#will look up at the ceiling if you say the word gullible is written there . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theoddcatlady · 5 months

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We Killed Bobby Tanner

It was me, Jessie Bates, Hunter Gilch, and Gabrielle Edison. We are the reason that Bobby Tanner never returned home that Friday night ten years ago, why every year his parents send out a plea asking for their son to come home. It was us. The senior class rejects.

Jessie was a bit slow and would believe anything you told him. You could tell this boy over a dozen times that ‘gullible’ was written on the ceiling and he’d believe you each of those times.

Gabrielle was pretty popular until her sophomore year when she got gonorrhea after having sex with her cheating shitbag of a boyfriend who didn’t know how to put on a condom. He, of course, blamed her for giving it to him and it didn’t matter what the truth was after that- Gabrielle was labeled a dirty slut and became a social outcast.

Hunter was just… off. Jessie followed him around like a lost puppy, but Hunter was that kid everyone was sure was either going to one day shoot up the school or become a prolific serial killer. Casual conversations would quickly turn sadistic as he’d brag about catching squirrels and birds in traps before killing them and cutting them up. He was the leader of our lil group, probably because the rest of us didn’t have a backbone.

Me, you can pick a reason why I was picked on- I’m fat, I had a serious acne problem, I’m socially awkward and a crybaby. I was an easy target because I’d start to cry when the words got too much and that was exactly what the bullies wanted.

Bobby was one of those bullies. He was everything we weren’t- he had money, he was good looking, he thought he was pretty smart, and he was funny… at least, if you weren’t the butt end of his jokes. We usually were. The only one he didn’t really pick on was Hunter, at least, not if he didn’t have a pack of friends around him. Hunter scared him, and probably for a good reason.

It was Hunter’s idea to kill him, after all.

It was after school, we were all at Hunter’s house. His parents were never home and it was a safe place to chill. I’d just finished throwing the pizza rolls in the microwave when he came out with it.

“What’s your perfect plan to kill someone?” Hunter said, interrupting Gabrielle’s rant about our stupid English teacher Mr. Shea.

Jessie laughed while Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Really? I don’t have one, Hunter. Because I’m not a sociopath.”

“Come on, it’s all hypothetical,” Hunter waved his hand, “Just go with it. What’s your go to plan?”

Jessie stroked his chin, which had a few scraggly hairs on it that he proudly called his ‘beard’. “Huh… I mean, I guess I’d kill them with my dad’s shotgun so he goes down for the murder? Fuck my dad,” He said.

Hunter snickered while I took a seat on the couch arm and pondered this hypothetical question. “I mean, I’d probably go for making it look like an accident. Like they fell off a cliff or a building, or the brakes in their car just gave out,” I answered.

Hunter looked genuinely impressed. “That’s actually not half bad! Come on, Gabrielle, what do you think?” He asked.

Gabrielle scoffed before she started twirling her hair- she always did that when she was thinking on something. “Oh my god, fine… I think I’d just poison the bastard? I’m not really strong, I mean, neither is Noelle, but here she is threatening to throw people off of buildings,” She elbowed my ribs teasingly.

“It’s a hypothetical question!” I threw my hands up in the air before looking down at Hunter. “Since you asked, I’m sure you already have an answer.”

“Lure them out to the woods before slicing open their throat so I can shower in their blood,” Hunter grinned menacingly and I had to suppress a shudder.

“That’s fucking gross… and would leave so much evidence, you idiot,” Gabrielle shook her head, “Actual sociopath, Hunter Gilch.”

We all laughed until Hunter brought up the next question. “Okay, who would you murder then? Say you could murder anyone and know you could get away with it. Name your picks,” He said as he crossed his arms.

I shifted uncomfortably while Gabrielle shook her head. “Too much, Hunter, too much,” She said.

“Who would you murder?” Jessie piped up with.

Hunter opened his mouth to respond when I heard the microwave beep. “Natural segue, it’s pizza rolls time!” I leaped up from the couch arm and ran into the kitchen. I did hear Hunter say he had a few possibles, but my return with the delicious snack had us completely forget about murder.

Almost.

The next week the cruelest prank was played on me. I got to my locker to see a present from a secret admirer, a box of chocolates with a sweet love letter. I was so overjoyed and I ended up enjoying two or three chocolates before class.

Chocolates that Bobby had laced with laxatives.

Just as the teacher was about to hand out the assignments, my stomach made that oh so uncomfortable gurgling sound and I had to bolt for the bathroom. I… didn’t make it. And I'd been wearing a skirt that day.

Liquid shit dripped down my legs as I scrambled for the bathroom, only to hear the cruelest laughter behind me. I looked, I saw Bobby, I saw his friends taking pictures with their phones, and I realized what happened.

I considered killing myself that night. The whole school knew what had happened. One of Bobby’s friends had texted him to let him know it was going down and that’s how he knew, and the incriminating pictures of me waddling down the hallway with a brown trail behind me spread like wildfire. I’d never live this down.

I’d already decided that I’d take all my mother’s sleeping pills and wash it down with a bottle of vodka when I heard my doorbell frantically ringing.

My mom was out so I ended up dragging myself to the door. When I opened it, there he was- Hunter. It had been raining out and he was soaking wet, gasping for breath as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Bobby. That’s who I’d fucking murder. Bobby fucking Tanner.”

I burst into tears and collapsed in Hunter’s arms.

That’s when we seriously began to plan to murder Bobby.

Jessie took no effort to convince, although I’m not sure he knew we were serious until the night it happened. Gabrielle was on the fence, but after she heard people laughing about ‘Shitstain Noelle’, she agreed to help as long as she wasn’t doing the actual killing part.

We all had a part to play. Gabrielle was the bait. Hunter and Jessie were the muscle. And I was the clean up crew.

I remember going to Jessie’s father’s home improvement shop to pick out the weapons. Jessie might’ve been dumb as a box of rocks when it came to things like school and common sense, but he knew tools. He chattered my ear off about how this certain brand of hammer was known to have its head come flying off if you used it too roughly and how this other brand was hardy and good for long term use.

Hunter picked one of those hammers and tossed it in the air. I never saw him smile quite so genuinely as he added it to the basket.

It was much more fun to actually plan the murder than commit it, at least for me. Each of us did get our own hammer, Jessie jokingly called us the hammer bros and Hunter laughed until he cried.

Gabrielle was probably the best damn bait. She made sure to approach Bobby when he was alone and actually let the bastard feel her up before saying if he wanted more, he should come with her after school. I was her back up, watching from around the corner just in case he got too much. I saw how he ogled her, he was entranced. Sure she was a slut, but she was still hot, and Bobby was still a teenage boy.

She had him drive them to the woods near Jessie’s place. We were all in position. The car pulled up and Bobby was far too focused on making out with Gabrielle to notice Hunter storming up to the car. By the time Hunter ripped the door open, it was too late for Bobby to get away.

The plan didn’t feel real until Hunter cracked the hammer against Bobby’s mouth.

Bobby screamed as Hunter dragged him out, bringing the hammer down again and again on his head. Jessie joined in and began smashing him wherever he could, but Hunter did most of the work. Jessie was more timid, he didn’t have it in him to really kill someone else.

Hunter did though. Bobby screamed and begged for him to stop. I don’t think he ever threw a punch back, he didn’t have a chance.

When he finally ceased crying and struggling, his face was a swollen, bloody mess. You couldn’t tell who he used to be. I think Hunter would’ve continued beating him if Jessie didn’t tell him it was enough. Bobby was dead.

The next part of the plan was performed mechanically. Hunter and Jessie took Bobby’s car to a deeper part of the woods where it was dismantled. Gabrielle went home. And I took care of the body, throwing it in the nearby river, tied with rocks, where it’ll never be seen again.

They sent search parties. People were dragged in for questioning. Even Hunter was, but we each other’s alibi- we were at Hunter’s house all night and he didn’t go anywhere. Probably the best stroke of luck was that Bobby didn’t tell anyone he was going out with Gabrielle. He was probably going to save the bragging for later.

People completely forgot about ‘Shitstain Noelle’ now that Bobby just up and disappeared. People talked about how he was such a good kid with such a promising future. Some rumors sprouted up about how all the pressure from his parents just made him crack and he took off to live in Florida or some shit. Other people still continued to point the finger at Hunter, saying we were just covering for him. Never really thought we participated though.

But I lied.

Bobby Tanner wasn’t dead when I took him to the river.

It came as a shock to me when I went to lift his body out of the bed of Jessie’s truck and he groaned. I nearly screamed. Somehow after being pulverized, Bobby was still alive.

I had a choice. If I dumped him in the water, he’d drown. No question about it. It was up to me now to finish the job.

Or maybe I couldn’t. Maybe when faced with the choice at the end, I just couldn’t.

Bobby was stashed under my bed. Every day when I came home from school, I expected to find him dead, but somehow he’d kept clinging onto life. I took care of him best I could with what supplies I could pick up over the counter, I fed him food turned into paste, and I’d clean up after him.

He wasn’t really… Bobby anymore. Even when his face healed, it was all crooked and puffy. I think sometime during the beating Hunter knocked one of his eyes out, because it was just gone, I don’t know what happened to it. I had to teach him how to go to the bathroom, how to eat by himself. I asked him if he remembered who I was, if he remembered Noelle.

All I got was a blank stare.

Bobby went with me to my new place when I moved out of my mother’s house. I taught him how to be quiet and stay still in the trunk I’d keep him in. During the day he knew to hide under the bed, when I got home from work he’d always give me a hug before lying down on the couch. He knew not to be seen, he listened to whatever I said. It was like having a son.

I never told the others. After the murder we just… grew apart. Things weren’t the same. Hunter was more manic and morbid than ever, Jessie became quiet and threw himself into work at his father’s shop, and Gabrielle…

Gabrielle couldn’t live with what we did. She hung herself about three months after our group murder. It was too much for her. I wish I told her at least that we didn’t kill Bobby. It’s probably the only reason the guilt hasn’t consumed me either.

But maybe I shouldn’t have kept him alive, either.

Like I said, it’s been ten years. Bobby’s made leaps and strides in taking care of himself, he can even heat up leftovers in the microwave. For the longest time, he was a blank slate. I was his Noelle, the woman taking care of him. His only friend. The world outside was a bad place, was the reason he lost himself.

Last week I left out some old things while doing some spring cleaning. Most importantly, I left out a book of pictures. I came back home to see Bobby staring at a picture of my friends. I asked him what he was doing and he just shrugged and I thought that was that. He didn’t have his memories, after all.

Well that picture knocked something loose. I came home today to find Bobby was gone, with that picture torn up in little shreds. Sometime that afternoon someone broke into the home improvement store that Jessie still worked at and beat him to death with one of the hammers.

I’m trying to get in contact with Hunter now, I know he still lives in the state but we haven’t spoken in years.

I just hope I’m not too late.

#my stories

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cyberphuck · 10 months

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Various Link Headcanons following a conversation with Seb (incl. Twilight, OOT, BOTW and Skyward):

Ocarina of Time Link: Virgin (he's ten. Even in a 17 year olds body he's still ten, and also he was raised by trees). Autistic with flat affect and Resting Bitch Face. Very shy, hard to gain his trust. Extremely picky eater. Has a bunch of body piercings. Sticks close to Twilight or BOTW at all times. Twilight will let him hold his hand.

Twilight Princess Link: Not a virgin, he's dated several people and slept with a bunch but he'd like to get married someday. He is the only Link that knows how to do laundry. Super friendly and is actually pretty normal except for the screaming night terrors. He's the one that reminds people to go to the bathroom before road trips.

Skyward Sword Link: Virgin and still thinks that sex is "when you pee in a girl." One braincell bouncing around in his head like a DVD player logo. If you tell him the word "gullible" is written on the ceiling he'll look up. Twilight will glare at you if you do this.

BOTW/TOTK Link: Not a virgin-- he was a guardsman, his friends dragged him to a brothel and bought him his first time, as was tradition. He can talk but it's hard for him and he prefers Sign. He's also wary of strangers but when he's with friends he's always the first one to jump in the pool with his clothes on. He will eat literally anything. Sky and Twilight make fun of him for being a fish fucker.

TOON LINKS: fight dirty. Wind Waker will not hesitate to kick someone in the balls. Between Worlds claims he's not sleeping with Ravio and absolutely no one believes him (except Sky who nods and says "your bed's not even big enough to fit two people.").

DARK LINKS: the Twilights are triplets who are getting their Masters in psychology. OOT Dark Link is in his 30s and always knows the best place to get pancakes.

ZELDAS: get together on weekends to play paintball together.

#loz #totk #oot

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middleearthpixie · 2 years

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Good Trouble ~ Chapter Five

Durin’s Garage AU - Good Trouble ~ Part 5

Modern Spin on The Hobbit

Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…

Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.

Your evening with Dwalin ends on a high note and you even get up the nerve to ask him about a certain tattoo…

Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader

Warning: E - NSFW 18+ - Oral sex (m receiving)

Word Count: 4,815

Khuzdul translations:

Mesmel - my jewel of jewels

masalnuldum - serious trouble

Abnâmul - beautiful

Kakhf - Shit

The pillow was warm against your cheek and you smiled as Dwalin skimmed a kiss along your right shoulder blade, his, “Are ye all right, amrâlimê? Yer awful quiet,” a whisper on your skin.

“Oh, I’m wonderful,” you murmured, the last remnants of one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had still tingling its way through you.

He covered you, warm against you, and swept your hair over your shoulder to press his lips into the curve where your neck met your shoulder. “Yer trembling,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Are ye cold?”

“Hardly.” You let your eyes close as he kissed down over your shoulder and along your right arm before he eased off to stretch out beside you. The only light came from the nightlight in your ensuite bathroom, behind him, and as you opened your eyes, you could just make out his features. His eyes were open. Heavy-lidded and sleepy, but open. “You’re staring at me,” you whispered.

“I canna help myself. Yer beautiful.”

