#but yeah my memories of the series and how it blew my mind as a kid do play into it a bit i will be honest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teyamsatan · 11 months

Note

thinking of this

but also thinking of a somewhat hilarious scenario of neteyam faintly remembering jake awkwardly teaching him and lo'ak the many ways humans can pleasure a woman and so neteyam asks if he can put it into practice (oral, f receiving) and eventhough he's a bit awkward at first he gets spurred on by the praises (neteyam 100% has a praise kink) he's getting, so like the overachiever that he is, he pays attention to the reader's advice and teaching but also the smallest signs from her body that he's doing good

and staying true to his golden boy title, he's actually fucking good at it in first try

maybe this scenario dump can be.. the next part of the series? 👀 all up to you bae <3 ily

part II of my inexperienced neteyam series x

part I (x)

..because the gift of reciprocation can not only be learnt, but returned... many times fold. ;)

wc: 1.6k words

warnings: 18+, minors dni (smut, oral - f receiving, fingering), cursing, strong language

It is a very well known fact among the clan, among his family, and among everyone who knew him, that Neteyam was the best at anything he put his mind to. Not because he was necessarily intrinsically good at everything, but because he always gave every challange a good college try. So after your first... lesson, one which blew Neteyam's mind and soul out of his body, that left him panting and whimpering and desperately needing more, he knew he wanted to be the best at this, too. The best. Your best.

This new all-consuming desire brought back memories, of being a little younger and more innocent, and having to sit through his father's sex ed lessons that he dreaded then, but now came to have a certain... appreciation for. He remembers faintly his father telling him how women have something called a clitoris, and how, if properly stimulated, can allow a girl to experiences unsurmoutable waves of pleasure, and that the best way to do it... is by putting your money where your mouth is... or in this case, putting your mouth where the jackpot is.

It was a sunny and calming day as you were basking in the sun rays that were peering in between the branches of the tall trees surrounding you, and you hummed quietly to yourself in muted contentment, Neteyam laying peacefully in your lap. He loved these moments, between friends who weren't quite friends, the undefined mystery of your relationship one he was dying to solve with every little clue that presented itself to him. The clue today was the soft, flowery scent that you emanated, that flooded his nostrils and his entire being, that begged to be smelled and felt, to be tasted and enjoyed like a ripe fruit on a summer's day.

"I want to learn." he blurts out, having to readjust his head a little as you rose from your position on the grass, your upper body now propped on your elbows, a taunting eyebrow raised and a small smirk blossoming on your face.

"Oh, yeah? And what would you like to learn, Neteyam?"

Ever since that first lesson, you struggled a little, keeping your composure around your friend. Somehow, your dynamic didn't really change, which you were thankful for, but you didn't want to push your luck, so you've waited... waited for him to make the first move, waited for him to decide whether your earlier... lapse in judgement was just that, or something more, something worth repeating. But it's been tough, knowing what you knew now, knowing what hid under his loincloth, knowing you could be showing him all the ways that he could fuck you dumb, the way you wanted, the way you needed... the way you craved. It's been particularly hard today, as his head was rested on your lap, the pressure on your groin leaving you a inadvertent flustered, wet mess. So while his words took you by surprise, it was a welcome surprise, one that you would make sure to enjoy every second of.

"You showed me... how good it can feel, how good you can make me feel. I want to learn... how good I can make you feel." he turned around, so his face was now facing your loincloth, and he pressed a small kiss over it, in between your thighs. You felt yourself clench around nothing and it took everything out of you not to moan at the gesture. You were surprised that he knew enough to ask for this, but excited to learn yourself what other secrets... and skills Neteyam was keeping from you.

"Alright. Let's see. Women, we... enjoy the build-up, the moments leading up to an orgasm maybe just as much as the actual act itself. So start slow... take your time, with caresses and gentle touc-... argh, fuck!" the feel of his tongue on your inner thigh tingled and burned, sending shocks through your system at the unfamiliar feeling, at the way he didn't even let you finish before he tried it for himself, before he already did something right. He positioned himself in between your legs, his head dangerously close to the area you most wanted him in, that he most wanted to be in. He was eager, so eager, and you were happy, as you always were that Neteyam was a dutiful student and masterful learner.

"Like this?" his soft caresses up and down your thighs, accompanied by small, peppered kisses on your lower abdomen were enough to make you pant in anticipation, enough to make the words hushed and breathy, enough to make you want to arch your back to give him better access to your body.

"Y-yes. Like that. Take off my tewng, Teyam. I don't think I'll need it anymore."

He did as he was told, skilled hands hooking in the fabric and undoing it until it was just a mess on the ground, like you hoping you would be soon. His breath hitched in his throat at your sight, at your plump, soaked folds, so soft, so new, so enticing... just like a ripened fruit on a warm summer's day. He only had one thought that reigned above all others, an unadulterated desire to taste you, to lap at the juices that smelled like all his best, wildest dreams come true, so that's what he did. And he realised quickly he must be doing something right when you moaned, your head pushed backwards and chest heaving erratically.

You tasted as good as you smelled, and Neteyam knew instantly he would not be able to live without this feeling, the feeling of your sweetness coating his tongue, of seeing your eyes roll in the back of your head, of the power that came with knowing only he got to see you like this, only he got to have his head in between your thighs and hear the sounds you made when he did.

"Imagine you're kissing someone's lips. Imagine you were kissing me, and it was amazing, and it felt intimate, and good, imagine you want to deepen the kiss, you want to make it last. Imagine that, and then do the same. Kiss me like you mean it, Teyam. Kiss me like you love me. Slowly, gently at first, wild and untamed later."

He let out a growl at your words, and how primal the way his body reacted to them was. He was hard now, rock hard, and he started slowly grinding on the ground to relief some of the overbearing pressure he was feeling. Once again, he was obediently attentive to your words, egged on by the filthy, nasty, beautiful sounds coming out of your pretty mouth, that he couldn't wait give the same treatment to, because fuck, he did mean it, and he did love you. And he would show you in any and every way he knew how, in any and every way he would soon learn, in any way you were willing to show him.

To say you were impressed with your friend would be the understatement of the century, as you were struggling to see straight with the way his tongue glided over your folds, the way he kissed and licked and sucked exactly in the way you wanted and needed, like he had a direct influx to your thoughts, to your body, like he knew it instinctively, like he was born to do this, born to know how to fuck you.

"I need you in me, Teyam. Fuck! I need -.. I need your fingers."

"My fingers?"

"Y-yeah, please! Two fingers, please, Teyam!"

This was no longer a lesson for him, you realised faintly, as it was a desperate attempt to give yourself the release that was so close you can practically touch it, see it, taste it. You didn't expect to cum today, or not for a while, as you taught him the convoluted and often contradictory ways of pleasuring a woman, but here you were, a writhing mess, grinding on his face, begging for more, to be filled by something else than the cock you dreamt about, that you knew you would get drunk on, that you were saving for a different lesson.

The stretch of his long, slender fingers was delicious and oh, so needed, and you squirmed under him at the added stimulation. You were close, and he could tell.

"You can slowly pump your fingers in and out of me... just like that, fuck!"

"Do I make you feel good, tìyawn?" you couldn't tell anymore if he was genuinely asking as a curiosity or because he knew that it would drive you crazy, but right now, you didn't care.

"Do I make you feel as good as you make me feel? Fuck, thinking of your pretty mouth around my cock, how well you felt as you sucked me dry, I just want to make you feel the same way."

"Y-yes, yes, shit! It feels so good, Teyam!"

Your hand found his hair that you entangled with your fingers, pushing his face down until it made contact with your clit, and he smirked as he circled it and sucked on it, continuing to move in and out of you and when, whether out of pure luck or inherent knowledge, he curled his fingers in exactly the right spot, you came, a loud, violent crash of current washing over you, electrifying your every nerve, rippling through your whole body, leaving you a limp, deeply satisfied mess on the ground, just like you wanted to be, like you hoped you would one day be.

"I'm definitely doing that again." he says with a smile, your slick covering his mouth, nose and chin, and you laughed, the insanity of the situation not lost on you, even in your state.

As you were laying on his chest, peering up at the sun once more, you realise you both learned something today. Neteyam learned how to give you head, and you learned that some things can't be taught, and that he really was indeed, good at everything.

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia

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thecreelhouse · 4 months

Text

part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI!

Summary: Gator’s sleep deprived but dead set on setting up that goddamn air mattress, which the two of you use for anything but sleeping.

