#they're so....weird to write but i sort of love it

[idrellegames]

I love so much about this game - the world building, the stars system, the descriptions, the variability. It's really really special.

I had a question about Aeran tho. I feel real sympathetic towards him and what he's been through but I have trouble taking him seriously as an RO because, honestly, at times, he feels almost emotionally abusive. The icing you out, the sudden anger spells, the need for the MC to do it his way or they're wrong. I can get with it being bad communication and the result of trauma to a certain extent but it just feels... A little above and beyond.

I totally respect that this is just my interpretation and I'm definitely not saying he's written wrong or anything like that. So, just for me to know if he's worth pursuing, are there plans for any growth on that front throughout his character arc? Or is this just "how he is"?

Once again, I really hope this doesn't come across as criticism, I'm definitely not trying to tell you how to write your story.

Thank you so much!!

So, with regards to Aeran...

...if you are picking up on red flags and weirdness with him...

It may be intentional.

And there may come a point where it all boils over.

And it might not be pretty.

He is also not an RO in the standard sense (neither is Veyer, for that matter - you can see the full list and all the complexities of it on the roster, just sort by "romances", Aeran's is under "conditional").

But what he is is an extremely broken and fucked up man, who has done some fucked up things, and is carrying the consequences of that every day of his life. Is he trying his best? Sometimes. Not always. Does the MC have patience for it? Depends on the MC. Is he worth pursuing romantically...? That is up for your MC to decide.

All of the characters will change and grow throughout the story (and even change and grow differently depending on how events unfold). Is he always going to be like this? Probably not. Is he like this for now...? Yes, because there hasn't been time for any major progress yet.

[by-the-dark-of-the-moon]

Today I drove 2 hours and listened to the Sandman audiobook and I reached the part where Edwin and Charles appear (I had already watched Dead Boy Detectives so I saw the show before meeting the characters in Sandman). It was sort of weird at first because they're SO MUCH YOUNGER in Sandman (I knew they were, but the audiobook makes it very striking as the actors' voices sound really young).

I really liked their story, the atmosphere of the haunted boarding school was amazing and it was sweet and heartbreaking. For some reason, it made me think about the movie The Orphanage which I really like. It's probably because of the combination of horror and hope and melancholy/nostalgia that permeates the two stories.

I did laugh at some point because very dark and heartbreaking moments are juxtaposed with Neil's very ... I don't know, sort of bright/musical narration (?) like the moment where Edwin talks about his death and the discussion goes pretty much like that:

"- They(the teenagers who killed him) would come here and kill frogs and rabbits and cats ...

- ...And you

- And me.

It wAs a THURSday 😊😁"

I love his narration, so much, btw, it's not a criticism, it's one of the best things in this audiobook (and they are a lot of good things in this audiobook). It just sort of sounded discordant here but.... you could also say that it fits the ambivalent tone of the story which oscillates between darkness and hope.

I don't know why I'm even writing this but, listen to the audiobook, it's amazing 🥰

[missgryffin]

Girl, actually I’m sorry my Queen!

I thought I was the only one that feels ‘meh’ about season 3 of Bridgerton. Oh, my don’t get me started on the way Colin’s face looks, he looked better before. Not everyone needs a chiseled jaw, that just makes it feel as people wouldn’t care about baby faced Colin.

Not sure about you but I don’t like Polin 😬 sorry, but Penelope just rubs me the wrong way.

Haha you're definitely not the only one feeling "meh"! I'll put my thoughts below the cut since it's spoilers for episodes 1-4.

So I really like Penelope. (I had a very awkward "awkward phase" as a tween/teen for awhile there, and I can relate to the wallflower character, and to being very bookish and shy before I got my confidence sorted out and learned how to be more social. So I really empathize with her character.) But I think she's being done dirty?? I don't know that I have a whole lot of coherency on this yet so I'm just going to ramble in bullet points lol.

I don't know if it's Luke's acting declining or them making him act in a weird robotic way to convey this "different" and "mature" Colin, but it's not working! Colin doesn't come off as charming, he comes off as flat. I'm not seeing the depth to him that Penelope is in love with anymore.

I don't think there was enough done by way of Colin's apology for what Pen overheard or to establish/explain Colin's development of romantic feelings for Pen. There's the kiss, and then there's a spicy dream that we find out is Colin's dream, and that's kind of it until he's interrupting her proposal, ruining her, and proposing marriage in the span of like 5 minutes. I was expecting/wanting waaayyyy more development of those two going from friends to lovers, but as it happened, I found it to be very choppy and rushed.

Penelope's love interest arc with Debling was unnecessary, imo. I do think that in any friends to lovers there needs to be at least a little bit of healthy jealousy to push them toward each other, but that could have been accomplished by Penelope receiving attention at a ball and Colin not liking it. The Debling arc took away space from developing Colin and Penelope together. I still like the Debling storyline wrt El and Cress —

Which, side note, I love the redemption arc for Cress!! Her and ES Adelaide are very similar/serve a similar antagonist role, so I really like that they're giving her more depth.

But I think El being torn between her old friendship with Pen and her new friendship with Cress, and being roped in to help Cress try to bag Debling (who would honestly be a perfect match for her? Traveling all the time and leaving her at home to run his giant mansion and throw parties with her friends? Sounds like a Cress kinda guy lol) would have worked well as its own side-plot without roping Pen into it.

Because the "lessons to get a husband" + Debling arc only served to make Pen's situation "worse." The "lessons" had so little screen time that they served the purpose of the Whistledown leak more than they served creating romantic tension with Colin, imo. And the Whistledown leak served no purpose other than to ostracize Pen further, which felt completely unnecessary to me. She was a character who started really strong, standing up to her obnoxious mother and gaining all this self-confidence. But then the narrative just tore her back down into this ultra-ostracized, self-pitying version of herself, and given that she was already ostracized to start with, I don't think that was necessary or serving the story with Colin in any way.