You smiled again. No one ever told you they found you beautiful. Cute? Yes. But beautiful? No, they stopped short of that. And while you also thought you were more cute than beautiful, there was something about hearing Dwalin murmur those words that made your stomach twist in a delightful way and made you smile across the darkness at him. “Thank you.”

He reached for you, his hand coming to rest in the curve of your waist, his thumb skimming up toward your ribs. “Are ye still curious about that tattoo?”

Your cheeks grew warm and you tried not to sound as idiotic as you had earlier. “Honestly? I am, yes.”

His fingers tightened about you, tugging you closer. You scrunched over until you were flush against him and his hand slid down over your right cheek, pressing you into him. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “It says, masalnuldum.”

Your belly kinked. The rumors were true? You met his gaze. “Are you serious? You have your dick tattooed? And that does that even mean?”

“I am serious. My cock is tattooed. And it means serious trouble.”

You stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Dwalin.”

“What?”

“Well, now you’re just making fun of me. Serious trouble? For real?”

He nodded. “I swear to you, mesmel, that’s what it says and that’s what it means. I was young and drunk off my ass when I had it done and when the guy asked me what I wanted, I told him. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself. Although,” he winked, which made you want to smack him, “you might want to talk nice to it for a few minutes, so it doesn’t just say masal.”

“Oh, I am not talking to your dick. Are you kidding me?” You rolled away from him, glaring at the wall. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not and you hated feeling like someone was making fun of you. Growing up, you were the kid who was always the last to get the joke, who could never tell when someone was being serious or not. If someone told you the word gullible was written on the ceiling, you’d look because they just might be telling you the truth.

The mattress shifted as he scooted over to curve against you, slipping an arm about your waist to tug you up against his furred chest. “Why are ye mad at me? I’m telling ye the truth. I promise ye I am.”

“You are not.” You tried to ignore the sensations rippling through you as he leaned over and pressed his lips against the side of your neck. Tried to ignore the way his fingers swept so lightly along your belly. This man instinctively knew how to touch you and even after doing your best to destroy one another for the last few hours, he could get you humming and ready for another round without moving a hand lower than your belly. That was skill right there and you were a lucky woman for it.

“I am. I did it as a bet. Guy in my battalion said I didn't have the guts to do it, and I showed him I did, in fact, have the guts.” His fingers skimmed along your hip, down over the slope of your outer thigh. “Turn the light on and I’ll show ye.”

Although you definitely had the feeling he was just going to laugh at you, you sat up and reached for the lamp. As light blazed forth, he smiled and drew back the covers and, feeling like a combination of voyeur and complete tool, you looked.

Sure enough, there it was along the side of his shaft, in elegant-looking writing that could only be described as looking like runes. His cock was, in fact, tattooed.

“Oh…” You couldn’t keep quiet and without thinking, you traced the very tip of your forefinger along the black ink letters you couldn’t read, but assumed said exactly what he said they did. “You… How did I miss this?”

He exhaled slowly, a hint of a sigh in that breath and you sat back suddenly as he went on with, “Ye weren’t exactly examining it, now, were ye? And ye didn't know it was there, so ye weren’t looking for it, either. That’s how ye missed it.”

You looked up at him, relieved to see him smiling. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

He winked. “Ye want to ask me how much it hurt to get, and whether or not I had to be hard to get it as well, don’t ye?”

“Well…” Heat climbed into your face and you admitted the truth with a sheepish, “Kind of, yeah.”

“It hurt as much as any tattoo hurts, but not as badly as you probably think it did and no, I didn’t.”

You reached over and traced those letters again, smiling as he twitched ever so slightly beneath your touch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. But, I think I hit empty, so, that might be all ye get for a while.”

Your hand went still. “I’m a little sore anyway.” You looked up at him. “So, how did you get this?”

“I told you, I got it on a bet. We went to the studio, I told the artist what I wanted, he drew it up, I went into the men’s room for a few minutes to get ready and—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Get ready?”

He offered up a wicked grin. “It’s got to be hard to get the stencil on.”

“So, wait,” you pulled your hand away from his cock to press to your lips to still the smile that tugged at them, “you mean you went and jerked off in—”

He chuckled. “Not all the way to the end, no. Just enough so he could get the stencil on, which was a challenge in and of itself, ye know.”

“Uh, no. I didn’t. But I’ll take your word for it.” A giggle popped free and you pressed your hand harder to your mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s okay. It was a challenge because I don’t go walking around at half-mast all the time. Took me three shots before he could get the fucking stencil on and I was starting to sober up. Made it a little easier to keep a boner, but made me start to second guess my decision as well.”

“But, you couldn’t back out because your buddies were there and they’d make fun of you.”

“Something like that. I was young and dumb and wanted to show them how tough I was. So, I got my cock tattooed and it shut them the fuck up. Not a one of them could go through with it. I was the only one.”

“You have to be nuts to do that.”

“Probably.” He caught you around the waist and tugged to his chest. “But, I’ve never wondered about my sanity, so I think I’m good.”

“You got your dick tattooed and you didn't question your sanity?” You couldn’t resist teasing him. “If that didn’t make you question it, what would?”

“Funny.”

You pulled away long enough to switch off the lamp, then snuggled back down against him. “I have to admit, Dwalin,” you said softly, “I am impressed. You’re even more badass than I thought you were to begin with.”

“And I’m your badass, mesmel. Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.” You tucked your head against his chest, smiling as he drew his arm tighter about you. “You should’ve gotten good trouble tattooed on it instead.”

“Good trouble?”

You nodded, then lifted your head to look up at him. “Because you are definitely trouble, Mr. Fundinson. But you’re good trouble.”

He winked at you. “I like the sound of that.”

****

When you awoke the next morning, you were tucked up again Dwalin’s chest, his arm tight about your waist, his deep, even breaths warm against your shoulder. You weren’t normally a morning person, usually you woke up groggy and wanted only coffee. But today, despite a short night’s sleep, you felt oddly refreshed and awake. It was a nice change of pace.

You let your eyes close once more, content to lie there wrapped in warm covers and even warmer man. And you wondered how many of the women who came into the Dunraven and giggled and gossiped over him had any idea what he was really like. Somehow, you didn't think so. They probably saw him as dangerous, a walk on the wild side, and while they were right to a certain extent, they probably didn’t see beyond that. Lord knows you didn’t at first. You tended to believe some of the rumors—the ones about how he probably liked it rough, and probably wasn’t big on caring much whether or not the woman he was with came as much as he worried about his own orgasm.

But now you knew how wrong you were and although he didn’t know you once thought those things, you almost felt as if you should apologize for them just the same. You’d misjudged him terribly based on his outward demeanor and a few tattoos.

Tattoos.

You smiled.

He stirred behind you, murmuring, “What time is it?” in a sleep-thickened voice.

“Almost nine.”

“Damn.” He flopped onto his back, bringing up both hands to rub his face. “I don’t remember the last time I slept this late.”

“It’s your day off, though. You don’t sleep in on off days?”

“Not usually, no.” He lowered his hands and turned his head to look over at you. “I hit the gym, I do my errands and get them done and out of the way so I have the rest of the day to do what I want. Although,” he rolled onto his side, propping his head on his fist, “what I want to do will be working from two to ten, so…”

You smiled. “It’s going to fall off, if we keep going at it like this.”

“Nah. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

As he spoke, Dwalin reached to trace his forefinger along your cheek. It was only the lightest of touches, you barely felt it, and yet, it sent a shiver racing through you. His blue eyes were so soft, it was hard to believe they were every anything else, but you knew differently. Outside of your bedroom or his, those eyes became hard and cold, almost daring anyone or anything to start trouble with him.

Trouble.

Another shiver. You couldn’t stop thinking about that tattoo, trying to imagine a much younger, much cockier, much drunker Dwalin giving into the pressure of a bet. You wondered what he’d been like back then, if those pale eyes had always held that hardness, if he’d always been a barely contained vessel of simmering energy, ready to pop off at any time.

“What’s on yer mind?” His soft words cut through your reverie. “Ye look miles away.”

“I’m not quite awake yet.” You couldn’t tell him the truth. It seemed so silly to you, almost as if you wished for the younger version of the man lying across from you. You didn’t, of course, because based on your own experiences, those men were selfish, both in bed and out, and tended to take women for granted because they knew there would always be another woman in the next room or at the end of the bar, and they didn’t have to work much for the attentions of any other women. Women fell at their feet and were theirs for the taking.

Of course, you’d been his for the taking as well. And as you let your eyes close, as you let yourself savor the gentle sensation of his caress, you tried hard not to think about the future. It was too soon to try to frame your relationship and if you pushed too hard, you’d scare him off.

Living in the moment had never been easy for you. No matter how badly you’d been hurt in the past, you still gave your heart away willingly and for the most part, paid the price for it. And now you were on the verge of doing that same damn thing again.

With that, you sat up abruptly. “I need to get moving before I fall back asleep. Coffee. I need coffee.”

“What’s the matter?”

You rose from the bed and slipped into the gray New York Giants hoodie you kept on your grandmother’s hope chest at the foot of your bed. “Nothing. I just need caffeine. Some horny dude kept me up half the night.”

“Ye were the one asking about my ink, remember. You started it. I just finished it.”

You peered at him over your shoulder. A mistake. He sat back against the headboard, the sheet just draped about his hips, and offered up a smile so inviting, it was all you could to to make yourself leave your bedroom. “Coffee. And a shower. That’s what I need. In that order.”

You made your way to the bathroom to get the shower started. It took forever for the water to get hot enough for your liking, so it was your habit to let it run while the Keurig fired up. You brought Dwalin a cup, saying, “It’s a bit lighter than the coffee at your place, I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” He took it. “Thank you. So, tell me,” he said before taking a sip, “is there room for two in your shower?”

Your belly did a flip at the glint in his eyes. “There might be. Why?”

“Just curious. I’m a big believer in water conversation, so…” He shrugged.

“Well,” you reached over to pluck the cup from his hand and set it, along with yours, on the bedside table, “why don’t we go see?”

He offered up no resistance as you took his hand and tugged, but rose and followed you to the steam-filled bathroom. The shower curtain rustled as you stepped in, and then again when he angled his big body in behind you.

One arm slid about your waist, his lips, while with his free hand, he swept your hair over your right shoulder, then bent to press his lips into the curve of your neck into your left shoulder. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as the tip of his tongue swept along your wet flesh, your body tingling with desire already.

Hot water cascaded over you as his hand slid up over your belly to cup your left breast, to knead it, to tease your nipple into a tight bead while his other hand slid down into the wet curls between your thighs.

One thick finger slid through your folds, over your clit, to your entrance. He swirled just the tip inside you, then plunged his finger deep as his thumb came upon your clit to roughly drag in a slow circle.

He teased you with those lazy swirls and leisurely thrusts, his voice gravelly in your ear as he whispered, “My beautiful girl… Abnâmul… Mesmel… I want you…”

You couldn’t reply, couldn’t form a coherent thought as he teased you mercilessly, brought you to the edge of madness so quickly. He held you there, suspended over the abyss, fingers sweetly torturing your nipple, your clit. You rocked to meet each stroke, unable to hold back the low moan that reverberated off dark blue tile. You clenched tight about his finger, your eyes closing, your head spinning wildly. You had to touch him, reached up and behind to try to get hold of him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the knots tightened within your core.

His thumb dragged over your clit to shatter you, spun more roughly about it, pressing hard into you as you writhed against him, as you clenched and squeezed about him. The first hints of your orgasm tingled through you, the knots coming undone as he pulsed that finger in and out of you.

You shuddered against him, biting hard on your bottom lip even as you managed to grit, “Oh, don’t stop… please, Dwalin, don’t stop…”

“Ye like this, amrâlimê?”

You nodded wildly, your hips arching and rolling to meet him. “It feels so fucking good…”

You shivered, the knots fraying now. He moved faster, his fingers teasing and taunting you, driving you utterly wild as the threads splintered and the pleasure burned a path from between your legs to the center of your being.

“Dwalin!” Your fingernails sank into his shoulders, your entire body convulsed, and steaming hot pleasure scorched through you as he shoved you over the edge. You pulsed around him, melting and fighting to hold onto him as your orgasm ripped through you, left you breathless and spent, sagging against him as he slid his fingers free and caught you to cradle you against him.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. You could only feel and you almost sobbed from the fiery ecstasy ribboning through you. And as you sank again him, he wrapped his arms about you, kissing the back of your neck as he murmured, “That’s my girl…”

Your head cleared enough for you to turn toward him and push up onto your toes to seize his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. But before he could wrap his arms about you, you broke it, sweeping your lips down through the silver-tipped fur across his chest, down his belly. You sank to your knees and leaned in to run your tongue along the length of his proud, hard cock. You swept along the sleek underside, from root to tip, slid your tongue along the word inked into his flesh, and then took him in your mouth in a long pull that had him moaning your name as his hands plunged into your hair.

You weren’t at all interested in teasing him. You want to shatter him, to make him come undone in the same fiery flash you had. You pulled hard, your lips tight about him, your tongue flicking along just beneath the head. He thrust against you, his voice hoarse as he growled out words in a tongue you did not understand.

He grew rigid, tried to pull away, but you refused release him and when he came, you were ready, accepting what he had to offer as he shuddered and moaned and spilled hard. His fingers twisted hard in your hair, his voice hoarse as he moaned your name, as he breathed, “Oh, afsêl… maralmizi… maralmizi…”

He slowed against you, breathing as if he’d run a marathon at top speed, and when you pulled away to stand, he wrapped his arms about you and his mouth slashed down over yours. You returned his hot, soulful kiss, pulling away to murmur, “I have no idea what you said, but you sound pissed off.”

A breathless laugh shook his already-trembling body. He tightened his hold on you. “Just—just the oppo—opposite… Oh, kakhf… I need to sit down…”

A soft laugh floated to your lips. “Should I apologize?”