Word count: 4.2k+

CW/Tags: language, mutual masturbation, oral sex/face riding (fem receiving), soft switch (both Gator and Reader), praise kink, dirty talk, brief anal play, squirting, brief body image/self esteem issues, tooth rotting fluff, orgasm induced syncope (i am so sorry lmfao), sleepy confessions, gator being a lovable idiot

Series Masterlist // Read on AO3

A/N: hi y’all!! thanks for all the kind words in the tags and replies about this series!! I’m glad others are enjoying this, bc I’ve been having lots of fun writing this. This chapter is kinda silly and a bit of a filler, but hopefully it still keeps y’all fellow sluts happy and entertained :’) <3

Day 6

It’s one in the morning, and you’re still awake. So is Gator. And the two of you are delirious at this point, running on broken sleep schedules.

The two of you were bundled back up in the coziest sleep clothes while the fireplace burned on and illuminated the room in a soft, warm glow. Gator blew up the air mattress like he suggested, but you were skeptical about the idea.

“We’re gonna end up on the floor by sunrise.” You warn with a yawn, side eyeing the mattress with arms crossed. “These things never stay inflated.”

“No, no, look, this one’s high quality, okay?” Gator insists, slapping the mattress as the air pump raises it from the collapsed state it was just in. “This thing doesn’t deflate, I swear.”

“Didn’t you say that when we went camping in middle school?” You argue with the memory fresh in your mind. “We ended up on the ground and the tent leaked from the storm, so we got all soggy and sad.”

Gator snorts at the memory, “Yeah, but if we did sleeping bags we still woulda’ got wet.”

“This isn’t the same mattress, is it?”

“Wh— no!” Gator grumbles, focused on closing the entrance for air before it begins leaking. “Look, look how big it is! Now that,” Gator slaps the top of the mattress one more time before grinning at you, “That’s a firm mattress. That thing means business.”

You’re giggling at his enthusiasm. “You sound like a dad that found a deal on an air mattress at the hiking store.”

“You just can’t appreciate a good mattress.” Gator’s totally more delirious than you at this point, with less sleep in his system than you. “Look, watch, are you watching?”

“Gator, I am literally staring at you, what the fuck else should I do? Throw my eyeballs at you?”

“This won’t deflate. Seriously, watch me, I’ll show you,” Gator jumps onto the air mattress like a child would, and he’s right, it doesn’t deflate. It does, however, bounce him back into the air and onto the hardwood floor.

You gasp, but can’t hold back more giggles. “Are you- oh my god- Gator that was so fucking—“

He’s face down on the floor, cutting you off with one hand raising in the air, flipping the bird.

“You did this to yourself, Tillman.” The laughter continues, but you move to his side, glancing down at the exhausted heap his body landed on the floor into. “You want some ice?”

Gator turns his head to the side but doesn’t move otherwise, “Yeah… maybe. That might be a good idea.”

“Okay, there’s plenty outside,” You tease as you sit on the bed, bouncing a little yourself. At least you’re still on the bed. Gator pushes himself up from the floor, shooting an unamused glare your way.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, it’s still inflated. Told you!” He’s a little too excited about this damn air mattress.

“Gator you definitely need to sleep,” You tug at his legs after he’s back on his feet. “C’mon, maybe if you lay down like a normal human being, you won’t get hurt again.”

Surprisingly, he’s got no marks on his face despite launching in the air and falling flat onto the floor.

Your arms loosely loop around his legs, trying to gently tug him onto the bed; his arms mirror yours, pulling your face closer to him. He’s not aware of where your face is, he’s too tired to think clearly. You, however, are very aware.

“Gator, if you want me to blow you, you could just ask.” You’re teasing him, but he lets go, laughing nervously.

“I- that wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He’s in a fit of sleepy laughter now, and it’s contagious, making you join in. “I was just huggin’ you back, I promise!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” You taunt as you move over, mocking Gator by slapping the mattress like he did moments ago. “Are you getting on this damn bed or not?” Gator narrows his gaze at you before sitting down slowly, as if it’s your fault he fell.

“What if I told you I hurt my dick when I fell?” Gator asks, trying to keep a straight face. His eyes are bloodshot, and the circles under his eyes are dark. “What then? Huh? Ice can’t fix that, y’know.”

You roll your eyes before swinging a pillow at him playfully. “Well, I ain’t no doctor. You’re shit outta luck.” Dramatically, he falls over on the bed, frowning while clutching his chest.

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

“Gator, what happened to watchin’ more movies?”

“An emergency happened! It’s not like you can really plan for those.”

You snicker, “Do I look like an ambulance?”

“No, but y’look like an angel that should be saving my life.”

Eyes rolling, you say, “Hey, Gator?”

He rolls over to get closer to you, head laying in your lap as your legs are criss-crossed. “Yeah?” He looks up at you, grinning like a sleepy idiot.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

His smile flips into a ridiculous frown. “Why? I like bein’ up with you.”

“Because I can tell just how exhausted you are by talking so sweet right now.” You gently move him off your lap before settling under the fluffy blankets piled around the two of you. Gator follows suit, grabbing your waist as soon as he’s under the covers.

“Surprised you ain’t takin’ advantage of that.”

“Listen, I’m not complaining, but you need sleep way more than anything right now.”

“M’fine! I probably could stay up ‘til sunrise.”

“Gator.”

“Fine, fine!” He glowers at you before shutting his eyes. “Fun sucker.”

He falls silent, and the only sounds around the two of you are the fireplace crackling, the wind continuing to brutally howl outside, and the soft breaths between the two of you. You watch Gator for a bit, and he seems to be relaxing, falling into a steady pattern of breaths.

That was fast.

As soon as your own eyes start to shut, though, Gator breaks the silence, groaning, “I can’t sleep like this.” You were so close to falling asleep; your eyes open, glaring at Gator.

Irritated, you still humor his thoughts; your brows knit together, confused, “Like what?” His hand clumsily grabs yours, leading it down to the length growing under his sweats. Your eyes are wide now; you’re definitely awake again.

“Like this,” His eyes flutter closed as he lazily bucks into your palm, making himself shudder a sigh out. “Please, baby.”

You’d be a liar if you tried to deny how attractive he is while he’s so needy.

“Again, you did it to yourself.” You’re trying not to automatically give in, but the way he looks so pathetic and cute at once is hard to ignore.

He ruts against your hand, whining when you don’t return the friction and pressure he craves. You pretend to start to fall back asleep, while Gator still searches for satisfaction from his actions against your palm.

“You’re terrible at faking bein’ asleep, darlin’.” He’s trying to sound composed, but his words just come out breathy and desperate, instead.

“And you’re terrible at going 24 hours without being as horny as a teenager.” You murmur, keeping your eyes shut. While he keeps moving, you can feel a damp spot forming on the fabric. It’s taking everything within you to ignore that, too. “Your dick’s gonna fall off if you don’t leave it alone.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, you’d be over my knee already for being a brat.”

“See, you admit it! You’re tired! Now, go the fuck to sleep.”

Gator doesn’t listen, pulling his sweats down and moving your hand so you can really feel him. “Can’t. Need you, darlin’,” is all he breathes out.

Pulling back, you sit up, leaning on your arm, watching disappointment cover Gator’s face. “You want to get off?” His face lights up immediately.

“Yeah, yes, I need it,” He’s palming himself now, growing more agitated the longer he goes without relief.

“Alright. Show me.” Gator’s confused, so you elaborate. “Show me how you get off.”

“Me? I have to do it?”

“You don’t have to, but you’re not getting off any other way.”

Gator’s mouth drops as he glares at you, insulted. “But I’m so tired.”

Shrugging, you lay back down. “Oh well, not my problem.”

“Well, actually, you stole the blankets from me, and that kept me up, so—“

“And?”

“You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Tillman.” You’re quick to respond. “You’ve got two options: show me how you touch yourself, or sleep. Your call.”

Gator huffs, frustrated, before pushing his sweats down his legs completely, kicking them off the side of the bed. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, hand wrapping around his length; he’s a swollen, leaking mess. The tip of his cock is red with need as precum pulses out.

“You gonna be okay without a sock, baby?” You pout at him mockingly. “You might make a mess.”

His hand speeds up as he arches into his own touch. “Shut up about the fucking—“

You lean over him, spitting onto his cock and hand around it. He stops to watch you in awe before breaking his trance to spread the saliva over himself.

“That make it easier?” You continue mocking him. Gator grits his teeth, hand moving with ease against his skin. You grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “Answer me.”

