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#original fanfiction
magicalgirlmindcrank · 5 months
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Do you like well paced slow burns?
Do you like complex characters and scheming?
Do you like reading about someone's will being whittled down until they are a loving pet?
You might just like my story Dog of War.
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(Art by Lise-Lemonade on the HDG discord)
Dog of War is story about two people helping each other grow into themselves. It's focus is the development of the main pair's relationship and personal growth, with a healthy dosage of kinks thrown in. The main ones are Total Power Exchange, Ownership, Hypnosis, Conditioning, Feminization and a house special I like to call Princessification. However, it also has things like medfet, somno and a couple other things as a minor focus or in passing.
It's set in The Human Domestication Guide universe, a kink setting with far more world building than you might think! Feel free to browse it's wiki. Dog of War is highly rated in the setting, in fact, it's #1 by Kudos with a decent margin currently, but if you like more personal reviews, I got you covered!
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+even more under the break, but you can also browse #dow on my blog to see everything everyone's been saying! Theres even fanart you can see some of here!
Here's the link to the story one more time, just to save you a scroll up~
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(Plus one final link to Dog of War)
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viviuxd · 3 months
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INNOCENT LOVE:a viking fell in love with me!
SYPNOSIS: Given away by her father to one of the most feared Viking kings, she finds herself betrothed. However, the clash between their beliefs and traditions threatens to unravel the union before it even begins. PAIRING: Viking x Christian!reader.
TW:difference in spiritual beliefs, mention of polygamy and death.
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You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves, digging your nails into the delicate silk dress while observing the nearby door where your 'future husband' awaited. Truly, you had no intention of marrying him, and you would tell him so. You didn't care if rejecting him meant risking your life; you preferred that over marrying a pagan. You were well aware of Viking customs: they married many women, were cruel, killers, and worst of all, they worshipped pagan gods! You definitely couldn't be with someone like that.
Finally, you stopped walking alongside the guards, facing an immense wooden door. One guard effortlessly opened it, and for the first time, the other guard addressed you.
"Please, this way, miss. King Thorkell is waiting for you," he gestured with his hand for you to enter, offering a faint smile.
"Thank you, sir," you expressed your gratitude, delicately bowing your head to display your manners.
You sighed, closing your eyes, nervous. You walked slowly forward, feeling your legs tremble, your stomach churn, and a nauseating sensation. Upon lifting your gaze, a pang shot through your torso. The mighty King Thorkell stared at you intently, with a lethal gaze, as if he could see your sins. You swallowed hard and, with great effort, made a bow, inclining your body forward.
"King Thorkell."
°१९*०°
She entered the hall escorted by the guards I assigned and I noticed how her whole body trembled as she approached me. Her fear was evident, and I relished in her submission.
I knew she was Christian; they were very ignorant and weak in this world. I despised all those idiots, but the woman in front of me seemed different. Clearly, the ideals she sought in a partner were not ones I could offer, and her innocence was remarkable, her beautiful eyes looking at me with fear and obedience... she was so charming that I desired her for myself in that very moment.
"King Thorkell." I felt a tingling down my back as I heard her sweet voice. I cursed myself for summoning her so soon; I should have prepared for her.
°१९*०°
Your eyes fixated on his bulging muscles, evident even through his clothing. You swallowed hard, realizing the thoughts you had; a Viking could never interest you.
"The wedding will take place as soon as possible, so you shouldn't worry about that. From now on, you will reside in the palace, and a separate chamber will be assigned to you until you adapt. Do you understand, miss?"
You sensed his arrogance in his final words, and you clenched your fist a bit tighter. "How disrespectful," you muttered to yourself.
"King, if you allow me, I have something to say..." You wanted to clear your throat upon hearing your trembling voice. "Speak quickly, I don't have much time."
It was your first conversation, and you truly detested how he addressed you, but you chose to ignore it and demonstrate that you indeed had manners.
"I do not wish to marry you, Your Majesty."
At that moment, pride surged within you. Your words sounded so serious that you felt proud of yourself.
"I don't say it to offend you, only that it goes against my values to unite with..." You paused, carefully choosing your words to avoid upsetting him. "Someone like you."
You saw his jaw tense, and you took a step back when he rose from his throne and slowly walked towards you, his face filled with hatred. You stopped abruptly, colliding with a nearby column, finding yourself cornered by Thorkell.
He leaned towards you, the noticeable difference in height between you two, positioning himself right in front of your face, too close for comfort.
"Someone like me?" He murmured, his breath dangerously nearing you.
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nightgoodomens · 2 months
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Would anyone like a snippet of the upcoming fic Detective!Michael x Psychopaths!David ? Remember when I complained they do not star in enough tv shows/films together so I decided to create one?
They always found the victim in a church.
Older woman, older man. Left at the altar, with their hands folded together in a prayer. 
Their eyes gone, a knife that had to carefully remove them never found.
“She was very devoted.” The priest said quietly, standing by Michael. “Lovely woman. Always helped around here. Fantastic mother to her children, and a wife to…” 
Younger woman. 
“Right, yes.” Michael nodded. He brushed his short grey curls back from his forehead. He was exhausted, having spent the whole night working in the office only to be called to the church an hour after he fell asleep at his desk. It was early morning, the air still cold and fresh. 
“Third victim, third church.” Michael’s colleague walked over. The body was being put in the bag, the place secured to not tarnish the evidence.
It was a tiny church in a fairly small village where everyone knew each other. Yet for a reason Michael did not understand, it had three churches, placed like a triangle over the village.
He did not believe in God. 
Or Satan, actually, even if the people already started calling the murderer Lucifer. 
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dnvrsmedia · 2 years
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how about smut with dom nat and virgin fem reader where they were dating for a while and r wants to have sex and notices nat is kinda sexually frustrated but she’s scared to disappoint nat because nat has a lot of experience but nat reassures and praises her saying stuff like “the tastiest pussy i’ve ever had”, “ you’re so wet and tight” and basically just makes r feel really good about herself with oral and strap use please ;)
Last First Time
Natasha Romanoff x reader smut (18+)
not proof read ofc (too lazy for that soz)
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I need Nat so bad omfg buuut this was so fun to write! Tysm nonnie <3
SMUT UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI
Your hands begin to tremble as her soft pillowy lips migrate from your neck. Nat knows that you’re less experienced in this area and reassured you that she didn’t mind. Normally, your make out sessions end abruptly with Natasha pulling away. The both of you panting and itching for more. Up until this moment, you were too shy to admit that you finally wanted her to have you. You need her to take all of you.
You feel Nat pull away in respect for you, yet the last thing you want her to do is respect you right now. Her face is flushed and her chest is rising and falling with each sexually frustrated huff. You notice that her thighs are pressing together and almost let out a moan.
You throw your pride aside and pounce on her. She lets out the cutest squeak of surprise before she starts groping every inch of your body. Her strong, calloused hands feel like heaven against your flush body. You arch your back into her as your need for her grows. You buck your hips into her’s,seeking something more. Natasha let’s out an animalistic groan. Her hands grab your ass and flips you over onto your back. She pins your arms above your head and releases your lips from her own. You let out a whine and chase after her with a pout. This causes her to smirk and bite her lip.
“Such a fucking minx, princess.” She groans as she rolls her hips on your thigh once more. You can feel the delicious heat radiating from between her legs. This causes you to let out a very loud whine unintentionally. Your eyes go wide and your face heats up. You have never felt this horny in your life. Natasha’s smirk widens as she takes both of your hands in one; using her free hand to caress your bottom lip with her thumb. To her surprise, your mouth opens up as you start lapping your wet tongue around her digit.What? You’ve seen those videos before. You’re not a saint, you’re just a virgin.
Natasha’s mouth falls open as her breathing becomes heavy. Her eyes seemingly become dark and her hand twitches. Sadly, Nat snaps out of it and removes herself from you in a panic.
“Fuck, Y/N I-i’m so sorry. I took that way too far-“ You roll your eyes and try yo figure out the best way to let her know you want this.
“Nat-“
“I really didn’t mean to lose control like tha-“
“Natasha!” You start getting more frustrated. You can feel how sticky she has made your underwear. You can feel your cunt pulsating, begging for her and only her. If only she would shut up.
“I understand if you want to-“
“Can you just fuck me already!” You yell in frustration. Nat’s mouth is left wide open. You would laugh if your weren’t so sexually frustrated though.
“I’m sorry, what?“ Her eyes still wide, wondering if she heard you right.
You stand up to meet her at the edge of your shared bed. You take her hands into yours and kiss her knuckles.
“Baby, you have no idea how ready I am for you. I have thought this over so many times and I know that you’re the right person. It also helps that you’re so fucking hot,” She rolls her eyes.
“You think i’m kidding?” You take one of her hands and trail them down your abdomen. You slip her fingers under your underwear and make her feel how wet you are. You both let out a breathy moan at the feeling of her fingers on your heat.
Nat’s eyes grow dark once more. She throws you back onto the bed and gets to work. She marks every inch of your neck, torso, thighs, and legs. In swift motions she’s ripping off your clothes, making sure you’re okay with what she’s doing every step of the way. Your hands begin to tremble as she grows closer to where you need her. She notices this and moves to be face to face with you.