“Fuck, no,” he growled, smiling as he lifted his head. “You should promise me you won’t ever stop doing that.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

You slid your arms about his waist. “I can do that.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss into the top of your head.

“What was that you were saying?”

He glanced down. “What?”

“Those words. What did they mean?”

“Oh, they were just gibberish.” He caught your face in his hands. “The equivalent to you thanking God when you come.”

You smiled. “I thank you, though.”

“Be that as it may, it’s the same thing.”

You weren’t so sure you believed him, but you certainly didn’t want to fight about it, so you let the matter drop. And when he reached for the bottle of your shampoo and proceeded to wash your hair for you, it didn't matter.

After your shower, you dressed for work in jeans and the familiar navy blue Dunraven long-sleeved tee shirt while Dwalin finished showering, since he insisted cold water suited him just fine.

You were combing out your hair when someone knocked at the door. It was a little early for a UPS delivery, but FedEX played by their own rules and although you weren’t expecting anything, sometimes you ended up with your neighbor’s parcels by mistake.

However, when you tugged open the door, you found yourself wishing it was only a mistaken delivery.

Your father looked no happier to see you than you were to see him. “You could at least say good morning, you know,” he said without a hint of a smile. “And it wouldn’t kill you to invite me in, either.”

“Dad, I—uh— come in…” You stepped back to give him room to pass by and bit the inside of your cheek as your gaze landed on Dwalin’s jacket, which lay atop yours on the sofa where you’d tossed them just before opening the door. The shower had shut off, but Dwalin had yet to emerge from the bathroom. You could only hope he found a reason to remain in there a little longer.

Your father saw the jacket, and when he turned back to you, his lips had disappeared, becoming a thin white line as he said, “Have you a friend staying over?”

Before you could answer, the bathroom door opened, steam billowed out, and Dwalin stepped into the hallway, a towel wrapped about his waist. He turned, and you knew he saw your father because he visibly tensed. Heat climbed into your cheeks as you turned back to your father who was now downright scowling at you.

“Yeah, Dad. I’ve got a friend staying over.”

“I see.” He stepped around you, adding, “And who might you be?”

“Dad, now’s really not a good time—”

“Of course it is,” he interrupted with a laugh that had absolutely zero humor in it. “I come to see my daughter and find her with a naked man? I’d say it’s the perfect time to be introduced, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, no. No, I wouldn’t. And he’s not naked.”

“He’s damn near close enough!”

Dwalin cleared his throat and you almost smiled as he curved his fingers over where the end of his towel tucked in to keep it about him. “I’m Dwalin.”

“Dwalin.” Your father pursed his lips and nodded and you wanted to throw something at him when he added, “And you spent the night with my daughter?”

“Dad!” You stepped between them before Dwalin could say anything. Your father would have disapproved regardless, but you knew exactly what went through his mind as he looked at the heavily tattooed man in the towel standing not fifteen feet from him. “It’s really none of your business.”

“I beg to differ,” he told you, staring at you through cold eyes. “This is my apartment and that makes it my business, so if you are trying to rebel by playing about with a Hell’s Angel, that is also my business!”

“A Hell’s Angel? For real? Are you kidding me?” You couldn’t keep the laugh out of your voice. “What makes you think that?”

Your father ignored you, narrowing his eyes at Dwalin. “What do you do for a living, son?”

You opened your mouth, only to have Dwalin hold up a hand as he said, “I’m a mechanic. I work over at Durin’s Garage.”

“A mechanic.” He turned to you and you could see the familiar disappointment in his eyes. “You’re risking getting yourself knocked up by a mechanic? Wonderful.”

You just stared at him for a long moment, torn between wanting to hit him with something and wishing the floor would open up and just swallow you whole. “How dare you?”

“Because I know his sort,” your father growled.

“My sort?” Dwalin stepped closer and you didn't miss how the hand holding his towel was now white-knuckled. “What do ye mean, my sort?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to my daughter.”

“Yeah, well, ye involved me, so now I’m talking to ye.”

“Dwalin,” you turned to him, “let me handle this, please.”

“There is nothing to handle,” your father broke in, his hand closing about your upper arm. “But, rather it’s time that you grow up a bit, and come back home.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dad,” you told him, jerking free from his grip. “I don’t need your permission and I definitely don’t need your approval.”

“Oh, really? Well, you do need my apartment and that is why I’m here. As of the thirty-first, I’ve a new tenant moving in, so you’ll need to vacate here.”

“The thirty-first? I get not quite fifteen days’ notice? Really?”

“Perhaps you should’ve taken my calls,” he said, moving back to the door. He tugged it open and added, “And you get ten days, dear. I have to have the place cleaned and repainted before the new tenant moves in.” His cold gaze landed on Dwalin. “And I’ll have to fumigate as well, I think.”

“Ten days, but—” The words died on your lips as he closed the door behind him. “He’s throwing me out at Christmas. What a bastard.”

“He seems lovely,” Dwalin replied.

You looked over at him. “I’m sorry… I—I don’t even know how to begin apologizing for that.”

“Don’t worry about it. My skin’s thicker than it looks and he’s not the first prick to judge me on first sight.”

You sank back against the door and looked around at all the things you had to pack now. Pack and find a new place and move. In ten days. Wonder-fucking-ful.

“Still,” you looked back at him, still in his towel, and shook your head, “I was hoping you’d never have to meet him.”

His eyes narrowed. “You didn't want me to meet your family?”

“No, I didn’t want to subject you to them. Well, him. It’s just him.” You drew in a deep breath. “He and my mother don’t live together and they only deal with one another when they absolutely have to, and it always ends in a battle of some sort. She’s no better than he is and he’s kind of an ass, as you’ve seen.

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“And now I have to move? How am I supposed to do that in ten days?”

He smiled. “Yer welcome to come stay with me.”

You spun around to stare at him. “What?”

“Why not? I like ye. And ye don’t have to stay with me forever. Just until ye find a place.”

“But, we just started seeing each other and—”

“I know,” he caught you around the waist with his free arm and pulled you close. “And I like being with ye. And there won’t be any unexpected visitors at my door any time soon.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I’m positive, mesmel. I’ll clear some drawer space and part of the closet for ye.” He winked. “Will that be enough room, or do I need to find a bigger apartment?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told ye, I like ye. And to be honest, I like sleeping next to ye, I like waking up next to ye, and I really like sleepin’ with ye, so…”

“I can stay on your couch.”

“I don’t think so.” He slid his other arm around you and leaned over to brush your lips with his. “If you’re mooching off me, I’m getting something out of it.”

“Mooching! I’ll pay rent.”

He kissed you again. “I’ll take it out in trade.”

Another kiss when you tried to reply, and as you wound your arms about his neck, his towel hit the floor with a soft whump, but neither one of you cared all that much.

***

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#The Hobbit #Dwalin #Dwalin Fundinson #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #AU #Dwalin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Dwalin x reader #Dwalin short fic #modern au #garage au #stay tuned #more to come

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askthebeasttamers · 2 years

Note

*oh hey its that rabbit doll again, looks like they've taped a sheet of paper to the roof this time.*

*the word "gullible" is written on the paper*

"Alex, why does it say gullible on the ceiling?"

"I'm not falling for that, Toby."

"This isn't even one of my pranks; just look up."

"Ugh, fine." She looks up. "Oh, it does say gullible on the ceiling."

"Guess someone owes me an apology."

"Wait, you said that this isn't one of your pranks. What did you do, Tobias?"

"If I told you, you'd just put a stop to it, and we can't have that, gehehe."

"You're impossible."

#housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #ask blog #toby #alex

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breakonthru · 2 years

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could you maybe to a thomas thorne x reader ? like the other ghosts always notice and comment on their flirting til one day he finally admits to it. love your writing btw :)

thank u anon for the compliment AND THE THOMAS REQUEST!! <33

im so sorry this took so long i’m not very good at writing dialogue for thomas and that kind of put me on a break for awhile lol hence why the ending is so abrupt… anyway enjoy!

you hate to say it, but you’re oblivious. you’re not sure how to fix it or how it happened but you are, and if someone said the word gullible was written on the ceiling, you’d probably believe them, too.

and yet when julian settled in next to you and claimed thomas was in love with you, you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” his face twisted into some sort of sour expression.

“he’s not in love with me! we just… like complimenting one another.” your laughter died down, hand reaching to itch the side of your neck in semi-embarrassment.

“really.” julian frowned, unamused.

“really!”

“and you would consider him calling you the ‘fairest and most effervescent visage he had ever laid eyes on’ a compliment, yeah?”

“well…” you trailed off.

“kitty!” he shouted.

“no, no! don’t!” you’ve sat through one to many rose-colored rambles on how thomas and you had been “meant to be” and enough stories about how lovely it would be if the two of you were together to fill a library. “just… leave it?”

“i’ve bet on you, you know!” julian frowns as you get up to leave. “and i never lose!”

you huff, fleeing to the one place you knew you’d be alone. you hear an indignant “never!” right before you leave the room.

“y/n! my faithful and incomparable companion!” a voice called as you exited the house. thomas— who else would it have been? “whatever is the ma-“

“do you love me?” you blurt out, interrupting him.

“what?” thomas replies, his mouth failing to catch up with his brain as it flounders open and closed.

“julian said you loved me and i had to know for certain it was true.” you clench your fists. tight enough to bleed, though you supposed being dead had it’s perks that way. silence rang over the lawn and you could swear you caught figures in the window behind you. let them look. you needed to know.

“ah, well…” thomas searched for something to say. he had so many flowery sentences prepared and yet being out on the spot caused everything to just, well, disappear.

“if he’s lying, i am so-“

“no!” the poets hands fly out in front of him. “no. he’s, ah, he’s correct.”

“he,” you blink. “he is?”

“well, i hadn’t exactly planned it to happen this way, but, ah… i can improv it!” his hands wiped nervously on his waistcoat, resting on his bullet wound once done. “y/n. you have me completely enamored. i have been yours as i hope you have been mine and there is not a second i do not think of you; your smile, your voice, you. the sun and moon pale in comparison to just how much you shine.”

now it seems as though it was your turn for speechlessness, hand frozen in the air in some sort of silent invitation for thomas’ to grab yours.

“i would really love to hear you say you love me too, dove.”

dove? love?!

“you… love me?”

“well, i had hoped it was obvious by my speech that it was but yes, i do.”

“well, you didn’t say it in your speech.” your hands grasp the other’s. “if it means anything, i love you, too?”

“it means so much.” thomas murmurs, leaning in as the two of you hear loud cheering from inside the house.

#bbc ghosts x reader #thomas thorne x reader #ghosts x reader #lyds writes #good god this is bad im sorry guys I’m rusty

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

soft deception. [diluc x reader]

pairing: diluc x f!reader prompt: you love your boyfriend, you really do. he’s just so, so trusting in you that you can’t help but to trick him every now and then. (alternatively: you give diluc the world’s ugliest onesie as a christmas present and now that it’s all over, you want to go back in time and punch yourself in the face for unleashing this curse within your household.) word count: ~2.5k warnings/genres: humor, fluff, sfw but like... adult jokes at some points a/n: purely self indulgent, nobody requested this, tried out a bit of a different writing style. i wrote this to try to cheer myself up, so hopefully it makes you all happy! no beta reader though (but i never have one anyways)

You had a tendency to think of yourself as the funniest person in Teyvat at times.

Especially when you had Mondstadt’s most gullible eligible bachelor wrapped around your finger, desiring to cater to your every whim. Sure, the two of you were like two young teenagers in love despite being much older, to the point where it was a mental workout to restrain yourself from leaving purple and blue marks all along his neck, desiring to hear praises stutter on his lips as you show the man the love he has lacked over the years. It didn’t help that he also had those cherry-colored eyes that pierced into you, the only eyes to ever truly see you for you. In your humble opinion, the best part about Diluc Ragnvindr is neither his wisdom nor his love, but his ass.

Unsure if Barbatos is actually able to listen into your thoughts or not due to Venti’s uncanny capability to make jokes about thoughts you know you have never uttered aloud whenever Diluc turns his back to the two of you at the bar, you quickly rectify your thoughts and mumble an apology to the potentially omniscient alcoholic bard.

The best part about Diluc Ragnvindr lies within his ass... umptions. His assumptions, specifically about the inherent truthfulness he believed to be in your statements. Your boyfriend, as much as you loved him, is an extremely gullible man. Such a fact is even written on the ceilings of every room, but it never hurts to double-check. If you are Teyvat’s jester, then Diluc is Teyvat’s fool, but he is a fool in love.

The calculated, reserved man only lets himself be duped by you. No matter how many times you trick him, he’ll listen to your exaggerated claims and boisterous words with widened eyes, immediately trusting your words as he trusts you wholeheartedly.

You thrive in such an environment, manipulating Diluc to your liking. Not in a bad way of course, as the thought of hurting even a single hair on his head makes your stomach churn and nausea arise. Rather, you find amusement in tricking him with subtle sleights of the hand and little white lies, before revealing your cards at the end of every show and reveling in his flustered nature. You long not to hurt Diluc, but you relish in the way his milky skin turns to a rosy pink upon realizing your deception.

In simpler terms, you love to prank your red-haired, stoic boyfriend in order to see the shy smile and bashful eyes that accompany his revelations of your actions.

Being the funniest, sexiest woman in Teyvat with the most attractive, most trusting boyfriend in all of Mondstadt leads to raucous laughter on your behalf and flushed cheeks on your boyfriend’s behalf during many nights within your shared home. With Diluc’s confidence in you, you are unstoppable.

Such arrogance had a tendency to bite you in the ass.

Especially now. Right now. You’ve never regretted duping Diluc more than you do at this moment. For Christmas, you had given him two presents, his actual present and one designed to be a joke. Diluc, bless his heart, had not interpreted such a present to be no more than a simple gag and had politely smiled at you as he held the gift up, inspecting it with poorly disguised distaste in his eyes. The gift in question was a pajama onesie you had found within the clearance section of some decaying Mondstadt boutique, but these weren’t just any pajamas. It was the ugliest piece of clothing you had ever seen.