Those two words seem to make Gator’s brain melt; they’re not special, but the tone you give him hits a weak spot somewhere within him.

“Y- yeah, it does.” He sighs as he continues jerking himself off. You move back a little before removing your own pants, touching yourself lazily in front of him. Gator throws his head back on the pillow, unable to take his eyes off of you. “We could be doing this together, y’know. Isn’t easier to just fuck instead?”

Your fingers slide up and down your slit, gathering arousal before pushing two fingers into yourself at once. You gasp at the sensation of stretching your own walls out. It’s not as good as Gator using his hands, mouth, or cock, but it’s enough for right now.

“You haven’t earned it yet.”

Gator’s eyes roll back in his head as he picks up the pace on himself. His back arches again, off of the bed as he whines. “Fucking fuck—“ his face is red, embarrassed that you’re making him work for his own release. “How the fuck do I earn it then?”

“Not sure.” You giggle, and he glares at you. “Guess we can figure it out along the way.”

His eyes dart back and forth between the hand between your legs, now toying with your clit, and the taunting smirk you’re shooting his way.

“Need you.”

“I know, you told me already.” Every time you mock, dismiss, or belittle him, his hips stutter, and his breath shudders, but he tries to hide it. “It’s okay, Gator, it’s hard to keep your thoughts together like this, isn’t it?”

Gator shakes his head, free hand reaching out for you. You pull back, but he’s faster, grabbing your leg, digging his nails into your skin. “No, I need you.”

“You already said that, babe.”

“Fuck— just fucking sit on my face. That’s what I need. Please?” He sounds so hot and bothered like this. “I owe you, you didn’t get off last time, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at his words, suddenly growing shy. “Won’t I- uh-“ You’re trying to find your words without embarrassing yourself, so you just shake your head ‘no’ instead.

“Why not?” Gator whines, grip still tight on you. Your own actions along your folds stop, and you pull your hand away from your core. Gator slows his own hand, noticing the way your mood shifts. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What if I hurt you?” You motion to your legs and hips, plush with curves and softness.

Gator sits up, letting his grip on himself go, focusing on you.

“You kiddin’? There’s no way you would.” Gator tries reassuring you, ignoring the way his cock twitches after he stopped stroking himself. “Plus, on the off chance you did hurt me, I’d think it’d be an honor to have my neck snapped by a pretty girl like you.”

You snort at his sentiment. “You’re definitely sleep deprived sayin’ some shit like that.”

He reaches out, hand cradling the side of your face; you instantly lean into his touch, tension leaving your body. “Sleep deprived or not, it’s true.”

Your face gravitates towards his as you giggle, “You’re corny.”

“And you’re a sucker for that.” Gator’s voice drops low while his thumb wanders to your lips, eyes quick to follow and linger, too. You nod, watching his expression as he toys with your bottom lip. “I’d still love to make ya’ feel good, if you’re comfortable with it, darlin’. But we can go to sleep if you’d rather that.”

“Oh now you want to sleep.” You tease, and it earns an eye roll from Gator. “If we do… you’ll promise to tell me if I hurt you, right? Like you can tell me to stop, I don’t want you to feel like—“

Gator cuts you off with a kiss; his lips languidly move against yours, coaxing your lips to part, letting him in with ease. His tongue melds with yours, earning a whimper from you; his reaction is a smirk and a breathy laugh into you before biting on your bottom lip, slowly pulling on it before releasing his hold on you.

“Use me to feel good, darlin’.” He whispers as your noses still touch, lips just centimeters apart. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. “I promise you can finish this time.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” You deadpan, pushing his chest gently so he falls back onto the pillow. He reaches out to you, hands grabbing whatever he can touch. “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if you’re not okay?”

Gator nods intently, tired eyes wide with desire. You pause for a moment, hesitant.

Fuck it.

As you clamber up Gator’s body, he assists you faster by hooking his arms around your legs, pushing them from the back. You yelp at the sudden push, only making him smirk. You’re hovering above him, about to lower yourself, when concern for his pleasure hits you. “What about you, though?”

Ignoring your question, his arms move to hook under your thighs, hands finding your backside, kneading the soft swell of your ass. “Hey, darlin’?”

You’re dizzy from his touch. “Hm?”

“Shut up already.” He swiftly pulls you down to his mouth, and on contact you’re beginning to see stars. The noises that erupt from the two of you are obscene and loud; you’re immediately grateful there’s no neighbors around his house.

You’re frantically searching for something to hold onto; air mattresses don’t come with a bed frame, unfortunately. You look down at Gator, who’s already looking up at you, and the eye contact makes the knot in your lower tummy tighten with want. Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly.

“C’mon, you can pull harder than that.” Gator murmurs into your folds, deliberately taking his time tasting you. “You did a few days ago, remember?”

The morning you found his porn searches flashes in your mind, along with pinning him down to his bed after he caught you, pulling on his hair as you taunted him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. Your fingers weave and wind through his hair before tugging harder, earning a deep groan from him, vibrating into you from below.

“That’s it, darlin’.” He’s praising you in between sucking on your clit. “Just like that.”

Your hips start rolling, but you force yourself to stop, worried it’s too much for him. Gator notices, reminding you, “You don’t gotta to hold back. I can take it.”

Your thighs instinctively try to close, but you stop yourself from doing that, too. Gator pushes on your thighs, closing in towards his head anyway.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I dreamt about bein’ between these legs,” Gator softly nips at your clit, and you cry out, head falling back. “Got no idea how many times I wished it was you riding my face when it was someone else.”

“Gator…” You’re tensing up as you keen, pulling roughly on his hair now. He spanks you, earning a shaky yelp from your lips. “Th— you’ve— god.”

“No one’s tasted as sweet as you, baby.” He tongue fucks you, and you lose it, all concerns and doubts vanishing into thin air; you begin really riding his face, and he’s taking it with pride. “Can’t believe you’re this fucked out already.”

Your whole body is burning up; you hastily tear your shirt over your head and throw it aside, hand leaving his hair to start grabbing yourself. You barely begin groping yourself before Gator unhooks an arm to reach up and shove your hand away. You’re about to whine out, annoyed, but he immediately replaces your touch, teasing your body. “Let me do the work, darlin’.” His other hand follows suit, fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, causing you to grind down on his face.

Gator alternates between his tongue, lips, and nose to keep the pleasure building within you. The combination as you continue riding him makes your legs begin to shake.

“You better not be cummin’ yet,” He warns as his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it again while his strong hands continue to fondle your tits. “I just started playin’ with ya’.”

“Ye- yeah but what about you?”

“This is more than enough for me.” He quickly answers before delving back into your centre, tongue teasing your entrance again. One hand comes back down, but as he hooks it under your leg again, he lightly touches and circles your tight, puckered hole. You jump, not expecting the sensation, but you moan, thighs tightening around Gator’s head again. “Can I play with ya’ back here sometime, darlin’?”

You nod quickly as your hips work faster. Gator chuckles into your core while his fingers swipe through your folds briefly, collecting arousal to spread onto your tight ring, making his touch even more sinful.

“Gator, please…”

“Anyone ever eat ya’ here, too?” The filth of his words and casual tone make your eyes roll back into your head. “Need an answer, darlin’. Wanna learn everything about you, pretty girl.”

You can only think of one response, “I’m- I’m close,” You whimper, lightheaded from all the teasing and stimulation. “Gator— Gator, please, I—“

His arms move back to where they first started, hands on your body, guiding you along roughly on his face as your hips stutter their movements.

His tongue works in tandem with his mouth’s suction before murmuring, “Make it count, princess.”

The encouragement is enough to send you over the edge; you started this seeing stars, but now you’re surrounded by the entire fucking galaxy. Legs shaking, you’re involuntarily grinding harder onto Gator’s face. He doesn’t stop his meticulous actions, even when you nearly put him into a death grip with your thighs. Your head lolls back, mouth falling open in a silent cry before a moan fills the empty space. You’re screaming his name, followed by an incoherent chain of noises and babbling, mind melting from the intense pleasure.

“There ya’ go, darlin’.” His praise earns another wave of noises. You’re unable to tell until it hits you like lightning; another orgasm floods through you, causing you to squirt. You’re too engulfed in your second climax to realize how horrified you’d probably be, squirting on Gator, but he moans into you loudly, hips flexing up into the open air before his own legs shake wildly. Despite it all, he’s somehow able to continue praising you. “That’s it, such a good girl. My good girl.”