“Honey, look at me.” She says calmly. At this point you can’t even make eye contact with her. She coaxes you by using her secret weapon, tickling. She tickles you until you’re laughing with your eyes on her.
“There’s my pretty girl.” She chuckles as you grow shy once more.
“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want it, you know that, detka.” She says on a serious yet sweet tone. You nod your head with a smile.
“Then what’s going on in that mind of yours? Hmm?” She caresses your cheek and kisses your forehead lightly.
You slightly sigh, “What if i’m not good enough?” you mumble but to your luck, your girlfriend is a trained spy with amazing hearing.
“Hey, none of that, baby. You’ll be amazing because you’re my girl. I am so obsessed with you. Plus it helps that you’re so fucking hot.” She laughs repeating what was said to her earlier on. You playfully slap her with a giggle.
“Now, can I get back to what we were doing before?” She moves her mouth to your ear, “Because I would really like to taste you.” Before biting your lobe. You let out a whine as you nod your head frantically.
“Tsk tsk angel. You’ll lean soon enough, but I need you to use your words for me.” You whimper louder as your hips try to join hers. Her thighs of steel press down on you so you don’t move an inch.
“Mhm, yes please.” Nat releases your hands and trails down to lay in front of your core once more.
“And you’re well mannered? What a good girl.” She groans as she uses her pointer and middle finger to spread open your sloppy cunt. She takes her fingers to her mouth and releases with a pop.
“Fuck, honey. You taste better then I ever could’ve imagined.” Your words get caught in a loud moan as Natasha dives right in.
You have never felt this good in your life. Sure you’ve imagined this moment while Nat was gone on missions in the dark hours of the night, yet nothing you’ve ever done could top the way she’s devouring you right now. Your legs shake with every lick, slurp, and prod of her tongue on your clit. All you can do is lay back and let her hear what she does to you. You thought that nothing could possibly top her mouth. That is until she snakes a finger into your tight and needy cunt. Nat groans at the visual of you. Breasts pointing up as your back arches off the bed. Your hands clutching the bed for support as your mouth draws slack. Your cunt just sucking her finger in.
“Such a good girl for me , Y/n. God you have such the perfect pussy and it’s all for me.” Nat groans again as she fits a second finger into you. Your face screws up as she reaches that spongy spot inside you. You hips are bucking wild as your mind can’t decide if you want to go closer for further from her fingers.
“This cunt was made for me. Feel how my fingers fit so perfect, bunny?” Her mouth attaches back onto your clit and you start to see stars. Nat grabs your jaw and forces you to look her in the eyes.
“That’s it darling, fucking come for me.” This sends you over as you cum all over her fingers and palm. Natasha coaxes you down from your high with gentle praises and words of encouragement. You giggle as you finally come back to her. Nat kisses you nice and slow to show her appreciation.
“See, you’ve got the tastiest pussy i’ve ever had.”
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xxunderlandxx · 6 months
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Anakin & Padmé
PADME: Well. I do believe you owe me a hundred credits.  ANAKIN: Is that so?  PADME: Of course. I did say we were having a son.   ANAKIN: If that’s the case, then it would seem you owe me — what was it? 246 credits? I said we were having a daughter.  PADME: I’m still convinced you cheated. You must’ve sensed them.  ANAKIN: You were the one who wanted to keep it a surprise.  PADME: Perhaps we should just forfeit the credits. It's cruel to gamble on our children. ANAKIN: Said like a true politician avoiding her debt.  PADME: I still can’t believe they’re real.  ANAKIN: They’re perfect... Like you.   PADME: Tell me something… What do you make of our new son and daughter-in-law?   ANAKIN: Han and Mara? Nah ah. I think I forfeited an opinion on that a long time ago.   PADME: Come on, we’re alone… Besides, I can tell you’ve been bursting at the seams to say something. I must commend you for your restraint. ANAKIN: What is there to say? Luke married a defected Emperor’s Hand, and Leia married a smuggler. PADME: And I married you. We can’t be seen as too hypocritical.
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lesbian-dp · 1 year
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Learning the Ropes
Kinktober 2022
Day Seven
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Words: 1,389
Warnings: Virginity, breeding, guidance, nervousness, strap on
Request: Nah.
Summary: Natasha brings the confidence back to a nervous reader.
Ko-Fi
Commissions
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(Not my pics)
18+ ONLY
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You were nervous. Gripping onto the leather steering wheel, feeling the texture under your thumbs as you rubbed them into the object, the squeaking of your hand movements against the wheel filled the car, along with your deep patterned breaths, trying to calm yourself.
"Okay, you breathed, nodding to yourself in assurance, before you exited your car, ready for what the night would bring. Or as ready as you could be.
You only had to wait less than ten seconds for the wooden door to swing open after you rapped against it three times. And when it did, the breath got caught in your throat when you saw the woman on the other side.
In tight black jeans, Calvin Klein sports bra, with red hair cascading down her shoulders, stood Natasha Romanoff.
"Hi."
"You're nervous," Natasha stated, reading you instantly, with only one look.
"I... you need to stop being so good at that."
"And you need to relax." She smiled, reaching over to grab your wrist, and tugged you into her home before closing the door behind you. "Go sit down, and I'll grab you a drink."
"Okay," you breathed to yourself for the first time in less than five minutes. Moving over to the sofa and taking a seat.
Natasha came back not long later to see you rubbing your palms against your jean-covered things out of anxiety, an open bottle of cold beer in hand.
"Here," she passed off the alcohol before swinging a leg over your thighs and taking her own seat on your lap.
"Jesus, are you trying to make me feel worse?"
"Don't worry," the red-head hummed, peppering kisses across your cheek while you took your first sip of the hoppy liquid, "You'll be fine when you're fucking the shit outta me later."
With her words, you choked on the beer out of surprise, spitting it out around the lip of the bottle, letting it trickle down your chin.
Natasha chuckled attractively, moving to lick up the spilt droplets of booze from your chin, trailing her tongue up along your lips, before drawing back once again with a seductive smirk upon your face.
"Are you ready to take this to the bedroom?"
Blinking and finally closing your gaping mouth, you replied, "Can I finish my beer first?"
You didn't get a chance to finish your beer.
It had moved to the bed, Natasha straddling your lap once again, hands upon your cheeks, kissing you deeply. The only difference? She had removed her sports bra. Tits spilt out in front of you, the red-head moaning into your mouth as you massaged her globes lovingly.
With a roll of her hips, she found what she was looking for. She hummed against your lips, smiling successfully. Before she pulled away, showing you her beautiful face.
"I see you wore it like I told you to."
"Well, I uh, I didn't want to disappoint."
Still sensing your anxiety, Natasha came closer to your face, comfortingly rubbing your cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs.
As her nose nudged against yours, she hummed, "I guarantee you will definitely not disappoint."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I've slept with many people in my time-"
"Not filling me with confidence there, Nat."
The red-head tried to push the smile from her face, failing miserably, as she shook her head, "-But, from my experience, the ones who are most nervous and think they will not perform well are the ones who fuck the best. When somebody is confident about losing their virginity, thinking they will be amazing, are the ones who last less than a minute and don't know where the clit is."
"So... men."
"Pretty much." Natasha nodded with a humoured smile. "Now, where were we?"
You stopped her as she leaned in closer to kiss you once more.
"Wait, wait. But I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Don't worry about that. That doesn't mean you'll be bad. And anyway, I'm here to guide you."
And with that, Natasha pushed at your chest, sending you tumbling back into the bed, bracketing you in with her arms, tits hanging just above your face.
"If this is how I go, I'd die happy."
Natasha giggled sweetly, "I'd prefer if you didn't. I still really want to fuck you."
"Glad to know you want me," you smirked.
"You don't know how bad I want you. I've wanted you for so long now."
"God, keep saying those nice things to me, and I might just explode."
"Kinky," she giggled into your warm neck, nibbling at the sensitive gently, scattering a few marks here and there as a reminder of this night for days to come.
It didn't take Natasha long to get you both fully undressed and to hover above you, ready to take your strap and walk you through everything. Keen to take all the pleasure you were undoubted going to deliver upon her.
"Are you ready?"
"I... I think so..."
The red-head leaned in closer, lowering her voice to repeat her question, "Are you ready?"
With the way her green eyes swirled darkly above you, you were suddenly filled with untapped confidence. Nodding assuredly, you replied, "You fuckin' betcha."
Natasha smirked, keeping eye contact with you as she moved a hand down to grab the strap, digging through her soaked pussy, wetting the toy before slowly feeding it into her hot core. Her eyes rolled closed as pleasure-filled gasps fell from her lips.
"Oh, God. You feel so good."
"I haven't even done anything yet."
"No, but you will," she stated, hands on your chest as she began riding you slowly, "And when you do. I know that it's going to be so much better than it already is."
Natasha straightened up, hands now upon her knees as she slowly rode you.
"Now, put your hands on my hips, and control my movements."
"But I don't know what you like."
"Trust me, I'll let you know when you do."
Deciding to take her word for it, you timidly placed your hands on her soft waist, trailing your fingers down to her hips. Guiding her hesitantly until she released a sudden gasped moan, and you grew more confident in your movements.
Before long, Natasha had her head thrown back and crying out to the heavens, breasts bouncing with every movement.
"Fuck, I need more," the red-head panted, blown eyes gazing down at you, almost pleadingly.
"W-What do you want me to do?"