The offending onesie glints in the light of the fireplace that illuminates Diluc’s face and your poor excuse at a poker face as he analyzes his gift. It is decorated with a variety of misshapen owls, feathers formed by multicolored, poorly sewn sequins. Each owl has two octagonal, almost glowing, gaudy amber-colored rhinestones for eyes, yet each rhinestone is a slightly different shade from the others, as if they had been left out in the sun, forgotten about. A santa hat is perched on the heads of each owl and a candy cane is loosely held in at least one wing of each owl. The onesie even has built-in feet, with owl-shaped grips on the bottom that barely cling on for life in a failed attempt to provide the user traction. Diluc quickly attaches to such a concept and tries to use it as an out.

“It’s… lovely,” He finally manages, doing his best to keep his voice even as he smiles at you. You can see the pain in his eyes. “But I do not believe the feet will fit me.”

You widen your eyes in sadness and bat your eyelashes at him innocently, as if such a sentiment truly wounded you. “Can you hire a tailor to fix them? I spent a lot of time picking out this gift and I think it’s perfect.”

Diluc’s smile breaks and horror creeps into his eyes upon realizing there’s no way out of the predicament he’s currently in. As he breaks his intense ogling of the onesie to look at you, his faux smile is plastered once again on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes and it wavers, but you simply give him a cheery grin in response.

“Of course, dear,” Diluc responds, albeit a bit despondently. Your heart twists a bit and- no, no. Guilt is not allowed in the heart of a true comedian. “Anything for you.” His eyes are empty as his smile slowly drops into a thin line. Your expression of glee is a sharp contrast.

“Yay!” You giggle and clap your hands together once as you pop up from your seated position. Diluc’s woeful expression alleviates upon seeing your seemingly genuine reaction and he manages a small smile once more, this one a bit more genuine. “C’mon! Let’s try it on!”

After wearing it the rest of Christmas night, Diluc not only wears it past the reasonable date to keep wearing Christmas merchandise after Christmas is over, but he wears it multiple times per week. You know he’s only doing it to see your fit of giggles every time he does so and that Diluc wants nothing more than to see you happy, but you’re beginning to hate yourself for such a gift.

The inklings of self-hatred explode into full self-loathing when Diluc reveals he found an identical onesie while shopping and that he purchased it in order to be able to wear around the house more often. You have to hold yourself back from narrowing your eyes at him as he holds up the offending, nearly identical onesie, albeit in a different color. Unlike you, Diluc isn’t a bully. There’s absolutely no way he’s joking right now. Maybe. You aren’t sure.

The end of January rolls around and you’re ready to wrestle Diluc for his Pyro vision and burn these damn onesies yourself. Every time Diluc joins you in bed, ready to clock in for the night, he’s wearing the archonsforsaken Christmas outfit despite Valentine’s Day rapidly approaching. If you wear a cute outfit and lie on the bed, hoping for Diluc’s attention? You’ll certainly get it, but there’s more than just his eyes watching you. There are the artificial eyes of the owls watching the two of you, their beady little rhinestones judging you for your premarital sins. Whenever you reach out to stroke his arm or thigh reassuringly, you’re met with the feeling of cheap flannel and pilled fabrics.

Unfortunately for Diluc, Kaeya is your hero in this situation as he arrives to Dawn Winery unannounced and interrupts you and Diluc reading in bed together. The cavalry captain hadn’t even bothered to knock, swinging the door open with zero fear of what he might have found inside. But, upon seeing the two of you, Kaeya freezes.

“What the hell is that?” Kaeya nearly screeches in horror, pointing at Diluc.

“I’m sure you know what Diluc looks like, Kaeya,” You respond in an annoyed tone. You loved Adelinde, but why had she let Kaeya up to your and Diluc’s chambers without any warning is beyond your comprehension. “You only have one eyepatch, not two.”

Diluc does a poor job at stifling a chuckle next to you, his book now resting on the nightstand next to him due to the intrusion. He wordlessly sneaks an arm around your waist and you lean into his chest instinctively, trying your best to ignore the scratch of the sequins against your cheek.

“No, not that,” Kaeya says, unperturbed at your slight against him. “That! That thing he’s wearing! It’s awful!” His finger shakes in the air before the blue-haired man doubles over in laughter. “That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever fucking seen, holy shit.”

You look up at Diluc, who is flushed a deep crimson in embarrassment and whose brows are furrowed.

“I must admit,” Diluc clears his throat, voice diffident. “It has grown on me.”

Your heart melts at his confession and you scoot up a bit in his grasp, causing him to look at you in confusion before you press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. Adoration swims in his irises as he looks at you and softly smiles, forgetting about Kaeya’s presence despite his brother’s noisy, ceaseless laughter. Sure, the onesie might be a joke that you want to throw into a fire and pray that it burns in the pits of hell for eternity, but Diluc’s defense of your present in the face of Kaeya’s mockery warms even your cold prankster heart.

“Diluc,” You whisper lowly, not wanting Kaeya to hear. It was unlikely he would anyways, as every time he looked up at the two of you in the bed in front of him, Kaeya would burst out into peals of laughter once more. “Where’s the other onesie?”

Diluc looks at you, confused. “It’s in the laundry room. It should be dry now.” Before Diluc can ask you why you need to know such information, you’re breaking free of his grip, stumbling out of the bed, shoving past Kaeya and nearly sprinting out of the room in a hurry. Kaeya and Diluc both watch you leave, equally bewildered.

“Why are you here?” You hear Diluc ask his brother as you flee the room, but you don’t stick around for the rest of their conversation. They can be emotionally constipated together, you have more important things to do. Seizing the freshly-cleaned onesie, you shut the laundry door and shimmy it over your current pajamas, one of Diluc’s old shirts and a pair of old shorts. You have to hop around a bit to get the fabric to settle in just the right places and, dear Barbatos, this thing is uncomfortable.

Diluc must really love you to put up with this outfit every night. Before you can melt into a puddle of goo at the thought of your essentially perfect boyfriend who would do nearly anything for you, you storm out of the laundry room and back into the bedroom, climbing back into bed with Diluc wordlessly, settling your legs underneath the covers and guiding Diluc’s arm back to its rightful place around your waist.

You press another kiss to Diluc’s cheek as he stares at you with an unreadable expression. Despite having recovered from his earlier flustered state, his cheeks quickly return to the shade of red you adore so much. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t stick on this onesie just to shamelessly ogle your boyfriend and kiss him senseless. No, you wore it to spite the man in front of the two of you, whose expression is now morphed into one of horror.

“There’s two of them?! One was already a crime against humanity, but two?!” Kaeya is aghast at such a concept. Diluc’s gaze breaks off you and he tightens his grip around your waist as he glowers at his brother.

“We have a third one if you wish to continue intruding in our home,” Diluc proposes, his voice having a slight edge to it. Kaeya holds his hands up later.

“Alright. I’ll see you later then. Bye, (Y/N)~!” Kaeya quickly ejects himself from the conversation, not even bothering to spare his brother a goodbye in his hurry to leave before a onesie can be thrust upon you.

“You look adorable,” Diluc confesses before pressing a kiss to your forehead. This time, it’s your turn to fluster and you look away, startled by his forwardness. “I always like seeing you in my clothes.”

“Oh… thank you,” You murmur sheepishly, but Diluc grabs your chin and lightly guides your face to look at him. A shiteating grin breaks out across his face.

“I appreciate your support, darling, but isn’t it time we stop this ruse?” Diluc questions and your eyes widen in surprise. “Unfortunately, my brother is correct. These outfits are quite… awful.”

“I like them!” You interject, unsure as to why you’re defending the outfits you had just been wishing for the destruction of.

“Is that so?” Diluc challenges, eyebrows raised as you nod your head furiously. A soft chuckle escapes his lips. “(Y/N), I know I might be dumb at times, especially when it comes to you, but surely you can’t think I’m dumb enough to believe this lie.”

You narrow your eyes at him and fold your arms in contempt. “There is no way you’ve called my bluff this early. Kaeya told you I was fucking with you, didn’t he?”

Diluc’s smug attitude is replaced with that of a scolded puppy, unable to look you in the eyes. “... Yes.”

You can’t help but press yet another kiss to his face, this time gracing his jaw as you pepper light kisses down his neck. “You’re correct. I absolutely loathe these ugly clothes. It’s not even Christmas anymore. But I’d be damned if I was going to let that gremlin insult something of yours.”

Diluc laughs genuinely and he brings your face close to his, pressing your lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss, before pulling away far too soon for your liking.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I should probably change now that the joke is over,” Diluc explains. You raise your eyebrows at him and he lets out a sigh. “The fabric is itchy.” Your boyfriend clambers out of bed and you unabashedly watch him change into a more comfortable outfit, admiring the way his lithe muscles move as he puts on a new shirt. Diluc turns around and looks at you expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to change too?” He asks as he climbs back under the covers with you, but you softly smile and shake your head in response.

“No,” You coo. “I think it’ll stay on for tonight.” You wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his shoulder exaggeratedly.

Diluc groans at your words and you realize he shares the same hatred of the onesies that you do. But, as Diluc’s chief prankster, you’re determined to get the last laugh, even if the dumb fabric scratches against you all night.

#not sure how i feel about this one tbh! it's certainly a different style of writing i feel #but reader in this is extremely similar to my own personality (for once)#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc headcanons #diluc scenarios #*writing #*diluc #*fic

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more-pokeimagines · 3 years

Text

Stone Cold Body [09] - Chapter 8

A/N: Here's the next chapter. A good portion of it is written from Carlina's POV, so I apologize if that's not your cup of tea. Please let me know what you think of the chapter in general! <3

Warnings: mentions of violence & death

Taglist: @piershoesz @alovestruck-fool @shaak-ti-s @spair-m [If you want to be added to/removed from the taglist let me know.]

Past

The days passed without anything special happening. Since their last conversation and his refusal to help her, Bede hadn’t seen Brigid again but he was actually quite thankful for her absence. It spared him from overthinking his decision once again, from wondering what would have happened if he had chosen to turn against his family.

Well. It wasn’t too hard to figure that out: she probably would’ve declared war to the king, trying to get the ordinary people who didn’t practice magic on her side by showing them that even their crown prince supported her cause. There weren’t many sorcerers left but still enough to tear the kingdom apart if they really wanted to – and if they could count on the other people to hide and protect them from the vigilant eyes of the royal guards.

Just the mere thought was enough to send a shiver down Bede’s spine. His father had oppressed and persecuted the sorcerers for so long, killing them without hesitation when he got ahold of one of them, and the thought of their uprising was more than scary, especially since they could probably take out a whole battalion with just a wave of their hand.

With that in mind, Bede managed to convince himself that it had been the right decision to keep faith with his family. Yes, he risked his own life by dismissing Brigid’s offer and it was likely that she would kill him sooner or later but at least, his family would be safe. Brigid was brave and courageous, yes, but she wasn’t stupid, and Bede doubted that she would dare to start a war without him as her ally, mostly because she needed someone like him to convince the people to support her. Someone the nation trusted enough to revisit their opinion about the sorcerers.

Except that Bede hadn’t agreed to help her. And judging from her reaction, she never expected him to refuse which meant that she needed time to reconsider the matter. Hoping that she would give up her plans to take revenge on his family would be foolish, and Bede wasn’t stupid. The fact that she had shut herself away didn’t mean that she surrendered; no, she was only trying to find another way to bring everything to an end.

From a tactical point of view, it would be wise to find more allies first. Maybe she would go around, telling the people the same story she had told him, attempting to weaken the nation’s trust in their monarch, just as she had tried with him. But the people had no reason to believe her; in fact, most of them wouldn’t even listen to her and report her to the guards instead. Surely, Brigid would be smarter than that.

Bede shook his head. It was a waste of time to wonder about her next steps, given the fact that he was still sitting in this dim cell. As long as he was in here, there was nothing he could do to stop her – and he doubted that he would ever get out alive, so it really was pointless to try to figure out her plans.

But, and he couldn’t help but shudder at the thought, it was better than thinking about the fact that she probably already gave out the order to eliminate him. Or would she prefer to do it herself? She didn’t seem like a person who enjoyed taking others’ lives but who knew? Maybe this was her way to take proper revenge for her younger sister, an eye for an eye, as his father always said when he tried to reason the things he did to the sorcerers.

And it wasn’t like Bede couldn’t understand her. If something would happen to Carlina, he would want revenge too, but all of this didn’t change the fact that he was afraid. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to die.

The thought of death had always scared him but now that it seemed inevitable, it was even more frightening. He was still so young, and there was so much left he wanted to do; things and places he wanted to see in his life, and having these decisions taken away from him by someone who was only striving for revenge made him angry and sad at the same time.

Angry because it wasn’t his fault what his father did to Brigid’s sister and the other sorcerers. Angry because he could still understand why she thought that it was necessary to kill him. Why she thought that this was the only way to take vengeance on King Lewin.

Sad because he felt like every single dream he ever had was taken away from him in the blink of an eye. Sad because he knew how devastated his sister would be after she learned about his death.

Sad because there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable catastrophe.

When Brigid returned, night had already fallen. The full moon was hovering in the pitch-black sky, casting a cold, ominous light over everything. The expression in her eyes was just as cold, just as merciless, and Bede felt a shiver running down his spine as she stared at him through the bars of the cell door.

“Welcome back,” he greeted her, careful to hide every single emotion that was rushing through his body behind the arrogant mask he had worn for most of his life. Most of the time, no one was able to tell what he was actually feeling when he acted like that but Brigid wasn’t as gullible as other people. An amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “There’s no need to hide your fear,” she said, the soft tone of her voice a harsh contrast to her frosty gaze. “I can read your face like a book, little princeling, but I have to admit that it’s quite adorable how you try to act brave.”

