you, you looked back at the road, relieved to see no danger.
"Are you serious? Are you messing with us, boss?" The black-haired man spoke, his tone rising to aggression.
"Calm down, all of you! This is the boss's soulmate, obviously!"
"But why wouldn't he tell us at all? This is crazy!"
"I don't know! Maybe he wanted to test us?"
"Sorry to interrupt, but what's going on here?"
The pink-haired woman turned back to from where she had been scolding the other passengers, sighing before she spoke.
"Look, sorry about all this ruckus. It's just that we're pretty close to our boss, and he never even told us he had a soulmate!"
"Seriously? Weird..." You trailed off, unsure of how to fill in the dead air.
"My name's Machi; what's yours?"
"I'm YN. Who is this?" You asked, gesturing slightly at your own body.
"Oh right, our boss's name is Chrollo. In the backseat, there is Nobunaga, Shalnark, and Phinks." She pointed each one out to you.
Behind you, Shalnark and Nobunaga were whispering to each other as they looked intently at Shalnark's phone.
"And where are you from, YN?" Shalnark spoke up again, a bright smile on his face as he watched you through the rearview.
"I'm from CN; where are we right now?"
The conversation continued like that for some time, with simple back-and-forth questions. Jo had advised you not to share too much sensitive information, and you couldn't help but get the inkling of a feeling that they were right.
The way that Shalnark would ask you questions before he immediately turned back to his phone alighted some anxiety in your gut, so you tried to turn the conversation back on them.
"So, you say that my soulmate here is your boss? What do you do?"
You didn't miss the beat of silence, but you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt that they had been put on the spot.
"We're traders, mostly," Shalnark started, "We travel around, buying and selling antiques and treasures and stuff!"
"Wow, that sounds like fun!"
"It can get tiring sometimes, but it's really fulfilling!"
There was a breath of relief from the car before Nobunaga spoke up, excitedly telling you a story of a time they had visited your home country for their business. Finally, it felt as if the atmosphere was relaxing, with everyone joining in to add details to the story.
You smiled softly, relieved that you no longer felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. It was pitch-black outside the car, and there were very few other cars on the road, so you felt safe enough to relax your grip on the steering wheel just a touch as well.
As you leaned back in the driver's seat, listening to Phinks avidly tell you about the food they had enjoyed in the capital of your home country, you felt the night's excitement finally hit you.
And how unlucky that you had just relaxed when you suddenly found yourself back in your own living room.
--//--
Chrollo snapped awake in his place, feeling that he had gone from his spot sitting to lying down in the blink of an eye. Immediately, he threw himself into a standing position, assuming the car had been surprise attacked.
At the same moment, he reached for his knife while attempting to summon Bandit's Secret. His anxiety only heightened when he realised that he had neither.
Finally trying to observe the situation and pinpoint his potential attacker, he slowly began to piece together what was going on.
He was in a neat bedroom and had been lying in bed. On the bedside clock, he read 21:29 in red blinking letters.
Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
His soulmate.
Ten years ago, he had made sure that his soulmate date was entirely obscured by his spider tattoo, going as far as to go to a different tattoo artist than the rest and killing them afterwards. He had to protect his soulmate, lest they be used against him. But in his attempt to defend them, he had completely forgotten to prepare anything.
Shit.
He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings now that he wasn't in danger. A mirror poised on one wall allowed him to observe his soulmate. He ran a hand over his cheek as he watched the skin move in abject fascination. All these sensations were raised in intensity; even in this body without Nen, he felt everything to a pinpoint. He suddenly became aware that he could taste a tiny bit of mint; they had even taken the time to brush their teeth to ensure his comfort.
There was an envelope taped to the inside of the door, obviously meant for him. Picking it off the door with an uncharacteristic level of gentleness, he sat back down on the bed to read.
The letter nearly sprung tears to his eye; how blessed was he to have someone so passionate! He could feel the depth of emotion poured into the letter, the way you spilt your heart out on the page.