"Start thrusting your hips up- Oh, fuck. That's it!" she cried out, collapsing into your chest, bracing herself upon her forearms, moaning with her eyes scrunched closed above your face.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful," you husked, receiving a heavy kiss in return, her palms coming up to hold your cheeks,
 as she bounced with every thrust she met.
Pants brushed against your lips, Natasha's foreheads rested against yours, eyes still closed, as she basked in the pleasure you gave her. Her pants doon turned into short, high-pitched moans.
"God, I'm gonna come."
"Already?" you asked, voice containing the shock you felt. Assuming that you would only get the beautiful woman to come once. If you were lucky.
The red-head nodded hastily with a hum.
Reaching for your hand on her hip Natasha dragged it down to her core. Instantly, you knew what she was wordlessly asking for, taking initiative by rubbing your thumb against her swollen clit.
A few seconds later, Natasha moaned loudly, shaking, eyes rolling into her skull, while her orgasm shot through her. Hips jutted randomly as she came down from her high.
"Shit, that was so good."
You beamed up at the woman, blush tinting your cheeks at her compliment.
Natasha's forefinger trailed from your cheekbone, down your cheek, all the way across your jawline, just gazing at you lovingly.
Moving closer, she muttered, "Now, I want you to flip me onto my back, fuck me into the mattress, and act like you're gonna fill me to the brim with your cum."
The red-head squealed as you did just as she said, bouncing against the bed, goggling up at you with her hands pushing at your chest.
"As you wish, beautiful."
"Well, look who's got their confidence back." She wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you down to her face. "It's really fucking hot."
---
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nanaszx · 8 months
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🌊🌘 14.08.23 — é só pra distrair a mente
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no-one-fuck-a-man · 1 year
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Berry Blues
Season Two
Part Sixteen - (Original Song) Trouty Mouth!
Quinn Fabray x Reader
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Summary: Against what you considered your teams better judgement, the New Directions were convinced to write original songs for the upcoming competition, that could seal your hopes and dreams of -temporarily- getting out of the small town you called home. If only drama didnt follow the club like a plague.
Word Count: 5,352
WARNINGS: Maths, argument, yearning, that’s mostly it
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"Guys, I've got some bad news."
"Oh, just what I want to hear on a morning," you sassed from your seat beside Artie, the boy helping you finish your calculus homework last minute.
"No one does, Y/N," Mr Schue drawled, "You know how we decided on 'Sing' by My Chemical Romance for Regionals? Well, I hold in my hand a cease and desist letter from the band. We can't do it."
Puckerman scoffed from the back of the choir room, "It was the perfect anthem."
At the Spanish teacher's statement, you pulled your attention where you were scribbling a -probably wrong- equation onto the paper in your lap, looking at him with furrowed brows.
"That really doesn't sound like something the band would do."
"How much do you wanna bet Coach Sylvester has something to do with this?" Mercedes asked, shaking her head.
"One step ahead of you."
"So, what are we gonna do now?" she continued.
Before Mr Schue could begin to offer up some words of confidence, whilst he secretly worried inside, Rachel voiced her opinion.
"I think we should write original songs for Regionals."
"Oh, nope. That's still a bad idea." You shook your head, turning back to your homework.
You hate to admit it because you loved your sister dearly, but your hand was one of the firsts that rose into the air after Santana's declaration.
"All those in favour of voting Rachel down a second time?"
However, what came next shocked you to your very core.
"No, I think Rachel is right."
With horrified eyes, you turned to look over your shoulder at the blonde sitting behind you.
"Who are you, and what the hell have you done with Quinn Fabray?"
The girl rolled her eyes at you.
"This team works best when we push ourselves and do something a little different."
At Quinn's defence for your sister, everyone with their hands raised slowly started to lower them, listening to her reasonings intently.
"That's true, but if the all the other teams are doing amazing songs, we're not gonna be so good."
"You're right. We're not gonna be as good. We're gonna be better," Quinn countered Mercedes, "We won't be using other people's words or music. It'll be our own. Our own heart, soul, not just our voices. We have a really talented songwriter in our midst. Rachel, I was thinking maybe you and I could write a song together."
Okay, now something was definitely up.
Not only was Quinn Fabray volunteering to spend time with your sister, working on a project, when you knew full well that she could barely stand the shorter diva Berry.
But she also called her a "talented songwriter", when if she was forced to hear any of the drafts you had been, you knew she would not be saying that. Nor would she be jumping -creating- the opportunity to work with her.
"I'm with Quinn and Rachel," Finn spoke, looking between the two teenagers he had dated, making you roll your eyes at him, "I mean, if these two can agree on something, it's probably an idea worth considering."
"Well, I still think it's a bad one."
"Wait a minute. So suddenly, you two are writing music for Regionals?" Santana asked, almost affronted, "No way. I think that everyone should get a chance to write a song."
Sam was quick to agree with his girlfriend.
"Santana's right. We can do this."
"What do you think, Mr Schue?" Mercedes asked the man standing in the centre of the room, cease and desist letter still within his grasp.
The curly-haired man shrugged, giving a tight-lipped but pleased smile.
"I think we're doing original songs for Regionals."
After the short applause, both young Berrys turned to gander at the blonde behind them.
Rachel with a thankful smile.
And yourself, with a snappy comment.
"Seriously, who are you?"
---
Early the next day, before your first class, you meandered the halls, looking for one of your friends to chat with for the short time before the bell rang.
And that's exactly what you found.
Only, they didn't look how you expected.
"Oh, what the hell happened to you two?" you asked the two ex-cheerleaders, whose clothes were caked in soil, mouths also coated in the stuff, looking as if they had been eating it.
"Sue put dirt in our lockers," Santana explained as Brittany spat the stuff from her mouth, trying to pluck it away with her just-as-covered fingers. Her statement made your eyes drag behind them to where their lockers sat, filled with dirt.
"That's insane. Why'd she do it?"
"She's still pissed at us for not going to the Cheerios Nationals and the fact that she's not a cheer coach anymore."
"She is the prettiest person I have ever met, and I live with my sister." Gesturing them towards you, you said, "Okay, let's uh... let's get you two a change of clothes. Unless you wanna look like you just dug yourselves out of shallow graves."
Hours later, you had escorted the -now changed- girls into the choir room, dispersing throughout. A lot of club members with open notepads on their laps and pens in hand, just waiting for the director to enter the room so that they could start their lesson.
With a tall stack of yellow books in his arms, the man said, "All right, guys, let's hear it for our first songwriting seminar."
You still thought it was a bad idea, but you had decided to go with it nonetheless. It's better for you to try and fail than to not try at all.
"While Quinn and Rachel are hard at work, we're gonna try to write an anthem of our own," Mr Schue told, as he handed out the thick books, "Now, these are rhyming dictionaries for all of you."
"Mr Schue, Tina, and I have been uh already working on a song that I wrote," Santana offered.
"Really? That's amazing. Well, can we hear it?"
The Latina gave a small nod before moving to stand in the centre of the room, Tina making her way to the heys of the piano.
"This is a song that I wrote for Am. It's called 'Trouty Mouth'."
The blonde boy's sweet smile fell at that.
"Wait. What's it called?"
Only for Mike to lean over and whisper, "'Trouty Mouth'."
You didn't know a song could make you this happy.
Every one of Santana's lyrics was better than the last.
That was until Sam had to go and ruin it for you.
"Okay, can we stop?" he asked, outraged, as he jumped to his feet, "Stop with the mouth jokes."
"No, no, no!" you whined, aghast, once the music was abruptly cut off.
"Sit down. I'm not finished."
"Yes, you are." The boy then turned to the seated teacher, "Mr Schue, we're not doing a song at Regionals called 'Trouty Mouth'."
The man stuttered, rising from his own seat as he gestured to the blonde, "You know what? I have to agree with Sam on this one."
"Oh, I disagree." You shook your head with a bright smile tugging at your lips. "'Trouty Mouth' has got to be an iconic anthem. Really a song for generations."
"Y/N," Mr Schuester scolded you before turning back to Santana, "But such a good first effort. I just don't think it's got the epic feel we need for Regionals."
"I do." Your hand shot into the air, playfully being shoved by Sam as he manoeuvred back to his seat.
It seems Santana wasn't the only eager participant in the room, as Puckerman soon voiced his own involvement with a raise of his hand.
"Mr Schue, I wrote a song too. I wrote it for Lauren." The girl looked away awkwardly at that, spurring the boy into manoeuvering further into her line of sight. "I know that when I sang 'Fat Bottomed Girls', it might have hurt your feelings a little bit, but... I think this makes up for it." The delinquent continued down to replace a disgruntled Santana. It's got a bit of a rockabilly feel, so it could give us an edge this weekend."
"I'm inclined to agree with you there," you admitted as your teacher nodded the boy on.
"All right. Show us what you've got."
You couldn't help but laugh as Santana walked by Mr Schue, muttering to the man, "Don't touch me. Don't touch me."
"It's called 'Big Ass... Heart'."
"Why was that good?" you asked once the boy's short performance was over, "Stop making things that I like."
Mr Schuester, it seems, didn't share your same opinions, 'cause as soon as he could, he popped up out of his seat, hoping to get the boy off of the floor.