Bede didn’t reply. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do, and so he just stared at her and waited for her next move.

She let out a deep sigh. “You had the chance to help me and my people but you decided to stay loyal to your murderous father. You chose the wrong side, my dear, and you will pay for that. Your family will pay for that.”

“I know,” he stated simply. It was time to accept his fate; after all, there was nothing he could do to change Brigid’s mind. She would do what she deemed right, no matter what he said or did.

Her hands were shaking ever so slightly as she reached out to unlock the cell door but the expression in her eyes was still cold and calculating. When she raised her hand to touch his face, he flinched just the tiniest bit but the way her lips curled into a smile once again made it clear that she had noticed it nevertheless. “I promise it won’t hurt,” she said softly, almost as if she wanted to calm him down. “Well, not for long, at least.”

She took a step back, raising her hands in front of her face and pressing her fingertips together. With her eyes closed, she started to mumble something, words in a foreign language Bede didn’t understand, and then, a wisp of wind breezed through the cell. Brigid’s mumbling grew louder, the words now more audible, her hair flying in the wind as she folded her hands.

The next second, Bede felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he fell down on his knees. “What- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out. His heart was racing, every beat sending another wave of pain through his entire body, and he gasped for air. “I- I can’t breathe.”

He stretched out his right arm, trying to reach for Brigid to stop her from whatever she was doing. His hand felt numb, as well as his legs, and when he realized what was going on, his heart skipped a beat. His fingertips were covered in something that looked like stone; stone that began to creep up his arm, coating every inch of his skin and clothes. It felt like a hundred tiny needles stabbing his skin, and he blinked hastily to fight back the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

In front of him, Brigid sank to her knees, her breathing unsteady, her hands shaking. But she still continued the spell, even when she started to cough, barely able to get out the words.

Bede wasn’t sure if he started to imagine things but the ground beneath him felt as if it was shaking, and there was dust falling from the ceiling. A portentous rumble reached his ears, the wind grew stronger for a few seconds as the stone continued to creep up his body.

The pain was unbearable now; he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and by now, it was pointless to try not to cry. He couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. His heart skipped another beat when the stone reached his chest, then his neck and his face. The last thing he saw before he lost his consciousness was Brigid who collapsed on the floor, her eyes closed, her skin an sickly color.

And then, there was nothing.

“He should have returned days ago.” Carlina’s voice was filled with concern as she took a step back from the window and turned around to face her parents. Her mother looked up from the book in her lap, her brows furrowed. She didn’t like getting interrupted while she was reading but as soon as she noticed the sorrowful expression in her daughter’s eyes, her anger melted away and she reached out for Carlina’s hand to pull her towards the chaise longue she was sitting on.

“I understand that you’re worried about your brother,” she said, her voice unusually soft. With graceful movements, she brushed a strand of hair out of Carlina’s forehead. “But you need to stop bothering your head about him. He rarely abides by an agreement when it comes to his travels, as you know.”

Carlina let out a deep sigh. Her mother was probably right about that; Bede took every opportunity to get away from his duties as crown prince and enjoy the rare moments of freedom he could only experience while he was away from the castle. It wouldn’t be unlikely if he had decided to prolong his stay in Hammerlocke but on the other hand, she was sure that he would have sent a short letter back to the castle to inform his parents about his whereabouts, just like it was expected from someone in his position. Of course, he liked to break their parents’ rules but when it came to official travels and his reputation, Bede knew exactly that he couldn’t afford overstepping the mark. And since Carlina’s engagement party would happen in a few days, Bede’s presence was absolutely necessary.

He knew that, and he would never risk missing an event like that or make their parents furious with such actions, just for the sake of getting a few more hours of freedom. After all, he was a responsible young man, although he definitely liked to try their parents’ patience.

“But he surely would have informed us if he decided to travel for a little longer,” Carlina finally replied. “Maybe something happened to him. What if he is hurt?”

The queen raised her eyebrows. “You have quite a vivacious imagination, my dear. Who would dare to hurt their crown prince? Everyone knows that your father makes short work of everyone who doesn’t obey the law.”

Carlina bit her lower lip to stop herself from blurting out her thoughts. How could her mother be so blind? After everything that had happened over the past few weeks and months, after everything King Lewin had done to the sorcerers, it wasn’t farfetched to assume that they had something to do with Bede’s disappearance. They had nothing to lose, so they surely weren’t reluctant when it came to desperate measures – such as kidnapping the crown prince while he was alone and attackable.

If only her father were here… he surely would’ve listened to her concerns, contrary to Queen Alviva who was convinced that the sorcerers constituted a threat to the kingdom but refused to talk about political affairs with her daughter. Whenever Carlina had started to ask questions about it in the past, the queen always reminded her that topics like that weren’t suitable for a conversation among ladies before eloquently changing the subject. Most of the time, Carlina obeyed and didn’t mention anything like that for a while.

She knew that it would be wiser to keep quiet but that didn’t silence the voice in her head that tried to goad her into telling the queen about her suspicion. But maybe it would be a better idea to ask her father to grant her an audience. Surely, he’d listen to her concerns, maybe even consider to take action…

With that thought in mind, Carlina stood up and smoothed down the fabric of her skirt. “Please excuse me, mother,” she said, politely curtseying before the queen. “There is something I need to do.”

Three and a half weeks had passed since the kingdom had learned about the disappearance of their crown prince. Three and a half weeks in which the Royal Guard searched high and low, pursuing each lead as fierce as a dragon.

Every time the posse of searchers returned to the castle, Carlina anxiously waited for news, always on the verge of tears when she realized that they hadn’t found her brother yet. With every minute that passed it got more and more likely that he was already dead. Even her parents couldn’t deny it, although they still tried their best to pretend that everything was fine.

And then, five days later, two of the scouts finally returned with news. While they spoke to the royal couple, Carlina had been instructed to wait outside of the throne room where she nervously paced about, silently praying for good news. But as soon as her parents called her inside, as soon as she noticed the petrified expressions on their faces, she knew that something terrible had happened. There were tears in her mother’s eyes, something Carlina had never seen before, and even her father, the cold-hearted and composed king, seemed to be deeply upset.

“They have found him,” Queen Alviva said, her voice shaking ever so slightly as she reached out to place her hand on Carlina’s shoulder. “They have found your brother.”

Carlina felt a lump in her throat. “Where- where is he? What happened to him?”

“We don’t know for sure,” her father said. “But it seems that the sorcerers used some kind of spell on him to…” He cleared his throat and straightened himself before continuing, “They used some kind of spell to turn him into stone.”

There was a long silence, then. Carlina’s thoughts were racing; it almost felt like her brain was unable to comprehend the information she had just gotten. A spell… a spell that turned her brother, her beloved, loyal brother into – stone?

“I – I don’t understand,” she finally replied, her glance darting back and forth between her parents. “How is that even possible?”

“Magic,” her mother stated simply. “It seems we have made the mistake to underestimate the sorcerers’ true powers. No one knew they were capable of spells like this. If we had adopted more rigorous measures to stop them… maybe we could have prevented something like that happening.”

The king nodded, a saturnine look on his face. “They have sealed their fate now. I won’t accept this dastardly plot against our kingdom. They will pay for what they have did to my son. Carlina,” he added and pointed towards the door. “Please leave now. I need time to think about the way forward.”

In silence, Carlina turned around and left the throne room. Her hands were shaking, her palms sweaty, even after she tried to wipe them at her dress. With mechanical movements she made her way to the eastern wing of the castle and into her room. By the time she closed the door behind her, the tears were already streaming down her face, and she sank to the floor, her face buried in her hands. How could she live in a world where her brother couldn’t be with her? How was she supposed to accept the fact that she would never see him again? And – her breath hitched in her throat as soon as the thought appeared – did that mean that she would become Queen after her father’s death?

She wrapped her arms around herself in an almost desperate attempt to hold herself together but no matter how hard she tried to regain her composure, the tears kept on streaming down her face. All she could think about was that her brother was dead and gone.

– But was he really dead? What if… what if there was a way to save him?

A thought, a vague theory began to sprout in the back of her mind.

“They used some kind of spell to turn him into stone,” her father had said. A spell… Carlina gnawed on her lower lip as she tried to hold onto the thought before it could disappear again. She didn’t know much about magic but she knew that every spell could be undone. Maybe, and this was the straw she grasped at, this spell – this curse – could be reversed too.

She gasped for air, her heart racing in her chest as she jumped to her feet, not even bothering with wiping her tears away before she rushed out of her room and headed straight to the dungeons where the imprisoned sorcerers were held captive while they waited for their verdict. It was foolish to get her hopes up but she needed answers; she needed to know if there was a way to get her brother back. And the only people who could unravel that mystery for her were the sorcerers.

It wasn’t hard to convince the guards to let her pass, telling them that King Lewin had sent her to interrogate one of the prisoners about the crown prince’s whereabouts, although she knew very well that it wouldn’t be hard for them to convict her of lying. Her father would be incredibly mad when he found out that she interfered in his affairs but right now, she couldn’t care less. All that mattered was to figure out a way to save Bede.

She took a deep breath before she made her way along the hallway. The air was muggy, smelling like death and misery, and the few torches on the walls gave the whole place an ominous and menacing atmosphere. Carlina shuddered at the thought of being imprisoned here, just waiting for the king to hand down a sentence, knowing very well that every breath could be the last. This part of the dungeons had been exclusively built to lock up the sorcerers, although Carlina exactly sure how her father managed to suppress their magic. But maybe they were simply too weak, starved or sleep-deprived to use their abilities to attempt an escape. Hopefully, at least one of them would be willing to help her.

A thought that presented her with another problem. Her father had hunted them down for years now, mercilessly ripping apart families and killing them without hesitation. No one here had a reason to help her; if anything, they’d believe that Bede got what he deserved which meant that Carlina needed incredibly good arguments to convince them to give her some answers. Or she could try to bribe them. But what could she offer them? Money? No, they probably had no use for it, so it would only be a waste of time to even suggest it.

It was only then when it hit her. There was exactly one thing all of them desired: freedom. And with that in mind, Carlina approached one of the cells.

It took her two hours to find a prisoner that was willing to speak to her. His name was Emmeric, imprisoned for allegedly killing one of his neighbor’s children with a backfired spell, and although he held a deep grudge against the royal family, he agreed to at least listen to her request. He didn’t interrupt her once, even as she mentioned the spell and that she wanted to find a way to save the crown prince, although his dark brown eyes widened in surprise when she told him that she would convince her parents to bestow a pardon on him when he agreed to help her.

“No,” he finally said, shaking his head at her words. “A curse like that can’t be undone, at least not in the way you want it to. If what you say is true, I need you to understand that most of us aren’t even capable of spells like this one. It’s against the laws of nature to turn a living being into stone. No one I know would dare to even think about it.”

“So you say that it can’t be true?”

Emmeric chuckled hoarsely. “Just because I haven’t seen a spell like this with my own eyes, it doesn’t mean that it’s not true. You see, my dear princess, I consider myself being quite powerful but of course there are others who perform far more advanced magic. And the spell you told me about… well. There’s only one of us who would be capable to do something like this, and if this is really her spell I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

Carlina’s heart skipped a beat, a wave of disappointment washing over her. “I see,” she mumbled. “But thank you for considering it anyway.”

“Not so fast,” Emmeric said. “I’m not saying that it’s impossible. I might not be able to break the spell but perhaps I can mitigate against it. In exchange for my reprieve, of course.”

When Carlina nodded, he continued, “Tell the king’s guards to bring your brother back to the palace. I think there’s something I can do to help him.”

Quietly, he told her about his plans, not without mentioning that it was entirely possible that it wouldn’t work at all but Carlina didn’t want to hear any of that. “If there’s a chance,” she said, “we need to try it.”

“Alright. Then I’ll look forward to our next meeting. Now go and inform your parents. Meanwhile, I shall prepare myself for the spell.”

Even though there were tears welling up in her eyes again, Carlina didn’t feel as hopeless as before. A soft smile flashed over her face as she thanked Emmeric, knowing that someday, her brother would be freed from his prison by his soulmate.

Masterlist

#bede x reader #trainer bede x reader #bede pokemon x reader #original series #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gym leader bede x reader #fairytale!AU

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fictionalfics · 4 years

Text

Twenty Things

(Not my Gifs)

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

WARNINGS: None

Classmates. Despite being relatively new to UA, you felt that your bond with the class was unbreakable. It was rare you kept a secret from them, and vice versa. You were closer to them than you were with your own family.

So when you received a note under your bedroom door, you were confused.

It wasn’t long since you’d finished up in Gym Gamma with Todoroki- you had vowed to brush up on your sparring skills, in case you couldn’t rely on your quirk, and he’d offered to help. You’d only just sat down on your bed when the note came.

You groaned as you stood up, your legs aching, but you ignored it. This was something you had to investigate. The paper was warm, as if someone had been holding it just moments ago. Not thinking anything of it, you opened the small page.

“You’re kind and thoughtful, and always make me happy.

(Kaminari has the next note.)”

The next note? What does that even mean?

You didn’t recognise the handwriting - neat, curvy, almost printed.

Ha, as if someone would put that much effort into a hoax. For some reason, a part of you didn’t want to throw the note away, so you placed it on your desk across from your bed, and went back to sitting down.

But as you scrolled through your phone, something was tugging at your interest. You turned your phone off and laid down, staring at the pristine ceiling above.

It had to be a hoax, right? A harmless prank to see how gullible you were. a test of strength set by Aizawa, maybe. It bugged you even so, and you turned your head to where the note was sat. Why was a piece of paper bothering you this much?

You stood up and grabbed the note again, turning it over and over, upside down and sideways, checking for any hidden meaning, anything at all that might tip you off.

Having had enough if being driven insane, you decided to shove your pride away and find Kaminari.

You heard muffled music as you approached his room, the bassline shaking your ribs. It paused as you hammered on the door.