He sat on the bed, eyes scanning over every line, reading and rereading the poetry before him.
"Do you think they're okay? I heard some movement inside, but it's been silent since. Do you think they fell and hurt their head?"
"Ugh, I'll knock and go check."
It hadn't occurred to him that there would be other people here - just another example of the care and thought you had put in.
He opened the door to a freckled face, who wore an expression of surprise as their hand was still in the air, having been about to knock. Immediately, he turned on the charm, knowing he could at least cover up for his lack of planning on this end.
"Oh, sorry about that; I didn't realise I was expected!" He added his best chuckle, followed by, "My soulmate is quite the poet; I've been entranced!"
He waved the letter to show it off before stepping past the newcomer. But he stopped briefly while he was right next to them. He could feel it.
The cold, calculating look in their eye, the robust build, the scars along their hands. They were from Meteor City.
With a polite nod, he continued into the living room, though he could feel that person's eyes on him the whole way. He was greeted with three cakes and a wide selection of snacks and drinks. He cursed that you wouldn't be getting such a cosy reception on your end.
The conversation flowed easily as soon as he introduced himself; everyone was excited to tell him things or ask him questions. He easily lied his way through questions about his profession; it was like second nature to the charismatic thief. Everyone in attendance was charmed by him except that damn person from Meteor City. Just as he began considering if he might have to kill them, they leaned forwards, interrupting another one of your friends.
"You smoke?"
Chrollo had smoked once or twice in his youth but had never had a taste for it. He shook his head no, hoping they would drop it there.
"Too bad, 'cause I do, and I want a private chat with you. Step outside."
With their authoritative voice, he knew he was not avoiding the following conversation.
The biting chill on his cheeks felt much sharper than usual, his own body having learned to withstand much harsher conditions. However, he was scarcely given a moment to enjoy the sensation before Jo interrupted.
"You're from Meteor City."
"I'm aware."
"Hmph. Are you a thief?"
"Of course, aren't you?"
"My work isn't the prettiest, but I'm not that low. I owe that to YN."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"They lifted me up and out of that place of their own goodwill. When I escaped that place, we met by chance, and they offered their hand to give me a new life. They're the reason I stay on the straight and narrow. I'll do anything to protect them; you should know that."
"I will, too; surely you should know that. I'm their soulmate."
"And you're also a thief. Probably a prolific one, from how easily you lied about your career. I want to protect them for their sake; you just want to protect them for your own sake. You won't be taking them anywhere; I'll steal them away where you'll never find them again if you try."
"That's quite the threat; are you sure you can follow through?"
"I'll have to, for them."
Chrollo chuckled at this silly notion. As if they could really do anything to take his soulmate away now that he knew they were here.
He watched Jo's silhouette retreat back into the warm light of your home, a smirk spread across his face at their sheer bravery, before everything changed.
--//--
Snapping back to your own body, now standing, was jarring, to say the least. Jo looked over their shoulder at your gasp as you nearly lost your balance, rushing over to catch you before you hurt yourself.
"Oh, hey there!" You laughed, looking up at them.
"Hey." They sounded standoffish, but their smile was undeniable.
"What are we doing outside?"
"Oh, I just wanted a smoke, and he followed me to chat."
You couldn't smell any smoke in the air, and you felt like something was being hidden from you, but you were just so tired and happy to be back that you chose to push that down for now.
"I'm gonna go to bed. Can you tell the others to go home? I need to just lie down ASAP."
"You got it. I'm gonna have to head out again soon as well, so I'll see you again whenever I get back."
--//--
"So." Machi started, addressing the newly-returned Chrollo, "What was that all about?"
Everyone was hushed, awaiting the boss's answer.
"You already know that was my soulmate. I had... forgotten to tell anyone."
More silence flooded the car as the other members of the spider internally debated whether or not they wanted to risk their necks by making a joke.
"Well, you'll be glad to know we're on the right path to get to them!" Shalnark cut in with his usual cheer, hoping to distract from the current situation.
"Really?"