Your eyes cross, vision tunneling before everything goes dark. You don’t even hear yourself make the loudest cry you’ve made so far since being snowed in.

——

“Hey, c’mon, get up baby.”

Your head feels floaty, eyes softly opening while you try blinking away the blurriness. Everything comes into focus around you; you look up to see Gator gazing down at you, worried. You’re resting on the bed, head laying in his lap.

“Jesus, you scared me.” He runs a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face. You’re a mess, soaked, sweaty, and finally coming to.

“Gator?”

“M’here, I got ya’.” Relief replaces his worried expression as you wake up more. “It was only a minute, but might’ve been the longest minute of my life.”

“Whaddya mean?” You slur, breath calm, slow and steady now. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Can you worry about yourself for once?” He’s lighthearted in his words, but he means it. “Are you okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, reaching up with tingling hands to rub your eyes. “I think I found God in that last orgasm.”

Gator can’t help the laugh that leaves his lips, despite trying to stifle it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, continuing to become more aware of your surroundings.

Gator’s here. You’re on the air mattress. The one he insisted the two of you sleep on tonight. Everything’s okay. It just made you—

You look down, realizing how soaked you are. The pillow Gator laid on earlier and the surrounding area of the mattress are wet, too.

Fuck. Not again.

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” You grumble, sitting up fast, but your vision tilts, and Gator can tell you’re still dizzy.

“C’mere, give yourself a bit to get up.” He pulls you into his lap, but you squirm, even more embarrassed. “Darlin’, what’s goin’ on?”

“M’all gross, don’t let me sit on you—“ You stop, studying his face. To your horror, his face, not even just the bottom half, is damp, and you know exactly why. “Oh my god. I- fuck. I’m so sorry. Oh my god, this is so fuckin’ humiliating.”

Gator uses the back of his arm to wipe his face crudely, but he’s smiling. “Wish you’d stop apologizin’ for this, because it’s so fuckin’ hot.”

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “Here I was worried I’d crush ya’, but instead I just— I can’t even say it.”

“Squirted?”

“Gator.”

“Why’s that so bad?” He’s sincerely asking, but his tongue swiping along his bottom lip isn’t making this easier to accept. “It felt good, yeah?”

Slowly, you nod, but you’re embarrassed to admit it. You look away from him, but your gaze lands on the damp spot on his sweats. You figure he put them back on after you passed out, but it takes a second to realize he came on himself, and didn’t clean up before checking on you.

Something about that, despite being gross, is really sweet.

“Gator, did you touch yourself?”

“Huh?” He looks down, blushing as he notices the spot, too. “Oh, uh, no. My hands were on you, baby. It just kinda happened watchin’ you cum again. Swear it’s not from watchin’ you pass out.”

You giggle, “I figured, since you didn’t even clean yourself. Fuckin’ A, Gator. We just cleaned up like two hours ago.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’ll grab somethin’ to clean ya’, wait here.”

“No way, I’m coming with you, and we’re sleeping upstairs. I’m not laying on this bed that I soaked half of.” You cringe at your last sentence.

“Alright, fair point. I’m gonna put the fire out, then we can head upstairs, okay?”

It’s only a minute or so before the fire’s extinguished, and Gator’s helping you up, guiding you safely to the stairs.

“Hey, darlin’?” He’s a few steps ahead, turning on the bathroom light and grabbing towels for the both of you.

“What’s up?”

“…. Can I use that face wash of yours?”

———

“Have you ever passed out before while you cum?”

Gator’s voice is raspy, exhausted, and he’s wrapped around you in his bed. You offered yours this time, but the two of you remembered he’s the one with blackout curtains, not you.

You quietly respond with just “No.” with your head ducked in towards his chest. The two of you are naked again, it’s just easier at this point. “M’sorry that happened.”

“What do I gotta do to convince you that ya’ got nothin’ to be sorry for?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. “Stuff happens out of our control, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to scare you like that. I think the combination of everything happening and being sleep deprived caused it— wait. Gator? Why the fuck are we still awake?”

“Because we’re both idiots.” He chuckles, eyes growing heavy. “Did you drink enough water? I can get ya’ some more.”

You shake your head, “No, thank you, though. I can’t get over how nice you are when you’re not being a total douche.”

“There were definitely nicer ways to word that, y’know.”

You ignore his quip, half asleep. “Thank you, Gator. Wouldn’t wanna be an idiot with anyone else other than you.” In seconds, you’re dozing off, falling into a steady breathing pattern in Gator’s arms.

As you fall asleep, you don’t hear Gator murmur, “Thank you for givin’ me another chance, darlin’.”

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #my fics #part time soulmate full time problem #gator tillman smut #sorry this took so long!! i was having issues with tumblr lol but who’s surprised

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

Text

A Memory of Your Love

Rowaelin Month, Day 19: Telling the kids about their tattoos

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none, it's sappy melty fluffy goodness (i swear)

Enjoy!

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mama.” The small voice was accompanied by a series of rapid knocks on Aelin’s partially-open office door. “Are you very busy, Mama? Da said you’d be busy.”

Aelin set down her quill and turned away from her desk, finding her second child, her son, poking his head through the crack in her door. “No, my boy, I’m not busy.” She stood, digging one hand into the small of her back–gods, sitting down for too long was terrible for her spine–walked over, and opened the door. “Come in, Bran. What do you need?”

Bran–Prince Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius–shuffled into the office, uncharacteristically quiet and shy. Normally, he was the most vivacious of the royal children, always with a laugh on his lips and a prank brewing in his mischievous mind. He got that from his mother. “I want to practice with the knives,” he said slowly, haltingly.

Aelin nodded. “And do you need someone to go with you?”

Sheepishly, he nodded. “Yeah. Da said I can’t be there alone, not yet.”

“Not yet,” she agreed. “When you’re a little more comfortable with the blade work, or maybe when you’re a little older, then you can go alone. Just not yet.”

He frowned. “Why not? All the other boys my age go out into the yard by themselves.”

“Ah, but they’re with each other, no?”

“Uh…yeeeeees?”

“That’s right, my son.” Aelin cracked a grin at her son’s slight flush. “You’re welcome to train with them, you know.”

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough.”

“Now that’s just horseshit,” she scoffed.

In her mind, Rowan flinched. Fireheart!

What? she snarked. You know he’s heard worse from those hulking brutes you call friends. “Bran, you are good enough. They aren’t going to make fun of you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, I’ll go practice with you.” She winked. “Anything to sneak away from the boring paperwork.”

That made him snicker. “Are you going to make Da do the paperwork, then?”

“Maybe.” She led him out of her office and down towards the training yard. “It’s good for him to pretend like he has responsibilities every once in a while.”

I heard that.

I know. She blew her grumpy buzzard an invisible kiss.

Bran was at the door to the training yard. “Come on, Mama!”

“Just a minute,” she laughed. “I can’t train in this dress, it’s too frilly.” She ducked into a side room and changed into a loose, comfortable tunic and pants. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Come on!” Bran pushed open the door and bounded out into the training yard, running for the fenced-off area used for knifeplay. “I beat you, Mama!”

“You did,” she laughed, catching up with him. “I must be getting old.”

For a good hour, she sparred against her son, working with him on his form and his technique, especially taking a chunk of time to show him how to throw a knife. Bran had been wanting to learn that skill for a while, and she decided he was ready, no matter what his overprotective father and uncles thought.

Bran drew a deep breath, locked his turquoise eyes on the target, exhaled, and released the knife. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ring just outside the bulls-eye. “I did it!” he screeched, jumping up and down in thrilled excitement. “I did it, Mama!”

“You certainly did,” she praised. “I don’t think I could have done any better.”

He beamed. “Dare you, Mama!”

“Oh do you, now?” Challenge sparked in her bright eyes. “Stand back, B. I don’t want to hurt you.” She took her mark on the chalked line, inhaled, locked her eyes on her target, tipped her arm back, and launched her blade. Her tunic slipped, partially exposing her shoulder–perils of wearing her mate’s clothing rather than her own–but her knife flew straight down its intended path and buried itself right next to Bran’s knife with a thunk. “How’s that, Your Highness?” she teased.

Bran sprinted over to check the target and came back with the biggest, brightest smile plastered all over his face. “Mine was closer!”

“No!” Aelin exclaimed in contrived shock. “I really am losing my touch!” She grinned down at her son. “Congratulations, Bran, you’ve just out-thrown your queen.”

His attention flicked from the target to his mother and back again, a question creasing his forehead.