“Open up Kaminari! I know you’re behind this!” You were’nt really 100% sure, but if you sounded confident, maybe you could get a confession out of him.

Muffled swearing and banging lead to the door being opened.

“Oh! I thought you’d never come! I was told to give you this!” Before any accusations could fall from your lips, the blond shoved a piece of paper, identical to the last in your hand. With a mumbled “Good luck!” he shut the door in your face again, no explanation given.

“Kaminari! Fucks sake man, at least tell me what this is about!”

No response. You huffed in frustration and looked at the paper. Same handwriting.

“Your quirk is powerful, and you use it with such grace and control.

(Yaoyorozu has the next note.)”

Another note?

Your face flushed at the words on the page, despite the confusion. You realised that, maybe, this wasn’t a prank, although it certainly was elaborate.

Shoving the note in your pocket with the first one, you hesitantly walked to Yaomomo’s room.

And so it continued. Note after note, compliment after compliment, face after face. Your heart was pounding, but whether it was from walking backwards and forwards through the dorms, or out of sheer nerves, you couldn’t quite tell. Perhaps it was a mixture of both?

Each note, written in the same neat handwriting, made you blush more than the last.

“You put a lot of effort into training, becoming a better version of yourself every day.”

“You’re strong willed, and always stand up for what you believe in.”

“My favourite sound is your laugh- you sound like an angel.”

You leant againt the wall, counting the notes. Nineteen. Who was missing?

The whole class had been in on it, a thoroughly planned scheme that you knew nothing about. It must have taken days to plan, and was so intricate and precise.

Someone had gone to all this effort for you. You thought back to who had given the notes to you. Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, Midoriya.

Kirishima, Mina, Sato, Jiro.

Bakugo, Tsuyu, Ochaco, Iida.

Sero, Shoji, Hagakure, Koda.

Aoyama,Tokoyami, Ojiro.

That left you, and Todoroki.

Todoroki!

You scanned the last note for instructions.

“You’re intelligent and creative, and can always come up with an effective plan no matter the situation.”

That was it, no further instructions. Where would you find him?

No reply from his room, even after thudding on the door. Maybe he was waiting at your door?

Not bothering to take the elevator was a mistake, even more so when you realised he wasn’t there.

A huff of frustration echoed off the walls as you opened your door and placed the notes on your desk. You didn’t even get chance to sit down before something caught your eye.

Outside the window, you saw the back of a familiar, two-toned head. Bastard! It was dark out, so you didn’t think he’d be out there.

You ran down the stairs, your legs aching more and more with each step, curses echoing in time. You opened the door with a rather aggressive kick, startling your friend.

He had a bunch of flowers in his arms, a folded piece of paper resting amongst the delicate petals. You both walked towards one other, only stopping when the flowers brushed your arm. With a smile, Todoroki unfolded the piece of paper as he handed you the flowers.

“But Y/N, what i love about you most is that you’re true to yourself, and I never want you to change.”

“Todoroki...” You mumbled in shock. He really meant it, and had gone to all this trouble for you.

“Y/N, I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me? I know a place that serves the best Soba, but they serve other things too if that isn’t your taste.”

You could have cried then and there. “How can I say no?” A slight laugh came with that, and Todoroki smiled.

“Seven o’clock tomorrow night?”

“Sounds great, Todoroki.”

He really did mean it.

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #self insert #x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #weeb #anime #half n half

152 notes · View notes

msaluna · 3 years

Text

The Moon Well

This story is a mini fic of Luna in a Corruption AU, giving hints on how she became corrupted by an event while overseas. All of Luna’s backstory is relatively the same with only this one event causing her sudden shift in corruption. Enjoy. -RayMun

================

The night of her return was not a pleasant one, the woman known by so few in the town as the local witch, and even fewer by actual name passes through the magical portkey door. The one that leads back to a mansion overseas owned by a man she no longer cares for. Her body still humming with magic from the events that only happened the night before.

She closes the door behind her, waving a hand over the door, it vanishes in a shimmer of powerful magic. The house creaks with what could only be heard to Luna as a sound of concern.

"I am okay dear friend," Luna said to what would be emptiness. "But I think we’ve outgrown this town."

Luna places a satchel of books she has been holding onto the table as she goes to prepare for her “Move” to another location. The books weren’t hers to keep but she felt every right to take it. The contents were a mix of rituals, spells, and Fay knowledge along with one black journal. It was written in cursive french, but she didn't have to translate it to know of its contents. Because she saw through the torching visions of the Moon Well what secrets it and its previous owners kept.

Without much preparation time, Luna focused her magic to the condition of the house. Her eyes and body glow in pale gold light, a phantom image of moth wings expand from the woman’s back. The house around her binds and twists, creaking as the Relocation spell takes hold. Markings and symbols write themselves in light along the walls and ceiling of the rooms. And in a matter of minutes, the house once known as Sun & Moons Fortunes is now an empty shell in the small town. Making the new residence to the Witch of Secrets currently unknown.

VVV[Open Read More to see the Journal Entry]VVV

[Research of the Moon Well]

[Owner: Viktor Frollo]

[Contact: XXX-XXXX-XXXX]

[Date: 21/12]

The Moon Well, I have only seen it in tales and vague mentions in old documents but now I have been convinced the place or more accurately this phenomenon truly exists. This year, during my visit to that drabby campus, invited to the Yule ball as per usual, I was expecting it to be the same as last year. Boring. Typical meet and greet while reconnecting and reassuring some of my former contacts that I was being a well-behaved gentleman. Seeing the most mature and basic of magical potential. Such cowards. They do not realize untapped magic is waiting to be discovered if they simply opened their eyes and looked.

But no, they fail to even realize that one of their own students has talents that are far more than just a prodigy witch. This time, even I was allowed the opportunity to peek behind that curtain that hides the secrets of the moon. A student by the name of Luna Eirian allowed me to see past this veil during her performance for the winter moon. It was stunning in more ways than one, truly something to behold. But what was more shocking than the skills she possessed was the display of natural magic being displayed through her voice and music, it was the fact that no one realized what I had at that very moment. She was performing Fay magic! Specifically Moon Fay! At least, this is what I strongly believe just from the scene I experienced this evening.

I can hardly steady my hand as I write my excitement of this discovery. The only thing now is to convince Ms. Eirian to allow me to be her patron or mentor. She will never be able to reach her true potential through the cowardly teachings of that establishment. This will be difficult, as she is already suspicious of me from her reaction to my presence at the Ball. Even when asking her if she would like a patron to fund any projects she wishes to undertake, she politely declined. Sadly, she isn't like any of the women, like the ones who pursue me in the hopes I would give them my time. It would have made this situation easier.

[Date: 22/12]

I have sent a request to Ms. Eirian's counselor to have her study under my watch. Seeing as we are both viewed as porridge witches from the same university, it was fairly easy to convince the council. However, Ms. Eirian herself seems to be a paranoid sort of individual or at least highly instinctual when someone takes interest in her. I did not see any hint of shyness in her demeanor when asked, so her rejection of me doesn't stem from bashfulness. At least she isn't a gullible idiot, that much is a blessing and frankly, I believe it adds to her charm.

[Date: 28/12]

It has been a week since the Yule Ball and I have managed to convince Ms. Eirian to stay at the estate while I help her with a project. A broom. Simple enough, but now that she is here, I can proceed with providing her with information about her talents. And I can finally push her to limits that will break that veil once again, without interference with those cowards at the university. Hopefully, the promise of more knowledge from my collection of books will entice her to stay longer than intended. She seems to be very fond of learning about magic.

[Date: 10/01]

A new discovery, even if she didn't have her Fay heritage, Ms. Eirian has proven to be quite clever and knowledgeable. She has only relied on her Fay powers less than a handful of times while under my watch. It is truly impressive, we would have many quite the collaborative team if she lived on this side of the ocean. Or have come to the university when I was attending. I still intend to study her Fay capabilities, but even I have to admit that her presence here has significantly warmed the chilly atmosphere of this estate.

I need to move the project forward if I am to hope to achieve my goal of studying Luna before I become distracted.

I will be moving the project forward a little faster than usual. Now that she is less suspicious of my movements, I will be able to gather samples to perform further studies.

---

[Date: 16/01]

Today, I took a gamble. I handed Ms. Eirian a book that normal human eyes are not typically allowed to read. It is one of the few Fay-written books I have managed to find without being tarnished or fake. It was worrisome, I had a story prepared to explain why I had the book and why I was handing it to her without explanation. However, a surprising thing happened...she didn't question the book or the contents. She didn't even ask how she could read it. Ms. Eirian...do you trust me this much with your secrets? Or in bittersweet irony, are you truly unaware of why I drew close to you?

The way she smiled at me with excitement about the contents of the book tells me she does not know. And for some reason, at that moment in time, I felt sad. I pitied her more than being pleased with the concept of her unknowingly being part Fay. She truly didn't know how special she was to me. And the idea of knowing a secret she didn't know she had, pained me.

---

[Date: 21/01]

Our relationship has grown closer over these past few weeks. She has opened up quite a bit, and it makes things easier. But there seems to be an issue that I wasn't expecting to have, I purely played with the idea of returning her affection to keep her close but now, I wish to keep her close regardless. However, the issue is that I still would like to pursue knowledge about the Moon Fay while she is still by my side.

In a few days, the super moon will be rising and I need to be prepared.

Forgive me Luna, but maybe you will if my studies help you control this Fay magic inside. Once I see and record my findings, I promise that I will tell you everything. No more secrets between us.

I promise.

---

[Date: 31/01]

I am not sure what happened, all I could say is the display of magic and the veil tearing was unlike anything I have ever seen before. The power of the ritual could be viewed as a success to a typical scholar, I know my past self would have seen it as such but seeing Luna---Apologize for my notes at this moment.

The ritual is supposed to be performed during a normal full moon but my eagerness to see a positive result has led to a miscalculation. The Moon Well does exist and it can be accessed by a half-Fay heritage of moon descent. However, due to the mythical powers of the supermoon, the results have left --the subject-- Luna in an almost comatose state. Possibly overwhelmed with the sudden flow of magic, knowledge, or both that came to her. She was screaming by the end of the ritual and I, admittedly in a panic, tried to cut her ties off to the connection of the well---

*the writing seems to be shaking more and more as the journal goes on*

She was babbling in Fay for hours nearly four hours, I can barely pick out a few words that I know, "too loud" and "stop the voices" were some of the few I could trasl translate as I got her to some care. Her body is strangely chilly to even myself. Body limp but strangely light as a feather now that I recall. Her body glo was glowing softly, still full of magic I presume. Apologies again for any miss-spelling or illegibility, my hands are still shaking from shock. I will be staying by her side for the remainder of the night to make sure that her condition didn't worsen.

*the writing is a little more steady, assuming after a pause to calm themselves*

Luna's condition had improved in the last few hours of the night, maybe due to the peak of the moon finally reaching its end. It is only a hypothesis. Luna is still restless in her sleep though, but the chill has gone away. Thank God. The glowing has also faded somewhat but her hair has clearly changed, adding more blond to her caramel hair. Upon further inspection, the freckles on her body have also burned into her skin, only now do I realize that her markings on her back fit perfectly as the constellations of the night sky.

This experiment should not be replicated without further research and understanding of Fay magic. And also should not be proceeded without less secretive tactics to any 'subject' performing the ritual. I believe, if I wasn't a coward in that very moment, if Luna knew about her heritage before performing the ritual, the results would have been less catastrophic and dangerous to her livelihood. Hopefully, Luna will wake from her sleep soon, so I can apologize to her properly. For now, I will leave this journal here for a time while I rest and wait for her to awake.

Luna. I am so sorry.

---

#Corruption AU #Fanfic #MSA OC #Luna #Viktor #Character Lore #Moon Well

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lovealarmrp · 3 years

Photo

hello, lovers!!! 💓 we’re so excited to show you our membergroups today!

since love alarm is a social media application that allows you to rate others on a scale of one to five stars, we have decided to keep the social media theme with our membergroups! each group below will have a distinct color alongside a description to explain more about what kind of people they are 🤩

below, you will see our seven membergroups and our three premium membergroups!

feel free to choose membergroups however you want —whether it be because of the description, the color, the name, or the ✨aesthetic✨ of it all!

youtubes definitely have a customer service voice - wanting to appear as friendly as possible to people they don't know. that's not to say a youtube is an unfriendly person, as usually they are very friendly people. they are the types of people that will try to take on every task given to them. at first they can be very successful at the tasks they are given, even dedicating all nighters to them. but because they are constantly trying to take on new tasks, they often burn out where they no longer feel inspired by what they were doing before. this makes them prone to the anxiety of letting others down. perhaps the root of a youtube's issue is they often put the needs of others in front of their own needs.

the first thing to know about an instagram is they are often not what they seem. instagrams are almost obsessed with appearing a certain way. they are often perfectionists, never satisfied with just getting by or being average. for an instagram, taking photos to post on their social media pages could be a full time job. but their calculated and perfectionist ideals to keep their personas is not just limited to social media. they also want to be perceived as the smartest, and could be caught in lies about their sat scores or college acceptances. they are often perceived as fake, superficial and calculated individuals that are willing to do anything to get ahead.

you can always count on a snapchat to be the life of the party. they are the first to volunteer for something, and never had a problem being front and center. in fact, they thrive off being the center of attention. snapchats can be found constantly overflowing with energy; insisting that you take 100 selfies to document a lunch you had with them, and always able to avoid awkward silences. however, their constant energy can be very in-your-face, and draining for someone who is more reserved. they often blur the line between only catching up with friends, and becoming clingy or overbearing.

a linkedin is a hard-working individual, willing to go to great lengths to achieve their dreams and aspirations. they are the people who have always had a meticulous plan, even from a young age. they are very sure, and confident in their abilities to succeed. these people often come off as robotic to some, because they base more of their decisions on logic than emotion. they are consistent individuals who avoid acting on impulse. they would rather make a pros and cons list before any major choice in their life. they enjoy spending hours on their resume, down to picking out the perfect sans serif font. though hard working planners, when events unfold that are not according to plan, a linkedin is easily frazzled.

if you said the word gullible was written on the ceiling, facebooks might just believe you and look. they have a tendency to believe almost everything they hear and everything they read online. they are quick to pass along this new information and gossip as fact. one might often find facebooks checking in on their high school sweetheart's social media pages, making sure they haven't gotten married yet, even though facebooks swear they've moved on ages ago. facebooks are very emotional people, which can be both a good or bad thing. they are very empathetic of others, and are eager to try and support others. but when a facebook is down, they will vent to their friends for hours and they might even overshare their personal woes with people they don't know very well, eager to gain other people's sympathy or pity.

a twitter will likely notice you long before you notice them. they are often found at the edge of a crowd, watching and observing rather than demanding the attention of others. they are thoughtful, introspective individuals who tend to keep to themselves. others might describe a twitter as someone secretive and mysterious - who doesn't always open up all the way. it could take a very long time to properly befriend a twitter. a twitter may also display a different facade online where they wish they could be different than who they are in their daily life.

tumblrs are naturally very warm and imaginative people, they are constantly coming up with new ideas or dreams to inspire them and others. they often start their new projects with vigor, but they quickly become disorganized and lose their footing. as their muse fizzles, rather than dealing with the root of the problem, they are onto the next project. they find it easier to start over than fix what they broke. tumblrs are known to boast and embellish about the smallest of accomplishments to distract from a greater issue of their inconsistencies ('it's a new shade of blue!').