If they wanted to force Pen to have to write about herself (which I do think it's important for her to be put in that position), they could have done so by Colin courting her and her having to write about the nasty things people were saying about that, and it would have served the same purpose.

AND, I'm probably sounding like a broken record here, but all that screen time about the Whistledown leak and Pen being even more ostracized could have been more time that her and Colin were building up to and then courting!

WHEREEEEE is the courting??? Where is asking her to dance on his own volition? Bringing her a lemonade? Going on a promenade? How does he go from kissing her as a friend to fingering her and proposing marriage? Like????

I digress.

Actually no, we're going to talk about the carriage scene.

PITBULL???? OF ALL SONGS, PITBULL????????? I had his voice in my head the. entire. time. I was cringe-giggling!!! It was visually so hot, but I couldn't even enjoy the hotness because I was like…PITBULL???? So there's that. There's also the not enough in-between from the kiss thing. And then there's the whole ruining her virtue and proposing as a cliffhanger thing.

Which, side-note 1, I was annoyed by the Colin threesome scenes. They felt gratuitous to show Luke's chest hair and make sure we knew that he has sex (which his journal already did, but whatever), but again, they detract from the Polin screen time that was so desperately lacking.

And side-note 2, from a writing standpoint, I get the vibe that they knew they wanted to end Chapter 4 where they did, and so 1-3 was almost working backwards to get to that point. And I personally am annoyed because I think 4 was too early for a proposal. (Again, WHERE IS THE COURTING???)

Also Pen deserves a better proposal than that. The defining aspect of her character is how she feels unloved. Her mom's awful but has moments of compassion, her sisters are monsters to her. Through Colin (and extension, the Bridgertons), she deserves to feel loved. She deserves romantic gestures. She deserves buildup and then Colin getting down on one knee and professing his love to her.

Circling back to 4 being too early — they're obviously going for the angle of Colin finding out she's Whistledown while they're engaged to "up the stakes," and I'm curious to see how they handle and resolve that given the extreme nature of his feelings about Whistledown, so I have to reserve judgment somewhat. But I think I'm leaning toward wishing he would have found out while courting? Idk, a proposal after working through that seems more profound to me, because he has to choose her despite that, versus staying despite that. The second option is more passive?

And then mixed in with all this is the fact that he technically ruined her virtue prior to proposing, so I feel like that might be a shadow in Part 2, and again, I don't think Pen deserves that. Whistledown drama, sure, she is Whistledown, so she brought that part on herself. But I don't want Pen in a position where she's doubting Colin's intentions. His romantic love for her and his intentions for her need to be overwhelmingly clear to the viewer and her, and right now I don't think they are?

[bnesszai]

“I’m sorry you loved me, but I will never take it back.” For fyolai perhaps

Stay safe and take care! <3

"I'm sorry you loved me," Fyodor says, but the manic grin never slips from his lips, "but I will never take it back."

Nikolai isn't supposed to survive the plan. They're meant to die for Fyodor's cause. It's beautiful, really, to become some sort of holy symbol in this war to eradicate sin.

And yet.

This is just another cage with an expiration date.

Nikolai laughs. "Pop quiz! Who will not die for the sins of humanity but rather live to soak them in blood?"

Fyodor tilts his head, but doesn't say anything.

"A false prophet! Ah, I gave away the answer."

"I promised to let you free, to let you fly," Fyodor grins, "what better freedom for this world is there than death?"

Nikolai thinks of crumbles bedsheets and a priest, a martyr, and a demon.

Love. Hate. Teeth sinking into their skin. Prayers against their lips, sin against their thighs. The absolute gore of tearing someone apart.

Is freedom nothing but an illusion after all?

[tigirl-and-co]

Middle-Aged Man (But Not a Dad (Probably))

Heyooooo, back at it again with a super rough draft for a fic!

inspired by @dballzposting but especially THIS post!

Basic plot summary is Trunks accidentally imprinted on Yamcha like a baby bird but is too emotionally stunted from growing up with the least familial family in all of classic anime to realize that he's being weird as hell about it.

To nobody's surprise, it's a character study! Woohoo!

And before we begin, I wrote almost all of this while dead tired, so it's probably even rougher than my usual rough drafts, but good god I wanted to write this sooooo bad.

Obsession ran on both sides of his family. This was an issue for Trunks, as he'd really fucking rather be thinking about quite literally anything else. But here he was, at the get-together-slash-party-slash-ritual-to-appease-a-big-purple-cat-with-food-so-we-don't-get-blown-up, staring at his mom's ex from the other side of the dessert table.

And praying said ex wouldn't look up from the eclairs he'd never be able to afford otherwise and see Trunks' stupid, stupid eyes staring at him.

But he did.

Fuck.

"Hey, Champ! How've ya been, Buddy?" Yamcha said, in his stupid fucking aging dudebro voice that filled Trunks with an overwhelming sensation of warmth and comfort. He hated it. Yamcha smiled at him the way, Trunks thought, a dad smiles at his somewhat estranged son.

It was probably a kinder smile than his real dad gave when he hugged him for the first time. Not that Trunks would know. Couldn't really see Vegeta's face, too busy experiencing every emotion he could name and also being shoved against Vegeta's inhuman, statuesque form.

It fucking felt like being shoved face-first into a statue, too.

Not like Yamcha probably felt, with his all-too-human physique. There was a softness that covered his features, even though he was still as tough and muscular as ever.

He kinda reminded Trunks of the big blue guy from Monsters Inc. But like, less serious. And very slightly less hairy.

Trunks had been staring too long, but apparently Yamcha was willing to write off the icy glare as a genetic thing and not an actual threat, because he approached the teen with no hint of trepidation.

He stood in front of Trunks and hucked a thumb at the spread of confections behind him. "Yo, you tried the weird cream cake thing? The one covered in chocolate? No idea what it is, but it is good!"

Trunks tried desperately to claw himself out of this conversation with "It's called an eclair cake." He wasn't sure whether or not he had meant to sound that gruff. Either way he sounded too much like his dad, and it pissed him off more.