She knelt and met his eye level. “What is it, my son?”

“Your tattoo,” he said, unexpectedly. “I know you have one, I just…it looks like wings. Why is it wings, Mama? Shouldn’t it be fire?”

Aelin was quiet, thinking through how much to say. I can’t just brush him off.

No. We knew we would have to tell them eventually.

Right. Just…how much?

As much as you want. Rowan sent reassurance pulsing down the bond. We can talk to him and Lana later tonight, both of us.

I’d like that. With Rowan’s strength at her back, she took Bran’s hands. “Da did it for me.”

His childish face lit up with interest and wonder. “When?”

“Before…” She trailed off, her gaze going distant for a moment. “Before we settled. Before you and Lana were even thoughts in our minds.” She noticed his furrowed brow, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. “Da and I are going to tell you and your sister about it later tonight, because you’re old enough and you deserve to know more of our story. I’m not dismissing you, I promise; you just need to wait for a little longer, okay?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Some,” she said, honestly. “But your father was with me, and that made it easier.”

Rowan wore a sleeveless shirt to dinner that night, the soft gray linen exposing the defined grooves of his muscles and the full breadth of the script inked down his arm. Aelin chose a dress that dipped low in the back, low enough to display the wings unfurled across her shoulder blades. She frowned as she laced the silken material up the side–it was almost at the point where she couldn’t wear it in public, else it would reveal too much. Just to be sure, she turned to the side and checked her profile, relieved when her reflection showed that the skirt still billowed out high enough to conceal the swelling of her abdomen.

Stunning. Her husband padded up behind her on near-silent feet, slid his powerful arms tenderly around her waist. His tattooed hand splayed over her stomach. “How much longer?”

“Another few weeks before we tell the children.” She laid her hand over his. “At least a month before anyone else even suspects.” Lest we…lose them.

“Of course.” Rowan dipped his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss across her pulse point. I love you, he murmured into her soul.

Aelin melted into him. As I love you.

Lana and Bran were full of anticipation and eager chatter at dinner, both children more than willing to ramble on about their days. Bran seemed to be back to his usual mischievous self, busily flicking tiny crumbs and a pea or two at his sister when he thought nobody was watching. Lana returned the favor by gradually increasing the heat of her brother’s chair, silverware, and even clothes, making him squirm in mild discomfort and drop his fork with a yelp when he picked it up and it nearly burned him.

Unsurprisingly, though, when dinner was over and they moved into the small, cozy, private living room reserved exclusively for the family, both Lana and Bran went quiet, settling down onto the small sofa and watching their parents expectantly.

Aelin settled into her chair and spoke first. “So you want to know about our tattoos.”

“Mhmm.” Lana nodded. “Well, I know about Father’s. Mostly.”

“Do you?” Rowan wore a half-grin.

“Uncle Lorcan told me it’s a record of your life and a memory of your love.”

“Uncle Lorcan talks too damn much.”

Aelin snickered. “Admit it, buzzard, that was a very lovely description.”

Rowan grumbled. “Fine. Lorcan can be civil once in a while.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s the most basic description of my tattoos.”

“You did them yourself, right?” Bran asked.

“Mostly. Gavriel helped, a little.”

Bran tilted his head. “And you did Mama’s?”

“He did,” Aelin confirmed. “Both times.”

“Both times?” Lana and Bran chorused, wearing twin expressions of disbelief.

“Both times.” Aelin shared a long, laden look with Rowan. “This set–” she turned around and let her children see the full expanse of the ink scripted across her back–“was done just before we kicked the shit out of the Valg once and for all.”

“Language,” Rowan sighed, teasingly.

Aelin huffed a laugh. “Says you. Like your father’s, my tattoos are my story. All of it–who I once was, who I became, who I am now.” She whispered under her breath, and two of the symbols glowed blue for a few seconds. “Those are your names, my loves, in the Old Language.”

“That’s us?” Lana breathed, both awe and tears clogging her words.

“That’s you,” Aelin murmured. “Your idiot father also wrote a whole entire spell into my tattoo–didn’t even think to tell me, oh no–in yet another language.”

“It was a protective measure!” Rowan protested. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, all right, it did.” She laced her fingers with his. “Your father is boring; all his tattoos are just Old Language.”

“Can you read them?” Bran asked.

“I can.” A yearning smile curved Rowan’s lips. “It’s been a very long time since I spoke the Old Language, but I can read it, yes.”

“What’s this one?” Lana pointed to a sequence of characters on Rowan’s bicep. “It repeats a lot. There, and on your forearm, and on your neck, too.” The firstborn Whitethorn Galathynius always had been perceptive.

“It says Fireheart,” Rowan murmured.

A crooked little smile lit Lana’s face. “That’s…extremely sappy of you, Father. Aren’t you supposed to be the hardened old warrior?”

Aelin burst into laughter. “Oh, my daughter,” she wheezed. “Never change, Lana love.”

“I’m trying very hard to be unimpressed,” Rowan intoned, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back his merriment.

Lana giggled. “We’re all thinking it.”

Rowan laughed. “I suppose we all are.”

Bran’s smaller hands touched the ink spiraling up his father’s arm. “When I grow up, I want tattoos too!” he declared.

Aelin and Rowan shared a very long look.

“Maybe you will have tattoos,” Aelin told her son, running her thumb over his knuckles. “If you do, know that you carry the weight of every name and event written into your skin.”

“Even the ones that hurt?”

“Especially those ones.” Aelin gathered her children close. “It is the weight of the people we have loved and lost that guide us through life. They are always with us, even when they fade.”

#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelinmonth #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin family fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #canonverse #surprise surprise it's canonverse lol

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misscongeniality18 · 11 months

Note

Okay I have some thoughts for a Peter x reader fic. Peter and reader are officially dating and the reader begins to notice that Peter does kind and thoughtful things that none of her previous romantic partners had done before. Like, Peter buys medicine on the way home and makes soup for the reader when she’s sick, does all the house chores when she’s extra tired, and remembers the little things she says about a book she wanted to read or movie she wanted to go see. One day, the reader’s talking to Peter on the phone on her way home and she tells how she’s had a terrible day and feeling down. When she arrives, Peter cooked her favorite and put on her favorite series to make her feel better. Reader starts to tear up and Peter thinks he did something wrong, but reader tells him that it’s just no other guy had loved and cared for her as much he does, and how lucky she is to have him in her life

This! Ugh, perfection, because we all know Peter would 100% do this. (I'm also so sorry that it took me so long to get this out, Memorial Day weekend was my only time where I didn't have to do anything, so I took the opportunity to rest my mind before I start summer classes. You're amazing, I love you. <;3)

I Do - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! Peter knows finds out you've had a hard day, so he decides to make you feel better. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Tooth-rotting fluff Warnings ! language, depression, kissing, Peter being such a good boyfriend if that counts, I also made this way too cheesy Word Count - 1079

" Never understood why People always say, love chooses you Now I do Now I do " - I Do, Aloe Blacc & LeAnn Rhimes

Masterlist Request Guide

As you slid into your car, the tightness in your chest didn’t leave. Your job was stressful, to say the least, and it didn’t help that your boss was a first-class demon from hell, not to mention a total bitch. She asks you to come in on your days off and stay at least an hour after your shift is supposed to end without being paid overtime, and while on that subject, you were severely underpaid. You were practically doing your boss’s job for her because she spends ninety-percent of her time scrolling on her phone.

With your hands on the steering wheel, you rest your head against the cool leather, trying to catch your breath. Today had been particularly difficult. You had your own shit to do, but you couldn’t do it because you were taking over your boss’s workload, and when she found out that you didn’t get your own work done, she blew up at you, practically calling you worthless.

Before you pulled out of the parking lot, you called the only person who could make you feel better—your boyfriend.

Peter’s voice came from the car’s speakers, filling the small space with your favorite sound in the world. “Hey, babe, you on your way home?”

You could already feel the tension begin to melt from your shoulders at his clear, upbeat tone. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“What’s wrong?”

Damn, he could hear how stressed and exhausted you were.

“It’s been, uh, it’s been a hard day,” you said, trying to hold in your tears.

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t ask.”

Peter knew you so well, it made you want to cry. You still refused to, though. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“I’ll be here. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up, and it took everything within you not to speed.

Peter was an angel from above. He was kind and thoughtful and attentive and loving, unlike your past partners, and he would do things just to make you happy. One time, Peter remembered how you wanted to see the movie adaptation of one of your favorite books, so he surprised you with tickets. You thanked him with endless kisses.