PREMIUM MEMBERGROUP

a vine swears they are a new person every day. they are always reinventing themselves with new hair styles, new hobbies and new fashion. they could be described as trend chasers, always seemingly going for what's popular, but many vines would deny this. they are impulsively living in a state of flux, making all their life choices without too much thought into what consequences their choices might have. many vines are thought to be creative, but airheaded with attention spans that only last six seconds.

PREMIUM MEMBERGROUP

a msn could write poetry about a stranger's ocean eyes on the subway. they are constantly falling in love with people, places and ideas. they fall down the rabbit hole of what things could be like, rather than the reality of how things really are. they often wear their hearts on their sleeves , and are the types of people who cry easily when other people are emotional. however, along with feeling everything intensely, they also have a tendency to be labelled as overdramatic. this could be because they act as if the world is ending when someone doesn't call when they said they would, or because the grocery store was out of oreos.

PREMIUM MEMBERGROUP

when someone first meets a myspace, they might think they are a know-it-all with a snobby and sarcastic disposition. a myspace is selective with those they call their closest friends. because of their guarded, more apprehensive nature, it can be hard to break into their inner circle. but once you have befriended a myspace, you have a ride-or-die friend. they will be the first person to lend you money when rent is due, and the first person to buy you ice cream after a breakup. but beware, loyalty means everything to them - and if you betray them, they will have no issues cutting you out of their top friends.

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iloveyouthree-thousand · 5 years

Text

Masterlist

So, I’ve written a lot of things. A lot of stupid things. And I figured I might as well catalog them.

I’m also going to link my other accounts:

FF.net: psychicchameleon (for the love of God don’t read my old shit. I’m trusting you.)

Ao3: iloveyouthree_thousand

Note: everything is pretty Irondad centric unless otherwise specified.

one-shots:

and even if I’m gone, there’s always a place for you here -- “I wanted you to know that he never forgot about you. You meant a lot to him, to us. You were a part of this family too, and it didn’t feel right to not include you in our new home.”

it’s killing me to hold on (but I’m dying without you here) -- “I know!”, he snaps, turning to face the apparition, “God, Pete, don’t you get it? Every day I wait for the dream to end, but every single day that god damn sun rises and you still don’t come home.”

trope: Mister Stark -- “You’re not my dad, but you’re… something like that, I guess. Something special. You’re Mr. Stark.”

the graduation -- “He scanned the audience, and like a magnet, his gaze landed on May. And then Tony. Peter took a shaky breath. ‘Tonight, I’d like to talk about heroes.’”

a suit of armor around (his) world -- “He told me, once, that he didn’t think he’d rest until he could put a suit of armor around the world. I thought it was… a fever dream. But then I saw him look at you, wrapped up in that suit, and I realized that he’d already done it.”

sometimes a family is nothing more than a kid, his aunt, a guy-in-the-chair, and a handful of Avengers -- “Tony froze, a fuzzy warmth spreading in his chest as he searched Peter’s face for any indication that he understood the gravity of the statement he had just made.”

we push away the unimaginable -- “Tony didn’t know which scenario he was more afraid of: A pile of dust on the floor. Or May Parker, alive and well, having lost the one thing she had left to lose.”

and I’ll be right there with you, wherever you go -- “Ugh, you know that when you cry I cry,” she fans at her eyes desperately, “and Peter Parker if you make me smudge my makeup so help me–I will lock you in this room for the entirety of this wedding.”

you’ll always be my underoos -- “Jealousy was watching Morgan Stark crawl into her father’s lap, the two of them wearing matching grins as he held her tight, exchanging whispered I love you’s that were so easy and second-nature it hurt.”

sleep tight, I’ll be right here watching over you -- “If Tony had to choose between saving himself or saving you and Morgan—he’d choose you guys every time,” she tiled his head up gently, “it’s what parents do.”

in fourteen billion lifetimes, I’d still love you in every one -- “All I know is that,” he paused, waiting for Peter to meet his eyes, “in fourteen billion scenarios, he always brought you back. Ms. Potts, his little girl, and you were always a given.”

who tells your story? -- “He waited for the day that it wouldn’t hurt so bad, for the day he could tell his little girl about a superhero named Spider-Man, who knew an inordinate amount of B-list sci-fi trivia and cared about saving a stray cat as much as he cared about stopping a gang of arms dealers.”

you can take away my kid (but he’ll always be a part of me) -- “That kid—he ignited something parental in you before you even had a chance to fight it. We all knew you were a dad way before we found out Pepper was pregnant.”

five times Peter Parker could hear Tony’s heart beating (and the one time he couldn’t) -- “It helps Peter to hear his heartbeat. He knows that. As long as Tony’s heart kept beating in his ears, Peter knew he wasn’t going anywhere.”

there are moments that the words don’t reach -- “Peter was gone and he was alone and there was nothing to say anymore, because the worst had come and gone and Tony had let it happen with only two words of protest: you’re alright.”

the beginning of a future that could’ve been -- “Tony called Peter down to Pepper’s office under the guise of meeting up for lunch. Instead, he presented him with a plaque that he’d had rush-ordered, solidifying his position as the newest intern at Stark Industries.”

and we might not be able to save everyone (but I’ll be damned if I can’t save you) -- “I’ve been here, too, at the end of my rope. Because you’re a superhero, right,” he chokes, “a card-carrying member of the 'earth’s mightiest heroes’ club, but they don’t tell you when you sign up how much it absolutely sucks.”

The Cherry-Red Porsche 944 Turbo [from five-ish times Peter didn’t call Tony ‘dad’] -- “I don’t care how many times you save Queens, if you ever have to call AAA, then I feel like I’ve failed as a mentor.”

and they say a picture is worth a thousand words (but I never understood that until now) -- “Before they realized what was happening, it had become a tradition. Still, they’d never voice the fact that it was Father’s Day. It was just a random day that they happened to spend together. Annually.”

just get back up (when it knocks you down) -- “He said there’s always a choice, but I could see his face, Mr. Stark. He didn’t look like he had a choice. And in a different life, in a million different scenarios… that could’ve been me.”

because I don’t know what I’d do without you -- “You’re not my dad!” The words blurt out of Peter’s mouth before he’s even aware of them. Silence hangs thickly in the air. Peter’s voice is wobbly, softer, as he repeats, “you’re not my dad.”

sometimes parenthood hits you when you least expect it (but you accept it all the same) -- “You don’t just get to walk out on him because it got hard. He’s had enough taken away from him. I can’t watch him lose you too.”

blood or not, when you love someone three-thousand, they’re your family too -- “Peter’s brain is going haywire, trying to process the fact that this tiny human he’s never met before is calling him Petey and clinging to him like a long lost friend.”

Anthony Stark [from Stark: An American Musical] -- “Holy mother of—you bastard, orphan, son of a—good God that hurts.”

I still believe in heroes -- “Heroes make mistakes, kid, it’s part of the job. We continue to believe in them anyway, we have to, because the second we don’t… I—none of us should live in a world like that.”

trope: coming out -- “Pride means a lot of things to a lot of people. And sometimes, it’s nothing more than taking a breath and looking in the mirror and smiling because you’re you and that’s enough.”

bullet point fics and headcanons:

you win some (but, oh, you lose so much more) -- “That’s the way life goes; some people win, and off to the side, in the shadows, some people lose.”

it takes two to tango (and to give a certain Spider-Kid ‘The Talk’) -- “Come on, kid,” Tony breathes, accepting that this is his life now, “the sooner you ask the question the sooner we both get out of this special form of hell.”

back to the future past -- “Past Tony has come to expect their company, and even though he doesn’t know if time travel is something they should really be messing with, he’s really never been able to say no to his kids.”

prompt: birthday cake -- “The problem, however, is that it becomes a tradition: Peter Parker gets chocolate-coconut batter on the ceiling and all over his face. And every year, Tony chokes down a slice of the death cake just to see the kid smile.”

from one father to another -- “Scott almost didn’t do it.After all, a man who moved his family to the middle of nowhere is probably a man that wants to be left alone.”

the proposal -- “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know. A balcony, really? Don’t think I didn’t catch that reference.” Pepperony.

AC/DC -- “I’m warning you, kid, fun and games aside—you do not, under any circumstances, disrespect that song in this house.”

for the next Tony Stark -- [not really a fic, but kinda reads like one]

you’re here, there’s nothing I fear (and I know that my heart will go on) -- “Because if he was a sinking ship then she was the captain. Maybe the damage was too deep this time and he couldn’t be saved. She’d still do everything in her power to get him to float again.” Pepperony.

lean on me (and I’ll help you carry on) -- “When Rhodes finds out he’s living with Tony Stark, he thinks it’s a joke. One thousand, four hundred and twenty-eight incoming freshman, and he gets paired up with the prepubescent heir to Stark Industries?” James Rhodes & Tony Stark.

suit up -- “…and before you get any ideas, you’d be a junior groomsman, so no open bar and definitely no bachelor party, but for all the other stuff… well, I’d like you to be there.”

next time, you ride with me -- “For just a moment, he wants to let his best friend will carry him home -- again -- and believe everything will be okay.”

we’re in the endgame now -- [again, not really a fic, but kinda reads like one.]

Spider-Man: FFH deleted scene -- “Ms. Potts?” he calls down from the landing, gripping Morgan tighter in his arms, “w-what do you mean, ‘we need to keep him out of the city?’”

dialogue posts & incorrect quotes:

(warning: most of these are so short I debated even putting them here)

Karen’s namesake

Your name is what now?

I’ve had an epiphany.

You ate a banana?!

Peter Parker’s Intervention

Itsy Bitsy Avenger

Pour some sugar on me (except it’s salt and it’s in my coffee)

Tony’s Code Red

He could be stabbing me, and I’d still be proud of him.

Jurassic Park

Gullible

#masterlist #fics

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serenlyss · 5 years

Text

Concordat

Rating: G Relationships: ritsu&reigen, ritsu&shigeo Summary: He’s expecting another old woman searching for a beloved family cat, or maybe a young man concerned about a cheating partner, but instead he finds himself face-to-face with a kid. “Is this… Spirits and Such Detective Agency?" (When Reigen Arataka, PI, decided to pursue a career as a detective, he'd never expected to take on a missing persons case. Then again, he hadn't expected to receive said case from a literal child, either, and yet, here he is.) Crossposted to AO3: Concordat

Concordat - An agreement or treaty relating to matters of mutual interest.

This is a gift for my dear friends @winsstar-writes and @pigpantpoop on tumblr for their Detective AU, which I've just fallen in love with so fast hahaha. So here's more Ritsu and Reigen content bc I love their dynamic So Much. I hope you two like it, ily <3

---

Reigen sinks into his office chair, letting his whole body slouch with a long sigh. Business is slow at the agency today, and he’s bored out of his mind waiting for someone to show up and give him something to do. Outside his window, he can hear rain hitting the sill, a gentle summer storm outside chasing the pedestrians indoors. He has no clients scheduled for the rest of the day, and it’s only just past lunch, which means he’s going to spend the rest of the work day sitting around, doing nothing.

He rummages around in his suit pocket for a cigarette and lighter, leaning over his desk. He holds the cigarette between his lips and lights it up, uncaring of the cloud of smoke that leaves his lips and hangs around him. Briefly, he thinks that he must stink of it, and that it won’t make a very good impression if a client walks in on him smoking in his own office, but he can’t bring himself to care, today. He leans back in the chair again, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Maybe I should just pack it up, move on to something else, he laments with a frown. He’d left a comfortable office job for this, but, well, he’d always been a bit of a drifter. Perhaps the detective life just isn’t what he’s cut out for, after all.

The chime of a bell reaches his ear as the front door to his office is opened, and he hastily moves to put out his cigarette, pressing it down into the ashtray at the corner of his desk. “Come in,” he calls, voice cracking slightly as he attempts to put on his cheerful customer service voice, and pushes himself up from his chair to greet his guest.

He’s expecting another old woman searching for a beloved family cat, or maybe a young man concerned about a cheating partner, but instead he finds himself face-to-face with a kid.

“Is this… Spirits and Such Detective Agency?” asks the literal child who’s come to greet him. He can’t be older than ten, considering the primary school uniform he wears, and he looks up at Reigen from beneath a furrowed brow, dark gray eyes scrutinizing him carefully. His black hair sticks up in all directions, like he’d just rolled out of bed before coming here. Reigen is deeply unimpressed, but, well, it can’t hurt to humor a child for a little while.