"All right, guys, let's make Puck's song a contender, but I don't totally think we're there yet. Everyone look at your rhyming dictionaries, and let's work on banging out some songs that rock."
---
"I have to talk with you."
With a short yell, you startled back, slamming your locker door in reaction. Snapping your head to the side, you spotted your sister, an almost conspiring look upon her features.
"Hey. Why do you always have to scare me? How was your songwriting session with blondie?" you asked, beginning to make your way down the hall, forcing a trailing Rachel to jog to catch up, to be by your side.
"It was fine. Quinn lacks my vision and years of studying lyrics and the meaning behind songs, but with some more work, I'm sure she could help me."
You rolled your eyes in reaction to her grandiose words while she quickly shook her head. "But that's not what I want to talk to you about."
"Aha. And what's on your mind?"
"I think Finn is dating Quinn again."
A familiar weight sunk in your chest. Cold and heavy. Something close to hopeless despair.
But you couldn't let your sister know that.
And you couldn't tell her that you knew they had been fooling around, even with no proof of that fact, considering she had flat-out believed Quinn's lie in the last celibacy club session you had attended. It would destroy her, and even though you knew you should tell her the truth, it would be the right thing to do, but you just didn't want to see her hurt.
"What makes you say that?"
"They were talking, and they were really close."
You gasped sarcastically, "I'll call the Pope!"
"Y/N, would you take this seriously?"
"And why the hell should I do that?" you asked, talking with a hand whilst the other held onto the strap of your backpack, "They were just taking, Rach. They can do that."
"Yeah, but it seemed... different."
"'Different' how?"
"Like they were talking about their relationship."
"And how does that look?" you almost laughed, "Look, Rach, at the end of the day, it's none of our business what they were talking about, no matter if he's your ex or not- If anything, you have less of a right to know."
Before she could reply, you were literally saved by the bell ringing overhead, signalling the start of your next class.
"Now, if you'll excuse me." You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb. "I have to go get a 'C+' on my calculus homework... with any luck," you finished to yourself as you walked away from her,
Thoughts of Quinn and Finn swam through your mind as that sinking feeling continued to grow.
---
It was a relief when Mercedes pulled you away from the rhyming dictionary before you with the incredible song she wrote and performed for everyone in the choir room.
"Yeah. Mercedes," Mr Schuester applauded with the club, speaking over everyone's cheers, "Really, really good."
"Thank you." The girl beamed.
"But, um..."
Mercedes' smile dropped at that.
"'But' my butt, Mr Schue. That song was amazing." She pointed a finger in the man's face as to get her point across.
"No, I agree. I'm just not sure that it's Regionals material."
The girl sighed softly, making her way over to the seats.
"Mr Schue, I wrote another verse of 'Trouty Mouth'," Santana voiced, bringing the attention to her, spurring Sam to raise the sign he had scribbled onto his notepad in support of Mercedes' song, reading 'hell no'.
Nodding along with the Latina from your seat beside her at the piano, you said, "I helped."
"No, no, no. Guys- Guys, just think about it. What's your favourite song of all time?"
"'My Headband'," Brittany spoke instantly.
"I'll let Rachel know that one person likes the song she's been torturing me with for weeks now."
"Allina Morissette's 'You Oughta Know'," Santana offered next.
Puckerman was Next. "'What's going on', Marvin Gaye."
"Puckerman, you're on a roll." Zizes complimented from where she stood, leaning against the side of the piano closest to you.
Taking the time to think on it while Santana and Puck had offered their favourite songs, you wracked your brain to find one of the songs that you loved.
"'Piano Man' by Billy Joel." You nodded, playing with the pen between your fingers.
"Okay, and what are all those songs about?" the teacher questioned.
"Headbands?" Brittany shrugged behind him.
Deciding to ignore the dirty blonde's answer, the man continued, "All these songs come from a place of pain. Look, the greatest songs are about hurt. And that's the side of yourself I want you to get in touch with."
"That should be easy," Artie stated, "Coach Sylvester tortures us for no reason and tries to get the entire school to hate us."
"Not that they didn't already." You shrugged. "At this point, it's just beating a dead horse with a stick."
"Yesterday, she filled Britt's and my lockers with dirt."
Mr Schuester rushed up to the whiteboard to begin listing Sue Sylvester's verbal abuse to the club.
"Okay, okay. Slow down."
"Literally no one else was talking," you uttered.
Mercedes voiced her own complaint about the blonde coach next, "Well, she literally throws sticks at me."
"Okay, what else? What else?"
"She called the Ohio Secretary of State saying she was me and that I wanna legally change my name to Tina Cohen-Loser."
You couldn't help but snort at that as everyone looked on in shock.
"She...?"
"Mean. Mean."
"I'm sorry," you told the girl, "I just wasn't expecting that."
"Okay, and how does that make you feel?"
"That she shouldn't be around children."
Fin had something else to say, however.
"Well... at first it hurts, but... then it mostly makes you wanna win."
"Guys..." the teacher smiled. "I think you may have just found your song."
"And that song is 'Trouty Mouth'." You pointed.
"No!" Mr Schue and Sam called out at the same time. Disappointing both you and the Latina who created the song.
"Now let's get to writing," the curly-haired man psyched everyone up as the title 'Loser Like Me' sat on the board behind him.
With a deep, grunted sigh, you dropped your head onto Santana's shoulder, preparing yourself for the only lesson to go.
By the end of the Glee Club meeting, your brain was fried by the number of words that ran through it. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to string together a sentence if your life depended on it.
To come to your sister's aid, however? That was a whole other thing entirely.
It was the end of the school day, and you knew Rachel would be working overtime on her songwriting, dragging Quinn along with her.
And considering you would rather not have a murdered sister, you were on your way to the auditorium, fully intent on dragging her kicking and screaming from the school if you had to. 'Cause, there was no way in hell that you were coming back to pick her up.
Only, you didn't have to do anything of the sort.
You were stunned in place just before you could reach the backstage door of the auditorium when your sister strode out, tears spilling from her eyes, trying to keep her sobs at bay.
"I'll be waiting in the car," she whimpered, rushing past you, trying to get out of the school as quick as possible but knowing that you weren't about to let her state slide.
So, as you watched her leave down the hall, your face grew hard, anger boiling up within you, face turning into a snarl as you span on your heel, slammed the door open, and strode over to where the blonde was sitting at the piano on the stage.
"Hey, what the hell did you say to her?!" you asked, pointing behind you.
Quinn sniffed, blinking back the wetness building up in her red eyes.
Maybe if you weren't so angry at her, you would have noticed apparent distress of her own.
"I just gave her a dose of reality," she said primly, straightening out the papers scattered along the grand piano.
"Reality that makes her cry?"
"Life sucks, sometimes, Y/N," she snapped, "She needs to get used to it- The rest of us have."
You scoffed at that, shaking your head in reaction.
"You know, though last year you were pregnant and had all of those demon hormones, so that if I said, "Hey, I don't like this flavour of gum," you would go into an eternal rage. But at least you weren't such a heinous bitch all the time!"
The blonde was gobsmacked by your sudden snapped reaction, gasping and pointing to her chest as she repeated your words, in offence, "You think I'm a heinous bitch?"
"Oh no, I know you are!"
"And what?" she challenged, "You want me to go back to being that sad, pregnant girl? Just so that you will like me?"
"No." You shook your head, obviously. "I want you to go back to that girl who cared about people other than herself."
"You think I don't care?"
"Do you call this caring?!" you argued, gesturing to the space around you wildly, "Really? So, what was this "dose of reality" you gave her that you consider caring?" you asked, utilising air quotes as you did.
"I told her that she didn't belong here, in this town. She was going to get out of here, and I was just sending her on her way." She almost sneered, confusing you, as you thought she had insulted your sister and not told her exactly what she wanted to hear. "That I was going to get married to Finn and start a family, he was going to get Burt's tire shop, and I would become a successful real estate agent, and she-" Quinn had to take in a sharp breath to gear herself up for what she was about to say. "She knows that she's going to get everything she has ever dreamed of... just not the boy she loved in high school."
The blonde had a hard time reading you as you stood there, silently evaluating her.
"Is that really what you think of yourself?" you asked finally, confusing her.
"What?"
"You think you're gonna be stuck here for the rest of your life?"
"That's my dose of reality. I've gotten used to it."
Suddenly, your dwindling anger spurred back to life.
"After- After everything I told you, you still believe that?"
"What do you mean?"
"How many times have I told you you can do anything, Quinn Fabray?" you stepped up to her now, unknowingly mirroring her and Rachel's positions from only minutes ago, only flipped in your favour.
But still, the girl was stubborn. Looking up at you with a hard pour, not backing down.
"You're amazing, and you don't fucking see it. You once told me that you wanted to help change the word, make it a better place-"
"That was just a silly dream!" She yelled, flinging her arms out by her sides.
"No, it's not! It's not silly, and it's less a dream and more of a plan. Being a real estate agent is all well and good, but you are destined for far better things- Greater things."
It was only then that you noticed the hopeless look in her eyes, the way they shone with tears, reddened and burning as she fought them off tooth and nail.
"Quinn," you breathed, "Is... is this about-?"
"Don't." She sneered. "Just... just don't, Y/N. I don't want to hear this right now."
She turned, trying to walk away before you could confront her truth when it was too hard for her to do so herself.
"You don't need to hide yourself like this."