He also takes care of you even when you can’t. Last week, when you dared to be sick, Peter picked up medicine on the way home from work and made you chicken soup because you couldn’t keep anything else down. And during that time, he even cleaned up the apartment because you didn’t have time to do your regular chores.

In your mind, Peter was perfect.

You arrived at the apartment, and your feet felt so heavy that you worried you wouldn’t make it down the hallway. When you opened your door, the smell of garlic and bacon and absolute heaven greeted you. “Peter?” You called out, peeking your head around the corner to the kitchen.

There Peter stood, spoon in hand, stirring something on the stove. He turned when he heard your voice, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Hey! I made your favorite for dinner; carbonara. Well,” he sighed. “I tried. It’s not going to be like Mariano’s, but it’ll be close.”

You blinked up at him when he mentioned your favorite Italian restaurant located just down the street, a place you could eat at for every meal.

Peter saw the expression on your face, and he quickly put the spoon down and rushed to the television. “I thought we could watch Bridgerton, too! I know how you love that show, and with the new season coming out later this year, I thought…”

He trailed off as he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, a few streaking down your cheeks.

“Oh, babe, what is it? What did I do wrong?” Peter asked, panic in his voice, and he strode over to you, placing his hands on your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I wanted you to feel better, and I thought I’d make your favorite dinner and put on your favorite show—“

“Peter,” you interrupted him, putting your hands over his and holding them to your chest. “You are making me feel better. Even if you didn’t do all this, you still would. With everything going on at work, you are my only stress reliever. You did everything right. You always do.”

You closed your eyes, the feel of his skin against yours calming and cool. Pressing a kiss to his palm, you whispered, “God, I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Peter murmured, swooping down to wrap his arms around you, his face level with yours. “Do you trust me?”

Sputtering in confusion, you nodded. “Wha-what does—Yes, I do.”

“Then trust me when I say that you deserve everything. You are everything. You are on my mind when I’m awake and when I’m dreaming; you are my everything, and I love you.”

You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love within the depths of them, and you couldn’t believe how you had managed to find each other. “I love you, too,” you whispered.

His lips pressed to yours, soft and sweet and soothing. When Peter kissed you, it was as if the world faded away, and you existed only in this moment.

You drew him closer, pressing your body to his, one hand moving to the back of his neck, and then your stomach started to growl. Peter pulled away, chuckling and grinning that wide, toothy grin that always made your heart flutter. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

Peter shook his head. “We have time for that later. You’re hungry, so we’ll eat. Here, come taste my attempt at cooking.”

Leading you by the hand to the stove, Peter pulled out a fork and twirled some noodles for you to take a bite. You moaned as you chewed, nodding in approval.

“You like it?”

“I do,” you replied, mouth full.

Hearing those two words made Peter’s heart skip, and he leaned forward, kissing your cheek still full with food. He enjoyed those words not only because they told him he did a good job at cooking, but because he knew you would be saying them at an altar one day with him in front of you.

The only thing left was to get the ring out of his bedside table and ask you.

Tonight.

#peter sutherland #the night agent #peter sutherland fanfic #peter sutherland x reader #peter sutherland x you #gabriel basso #fanfiction #fanfic

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rotisseries · 5 months

Note

ALRIGHT SO THIS MIGHT BE LONG. BUT I COME BEARING FIC RECS!!!

first off. since you said you were in an sskk mood. i'm going to recommend you my own fic 🫶 it's called the memory of your name and is an amnesia fic, which i've admittedly never read before. it's based on this prompt, which i just really liked :))

i also have to be seen in the light (but wander in the dark) by confusedwritingrat, which is basically just uh. a lot of akutagawa angst tbh. tw include torture and a LOT A LOT of injuries, it's a 5+1 of people not noticing when akutagawa was injured

How To Wreck A Schedule In One Easy Step by valleykey is transfem kunikida. that's it that's the fic (but holy FUCK is it a good fic, cannot recommend it enough)

Misunderstandings are extremely embarrassing by EMILEHCM is just. they're idiots. sskk but also dazai. all idiots.

Bad At Love by silent_knives_wielder is so so so good, it's skk soulmates and it's short but Silly :33

EHEHE okay so Striped and Destruction, Resolution by AliceInHyruleBastion are both sskk soulmates, the first is from atsushi's pov (and was written first) and the second is an akutagawa version, they're both AMAZING. liike geuinely so good that i binged every singe one of the author's fics afterwards like holy FUCK, they've got some more sskk but also a bunch of skk so definitely recommend their entire ao3 account bc i've got half of their fics bookmarked

dismal disquiet by Kala (assushi) is hanahaki and uh. it's short and it's painful. you should read it and then sob.

something to get used to by shipeo is so fuckign good, it's a character study on akutagawa and his partnership with atsushi set during the cannabalism arc, which is my favourite part and it makes me INSANE

now. now the series Soukoku Fics by NeonGanymede/StarshipDancer is a collection of all the author's skk fics. and when i tell you that i binged all 300k+ words of it over a weekend. it's INSANELY good, it's 90% domestic fluff with hurt/comfort and some angst, but the characterization and the dynamics are absolutely fucking AMAZING. there's also about 7 explicit fics, all in a row, but otherwise there's no smut and those fics are very easy to skip if it's not your thing. i sincerely recommend this series because the author Gets Them. if not all of them, there's an odango wedding one and the most recent one i'd recommend above all.

okay now i KNOW that you love cannabalism and blood and gore so here's a funky little vampire fic for you! i called your name 'til the fever broke by forest_raccoon is SO SILLY SO GOOD I'VE READ IT MULTIPLE TIMES IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD OKAY

idk if you like fyolai but Sins of Flesh by BoredsoIRead absolutely fucking blew my mind. they're so fucked up but so perfect for each other and so so fascinating. i LOVED this one.

It's Rotten Work by Egosdelirium is an skk fic, written during the wait between episodes after the one where dazai got shot.

also @/creantzy's bernadette fyolai animatic is a must-watch it literally changed my brain chemistry

so yeah!! hope you enjoy the fic recs :3

THANK YOUUUU I CAN'T WAIT TO READ THESE🫶🫶🫶

#I actually read the sskk soulmates one already #i did a bit of browsing it's near the top of the tag I LOVE the soulmates trope so like. reading that was an inevitability for me #but I should go through the rest of the author's fics shouldn't I #ask #sorry-i-panicked #hi kaye!#reccing me a vampire fic. I have a brand<3 #bsd #fic recs

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herotome · 5 months

Note

i'd like to know more about what you mentioned in the tags then, about taking inspiration from outside media! i remember when i first played the demo it hit just right cause i'd just watched the boys and i was hungry for more hero cynicism lol

Aw hell yeah!!

Okay so actually - I take very little inspiration from modern hero media, if any. I did grow up watching Justice League (2001-2004), Static Shock, and Batman the Animated Series and take some tonal inspiration from my memories of them (in which heroes generally try their best and it isn't always enough, villains tend to have sympathetic motives, also Mr Freeze is there and he's my big favorite), but that's about it.

When I started taking an interest in game design, I took deep inspiration from games with stories and mechanics that really resonated with me:

Mystic Messenger: I took heavy inspiration from how the love interests talk to each other, and how they all participate in every route. And the banter!! This game genuinely made me feel a personal connection to all its characters, and a lot of the player's dialogue choices were pretty damn funny for an otome game. (I have since learned that many, many indie otome games are similarly charming and I wrote a whole big list of recommendations, but didn't know they existed back in 2016-or-so.)

Undertale: Its sense of humor and meta commentary blew my mind. You could just do so much and have the game remember and react to your actions/choices, such as taking too much candy and making the whole bowl spill to the floor, or having the Mad Dummy rant about how you treated the dummy from the beginning of the game. Undertale is probably responsible for my deep interest in variable-tracking, and having characters respond to different things. (Dammit, Undertale, it's been so much work... but it's worth it I guess.....)

Disco Elysium: I played this a short while after MM and UT, and it just solidified my idea of what "my favorite game" would look like. Because I'm trying to make Herotome into my favorite game, that's my secret cap, etc etc. Anyway... Disco Elysium is fucking crazy. It's full of heart and camaraderie and also you can loudly beg for money and punch a literal child in the face and sing karaoke really badly and joking that if you find three racists you will be granted three wishes like??? It's unhinged. I haven't even mentioned the stellar atmosphere, plot, and how you have a bunch of voices in your head suggesting various courses of action and how you play as a recovering addict and you can go right back into your addiction with smoking alcohol and drugs... Describing it like this, it feels like an impossible game, that there's no way a game like this exists, but goddamn it do. And I take inspiration from a small.. SMALL aspect of it, because if I tried to fully emulate Disco Elysium I would probably die. It's just so much. And it's beautiful. Anyway DE inspired me to be more unhinged.