"It'll be a few days even if we pick up the pace, but Feitan is currently in that country and can start keeping an eye on them ASAP. I'm concerned about their safety, especially considering their medical records."
"There's no need for too much worry," Chrollo said calmly
"What do you mean?!" Nobunaga was incredulous; how could the boss take his soulmate's safety so easily?
"Someone is protecting them already, someone we'll have to take care of, but a valuable protector, for now, all the same."
--//--
Thanks for reading!
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thatstonedwriter · 4 months
Text
⋆。˚ 「 Bad Trip 」 ⋆。˚
◉ Sinopsis; comforting you after indulging too much during your first ever session
◉ CW; weed, anxiety attacks
◉ A/n- I know I said I was gonna work on event requests, but this one just came in, and I was immediately inspired. I get to draw from my personal experience, too lol- and write for Vortex. It's a good day. Enjoy!
◉ Feat; Blitz, Moxxie, Beelzebub, Vortex
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It was your first time experimenting with weed. It started out pretty well! But then, the room starts to spin, and you notice it's getting harder to breathe. Your eyes and mouth are dry, and you think.. maybe you've had a bit too much.
Blitz is observant about those he cares about, so when your eyes are red and your breathing becomes more shallow, he knows exactly what's happening. To help you sober up faster, Blitz encourages you to eat and drink whatever you can. Using his spare blankets, he wraps you up and guides you to the bed, where you can get more comfortable. The room is spinning, and your thoughts are racing, so Blitz turns on the TV as a distraction from any negative thoughts you're having. While this is something he's also experienced before, Blitz still has the audacity to make jokes about your lower tolerance, but it doesn't go on for too long. If you start to have a panic attack, Blitz won't be super helpful at first. He'll be overwhelmed and unsure how to comfort you, so he might snap a bit. Although he's not the best with verbal comfort, you can be sure he won't leave you alone.
Moxxie doesn't really smoke, so if you're participating, he's your designated sober person. While, of course, he's kinda awkward, he's much more well-versed in comforting his loved ones. As someone who has had his fair share of panic attacks, he realizes pretty quickly when you've had too much. Because of Moxxie's own anxiety, he overthinks and isn't great with verbal comfort, but he's all for acts of service and physical affection. He'll put a hand on your back to keep you grounded, have stim toys for distractions, and constantly offer to get you anything you need. The constant fussing might be overwhelming, though. One way Moxxie comforts himself is by listening to music, so he might pop on one of his playlists as background noise. Until he's sure you're safe and in a good headspace, Moxxie won't leave your side, and he'll do anything to make sure you're okay.
Beelzebub is probably the reason you over-indulged, to be completely honest. Love her, but her tolerance is way above everyone else's, and she doesn't factor that in when she's encouraging you to smoke. Since she can taste people's energy, she's the quickest to know when something is off. Bee has had her fair share of people going overboard at parties and knows how to help people come down from a bad high- food, water, and laughter. She's big on the whole 'laughter is the best medicine" thing, so she uses humor to try and help you feel better. She'd probably put on a rom-com or comedy show and sling an arm around your shoulders. Her focus on comedy doesn't make her attempts any less sincere. Sessions like this should be fun, and she wants you to have good memories, even if the experience wasn't perfect.
Vortex is a sweetheart but kind of oblivious. He's focused on having a good time- not that he's neglecting you. He just always assumes you're having a good time, too. He'll pick up if things are going wrong, but you'll have to verbalize exactly what's happening so he knows how to help. He's the kind to pull you somewhere quiet and help you focus on breathing. His voice is soft as he explains that experiences like this are totally normal and that you'll be okay. While Tex doesn't want to minimize what you're going through, he doesn't want you to get stuck focusing on the negative. Dude also for sure gives the best hugs. The perfect combination of gentle but grounding. Vortex loves parties, sessions, hang outs, etc- and is all about having a safe, good time with everyone. He assures you that despite all that's happening after you feel better, everything will be okay again.
── ˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘ ──
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