"What do you know?!" she yelled, spinning back to face you, tears fully built up in her eyes, but still, none fell, as she stormed back over to you, "You've never had to do it! You've never had to be someone you're not. You're lucky enough to have a family that accepted you the second you were born. Not only that, but your parents relate to you on that!"
"Yeah, you're right." You nodded after a few moments of silence. "I don't understand exactly what you're going through. But I do know that you don't have to throw yourself into a life you truly don't want just because you're too scared to be you. Look, I'm not telling you to come out or lead the fucking pride parade. That's up to you. It's your choice. You can still live the life you want without doing all that. Don't throw your dreams away because you're scared of how other people will perceive you."
And with that, you left the blonde alone to her thoughts, heading off to comfort your crying sister as best you could.
You couldn't get anything out of her during the whole car ride back home, which was abnormal for her when she was in a state such as ones like this.
Even when you arrived home, Rachel rushed straight up to her pastel yellow room, leaving you to watch from her doorway as she cried and scribbled lyrics onto her notepad, surrounded by multiple drafts crumpled up around her.
With a deep sigh and a droop of your shoulders, you knew there was nothing you could do to help her at that moment. She didn't want any help nor did she want comfort, so there was no likelihood that she would accept it.
Stepping foot into your own room, your eyes travelled to where your own pad of paper sat at your desk, infesting your brain with thoughts of writing your own song.
Shaking your head, you quickly decided, "absolutely not." Instead, you pulled out your textbook to work on your homework, your brain was broken enough from songwriting today, and you needed to finish your history for tomorrow. Even if you wanted to lay down and nap for the next four hours.
---
The next few days passed in a blur and yet dwindled along slowly, at the same time, mainly when you and your sister had to be around the blonde and her boyfriend.
But the day had finally arrived.
Regionals.
You had to admit that you weren't that hopeful, with your songs being original and all that, but you were still gonna give it your all. If not for yourself or your team, but for your sister.
As usual, your club was late arriving at the competition, so as the announcer introduced the first competitors over the PA, you scooted your way through the rows to your designated seats.
"-Let's have a warm welcome for Aural Intensity!"
"Still sounds like a stupid term for going down on someone," you mumbled over to Mike, who had to stifle his laugh into his shoulder.
The expression you wore was one of disgusted astonishment, watching Sue's clear attempt at pandering to the judges, which only further grew with the cheering crowd.
You just hoped that Kurt and the Warbler's performance was far better than what you were just forced to sit through.
That hope was quickly proved true, as to your utter surprise, your friend began the setlist for his Glee Club, which made you beam out of pure happiness for this chance for him to shine in front of an audience.
Both Berry's in the crowd found their eyes trailing over to the couple that was Quinn and Finn, noticing the way that their hands were linked. Rachel and yourself yearning for opposite people in said couple. How two people could captivate a pair of siblings and be together like it was nothing, effortlessly crushing both Berry's hearts, was beyond you. It just seemed like a sick joke the world was playing.
Tearing your eyes away from them, you focused back on your friend and his boyfriend.
You suppose that is why he didn't let you know that he would be singing front and centre for this competition. He was far too excited to gush about the boy he had been harbouring feelings for, for months now, who had become his boyfriend. And not only that, he had had his first real kiss, that wasn't with Brittany. Or, unknowingly to you, taking from him by Karofsky.
After their duet and Blane's rendition of 'Raise Your Glass', that got the whole crowd jumping on their feet, it was the New Direction's turn to perform.
Walking through the backstage area with Santana by your side, you overheard Finn talking to your sister.
"I really like your song."
"It sure is better than 'My Headband'." You threw over your shoulder, gaining a soft glare from Rachel before she swiftly turned back to talk to her ex-boyfriend.
"I still think I should have sung 'Trouty Mouth' as the solo."
Breathing out a laugh, you threw your arm over the girl's shoulder. "Oh, I agree with you there."
From across the way, almost as if his ears had been attuned to the two words so that he would be able to hear them strung together within a five-mile radius, Sam yelled, "Stop talking about 'Trouty Mouth'!" Harbouring laughs from the club in reaction.
"And now, from William McKinley High in Lima, Ohio, the New Directions!"
You were by Finn's side during the entirety of your sister's performance, arms folded across your chest, all the while he listened to the lyrics intently, with an awestruck look on his face.
"She was crying while she wrote this."
"Why?" he breathed back as if speaking any louder would disrupt the performance. Unable to take his eyes off of his singing ex.
You could have told him about her and Quinn's argument, but you thought it best to give him the whole, blaring, obvious truth.
"Because she's still in the love with you."
His breath shortened then, while you glanced behind him, spotting his girlfriend, who had obviously heard your statement, staring into your soul with a look you couldn't quite decipher. She was frustrated and annoyed you could tell that much, even though she hid it well. But there was also a hopelessness and longing emitted from her.
But there wasn't long for you to dwell on it, as a few moments later, she and the rest of the girls were marching out. Followed by the boys and yourself after Rachel had introduced your team. Which quickly lead into your next and final song for the competition.
You were glad that it wasn't another slow number, where you had to be careful and intricate with your dance moves, but instead was one where you could end it off by dousing the audience with shiny red confetti, masquerading in slushie cups along with a cart. A reference, which only people who knew about and attended your school would know of.
After the judges had taken a short amount of time in their deliberation, the three Glee Clubs and their directors were gathered on stage to hear the results of the competition.
"And now, to announce our winner, Lieutenant Governor Stevens' wife, Carla Turlington Stevens."
"Who are these random-ass people they get for these things?" you whispered, once again to Mike, as you joined everyone else to applaud for the woman.
"Do you think they would be able to get anyone else to do it?" he countered.
"Touché, I supposed not."
Once the woman took the stage, she felt that to be the ideal time to get her troubles off of her chest.
"My husband is verbally abusive, and I have been drinking since noon." Feedback from the microphone was the only thing that filled the awkward silence her confession had garnered. "I'm bored. Let's just see who won, huh?" Suspense filled the three hopeful teams as the drunk woman opened the first-place envelope. "The New Directions, you're going to Nationals in New York."
The celebrations with your team were cut short, thanks to Sue Sylvester's outburst, where she strode up to the Governor's wife and knocked her out cold.
Talk about being a sore loser.
---
You were sat beside your sister when Mr Schuester walked into the choir room, carrying a small trophy, busy talking on the phone.
"I'll show you the video when you get home. Have fun at the sweat lodge." You cringed at the next words he cooed down the line, trying -and failing- to hide it from his students. "Namaste to you too. Okay, bye."
Leaning closer to Rachel you muttered, "She could do so much better than him." Knowing that he and Holly Holliday had been seeing each other since she came in to teach everyone about sex, because they were so bad at hiding it.
Only she wasn't the only person who had heard your comment.
Quinn Fabray, who was seated in front of your sister, peered at you from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a smile shadowing her lips. Sending a hopeful rush through you, even though your mind was screaming at you that it was worthless to even feel.
"Miss Holliday sends her best," he turned to tell the team, "And can't wait to congratulate you all in person when she gets back from her meditation retreat. Now, we all know that winning Regionals was a team effort, and Nationals isn't going to be any different. But... like in sports, every winning team has a player that rises above to help carry their teammates to victory. The M.V.P.." He pointed before bringing the gold star trophy into view. "And I would like to start a tradition of honouring that player after every one of our competitions. So, per a unanimous vote by all of you... our Regionals M.V.P. is... Miss Rachel Berry."
The club applauded for your sister as the director waved her down to accept her award.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you." She beamed. "If I could just say a few words?"
"Sure."
"And here she goes, making me regret voting for her," Santana said dryly.
"Same." You nodded, smiling down at Rachel playfully. Please don't start singing."
She rolled her brown eyes at you.
"Well, first of all, I just wanna say how amazing the song you guys wrote was. I-I was so inspired. You know, it's funny. I've won a lot of trophies before for singing competitions, and dancing competitions but... I've always felt like the girl who never gets the brass ring... and maybe I never will." She shrugged. "But today a-and at Regionals... the way you guys believed in me and... took a chance with me... all I've ever wanted was to feel special... and to feel chosen. And... I just, um... I wanted to thank you guys so much for giving me that. So, that's all."
After your sister's tearful speech, you lead the charge in giving her a hug, a proud look on your face, at her -not arrogant- speech.
So maybe doing original songs wasn't the worst idea ever.
You still thought it was pretty dumb, though.
However, there was no way you were gonna let Rachel know that anytime soon.
After all, you were far too excited for one thing and one thing alone.
New York City.
-----
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azathothsdreamgrrl · 2 months
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wrote some yuri...in the process of writing yuri...yuri lovers rise up
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Surfer Boy Pizza Delivery
Nancy Wheeler x Reader
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Word Count: 1,721
Summary: Even in your spacey state, still, all you wanted was your girlfriend.
WARNINGS: Drug use (weed), sexual themes, angry Nancy
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It was weird.
The sensation of your body feeling like it was floating up in the clouds while simultaneously sinking deep into the soft cushions that pilled into the back of the yellow delivery van, like a rock into the sea.
Sweet, earthy smoke fogged up the haphazardly covered windows, trying in vain to stop anyone from finding out the happenings going on inside. That same mist floated through the air, making it stuffy with every inhale, only furthering the feelings that racked your body.