"Yo, what? They can make eclairs into cake? That's crazy!" Yamcha took pause and then nearly busted his gut, laughing a bit too loud like guys that age tend to do. "But I guess when you're rich, you can pay people to cook up just about anything!"

There! An opening! Trunks knew how to win this conversation and then make his getaway!

"Actually, Yamcha, I think it's just graham crackers, pudding, and chocolate. Pretty simple recipe. I can ask the cooks to give it to you."

Yamcha blinked. "R-Really? That's it?" He sighed. "Well, as much as I'd love to eat cake all day, I really shouldn't." He slapped his gut, which jiggled slightly. "I'm at that age where I've gotta start watching what I eat or I won't be in any shape to show off to the ladies, haha!"

Trunks immediately threw his gaze to his shoes. He fucking lost that interaction, and now he'd have to talk to Yamcha for however long the older man could stand him. Fuck. Well, Trunks knew how conversations worked. He'd seen the guys at Kame House get into it sometimes, and since Trunks was no longer a child, he figured he should talk like that. The ball was in his court.

"Ladies, huh? What... sort of ladies are you into?"

Fuckin' killed it.

~~~

Now it was Yamcha's turn to be cornered. Was it okay to be talking about that kind of stuff with a kid? With someone else's kid? With the kid of somebody he dated?

But he couldn't just say that! Trunks was at the age where he was starting to go after the ladies himself, and Yamcha didn't want to discourage that! He had to find a middle ground, hopefully there was an avenue in this conversation that wouldn't lead to either of Trunks' parents hitting his head clean off his shoulders.

"Um. Your-" NONONONO CAN'T MENTION BULMA. "I m-mean, I like women who..." and how is he supposed to word this? Obviously he's not gonna say 'pretty women' because that would sound so damn shallow, coming from him. "I like. When girls. Can stand on their own... but enjoy having someone around to make their lives easier? I guess?"

He ran his hands through the hair on the back of his head. "To be honest, kid, I'm not really sure anymore! The more I think about it, the more I realize that sometimes people you think should work don't, but the real crazy shi- the real crazy stuff ends up better." Yamcha laughed the kind of shitty laugh you let out when you're nervous and stalling for time. "What about you, Trunks? You a ladies' man? Got a preference?"

~~~

Well, Trunks had been expecting an answer like 'I like redheads' or 'I'm a boob guy' so he was a little unsure of his next move, but he had to think of something to say!

"Um idk there's this one YouTuber I like." Trunks crossed his arms. "So you like women like my mom, right? It kind of sucks that she ended up with my dad."

Yamcha couldn't move. He wasn't sure he was breathing, either. "H-Huh?"

"Yeah 'cuz you probably woulda been a way better husband. All my dad does is train all day and then sit at the table and stuff his stupid face." Trunks put his fist on his hip. "You like watching movies and being nice and shit. I dunno."

~~~

Yamcha was desperately hoping Vegeta wasn't going to manifest behind him and reduce him to ashes. The things Trunks was saying were weird, sure, but the whole family had always been blunt. Trunks probably didn't mean anything by it. Not that that would stop either of his parents from hunting Yamcha down if they heard.

And Yamcha wasn't stupid! He had issues with his own parents, way back when. It's what eventually led him to become a bandit out in the middle of the desert for Chrissake! But he had just wanted to be a dude Trunks could come talk to if he was having the sort of human troubles an ex-evil alien dad couldn't help him solve, and apparently he had been too approachable. Or Vegeta really did just suck that bad.

Either way, oops.

"Hey kid, l-listen! You can't just say things like that!" Yamcha sighed deeply, trying to compose himself. He was still looking around like a raccoon that could hear hound dogs braying, but at least he stopped stuttering.

And then he saw Trunks' face harden even further, scowling angrily. The tykebomb looked like he was barely resisting shouting his next statement, and Yamcha was very glad for that.