Dragon Age Origins: I'm listing this last because I actually played it well, well before I started game development, but it was such an impactful game for me that I'd never forgotten its scenes, characters, and how it made me feel. The CHARACTER BANTER... The sheer wealth of choices, and the emotions involved!!! There was such a general sense of world building and gravitas and then you find this mystical holy urn that's been important to a major religion and one of the characters quips "Nice vase. I should get one for my house." like??? Gah. I guess it inspired me not to take my own game too seriously, but the characters are also very,veryvery charming while also being quite diverse - everyone has a unique sense of humor and a unique background. The player can ALSO have a unique sense of humor and a unique background, which is super cool. I am absolutely not doing separate Origins for Herotome because that's way too much work-- but the diversity of the love interests did inspire me a great deal. Oh-- and the APPROVAL SYSTEM. I loved how you could get characters in the negative and have really, really interesting dialogue from antagonistic interactions, so DA:O really taught me early on that I didn't have to shy away from such things.

Perhaps most importantly: I like these games a whole lot, they are probably my favorite games. I want to like Herotome in the same way, or at least a very similar way.

A quote I try to think about a lot is "I'm surprised at the success of the show, I'm... I'm not surprised by people liking it that watch it, because... even though that makes me sound like a dick, like, that [sounds like] I knew people would like it, that's not quite what I mean-- I just mean, when you write something, you have to... if it's gonna be good, you have to be, like, its first fan, you have to be like... I don't care if I'm the only person who ever watches this, I love this. So when a second person says 'this is awesome!' You're like, stoked, but you're not shocked[...]"

... Okay I don't think about that entire stuttering quote (it's from Dan Harmon, regardless of how one might feel about him as a person he is an undeniably successful writer); but I do try to internalize "I don't care if I'm the only person who likes this" as often as I can.

I also make an effort to trust in the universe and that Herotome will reach "its people" and resonate with them in the same way my favorite games resonated with me...

... Anyway.

Outside of game design, I also try to pick out enjoyable aspects from everything I watch and read. If a book has a particularly well-written scene, I'll jot down some notes about why I liked it even if I didn't enjoy the book overall. Same with VNs and other games. While watching movies/shows I'll try to remember how they make me feel, and remember scenes that are particularly powerful and why they affected me. Yeah it's a lot of English homework, but it's how I work and indirectly feed Herotome and keep it alive in my day-to-day. I even have a playlist of random youtube videos I might reference while working on the game. Oh, and video essays -- I watch video essays religiously and make mental notes... let's plays, too, are a great way to experience how a game is designed and saving some time--

Uh, point being, you don't have to go hardcore categorizing and note-taking like I do. I just truly believe that every piece of media has something to share that can be molded and used to your own devices... even if it's "what not to do," in situations where I really, really don't like something. I'll just make a mental note to do the opposite thing. (eg, when Mystic Messenger let you choose your PFP and then randomly showed you the default MC kissing the love interest - so much whiplash, so awful, still one of my favorite games but whyyyyyy)

I actually did a meme about characters-who-inspired-my-characters a while back too, so there's that... same logic. Many many games and stories and characters inspired me, very few of them directly concern superheroes.

Thank you for the ask!!!

#moonerz #herotome ask #I know for a fact that this specific asker has already seen the character meme lol I saw your Like in the notes!#but I link it here anyway for anybody who hasnt seen it yet

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world-of-fire-and-flight · 1 year

Text

The Lair in the Woods: Part 7

A/N: I totally didn’t have to reread this series to remember where I was going with this or with the desperate hope I left clues for myself to jog my memory. Nope definitely not😅 Also, SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE MY LAST UPDATE💜

Warnings: swearing, inferences to flirting, reference to a near-death experience (freezing to death), reference to stalking/being stalked, teasing (or bullying depending on how you look at it. Imma call it ‘banter amongst enemies’), manipulative/power-play dynamics, minor self-depreciation

My Masterlist | Taglist Info | The Lair in the Woods masterlist

Hero cursed the buzzing phone on their nightstand. With the blizzard coming down from the mountains, they knew it was going to be a long couple of days until the snow cleared and had been trying to get some sleep while they could, but alas, the universe had other plans for them. Barely awake, they slapped their hand down on their nightstand, grumbling to themselves as they patted around the hard surface for their phone.

Finding it, they blindly accepted the call and brought it to their ear, tucking themselves back into the warm cocoon of their blankets where they had shifted in their attempt to grab the wretched device.

“Hello,” they mumbled.

“I need a favor.” Hero’s eyes opened slowly at the quiet but commanding voice on the other end of the line. Brows furrowed, Hero debated whether or not they should hang up on the master criminal bold enough to call them personally.

“No, now goodni—”

“It involves a civilian, and I can’t help them.”

Hero hummed. Taking a deep breath, they forced themselves into a sitting position. Bringing their knees to their chest, Hero smirked. “Oh? What, did someone worse than you capture your lover or something and now you’re forced to come begging to me for hel—”

“No. It’s much simpler than that. The blizzard blew a civilian off-course and they ended up half-freezing to death before my henchmen found them on a patrol.”

Hero blew out a breath. Of course. Supervillain didn’t have it in them to love someone, obviously. “And now you’re holding them hostage until I do something for you. Look, I’d love to play your little game, but that blizzard’s coming my way next and I’d rather get some sleep than fall into your trap. Try Superhero instead. They’ve been rather bored lately.”

“For the love of god, you cynical bastard, listen. This civilian is being stalked and I think it’s a super behind it. That’s why they’re on this mountain at all.”

Hero paused as Supervillain’s words sank into their half-conscious mind. They blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’” Supervillain’s voice held an edge to it Hero hadn’t heard in a long time. “Here’s what I’m asking you for: poke around, see what you can find. My team and I can’t do anything until the roads clear, so I need you to be—”

“I’m not your sidekick, Supervillain,” Hero rolled their eyes, “Or one of your henchmen. You can’t order me around—”

“So you won’t help?”

Hero pinched the bridge of their nose. “I didn’t say that.”

At Hero’s words, there was a beat of silence before Supervillain said, “Thank you.”

Hero’s smirk returned. That was a first, for sure. Just who was this civilian, and what did they mean to Supervillain?

A long sigh sounded in their ear. “I can hear you thinking all the way over here. Don’t give yourself a headache, Hero. I actually need you to be useful.”

“I’ll help,” Hero said slowly, “but only if you answer one question: who’s the civilian?”

A second ticked by before Supervillain responded as if through clenched teeth. “Civilian Surname.”

Hero sagged in disappointment. The name didn’t ring any bells in their mind. “And here I was hoping for something scandalous, like a reporter or someone of note. So who are they to you?”

“A frightened mouse,” Supervillain sighed heavily. Hero narrowed their eyes in suspicion, dissecting what the master criminal had said for any hidden meaning, for a telling inflection in their voice, but their examination yielded them nothing. “I can’t even keep them calm. They’re terrified.”

“Well, yeah, being around an imposing, shapeshifting murderer will do that.” Hero leaned back against the wall at the head of their bed. “Though I suppose if they’re being stalked that wouldn’t help them any either. All right, I’ll start looking into it.”

“I’ll be in touch then.”

Hero didn’t even have time to respond before Supervillain disconnected the call. They were hoping to get another “thank you” out of them, but they supposed that was a once in a lifetime deal. Just who was Civilian Surname that their mere presence in the master criminal’s life had them asking for help? Supervillain was cunning, capable, but most of all, they were resourceful. They had a reach and influence no other villain had, and it plagued the caped community to no end, no matter the side you were on. Every one wanted to know how they did, and in Hero’s case, they wanted to bring them down. The information Supervillain was privy to, or allegedly privy to, was too dangerous for one single person to have—or for anyone to have at all.

And, the mere existence of such a compilation of data, shook them to their very core. If Supervillain knew where to look to get things like their phone number, what else did they know? And what were they doing with it? Were they selling parcels of information to other villains? Or were they taking their enemies down one by one just like they did with Other Superhero?