“Yeah, this is the place. What can I do for you?” Reigen asks, opting for a plastic smile as he beckons the boy inside.

The boy shuffles a bit on his feet, looking around the office with undeniable skepticism written all over his face, and then reluctantly takes a step inside. The door falls quietly shut behind him, and he hovers in the entryway. His gaze is more deliberate and calculating than most adult clients Reigen’s had. “You’re the detective?” he clarifies, flashing Reigen that uncertain look again.

Reigen resists the urge to sigh. What was with this kid? “Reigen Arataka, PI, at your service! I must say, I don’t get a lot of kids coming here, though. What’s the matter, you lose something?” He can’t fathom why an elementary school student would come to him for answers, of all people, or what a kid would find so important that he’d need the help of a detective to find. It must be some kind of prank.

The kid shakes his head, clinging to the straps of his backpack as though he can’t figure out what else to do with his hands. “No--I mean, yes, but not like what you’re--I’m looking for my brother!” he stammers, fumbling over his words nervously. He looks away, seemingly embarrassed, his face flushed pink. “Nobody else I talked to would take me seriously… the police keep saying they’re going to find him, but they won’t even listen to me when I tell them--” Suddenly, the kid freezes, cutting himself off abruptly.

The mention of a missing brother makes Reigen pause in his tracks, halfway to his desk where he usually sits and consults with clients. He’s an only child himself, but the thought of losing a sibling… He shakes his head, turning to face the boy and raising a brow at him. “Tell them what?” he prompts, though he honestly isn’t really sure he wants to know.

The kid looks up at him with uncertainty, eyes filled with distrust, then glances away again. “My brother… he was kidnapped because he’s an esper,” he mumbles, and quickly adds, “I know it sounds stupid and crazy, but it’s true! I’ve tried to tell the police, but they don’t listen to me! Your sign said you specialize in psychic cases, right?”

Reigen freezes. He’d known at the time that adding that caveat was a stupid idea, but he hadn’t expected anyone to come to him about a missing esper. He’d only done it to attract the easily-manipulated types, the older folks who believe in spirits and the gullible people who think throwing around a little table salt is enough to exorcise them, but this is in a league of its own. “Esper?” he echoes, feeling the dread inside of him multiply.

“Yeah, that’s what I said!” The boy says, impatient. “Everyone keeps telling me to give it more time, but it’s been months now. I can’t give up on finding him!” He fixes Reigen with what is potentially the most determined expression the man has ever seen on such a young child, hands balled into tight fists that quiver with barely-contained emotion. “So? You can do it, right?”

For a few long moments, Reigen can do nothing but stare, and then he clenches his teeth, glaring. “Is this some kind of joke?” he blurts, annoyed. “It’s not funny, kid, so just give it up already.” The words come out a bit harsher than he intends them to be, a hint of spite behind them, but he can’t find it in himself to be remorseful.

He expects the kid to give up then, to either admit to his prank or burst into tears or do some other kid thing, but instead he gets angry. “I’m not lying!” he snaps, stomping a foot on the floor in his outburst. “Two months ago, my older brother disappeared while he was walking home from school. I wasn’t there ‘cause I was in the hospital, but I know he wouldn’t have just wandered off! Someone took him, and I need to find him!” He’s rambling, the words tumbling from his mouth without much forethought, and Reigen can practically feel his desperation in the air. He continues, “I-I can’t just leave things the way they were, I can’t. I have to find him, I’m going to find him. I have to be someone for him, be there for him! If I don’t try, then what kind of lousy brother am I?”

The kid sniffles and reaches up to his eyes, just inches in front of Reigen, and it’s only then that Reigen realizes that the child has begun to cry, big crocodile tears that leave his eyes red and puffy and his nose a little wet. He can feel his brain short-circuiting at the sight of the crying boy; he has very little experience with kids, and would never, in a thousand years, consider himself the kind of person a child goes to for help or comfort. And yet here one is, crying in the middle of his office and all but begging for his help. He takes a breath, steadying his racing thoughts. I’ve never attempted a missing person case before, he thinks to himself, but something keeps him from outright refusing. Ask me to find a cat, sure, but a whole-ass person? I’m not equipped for this… Then again, had he ever really been equipped for a job? He’d always prided himself on being flexible with the kinds of jobs he would take--’flexible’ is a lot nicer of a word than ‘unqualified’--and, well, crying children have a certain persuasion of their own about them.

He isn’t sure what possesses him to do it, but he reaches up and pulls the tan hat from his head, pressing it against the boy’s mop of dark hair with a gentle puff. “Alright, enough of the tears. It’s not exactly my line of work, but what the hell--heck, what the heck?” He corrects himself with a cringe of embarrassment, but the kid doesn’t seem to mind all that much as he peeks out from beneath the brim of Reigen’s too-large hat in bewilderment. “Why don’t we start with a name, huh? Since you barged in here and demanded I help you out.”

The boy blinks, and a little light returns to his dark gaze. “Oh, my brother’s name is Shigeo,” he says, a little breathless, like he’s still processing the fact that he’s finally receiving the help he’s been searching for.

“Well, I was talking about your name, but that’s important, too,” Reigen corrects, flashing the boy an amused smile.

The boy flinches, and immediately the bewilderment is gone, replaced by a childish little pout that’s probably meant to be angry but comes across more endearing instead. Endearing… god, what is wrong with me today? Reigen berates himself. He’s in way over his head. “Kageyama Ritsu,” the boy replies stiffly, clearly embarrassed and attempting to hide it behind a stubborn frown.

Reigen moves over to his desk and flips his pad open to a new page, retrieving a pen and starting to jot down the two names. There will be lots of details to gather, still, but for now he’ll stick to the basics. Once he’s written down the two names and started to organize his messy thoughts, he gestures Ritsu over to sit in the chair across from him. He sets his pen down and clasps his hands in front of him on the desk, putting on his business face. “Alright, then, Ritsu, let’s talk.”

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #reigen arataka #kageyama ritsu #kageyama shigeo #fanfiction #mp100 fanfic #serendipitousfics #im posting this to escape the vore conversation ghpgihpgohigpi #gift fic

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sf-akahana · 5 years

Text

B Support (snzfic)

Fi//re Em//blem 3 Houses fic based of Dorothea's B support with Byleth. This is written from Dorothea's perspective and I copied the lines straight from how it's written in game, so you might want to watch both the female and male version of that conversation if the dialog reads a little stiff sorry. The voice acting in both English and Japanese is good anyway so I suggest it. I purposefully used gender neutral pronouns so you can pick which ever version on Byleth you prefer. Hope you enjoy my frantic 5am thirst ramblings

-------------------------------------------------

I can’t help but grumble a bit to myself as I reread the notes from today’s lecture; even though I wrote everything down it feels like I didn’t retain any of it. It’s not my fault though, Professor Byleth’s just so distracting! How am I supposed to focus on what they’re saying when they’re looking at me like that?! I heave a heavy sigh and try to focus my attention back on the lesson, when I’m interrupted by a familiar monotone voice.

“What’s wrong?”

I whip around in surprise - speak of the devil. There they are with their blank expression and piercing gaze, and as our eyes meet I already start to feel my ears heat up. Dammit.

“Professor?! I – Oh… don’t worry. It’s nothing.”

They quietly accept my answer and seemingly wait for me to go back to my work. Under normal circumstances I would have appreciated it, but honestly this is getting ridiculous. I can’t be constantly distracted by my own teacher; I have to find a way around this or else there’s no reason for me to be here!! I take a second to gather my thoughts before I meet their eyes again.

“Actually, could we talk for a bit? Somewhere a little more...private?”

I work hard to come across as sincere as possible; it’s too easy to let flirtation slip into a question like that and get brushed off. Their expression barely changes, little more than raising their eyebrows, but it’s enough that I know they understood. I don’t bother to wait for an answer as I turn around and walk out the dinning hall towards the first floor dorm rooms. Not long after a set of footsteps click on the stone pathway just behind me. I use the silence of our walk to come up with a good way to start this conversation, but by the time we close my bedroom door behind us I still don’t have the right words. We stand facing each other saying nothing for a few moments before I decide to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I find you a little difficult to be around. I know, I know. I’m your student and you’re just trying to watch out for me. But the way you look at me sometimes… it’s like you’re seeing right through me.”

The change in their expression is again subtle, but I’ve always been pretty good at reading others. They’re a person of few words, and I can see the gears turning in their head as they carefully choose the right ones.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I know you don’t mean anything bad by it. I’m just self-conscious, I guess. The thing is, I don’t have anything to call my own. No land, no birthright, no fortune. Little knowledge or battle skill. I think that’s why I always clung to my popularity as a diva. Even after leaving the stage behind, I sort of kept up the act. When I look at you, it’s like your eyes are accusing me… Telling me that you see right through it. That’s what I mean when I say it’s difficult to be around you.”

I didn’t mean to get so personal with the professor and to dump all my baggage on them, but now that I’ve started I just can’t stop. And of course, they just stand their quietly and let me ramble uninterrupted. I take a deep breath and meet their piercing eyes again, the heat moving from my ears to my cheeks as an idea forms in my head.

“Hey, uh, this might be nuts, but maybe you could show me some kind of weakness of yours?”

“Excuse me?” Their eyes immediately widen in shock, and though not as much as other people this is the most expression I’ve gotten this whole conversation. The reaction gives me a little confidence as I continue on with my silly request.

“You know my biggest fear. If I know one of yours, maybe I’ll feel less, I don’t know… vulnerable.”

They look pensive for a moment, hesitation clear to see as they seemingly way the pros and cons. I’m not oblivious as to how showing a student your weakness could be uncomfortable or embarrassing, but honestly that’s what I’m going for. Anything to humanize them.

“Well, if it would really help...”

“Excellent. Well then, don’t mind me.” Just as they promised they wait patiently as I quickly try to think of something to get a reaction out of them. Something ridiculously human, something involuntary. Tickling maybe? Though they are wearing a lot of clothing, they might be able to endure it. The only thing exposed is their...face - that’s perfect!! I couldn’t quite help my grin as I fiddled through my gift drawer. Right on top was a pretty white owl feather, the very same one Professor Byleth gave me for my birthday over tea not but a few weeks ago. I’ve been meaning to sew into into my cap, but now I’m glad I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I have to keep myself from skipping back across the room as I hold up the feather just above their beautifully pointed nose.

“Is this still ok, Professor?” With a small look of reluctance, they take a deep breath and nod their head. Though there’s no color across their cheeks, their eyes drift away from mine as I tip their chin back slightly, and I will happily take that as a show of embarrassment at this oddly intimate act. From this angle it was hard not to notice Byleth’s beautiful skin and perfect jaw, but then no ever one said the professor isn’t attractive. I take a deep breath of my own before stealing my nerves and starting on my work.

The first touch of the feather to their upturned nose gets little reaction, but I’m in no hurry right now. I take my time tickling around the nostrils and up the septum. It’s almost mesmerizing watching the muscles around the nose tick slightly at the sensation, a little scrunch of the nose here and a shallow sniff there. Soon their nostrils are flushed pink under the attention of the feather, Byleth’s eyes squinting up at the ceiling and their arms crossed tightly across their chest to deal with the itch. It’s only then that I decide it’s time to get the real reaction I’m looking for.

As I ease the feather slowly into their left nostril their nose immediately scrunches up, a gasp muffled through their teeth and a visible shudder tensing their shoulders. I can feel my grin stretch across my face; this is exactly what I’m looking for. It makes me feel in control, a little sadistic even. I keep my fingers underneath their chin as I twirl the tickly tool deeper into their nostril, the tip of the feather brushing lightly against their sinuses, and soon I’m treated by their first desperate sound; a little whine as their nostrils flare out trying to escape the tickling. I’m treated to more gasps and soft noises as I continue to tease the sensitive spot I found, and it isn’t long until Byleth is hitching in earnest.

“ah! hihh...hhIh-hIHh!! ehh-hIH!”

They’re shoulders are tensed up so they don’t jerk away from me and their hands have moved from their chest to hovering just below mine, ready to catch the sneezes when I finally bring it out of them. Though it seems they were too impatient to wait for me to finish it, as a sharp sniff triggeres a desperate breath in preparation for the fit. They quickly pushed my hands away and back up a few steps, though to my delight they don’t obscure their face as they finally tip over the edge.

“hhHIHHHhh- AT’chuhh!! A’tchh! ‘tchuh! hehh’eTCHhu!! hiih...hEH! ATCHhhu!! snff snf...”

Byleth pulls a nice handkerchief out of their coat as the fit comes to an end, and I stand pink cheeked and a little speechless as they clean themselves up. Weirdly enough I’ll say I’m even a bit starstruck. Usually a display so dramatic and impolite would take away from one’s attractiveness, but under these circumstances I can honestly say that it kind of has the opposite effect. I quickly shake out of my thoughts as they clear their nose a final time, and my grin quickly spreads over my face once more.

“Goddess’ blessings, wow Professor that was dramatic. I don’t mind though, you have pretty cute sneezes. Next time you gaze into my soul, I know just how I’ll retaliate!” I can’t help but giggle as I tease them a little, hoping to get just one more reaction out of them. Byleth just smiles slightly though and doesn’t rise to my bait, no pink cheeks or nothing. I let myself pout.

“Come on! I thought that was funny. I swear it’s like your heart isn’t even beating.” Without missing a beat and with a completely black expression, they come back with-

“Actually, my heart isn’t beating.”

“Ha, don’t be so silly… Huh? It really isn’t beating?! - Is what I’d say if I were more gullible. You’re just fooling around, Professor. I’m not sure how you did it, but that was a good one.”

___________________________________

| |

| Byleth and Dorothea’s |

| support level is now B! |

| Their motivation has also increased. |

|___________________________________|

#sneezefic #snzfic #sneeze kink

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