~~~

"I'm not a fucking kid! Goddamnit, I'm just trying to have a normal fucking conversation, why are you being so fucking weird about this?" Trunks would have been a truly intimidating sight to behold at this point if he wasn't three-foot-five with lavender hair. "And I was gonna apologize for suckerpunching you that one time when you stayed over, but you can fucking forget it! I'm glad I punched you!"

~~~

The older man knew he had to take responsibility here, because apparently he was right and neither of the kid's parents bothered to teach him the difference in how you're supposed to talk to people outside your own home.

...Thinking on it, neither Bulma nor Vegeta had ever deferred to authority in their lives. Vegeta had a habit of trying to kill anybody stationed above him, and Bulma either screamed until listened to or flashed her tits at someone until she got her way.

Fuck him, maybe he would have made a better parent! Too late now, though.

"No, Trunks, that's not what I meant," he reassured the stunted youth. "I want you to know you can talk to me about stuff, alright? But maybe- maybe not out where your parents can hear? The earth dragon balls can't bring me back again, y'know?"

Trunks looked back up, waiting to hear the rest of the statement.

"And I mean, actually you probably shouldn't say that sort of stuff, because it makes people uncomfortable, but-" here he took the chance of fucking it all up even worse and ruffled Trunks' hair. Trunks didn't even flinch and Yamcha didn't know what that meant. "We're already friends, right? And friends can totally say that sort of stuff. In private."

Trunks met him dead in the eye, unblinking and unemoting. "Okay."

Yamcha chuckled unconvincingly. It fooled Trunks, though. "So, were you actually gonna apologize for that gut punch, or...?"

"No."

"So, what? You were just gonna feel like shit about it your entire life? Until you died?"

"Yeah."

"Haha, okay then! Did... you want a slice of this, um, eclair cake? There's not a lot left!"

"Sure. Can I call you 'Uncle?'"

Yamcha tensed up just slightly, before letting it drain out of him. "Not where anybody who might tell your parents can hear, okay?"

"Deal."

[icewindandboringhorror]

Baby boy brother birthday photos from last year that I just realized I never uploaded!

[rotisseries]

people are very weird about shockfics like what is up with that

[bitchfitch]

somebody shoot me with a gun until I am dead before I write the first chapter of that pirate thing for like. Genuinely the eighth or ninth time.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

WIP Wednesday

I have Nieyao on the brain something bad and can't stop writing things for them, so here's a piece of another pre-fic Nieyao extra for All Dreams Were Worth Keeping. It's set a few weeks after the extra where they got together on the work retreat.

“Meng Yao.”

Meng Yao, currently up to his elbows in other people’s bullshit problems, doesn’t bother looking up at Nie Mingjue looming in his doorway.

“Yes?”

“You know it’s 6, don’t you?”

“Rest assured, Mingjue, I always know what time it is.” Meng Yao’s reply is perhaps a bit too tart, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem fazed by it. Rather he steps into the office fully and shuts the door behind himself with a quiet click. The office is likely emptying out quickly enough on the other side of it that the extra layer of privacy isn’t strictly necessary, but Meng Yao doesn’t mind. He simply makes a note of it in the background of everything else running through his mind and dismisses it just as easily. Whatever the reason for it, it doesn’t matter right now -

“A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue says, low under the furious tacking of Meng Yao’s keyboard, and Meng Yao freezes. Entirely without his permission, his near-perfect memory replays the moment Nie Mingjue had called him that in the dark of a hotel room, the pair of them finally daring to cross a line Meng Yao had never thought he’d see himself cross. Nie Mingjue’s good at that, inviting him to see ways of doing things, possibilities for his life, that he wouldn’t have bothered to think of without him. 

His breath hitches in his chest in the moment before he returns to typing, though he does at least look up from the screen to meet Nie Mingjue’s eyes only to find him looking…concerned. Concerned? For him?

“Mingjue,” he acknowledges with audible hesitation - this is as much uncharted territory as that night (that week) at the hotel had been, and he hates being caught off guard no matter how many times Nie Mingjue does it.

“Whatever you’re working on can wait. It’s Friday.”

Meng Yao blinks and, despite his best intentions, fails to see the point of this argument.

“Yes, it’s Friday…that means two days of leaving things unfinished and an extra workload for Monday morning, which I’d rather avoid.”

“What are you working on that’s so time sensitive?” Nie Mingjue asks then with the beginnings of a glare creeping across his unfairly handsome face. Meng Yao can never tell if he loves or hates that Nie Mingjue is just as attractive when he’s pissed as he is when he’s happy or - as Meng Yao’s brain is still unhelpfully replaying for him in exquisite detail despite the last example of this having happened weeks ago - completely blissed out. 

“There was a scheduling error in accounting and a report that was meant to be sent out two days ago hasn’t even been started. I would have worked on it earlier but there were other things I needed to wrap up first, and I understand that overdue work should take priority but -“

“A-Yao, I’m not trying to interrogate you,” Nie Mingjue interrupts. “I trust that you did everything in the best way you could and that I would’ve done it the same way if I’d known, you don’t have to defend yourself to me. I just wanted to know what it was - so you’re doing this report right now?”

Meng Yao has to blink a few times through the euphoria of being trusted to be competent. Just like that. No questions, no hesitation. Nie Mingjue trusts him, and Meng Yao still doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[inkskinned]

sometimes we just need someone to pay enough attention.

for the longest time i had been trying to read The Lord of The Rings. everyone had sung the praises for it, over and over. i'd seen clips of the movie and it seemed like it could be fun, but actually reading it was fucking horrible.

my parents had the omnibus - all the books squished into one big tome - and in the 4th grade i started sort of an annual tradition: i would start trying to read TLR and get frustrated after about a month and put it back down. at first i figured i was just too young for it, and that it would eventually make sense.

but every time i came back to it, i would find myself having the exact same experience: it was confusing, weird, and dry as a fucking bone. i couldn't figure it out. how had everyone else on earth read this book and enjoyed it? how had they made movies out of this thing? it was, like, barely coherent. i would see it on "classics" list and on every fantasy/sci-fi list and everyone said i should read it; but i figured that it was like my opinion of great expectations - just because it's a classic doesn't mean i'm going to like experiencing it.

at 20, i began the process of forcing myself through it. if i had to treat the experience like a self-inflicted textbook, i would - but i was going to read it.

my mom came across me taking notes at our kitchen table. i was on the last few pages of the first book in the omnibus, and i was dreading moving on to the next. she smiled down at me. only you would take notes on creative writing. then she sat down and her brow wrinkled. wait. why are you taking notes on this?

i said the thing i always said - it's boring, and i forget what's happening in it because it's so weird, and dense. and strange.

she nodded a little, and started to stand up. and then sat back down and said - wait, will you show me the book?

i was happy to hand it over, annoyed with the fact i'd barely made a dent in the monster of a thing. she pulled it to herself, pushing her glasses up so she could read the tiny writing. for a moment, she was silent, and then she let out a cackle. she wouldn't stop laughing. oh my god. i cannot wait to tell your father.

i was immediately defensive. okay, maybe i'm stupid but i've been trying to read this since the 4th grade and -

she shook her head. raquel, this is the Silmarillion. you've been reading the Silmarillion, not the lord of the rings.

anyway, it turns out that the hobbit and lord of the rings series are all super good and i understand why they're recommended reading. but good lord (of the rings), i wish somebody had just asked - wait. this kind of thing is right up your alley. you love fantasy. it sounds like something might be wrong. why do you think it's so boring?

[obae-me]

Human Things that Confuse the Non-Humans

I've seen a lot of headcanons on my feed recently that are all about demonic traits and things that seem to scare or facinate MC, but what about the opposite? So I was wondering what sort of typical human things might either unsettle the non-humans, confuse them, or enchant them in some way.