That was, until the hazy peace was rudely interrupted by the trunk being thrown open, revealing an angry brunette.
"There you are," she seethed, speaking as if she knew from the beginning but still didn't want to believe what she was seeing was, in fact, the truth. Not that you noticed any of that. The clear anger that masked her face went unnoticed by you in your drugged-out state.
"Nance!" you yelled out happily, throwing your arms apart, overjoyed to see the girl who carried your affections like they were a gift. Almost smacking Argyle with the back of your hand as you did. With her hands upon her hips, Nancy found herself wishing that you had, knowing that the "peace and love" man was the whole reason you were in this position. If he were anyone else, she would have spitefully said that he had orchestrated this entire thing.
However, she knew better than that. Having been around the boy enough in the such short time of them meeting each other, to know he didn't have a conniving bone in his body.
"Come on in here," you requested, leaning forward to grasp at her hands, trying to guide her into the back of the cannabis-scented van.
"No. Absolutely not," Nancy said, shaking her head vehemently. Planting her feet into the nature-covered ground outside of Hopper's cabin, stopping your weak attempts from getting her any closer into the vehicle, "If I come back smelling like marijuana, my parents will flip."
"You're gonna smell like it anyway, just from being this close," you teased her lowly, mouth brushing against hers in your further attempts to get her into the back of the van with you, knowing how hard it was for Nancy to deny your lips when you did this. However, in your high state, you failed to realise just how pissed off the petite girl was, "So, why don't you just hop on in here and spend some time with me, huh?"
At this point, you had forgotten about Argyle entirely.
Nothing against the long-haired man, you were just so out of it that you couldn't focus on more than one thing at the moment, and you were incredibly okay with that being your beautiful girlfriend.
But you were soon alerted to his existence once more as he scooted his way ned to you and out of the van, bidding you both a goodbye with, "See you brotachios later."
"Bye, Argyle!" you called after him as he headed off to probably go find Jonathan while Nancy continued to glare daggers at you.
"Good luck, my dude!"
Now that got you to furrow your brows momentarily in confusion, ticking your head to the side before moving back to beam over at Nancy.
"Hey, baby."
"Y/N. What the hell are you playing at?"
"What? I can't call you 'baby' now?"
"That's not what I'm talking about."
You groaned lightly, finally figuring out what she was talking about, pressing your forehead into hers, hands still encased her wrists.
"Baby, please don't be like this."
"'Don't be like thi'-"
Before she could finish her angered sentence, you cut her off, only to continue your prior begging.
"Just come in here, please? We can have some privacy. You can yell at me all you want in here."
"I think I'll yell at you all I want from out here, thank you."
"Oh, Nance, just-" Releaseingher wrists, you instead, grasped at her waist, using your new-found leverage to begin tugging her into the back of the pizza van. "Come on in here."
"No, Y/N- I swear- Christ."
Once the curly-haired brunette had crossed the threshold, you gave one final pull, dropping back as you did, only to land in your lap with a surprised yelp.
"Y/N," Nancy scolded, hands upon your chest as she looked down at you with hard eyes and curved brows.
All the while, you dopily smiled up at her like she had hung the stars in the sky.
"Hey, baby."
"I swear to God, Y/N, when you come down from this, you're going to be in for a world of trouble."
With a hum, you replied, "Sounds like fun." Finishing it with a flirty wiggle of your brows.
"You won't find it fun when it's happening," Nancy spoke with a sarcastic smile.
Another hum sounded at the back of your throat, taking in Nancy's glorious body from where it sat upon your pelvis. This position reminded you of all the times she was in it before, when she would look down at you with the same want in your eyes right now. Passing your hands up and down her sides.
"You know what would be fun to do right now?"
Nancy's eyes grew wide, head turning to the side at your insinuation.
"No. There is no way I'm doing anything like that with you in the back of this van."
"I just want a little kiss, baby," you spoke lowly, shaking your head side to side, trying to tease her into kissing you.
"I'm not kissing you where everyone can see," she referred to your friends, still busy cleaning up the hidden away cabin and venturing the woods, setting up booby-trap alarms. Through the still-open trunk of the yellow van. "I still can't believe you did that in front of Argyle. I mean, I know he's lax on pretty much everything, but what if he had reacted badly at what you did? If he wasn't stoned out of his mind, he might have."
"Oh, please," you scoffed with a roll of your eyes, "That boy has more colours to him than JCPenney."
Nancy squinted down at you, trying to decipher your made-up expression.
"What?"
"Nance, about five minutes before you opened that door, he got finished telling me about the time of how he blew Jonathan in the back of this car. He gives Fruity Pebbles a run for their money, babe."
Ignoring your second descriptor of how gay the pizza boy was, Nancy reacted to the news of her ex-boyfriend having his own fun in the very van you had pulled her into.
"Okay, I'm definitely not kissing you in the back of thing van now."
"Oh, baby, come on. Don't do that," you whined, watching as she struggled against your body, trying to move and exit the vehicle.
Quickly, before she could remove herself from your lap, you pushed yourself up with one hand, the other coming to cup the back of her neck, pulling her down onto your lips.
After a few seconds spent kissing you, Nancy pulled away, with her nose wrinkled in the cutest way possible and pursed lips.
"You taste disgusting."
"Yeah, but I kiss amazing," you countered, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone, easily pulling her into another kiss.
Nancy's hands were wrapped up in the chest of your shirt, holding you in place as if you would suddenly sink through the van and out of her grasp. Given your experiences over the years, you couldn't blame her. At this point, you don't even think something like that would surprise you. Just like the brunette resting upon you, you kept her pressed against your body, hands holding her hips, soon rounding her to hug the girl to you, one hand threading into her hair just as her tongue slipped into your mouth.
You moaned softly into her lips, adoring the feeling of her satisfied smile in reaction to the noise.
When air started to become an issue, you pulled away with a smirk, peering up at the brunette with hooded eyes, a rasp to your voice when you next spoke.
"Even though I taste disgusting, you still have no issue sticking your tongue down my throat."
Nancy scoffed, rolling her eyes once more, not wanting to admit that you were right, even though you knew, full well, you were.
"Don't flatter yourself. I got used to it after a while."
"Aha. So, does that mean I can get you to smoke with me someday?"
"Not. A. Cance," she stated, leaning down to teasingly rub her nose against yours, smiling the same way.
You also knew that to be true.
Nancy wasn't the type for drugs. Even if it were something as innocent as weed. Not that she would -Truly- judge someone for using it. That didn't mean she had to like it. Especially when it involved someone she cared for greatly. She didn't want you to develop unhealthy mechanisms to cope with the things you have seen and done. Be that with alcohol, drugs, or something else. Nancy never wanted you to go through any hardships in life if they could be avoided.
"We still need to have that little chat when you sober up. So don't think that this is my acceptance of you smoking this yourself, the brunette warned, using her leverage upon your chest to push herself up, exiting through the open trunk, ready to get back to work.
"Now, come on! Just because you're high doesn't mean that you can't help me board up these windows."
"I can't use heavy machinery while under the influence. What makes you think I can use a hammer and nails?" you question, poking your head out of the back of the van, trying to get out of your task.
You should have known better than to think that that might possibly work against the Nancy Wheeler.
Spinning on her heels, the girl spoke to you as she continued walking backwards towards the cabin, "Then you hold the boards. And I'll do the hammering."
You groaned, stumbling out of the van, following after Nancy up the steps of the cabin. Wishing that you were back on those soft cushions, with your girlfriend, laying across your body, with her soft lips upon yours.=====
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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 months
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I've been inspired by @forbidden-sunlight to write an original yandere one-shot. If you have not read their work, please do.
Above are 6 choices to choose from. Once the winner is revealed, I will create the yandere character (give him a name and an appearance). The reader will be left to your imagination, of course. If there is a character you would like the yandere to be based on please let me know in the comments.
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lesbian-deadpool · 1 year
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The Staple of Christmas
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Words: 1,036
Warnings: Fluff, grumpy Nat, usage of axe
Request: Nope.
Summary: The tree goes up on the 1st. Not ‘ifs’, ‘ands’ or ‘buts’ about it.
A/N: I know it’s not the 1st, but here it is anyway.
Ko-Fi
Commissions
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(Not my pics)
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The sky was as white as paper, showing off the winter season, even though snow had not graced your presence yet. -Soon though, if the weather reports had anything to say about it- And you were up early, driving across the upstate roads of New York, with a moody red-head by your side.
Natasha hadn't said a word to you since entering the car, not even thanking you when you had grabbed her favourite festive drink from the drive-through to warm her up in the cold morning. No. She didn't speak until you passed the third sign, showing your nearing destination.
'Carl's Chop Your Own Tree Farm'
'Five Miles'
"I can't believe you woke me up so early just to get a fucking Christmas tree," she grumbled, glaring at you with her side eye. Finishing off the last dregs of her drink, eyeing yours that sat in the cup holder between you.
Smiling at how well you knew the woman, you reached over, grabbing around the lip of the paper cup. But instead of drinking from it, you passed it off to the red-head, knowing that she would need warming up more than you when you stepped out into the cold morning in a few short minutes.
"Tis' the season, babe. Don't want all the good trees to get taken, do we?"
"It's too early in the month to even get a tree."