Most of these are based off of personal heasdcanons I already have, so it's very self indulgent.

If ya'll have any other ideas, feel free to share, I'd love to hear them.

Also not proof read cuz I'm writing this at like 5 am due to sleep issues.

------

Circadian Rythem. I've always wanted to bring up how I headcanon that the Devildom doesn't even follow a 24 hour schedule, since the 24 hour thing is entirely based around the sun, and since they don't have a sun, it makes sense that days would follow some other set rule (I always think that Devildom days are much much longer, hence why MC is caught so many times in canon just taking naps wherever even when Belphie is not around), but that's a headcanon for another time. Anyways, I think the fact that Humans almost need to follow a certain sleeping schedule would totally confuse the demons. Demons only really sleep to stay at their strongest, it's not as vital to them. And the fact that humans can die if they don't get the proper sleep? Totally freaks them out. If MC ever pulls an all-nighter, they all think they're one foot in the grave. Having Solomon and MC getting naturally sleepy more often than the non-humans do might seem pretty adorable at times though.

The fact that human hair does indeed shed. I don't personally think demon or angelic hair would, I feel like hair is something they can change at will within reason (There is a chat with Mammon about him getting his haircut, but he said he was going to change it, so I like to think he made it grow back instantly and cut it like normal again). So I like to think that MC or Solomon leaving strands of hair behind is shocking, because the non-humans only ever associated that trait with animals, but they also find it weirdly cute in a way. The demons and angels do try to ask to comb or brush Solomon's and/or MC's hair from time to time. They feel like they're helping.

Being able to roll (curl? Fold?) your tongue. I think it would be hilarious if despite the millions of other things demons and angels can do, none of them can roll their tongues. And then they get confused too when they discover that not every human can do it either, just certain ones. Solomon can do it and treats it like a party trick.

Allergies. I don't know if it's said in Canon anywhere that demons and angels can have allergies...I hope not because (as much as it sucks) it would make sense for it to just be a human thing. Just the concept entirely would have the non-human's heads spin. What do you mean certain things can just have your body essentially attack itself? And it's different for every human? It can be quite literally anything? (The non-humans would absolutely have a heart attack if they knew about mine)

Human mimicry. I think we as humans just have a natural instinct to mimic or repeat certain things. It's a lot more noticeable with internet culture and memes and references and things, but I think a very human thing to do is repeat or mock things we come into contact with. For example, if we hear an animal noise, we try to repeat it like we're talking to it. If we see something in a weird position, we might try to pose like it, etc. We try to relate to things, which is why personification is so prominent in everything we do. (Like how some of us tell wobbily objects to stay or loud machines to shut up) The non-humans think this is very cute. They don't really do that. The closest thing they might relate to is a current trend, but those pass by rather quickly. Mammon probably thinks we're almost like a bunch of crows.

Emotional control/suppression. Hear me out. It's well known in canon that the brothers blow up easily. They'll fight someone over miniscule things. Even Lucifer, who says he prides himself on his control, loses his temper quite often. And Mammon, while seemingly the best at controlling anger, is very open about all his other emotions. The only two demons that clearly have the best control overall are Barbatos and Diavolo who are the two most powerful demons in the Devildom. It probably takes so much energy and power to keep themselves in check. We hardly ever see that dark aura around them if at all in the game, which seems to give the two this unspoken common respect. As for angels, it was already mentioned once that the angels do have magical methods forcibly controlling emotions, and despite that, I'm sure it takes ages of training and practice to get to the level of "patient perfection" they're supposed to exhibit. Now, humans aren't perfect, and of course, there's a lot of nuance to this like mental illness I won't get into, but generally speaking, we quickly learn how to regulate our emotions or how to supress them for society's sake. At the very least, when we get angry we dont suddenly get surrounded by a dark shadow or shift into a different form. And I like to think this terrifies the non-humans to a degree. They don't know when humans are angry or upset until it's blatantly obvious. They already are off-put by Solomon because they never really know what he's up to. And what if it's not even because he's doing "weird" things, what if it's just because he seems to be so calm all the time and no one knows how to read him? None of them know how to read human body language. There's no aura to see, no puffed up wings, no glowing eyes, no whipping tails. Humans can just...stand there, sometimes with a blank expression, sometimes just staring. It can give even the stronger willed beings the creeps. Bonus points if MC is great at masking too. You mean humans can just...take extreme emotions and tuck them away for later? I'm sure that's an absolutely wild concept. Most of the non-humans are just not capable of that kind of control. Albeit its not always the healthiest option, but just the fact that humans have the willpower to just sometimes choose or force themselves not to feel at all is Barbatos level intimidating.

[steviewashere]

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

--------

❤️

[xanasaurusrex]

hi, i love how you write, could you please write some clarisse x daughter of hephaestus drabble? like some love triangle kind hephaestus, aphrodite and ares, but the sapphic version with ares and hephaestus, please ♡

clarisse and hephaestus!daughter hiding their relationship clarisse la rue x hephaestus!daughter!reader a/n: hi!! thank you sm for reading my other stuff, and yes ofc! so this was originally meant to be a drabble, but as you can see from the word count i got carried away. i had an idea and then i just kept writing it, and i couldn't stop. honestly clarisse x hephaestus!daughter is a favorite pairing of mine i love ares children with hephaestus children! ok thanks sm for requesting, i hope i did your request justice! warnings: enemies to lovers, weird transition from enemies to lovers, making out, mentions of getting stabbed, mention of weapons, secret relationship wc: 2k+

a child of ares and a child of hephaestus getting together isn't impossible, and also definitely not unheard of, but it's also definitely not common.

ares kids and hephaestus kids have a sort of natural rivalry that they're sort of inducted into from the second they're claimed.

since hephaestus is married to aphrodite, and yet aphrodite is having a longstanding affair with ares, hephaestus kids tend to not trust ares kids very much.

that was how it was for clarisse and y/n for quite a while.

their relationship was as hostile as any other relationship between a hephaestus kid and an ares kid, but they just felt drawn to each other. there was just something there that they couldn't deny.

everything changed the day they first kissed. they had gotten into an argument after clarisse claimed that the armor that y/n had made for her was faulty.

y/n claimed this was 100% untrue, because she had made it herself, and she didn't half-ass armor making.

it was late in the day, early evening. y/n had finished her dinner early, since there was a sword that she had to have finished within the next two days, the production of which she was still very behind on.

clarisse had caught up with her and cornered her in the forge, and started making the angry accusations.

"the straps are loose, and the whole thing almost fell off me while i was getting stabbed at. i call that faulty, y/n," clarisse sneered.

y/n scowled at clarisse. "then you must've knocked them loose or something, because i know for a fact that i fastened on those straps myself, and they were not loose," there was a fierceness in her voice that would've made anyone else fall back, but only made clarisse get further in her face.

"they were loose, and i almost died because of it!" clarisse snapped back.

y/n rolled her eyes as she went to put her mallet back from pounding down on the metal to create the sword shape. "come on, clarisse, stop being so dramatic. you were in the sword practice area, you wouldn't have died,"

"you don't know that!"

"yes i do!"

the two paused their arguing and stared at each other. there had always been something electric between the two of them, that was something nobody was able to deny, not even the two of them.

after a few seconds of the stare down, clarisse surged forward, her feet stomping loudly on the ground of the forge as she pushed y/n up against the wall. her nostrils were flaring, and her eyes were full of fire.

and as much as she hated it, clarisse couldn't help but look down at y/n's lips.

they looked so deliciously kissable, and yet they were pulled into a sneer at clarisse. she did everything she could to banish the temptation to kiss y/n right now, because that was so not what was going to happen.

"get... off me," y/n breathed out, panting heavily. her teeth were clenched, and her eyes closed tightly, as if warding off unwelcome thoughts.

clarisse could understand the feeling.

clarisse didn't move. the two of them stayed where they were, eyes flicking between their lips and back up to the other's eyes.

eventually y/n closed her eyes again, tigher this time, saying, "clarisse, you need to get off me and leave or something is going to happen,"

clarisse stayed where she was.

the two of them continued to stare at each other for a few seconds, their breaths speeding up and hitting each other in the face, hot and harsh.

everything changed within the span of about two seconds.

surprisingly, it was y/n who surged forward first, her hands grabbing onto clarisse's face and pulling it close to hers, their lips making contact.

the second their lips touched, they both knew that their relationship would never be the same again. they weren't exactly sure how, because there was a good chance that they would just act like this never happened.

but right there, in the moment, they wanted to enjoy it as much as they could.

clarisse's hands found themselves snaking around y/n's waist, holding her tight and pulling the two of them closer together. y/n moved her hands from cradling clarisse's face to wrapping her arms around her neck.

the air in the camp forge felt hotter than y/n had ever experienced it being, and she knew it had nothing to do with the fires raging in the hearths, and much more to do with the daughter of ares, who was currently pressed up against her, kissing her with so much fervor it was making her dizzy.

they both pulled away for a millisecond with the intention of getting some air before going back in, both of them feeling hungry for the other, when of course, an interruption struck.

"y/n!" a voice called from the distance.

they both shoved away from each other dramatically, y/n accidentally banging her hip as she tried to jump backwards, unaware that she was as far back as she could go. they made eye contact for a few more seconds, staring into each other's eyes with the kind of intensity that would even make the gods quiver.

"y/n!" the voice called out again, causing y/n to avert her eyes from clarisse, being worried that if she looked at her for even a second more, she wouldn't be able to look away.

when the voice finally entered the forge, it was revealed to be one of her siblings, looking for her for advice on something to do with a weapon they made.

when y/n's brother entered the forge, he could immediately feel the tension in the space. he shrank unto himself, noticing that clarisse, the widely known volatile daughter of ares, and his older sister, who had a rather funny look on her face. come to think of it, clarisse had the same funny look on her face. like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't have, but that couldn't be. he couldn't even fathom a thing they would be doing together that would be wrong.

he then saw clarisse's caught expression morph into one of anger. she snapped to get y/n's attention, before saying with as much conviction as she could muster, "just make sure the next armor isn't faulty. i would prefer not to die, and even if i did, i'm sure you don't want it to be your fault,"

and even though this was clarisse who was talking, there was less conviction in her voice than she had hoped. in fact, it almost sounded a little weak. like she was out of breath. which she most definitely was not. no way did a simple kiss rob her of her breath.

(it most definitely did)

y/n stumbled through walking her younger brother through what he had asked, only half focusing on his questions and giving half-thought out answers. she knew she was going to regret that when he tried to forge whatever it was he was wanting to create the next day, but at the moment, y/n couldn't find it in herself to care.

she had just kissed clarisse la rue, and she was sure it had been the best kiss of her life. granted, there hadn't been many, but she couldn't imagine another kiss topping the one she had just experienced.

there was only one problem.

the best kiss of her life had been with... who it had been with.

the next week was particularly awkward between the two. the usual animosity that had come to be expected at camp half blood between an ares child and a hephaestus child was absent between the two, and instead they avoided each other at all costs.

y/n spent most of her time in the forge, crafting anything but the specific style of armor that she knew clarisse favored, and instead found herself self-consciously forging beautiful spears that, despite the expert craftsmanship, she knew would never rival the spear that clarisse's father had given her.

her siblings were becoming increasingly worried about her, since she hardly ever left the forge. when she did, she seemed preoccupied, and irritated about something. they had asked what was going on, but she had refused to disclose anything.

similarly, clarisse was doing everything she could to keep y/n out of her head as well.

she hardly ever left the training fields. she was singing dummies with her magical spear left and right, day and night. specifically the first day after the kiss, people would see clarisse violently taking down whole fleets of dummies within seconds, and were hesitant to train that particular day.

clarisse took more breaks than y/n did, mostly because she wasn't able to spend every waking moment at the training areas, partially because her body wouldn't allow it, and also the harpies that patrolled the camp at night weren't particularly fond of it. if clarisse had the energy to fight them off, she might've attempted it, but considering she spent most of her days training her body in an attempt to train her mind away from thinking about y/n, all that she could really do was sleep.

over time, though, the two of them were forced together in certain situations.

since they were both the heads of their respective cabins, whenever the counselors of each cabin were needed, they needed to be in the same room, and they had to be accustomed to that.

they were also shoved together quite a lot when their campers got into tousles, which happened quite often considering the animosity that was practically drilled into their heads from the second they were claimed and put in their right cabins.

to say that their relationship was complicated would be a gross understatement.

there was something that drew the two together, often finding themselves in situations that could rarely be explained.

like the time about a month after the forge incident (that neither of them had told anyone about) when they both went to the bathroom at the same time unknowingly, and found themselves mere centimeters from each other.

"do you ever think about it?" clarisse asked. it occurred to her that she had no memory of getting this close to y/n, but she wasn't really complaining.

before the kiss they at least interacted. it was mostly negative, with the two yelling at each other or complaining about the other for whatever reason, but they were near each other quite often due to this. after the kiss, and after the two started avoiding each other like a damn hellhound, that clarisse was really missing her company.

she was starting to think that maybe she had only ever bickered with y/n to get the scraps of her attention that she was desperate for.

there were times when this sounded like a completely logical explanation, and there were also times when clarisse had this thought and she forced herself to banish it, telling herself that she didn't need y/n's attention. why would she? they had never been friends, had never even really been acquaintances.

and yet, throughout a lot of clarisse's life, y/n had been one of the only constants.

the first day clarisse showed up at camp half blood, she was there, welcoming her. though clarisse had been rather hostile to her that day, which now that she thinks about it, may have been what caused their more intense rivalry, y/n still insisted on showing her around the camp, showing her all of her personal favorite spots.

"think about what?" the sound of y/n's voice broke clarisse from her trance, and brought her back to the present.

clarisse blinked once, and then y/n was in focus again. clarisse sharply inhaled at really seeing y/n up close, seeing all the intricate details of her face.

she was sure she had never seen anything so beautiful.

"the kiss," clarisse clarified. her fingers, as if with a mind of their own, began seeking out y/n's fingers. "because i do," she murmured. the tips of their pointer fingers touched, and it was as if electricity zinged up their spines. "i don't really want to," clarisse admitted, her head turning to the side as she did everything she could to avoid looking y/n in the eyes. "but i do. i can't help it."