You had the same "argument" every year. Natasha would complain and make excuses while you stuck to your guns, winning out in the end. Which you expected it to only be because she couldn't bear to destroy your excitement, nor the tradition that had been with your family since before you could remember.
"It's the first, and you know what that means: Christmas tree day."
Natasha let out a soft groan, turning towards the passenger side window just as you pulled into the Christmas tree farm.
You knew she didn't truly feel as grumpy as she seemed, with how much she loved you, even if you dragged her out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn. Which is why you smiled towards the red-head, unbuckling yourself, moving to exit the car, as you spoke, "C'mon. You know how much you love to see me using an axe."
Her eyes snapped open with the sound of your door shutting. Green eyes followed you as you rounded the car to grab said axe from the boot.
That was all the instigation she needed before she jumped out of the vehicle herself, with what was once your warm beverage pulled to her chest.
"Shut up." Natasha glared when she spotted your smug look as you came towards her, throwing your arm around her shoulders, leading her to the entrance of the farm.
"But I didn't even say anything."
With a soft nudge against your ribs, she replied, "You didn't have to."
You were right.
Natasha did love the way you used an axe, letting her watch from feet away as your arms flexed with every swing.
But still... she didn't appreciate how smug you were about it.
With a bright smile, you turned towards her, panting with the tall tree now laying on the ground, only for the woman to roll her eyes and shake her head good-naturedly, trying to push away the smile pulling against her lips.
"You ready to head home and get this thing decorated?" you asked, gesturing to the fallen tree.
Smiling at you sweetly, Natasha responded, "You bet ya'."
You had complied with Natasha's wishes to wait until nightfall to decorate the tree with festive colours and turn lights.
Lit candles were the only light that doused the room, the warm glow setting the perfect atmosphere.
You remember when we got this?" Natasha asked from the place beside you, intently peering at the decoration hanging upon her fingertips, pulled up to her face.
It was an old-fashioned miniature rocking horse, wooden throughout, with two googly eyes where they normally would be.
"Remember it?" you chuckled, "I almost lost a finger for it when Yelena stuck those eyes on it... man, your sister is scary when someone tries to stop her jokes."
"I still don't know where she pulled that knife from." She shook her head, placing the ornament upon one of the full branches.
"Oh, you don't know? I distinctly remember you being the one to give her her Christmas present early, which was a custom knife holster."
Natasha blinked, shaking her head as she turned back to the boy full of decorations.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course, you don't." You smiled.
The red-head yelped when you hoisted her into the air, directing her to the very top of the tree, watching as she placed the star upon it.
You excitedly scooped up the remote once you set her down.
"You ready to turn the lights on?"
"You do the honours."
At her consent, sparkling white lights made the tree glow. Shining against the decorations.
Liho, who had been evaluating you and his human mother the whole time, from his designated chair. Sat up with intrigue, staring at the lights, plotting their murder behind his blown golden eyes.
With your arm around her shoulder, you pulled Natasha down with you to flop onto the comfortable sofa, pulling her into your side.
"I think we did well with the tree this year."
"Yeah, maybe next year I can have a bit more sleep before I'm forced to grab one."
"Maybe next year we could have a bauble that says 'Baby's First Christmas'," you countered, pointedly not looking at the woman when her attention was brought to you, jaw dropped in shock. Instead, you continued to peer at the tree.
"You want to have a baby with me?"
At that, you turned to look down at her lovingly. "I want everything with you."
Overcome with love for you, her hands rose, holding your cheeks between her palms, pulling you into a passionate kiss.
"I want everything with you, too," she mumbled against your lips.
"Then let's have everything together, baby."
And with that, you pulled Natasha into one of the many kisses you would continue to share that night.
---
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viviuxd · 3 months
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LONGING FOR YOUR LOVE: Emmett Cullen is madly in love with you.
SYPNOSIS: Emmett is madly in love with you, since you walked away he doesn't know how to control himself.
PAIRING: Emmett Cullen x Christian!reader
TW:NONE! it's something soft
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You stumbled over a log behind you and fell onto the grass, using your hands to maintain balance.
"Are you okay?" Emmett asked with evident concern in his tone. He bent down to approach you, but you pushed him away with a sudden movement. Despite this, he grabbed your ankle and drew you towards him, ending up just under his body.
"Calm down, I won't hurt you," he assured, delicately caressing your face.
Just before, you were walking and laughing together in the woods. You thought he would finally confess his love to you, as you were sure it was reciprocated. Suddenly, he stood in front of you to reveal that he and his family were vampires. It wasn't the confession you expected, and fear invaded you upon discovering that the boy you liked was a dark being. You tried to escape from him, but now you found yourself in an even more compromising situation.
"Let me go!" you shouted, terrified. "You're a beast, stay away!" Your fear of vampires was immense due to warnings about their danger in the church.
He growled, not out of anger but frustration. "Please, don't say that," he pleaded. "Darling, I've loved you since I first saw you. I would never hurt you," he assured, looking intensely at you.
"I know you fear me for being a vampire, but you know me. In all this time, I've never done anything to harm you, and I won't now."
Even with fear in your eyes, you didn't know whether to believe him. For a year, you were friends, and indeed, he hadn't shown any strange behavior towards you. Your body relaxed a bit as you reflected on his words.
"Come on, little one... I even went to church with you. They liked me," he mentioned with a playful smile. "I even read the Bible with you, I know you love doing that," he said sweetly, moving to help you up.
"I like you too, Emmett," you confessed in a whisper, nervously.
"What did you say?" he asked playfully, knowing he had heard you but enjoying seeing you flustered.
"Nothing," you replied, embarrassed, trying to stand up, but Emmett held you by the waist, gauging his strength to avoid hurting you.
"I love you, little one," he said before giving you a tender kiss on the lips.
Since that day, you started dating. He promised to marry you once you reached the legal age. Until now, you remained a "teenage" couple adored in the church for the mutual love you shared.
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portlandrowismyhome · 9 months
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Borrowed Time: Chapter Two
part two of the serial killer Lockwood and co AU. Warnings for severe angst, mentions of torture, non graphic injury descriptions, minor language, fear, ANGST no comfort unless you count the horrific sadness of memory. Short chapter but more soon!!
please note this is a sideblog and all replies will come from @waitingforthesunrise. I truly appreciate comments and thoughts!!
tag list: @neewtmas @lemonsharks @givemea-dam-break @teaandtoastandthyme @givemea-dam-break @cordelia-street @paysomeonetopaysomeone @malteevars-kee-devi @the-biscuit-agreement @krash-and-co @oceanspray5 @smol-being-of-light @skies-of-gray @ikeasupremacy @wellgoslowly @oblivious-idiot @jesslockwood @tangledinlove @superpositvecloudshipper @peachesanddandelions @charmquarkstrangequark @pathetic-atthedisco @ladygrayish @saelterlude @carlyleandco @carlyleons @naivedaydreamer
CHAPTER TWO
Lucy awoke to the golden afternoon sun and the heavy weight of a cat on her chest.
She lay there, blinking at the blank ceiling; Miss Younge’s cat patted a heavy paw on her cheek. 
“Took you long enough,” a disgruntled voice said from the floor, and with a burst of cold awareness Lucy knew where she was. 
She was in Lockwood’s bedroom. 
More correctly: she was in Lockwood’s bed. 
It felt so familiar because it was the second time. It felt so strange because this time there was no messy-haired boy asleep beside her. 
“Hello, Skull,” she said quietly. There was a leaden weight inside her ribcage; words felt heavy and forced, like slow molasses. 
Lucy closed her eyes against the warm sunlight and tried to remember what had happened earlier. What day was it? Had the trip to Barnes and that awful, horrific phone call only been this morning? And Lockwood’s voice on the phone, that pleading note in his voice —
The cat meowed protestingly as she sat up and swung her legs over the bed.
“Did Holly bring you up?” She asked the Skull. It was all a blur in her head: staring at the phone in her hand, the burst of pain in her chest, and the sudden tip and swing of the room. 
“Holly put me in a bag — a very smelly and disgusting bag, if you even care,” the Skull complained loudly. “And you could barely walk in a straight line. George had to practically fight you into bed. Holly asked if I would smell up the kitchen — as though that blond boy isn’t a worse health hazard! And—“
Lucy picked up the pillow from Lockwood’s side of the bed and held it to her chest. She had clutched it tightly against her in sleep, and she hoped desperately that the Skull had not noticed. It still smelled like him….a faint hint of citrus, something like the dusty books of the library…the first morning she had woken up beside him, his arm still draped over her waist and her leg over his….she opened her eyes and studied the faint worry lines traced across his forehead….Anthony Lockwood. He looked tired even in sleep. 
“Are you crying?” The Skull demanded loudly. “Are those tears? What kind of independent agent are you?”
Lucy set the pillow down. “I’m not crying,” she snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She wished she could cry, but her eyes were dry as a bone and just as heavy. She slid off the bed and crossed to the window, peering out into the bright afternoon. People crossed the street below, wrapped in coats and colorful scarves. The winter sun glinted off the taxicabs and the shiny rapiers of a pair of Fittes agents climbing into a car down the block. 
That other morning, waking up beside Lockwood, she had left, too. 
She had stared at his dark lashes and purple signs of sleeplessness, and wanted. What, she didn’t know. 