y/n cleared her throat, utterly shocked at clarisse's admission "sometimes... sometimes i think about it, too," she confessed. "o-occasionally,"

the two were silent for a few seconds, before clarisse finally gathered up the courage to look y/n in the eye again. the eye contact was searing, and intense, and before they knew it, the two were leaning closer to each other.

there was no denying it anymore, since they had both admitted it.

they didn't know what happened, when it happened, or even why it happened, but there was something between them. something that was magnetic and uncontrollable... and somewhat addicting.

they were milliseconds away from kissing. their lips were just barely grazing, when the sound of voices startled the two apart.

as electric as the two of them felt around each other, they both knew that this was the sort of situation they didn't want to be caught in.

this need to not be caught like this was only furthered when it was a group of aphrodite girls that walked into the bathroom, looking at the two of them curiously, instantly clocking how close the two were standing. they obviously noted the taut tension in the room, and clarisse and y/n watched as the girls' eyes flitted between the two of them, their previous conversation having come to a halt.

clarisse, so fast y/n wasn't sure she hadn't just disappeared into thin air, turned around and slammed the stall door behind her, locking it with a heavy click.

y/n was left there with a shocked expression on her face, staring at the aphrodite girls, looking a lot like a deer caught in headlights.

she hesitated for only a second more before pushing past them and leaving the bathroom all together. she felt slightly guilty about leaving clarisse in there, but she was the one who had abandoned her first, so she didn't feel too bad about it.

after this, everything changed for clarisse and y/n.

they started meeting up in secret to spend time with each other away from camp. this spending time with each other consisted of talking together, laughing together, and yes... kissing.

it took a while for them to become official, but when they did, they both found themselves happier than they had been in a while.

it was noticeable, too. almost everyone at camp, chiron and mr. d included, that the two were acting... happier.

there was just something in the air around the two of them. whenever they were close to each other, it felt like the air became electric. no one could really place what was happening, since y/n. and clarisse had decided to keep their relationship a secret... at least for the start.

it was a complicated decision they made. people often forget that camp half blood is a large collection of teenagers. and teenagers like to gossip.

it's not exactly uncommon for two demigods to get together, and then everyone has something to say about it, which puts a strain on the new relationship.

it was y/n who suggested the idea.

"i just think... i want to enjoy this," she said while twirling a strand of clarisse's hair around her finger. she adjusted herself where her back was leaned against the rough bark of the tree in the woods at camp. clarisse was laying down as well, with her head in y/n's lap. "i mean, you've seen what happens. everybody has their own opinion, and then they get into fights and then they break up," y/n took a deep breath. "i really don't want that to happen to us,"

clarisse was quiet for a minute, her eyes flitting around at the trees and leaves and branches above her head. "okay," she said. "i don't want that to happen to us either. i want to enjoy us," she said.

y/n smiled, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. she started to lean back up, but clarisse kept hold of her cheeks and pulled her down for a kiss on the lips. they both smiled into it, giggling slightly, enjoying being the teenage girls that they are.

so there they sat, enjoying each other's presence. enjoying being in love, although they hadn't said those three large words quite yet, but they would before long.

because the gods knew that these two were hopelessly in love with each other, and were going to be together for quite a while.

[springwitch26]

flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.

warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL

notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚

"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.

"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"

you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.

because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.

"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."

"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."

"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."

"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.

"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"

"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.

"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."

"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."

everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.

"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.

"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."

"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."

"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."

"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."

---

that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.

"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.

you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.

"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.

"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.

"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."

"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."

you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.

"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."

"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.

"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"

jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.

"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.

"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.

she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.

the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.

you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.

as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.

"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.

"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"

---

several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.

when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.

"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.

"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."

"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."

"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.

"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.

"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.

"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.

"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"

your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.

her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.

her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.

entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.

"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."

"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."

"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."

your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.

melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.

"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.

"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.

"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.

---

after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.

"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.

"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.

"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"

"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."

you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.

you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.

"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.

"may the best woman win."

---

how the hell was she so good at everything?

melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.

it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.

"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."

"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"

"what?"

"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.

"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.

you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.

3...

2... (you push down the gas pedal button)

1...

GO!!!

daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.

"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.

"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.

the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.

coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.

melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.

"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.

"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.

desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.

melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.

you were in her lap now.

her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.

"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.

if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.

you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.

she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.

"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"

it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.

"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"

you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.

you swallowed.

"would you let me do that?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.

"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.

"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."

that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.

"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."

"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.

"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."

you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.

"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."

she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.

"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."

she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"

---

a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.

in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.

when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.

"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."

melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.

she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.

the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.

"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.

"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.

"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."

with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.

"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.

"but jacob—" you managed.

"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.

"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."

melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.

your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.

after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.

"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."

melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.

"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.

while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.

"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.

again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.

as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.

melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.

"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."

with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.

with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.

you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.

in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.

returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.

the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.

"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."

and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey‼️

Soooo I was wondering if u could maybe possibly write an alastor x reader where reader has a secrets admirer and alastor is super jealous but he can't show it bc they're technically only friends and acting protective would be weird.

Bonus points if the read is completely oblivious to his jealousy and eats the snacks from the gift baskets all the time, right in front of him, and wonders why his eyes is twitching so much.

Pleaseee?

👀 I don't have time for this but-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

What does Alastor care if someone wants you? He has no interest in taking you for himself. Nope. Not. At. All.

Would laugh if anybody tried to claim he felt something for you other than mild fondness

It's just been a particularly annoying few weeks because of all the gifts being sent to the hotel with your name on them, from some persistent admirer

So he does his best to convince you that they aren't good enough for you

Alastor feels his mood sour when he hands you a bouquet of flowers, your face lighting up at the sight of them as you hold them like they're precious

He misses the way your smile falters a bit when you read the tag, a small part of you hoping they were from the demon in front of you instead

"Another lackluster gift from what must surely be the most lackluster admirer on this side of the pentagram. Just look at how wilted those flowers are already!"

You shake your head and toy with the petals on the flowers, picking off the dying ones delicately

He loves me... he loves me not...

"Oh hush, it's rather darling that someone took time out of their day to give me something so thoughtful.."

You walk away to put the bouquet into a vase so you miss the twitch in Alastor's eye, the tight clenching of teeth and fierce grip on his staff

"Thoughtful? Those are yellow roses! Yellow roses stand for friendship, not romance! You can do so much better!"

Or another time, you offered him a chocolate, munching away on sweets while holding a heart-shaped box

"Are you confessing to me? You shouldn't, I'm quite the heartbreaker just so you know~"

He regrets saying the words the moment they leave his mouth, but they're the only thing keeping a blush off his face, taking a chocolate to shut himself up

You only hum and roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip as you shake the box at him, mostly all an attempt to get his eyes on the candies instead of your blushing face

"No, my secret little lover dropped off a bunch of these and I can't possibly be expected to eat all of this myself, now can I?"

The sweet treat suddenly feels bitter in his mouth and he wants to rip up the box in your hand

"Oh, so that's why these taste so uninspired! Most likely store bought instead of homemade, such a shame."

You only snort and shake your head, popping another chocolate into your pretty mouth

"Who makes homemade chocolates anymore? Let alone take time out of their day to have them delivered to me?"

Alastor is embarrassed by the warmth and genuine emotion in his voice, his smile softening as he looks you over

"Someone who cares about you enough to recognize you're worth the effort, my dear."

He leaves quickly to avoid any further embarrassment, blushing deeply and sliding the rest of the candy boxes into the trash on his way out

"A-Alastor!!"

"I'm simply doing you a favor, my dear!"

He doesn't see your sputtering and blushing as you try to comprehend what just happened

Alastor can handle the flowers, chocolates and all other sorts of gifts but when the letters start pouring in?? He's about to lose his mind

It's been at least three letters a week, and he's sick of finding them outside the hotel. He actually rips up the ones he gets to first

He finds Charlie and Angel leaning over your shoulder and reading a letter in your hands, a soft blush on your face

Charlie was cooing over how sweet the letter was while Angel was obviously teasing you, making your blush deepen

"And just what is that in your hands, my dear?"

You jump and try to hide the letter but Angel quickly snatches it away to keep reading it, laughing as he does

"Toots here got another love letter from her secret admirer~ They think she's just the most precious babe around~"

Charlie is squealing and fanning herself with her hands as she jumps up and down, making you groan and hide your face in your hands

"Isn't it just so romantic? They're really head over heels in love with her!"

Alastor feels his eye twitch as he snatches the letter from Angel to read it over himself, ignoring the noise of protest that comes from you

Finally, he glances over at you, crumpling the letter up and ripping it into pieces in front of everyone

"Well now! That was about the worst thing I've read all day!"

It felt good to rip it up, picturing it to be your admirer instead

You stand there in shock, eyeing the bits of paper then Alastor, Angel and Charlie slowly backing out of the room only to peek their heads back in

"They... they said I was beautiful."

Well... now he feels a little bad...

He recovers quickly though and wraps a casual arm around you, guiding you away from the mess as Niffty runs in to clean it up

"That's exactly what they wrote in the last one! It's nothing new, I'm afraid! Truly, you deserve better than that!"

You pout and lean your head on him a little, trying not to look disappointed about the letter

"Yeah? And just what do I deserve?"

He grins at you and leans in, pulling you closer to him

"Let me show you, my dear~"

You simply roll your eyes as you let him lead you out of the hotel on a walk, enjoying the weight of his arm around you

There's no more secret admirer after that, which suits you both just fine

Here~