She had stumbled into his room that night, gasping, unable to breath, the panic choking her words, barely able to make it through the door. And then his arms were around her, and his scent and his voice…
Do you ever think about dying? She asked later, lying beside him in the darkness, his hand tracing slow circles on her waist. 
His fingers paused. Yes, he said quietly. But not with the same love. 
She clutched Lockwood’s hand, choking on the words she wanted to say. Don’t leave. Take me with you. Sometimes I want to go, too. I see the way you look at the ghosts. You’d trust me, wouldn’t you? You’d stumble through my door if you couldn’t breathe? Or would you let it take you away? 
But she only said, I’m glad you’re here.
I’m with you, he said, and drew her closer. 
And then the morning had broken and she had slid out of the warm bed and into the cold dawn because she couldn’t breathe, and it was all the fault of the sleeping boy. She had stumbled through Arif’s empty aisles and something within her wanted to run and never look back. 
If he dies —
She hadn’t wanted to finish the sentence. She had stood in the doorway in Portland Row and looked at Lockwood’s panicked face as he tumbled down the stairs and felt an overwhelming sense of dread. 
“Luce!” He had said, fear gasping through his nonchanlent tone. “I thought maybe…I woke up and you were…”
She held up the box. “Just donuts. That’s all.”
He nodded, trying to catch his breath, and Lucy had tried to drown her fears in icing. But, like ghosts, they returned in the night. 
The Skull interrupted her thoughts. “Do you really think that boy is worth all this, Lucy? If you ask me, it’s a handy way to end it. And look! Maybe he left you the house! I can see it now: Skull and Co, in gold letters….”
Lucy studied the bedroom. It was a shambled sort of tidiness: half-hearted attempts had been made at cleaning up, but clothes still lurked on the seat of the armchair and books gathered dust beside the bed. 
“Compared to that hole of a garbage disaster you call an apartment, Lockwood was a cleaning maniac,” the Skull remarked. 
“He didn’t change the flowers.” Lucy pointed to the vase of flowers beside the bed in the ugly vase she had given him their first Portland Row Christmas. It was meant to be a joke, but Lockwood had solemnly replaced the flowers every week and refused to acknowledge the hilarity. The flowers were wispy and rotting. 
She closed her eyes. “They’ve been there for weeks.”
“So? Maybe he had better things to do with his life than stuff flowers into the vase some girl gave him.” 
“He wasn’t…”
“Doing well? Applause! Brilliance! Someone give her a prize, the girl’s a genius!” The skull smirked from the green jar. “You’ve been convincing yourself that your leaving would solve everything. It just made more problems, and Lucy Caryle doesn’t like that. How dare her brilliant plan not work?”
“Shut up,” Lucy snapped. She tried to smooth her crumpled blue shirt over her waist, doing her best not to glance at Lockwood’s closet door. 
“You’d wear his sweatshirt if you weren’t such a coward,” the Skull said. “Oh wait! You couldn’t bear anyone knowing you have feelings. I bet you’d smell better, though.”
“You’re in a jar! You can’t smell.”
“I can detect the aura,” the Skull remarked with satisfaction. “That god-awful cat is scratching at the door again, Lucy. Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Just put it on and let’s go downstairs, I’m bored silly.”
Lucy slid her hand over the hanging shirts, Lockwood’s one concession to proper organization. She knew he kept a gray sweatshirt hanging somewhere…and really, it was just because she couldn’t go and change at her old apartment, could she? And Holly’s clothes wouldn’t fit her….she swept her hand across the top shelf and knocked something heavy to the floor. 
A blue notebook stared back, tumbling open to reveal closely-written pages. 
“Lucy!” The skull said. “The cat is looking at me. Lucy—”
Lucy knelt and picked up the notebook, smoothing the pages. There was a date in careful ink at the top….With a jolt of recognition, she knew what it was. 
“It’s Lockwood’s diary,” she said quietly. 
The Skull groaned loudly. “Of course he kept a diary. I bet he went to that gloomy graveyard and sat on his parents graves to write in it. But only on windy days so he could mess up his hair and feel something. Oh, Lucy looked at me today,” the Skull moaned, “and I’m such an stupid idiot I just looked back with my mouth hanging open.”
Lucy barely heard. She sat back on her heels, feeling the weight of the notebook in her hands. “What if Lockwood knew something?” She asked. “What if he wrote what cases he was working on? What if it wasn’t a kidnapping? Our cases could have been crossing.”
She tried not to think about all the ways the caller could have abducted him. An invitation to a single case….a note signed in her name, asking to meet privately…
He would have walked into the trap singing. 
Lockwood, she thought desperately, Lockwood, you’re such an idiot…
There was a sudden knock on the door, and Lucy jumped to her feet. She felt off-balence without the rapier attached to her hip. 
Holly peered around the door. Her eyes were shy underneath the long, dark eyelashes, and Lucy wondered disgruntledly when she’d had time to do make-up and her hair. 
“Good morning, Lucy,” Holly said hopefully. “I just wanted to…check on you. There’s food downstairs, if you’d like? You should really eat something. I’ll get you a drink.I—”
“Holly.” Lucy held out the notebook, her voice cracking. “Have you seen this notebook before?”
“It’s Lockwood’s, I think. He carried it around sometimes.” Holly crossed the floor and touched Lucy’s arm gently. “Lucy…we’ll find him. We’ll try everything…”
Lucy looked into Holly’s eyes, searching for some kind of reassurance. She wanted to push the other girl away, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hug her tightly. She wanted things to go back to the way they were; but when was that? There had been good moments, she was sure of it, but all she could remember was standing on the doorstep and looking at Lockwood’s sleep-dazed face and thinking if he dies now I’ve killed him. If he dies now I couldn’t save him or I could and didn’t and —
And so it was better to go while there was time. 
But, Lucy thought, what if the time had already almost run out? 
Across the city, same time 
“Is that really all you’ve got?” Lockwood asked mockingly. “Pitiful.” 
His skull snapped back against the wall with the force of the blow. He sighed, letting himself crumple to the floor and steadying himself against the concrete. His head was spinning badly enough he almost could forget there awful pain in his ribs and the pooling blood beneath him. He thought of Lucy’s smile. Lucy! He should have told her. Something, anything. That he was sorry for loving her like he did; so broken, so painful, in so many pieces. It hasn’t always been like that. He had thought, for a few months, he wasn’t so unfixable after all…That one night she had come to him, running from the darkness, and he had woken with her in his arms in the small hours of the morning. He had felt whole, then. And now —
A hand twisted his face upwards. “You’re thinking of her,” the voice snarled. “She’ll come.”
“She won’t,” Lockwood said with all the strength he could. 
“She will. She has to save you, after all.”
Lockwood sighed, his breath burning his ribs. “She doesn’t have to save me…”
“Maybe not. But she thinks she does. That’s all that’s needed.” The figure chuckled and crouched on the ground. “Do you recognize me, Anthony Lockwood?”
Lockwood stared into the hollow, burning eyes of a man that had changed little in four years. He leaned back and waited for the pain to come.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.” 
to be continued ~
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useless-moss · 7 months
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Thing about my story that coincides with trans Hiccup stuff:
Dagur, after essentially deciding 'mine now' when he found infant Magnus, kinda just.
Knew.
Like, he looked at this baby that had barely any awareness of itself, and got the same vibe he got from Hiccup when they were younger.
So, after getting (reluctant) approval to keep this tiny viking, he gave said tiny viking a more masculine centered name.
"That's a boy's name-"
"Give it a few years. Just trust me on this."
Sure enough little Magnus decided he/him fit way more by the time he was eight. Up until then he was mostly referred to with they/them because Dagur didn't want to try and force any specific gender stuff.
Viggo assisted with this.
Ryker was mildly confused but just went along for the ride.
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ph0enix-animations · 3 months
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LORE TIME BABY
The blistering wind ascended into each of the five cages in a relentless swirl. The gods screamed in unison, the wind not only scorcing them but also taking away a little more of what energy they had left.
Reaper, the oldest god was already on his knees, clinging on the bars of his rusty cage, the wind hauled with a minute intervall each: just enough for them to almost recover from the previous blow. Error, on the left was somehow still standing with shaking knees, blowing curses to anything possible. Dream, on the other side of Reaper layed on the scorcing ground of her prison, the wind blowing into her back and making her yell in pain, she was too drained to even raise to at least her feet to stop the burning of her back. Ink wasnt fairing much better, on her knees with her head low as she grunted in pain as well. Nightmare kept his screams of agony in, holding onto the cage for dear life as he tried not to do the same as his sister.
The god of death and life looked around the ritualistic styled room their cages where kept in, trying to think of a way out. He looked to his unfortunate companions...every one of them looked miserable. Mostly, he was worried about Dream, the way her back was being burned could not be good. It seemed the Titans knew what they were doing by separating the twins. Making them weaker both physically and mentally.
Nightmare reached toward his sister out of the cage, "sister! Please-" another yell in unison from the wind erupted from them, "-please at least rise!" He panted exasperated, pleading with her. Dream groaned in pain as a response. "OI SHITHEADS!" Error yelled into nothing "SHES GOING TO DIE IF YOU DO NOTHING!" His rage was clear as day, almost covering the urgency of his tone, yet no one came to even check on poor Dream.
(Also thank you Apple for helping me out a bit)
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