Hero shook their head. They didn’t have any answers to any of their questions, just as they hadn’t the slightest clue who Civilian Surname was. But they’d said they would help. Why they’d agreed, they didn’t know. They could’ve easily told Supervillain to piss off and poked around in secret, for Civilian’s sake, but instead they’d verbally agreed to help Supervillain.

Cursing themselves, Hero ran a hand through their hair. Sucking in a breath, they picked up their phone and tapped the shortcut they were looking for. The call barely rang before it was picked up, bringing a slight smile to their face as the familiar voice greeted them.

“It’s four in the morning, what do you want?”

“Good morning to you too, Detective. I miss you too, the weather’s been absolutely dreadful, hasn’t—”

“Hero, please,” Detective begged, their voice sounding utterly exhausted. A pang of guilt wormed its way through Hero’s heart. “I have three hours left of this god-awful shift, so please just get to the point.”

“Right, sorry,” Hero said sheepishly. “I got a call just now asking me to look into a stalker case?”

“That’s not my department.”

“I know, but I like working with you. Other Detective is such a—”

“Hero, the point,” Detective interrupted again.

“Right, the point,” Hero smiled softly. “I don’t know if they’ve filed a report or not, but could you check for anything involving a Civilian Surname for me? I mean anything, not just the stalker report.”

Detective sighed. Hero squeezed their eyes shut, knowing the reproach they were about to receive. “You know I can’t do that without cause. It’s unlawful. The best I can do is get you a copy of the report if you want to formerly adopt the case under Clause 71.”

“All right, fine, I’ll do that.” Hero tilted their head back. “I’ll file the paperwork as soon as the office opens. But, can you at least tell me if Civilian Surname rings any bells for you? You’ve been on the beat for a long time, so maybe you’ve had a run-in with them or there’s something that comes to mind about them.”

Hero counted their heartbeats in the silence that followed their question. They tapped their fingers against their thigh as they waited, knowing Detective was giving their question a careful consideration they gave to all their work.

“No,” they said at last. “I can’t think of anything. Maybe you should try public records just in case there’s something I don’t know about. It might not yield anything useful, but it’s something.”

“Ah, well if the paperwork goes through…” Hero trailed off, a mischievous smile playing at their lips.

Detective let out a soft laugh on the other end of the phone. “Yes, if the paperwork goes through, then I can look up Civilian Surname in our database, but you better have a cause for me!”

“Would a suspected association with a known criminal count?”

A pause. “What?”

“Would a suspected—”

“No I heard you, I just don’t know if I believe you. I thought you were asking about a stalker case?”

“I am, but the call I got…” Hero hesitated. They knew they could trust Detective, but how far did that really go? “It was from a less than reputable party, let’s say.”

“Hero,” Detective started, “are you mixed up in something?”

Hero turned the question around in their head for a moment before they answered honestly. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Good. I can’t lose my job, you know that.”

Another pang of guilt struck their heart. “I do. I’ll call my handler and tell them the whole thing before I file the paperwork.”

“Good. Well, if that’s all…I gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Hero said. “I should too. This blizzard looks like it’s going to be a bad one.”

“Speak for yourself, it might give me an easy day.”

Hero chuckled, “Goodnight, Detective.”

“Good morning, Hero.”

Hero disconnected the call, smiling like an idiot. It was always a pleasure conversing with Detective, though there were many reasons for that aside from their not-so-secret feelings for them. For one, Detective didn’t get all star-struck working with heroes, and secondly, they didn’t care that they had a dark sense of humor, and in fact, Hero preened, they seemed to like it as they’d often caught Detective hiding their smirks and laughter whenever Hero said something off-color at a crime scene they were working together.

They only hoped doing this favor for Supervillain—and actually agreeing to it—didn’t cost them both their jobs and their reputations.

At least there wasn’t anything in writing, Hero thought to themselves as their smile fell. Slipping back beneath the covers, Hero draped their arm over their eyes, knowing the premise of actually sleeping was long-gone at this point. Their mind was consumed by the events of the last several minutes. They might as well be Supervillain’s lackey now with how easily—and foolishly—they’d agreed to help them figure out Civilian Surname’s stalker problem.

But at least they had a plan, and a way to cover their tracks and make this whole ordeal a little more by-the-book.

First, they’d adopt the case and call their handler. Then they’d look into Civilian Surname, and finally, they’d take the case seriously and root out their stalker, if one even existed in the first place and this wasn’t some grand scheme of Supervillain’s to distract them while they did something truly destructive.

Hero grumbled under their breath. “You damn idiot.”

The Lair in the Woods Taglist: @just-a-space-rabbit, @classicplesiosaur, @pigeonwhumps, @heninthegarden, @kaiwewi, @korejon, @rivalriotrenegade, @alpacamelons Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary😊)! You can also fill out this handy dandy form if you’d like to be added too!

#heroes and villains #hero x villain community #supervillain x civilian #writeblr #my writing #The Lair in the Woods #hero x villain #supervillain x hero #hero x supervillain #detective x hero #hero x detective

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theroundbartable · 3 months

Note

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "theroundbartable "?

Haha^^

10 fics will be hard for me to do, since I'm very bad with names and I don't really.... Save any. I read, like, comment and move on.

Let's start with my name first. That's easier. Theroundbartable was a joke I made a couple years ago and I had it as the headline of my blog for a while when I was still Changelink23.

I'm not sure where it came from anymore... But I think it was kind of the basis for "connecting the dots". Which is a fanfiction I wrote that is about Gwaine and the knights making up stories about Merthur. It was their game to guess what Merlin was up to and gossip about Arthur's pining. And collectively, they'd make up the entire series on accident.

My idea then was that the knights gather in a bar, got really drunk and basically play DnD with the BBC Merlin storyline. So, the knights of the round table, but at a bar. And maybe that table was round. And maybe it was their regular seat and they called it the round bar table.

After Changelink outdid its purpose and I got really deep into the Merlin concepts, I decided my name should fit the theme. And what else am I doing here with you guys, other than exchange ideas about Merlin while half sounding on drugs? It's my idea of being part of this fandom, I think. All of us sitting at the round bar table and having fun with the series together.

Now, fanfics:

1. Dirty laundry by Gybslythe (Voltron)

It's just... It has sentimental value for me. The author put down the story because they were bullied, sadly. I just felt at home in that fanfiction because the places seemed so familiar to me and I caught the feeling. I could compare it with me visitung my godmother as a child and the described places were just the best moments of my entire childhood. Also the writing style is SOOO good! I mimicked it for a mock exam and that was my best English Exam during my A-levels.

2. Sadly I don't know the actual name of this one :/

Funnily enough, it was a Gravity falls fanfiction... And a Bill cipher x reader one at that, which is WILD that I ever read it. The Reader thing really repulses me. Lol. The thing is, it was very non intimate and the world building blew my mind. It started off with Bill realizing his existence and step by step, he'd give his knowledge to the one human that interested him and therefore lost his power. The reader, however, grew with the knowledge and in the end, wakes up as the entity Bill had been. Just, suddenly knowing she existed, no memories of ever being human. It was so well done and pulled at my philosophical brain, I built "Wired" off of it.

3. Not a story but a series...

Anything by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle. This is the series that made my Merlin writings what they are. I read these and they brought me SOOO much joy! I used to write really depressive stuff. Still do. But after reading these, I wanted to bring that joy, too. I really dug into my humor after that and it really changed how I see stories and even myself and became the foundation of what I focus on in dialogues.

4. From the grave to the cradle by larcluce

I admit it, I'm a bit biased for this one because I'm so proud of larluce for posting their first story after wanting ME to write it. As if I could have done it justice. It's so good for a first work and yeah... I'm very proud of them.

5. My soul has your claim, my soul is in flames

(Voltron) i'm currently reading that due to my online friend's suggestion and it's just... Maybe it's because I'm currently obsessed with it but it really is just that good. It's everything I want from a voltron fanfic :) obliviousness, pining, misunderstandings, and reassurance and Lance's death reveal. Like... Yeah. I'm a sucker for this story.

...

There are probably a lot more on my list but I'm REALLY bad at remembering stuff XD I remember when I stumble on them. I just listed the ones that are at the top of my head. Sorry it's not a full ten :/ I actually write more than I read too. When I start reading, my mind gets ideas and then I have to write them down and I somehow rarely finish fics over 100k words.

BuT wRiTinG tHEm iS fInE.

By the way, I haven't read "like the cycle of the year" yet. It's been on my list for a while but I haven't gotten around to it. I know it's a fandom favorite. But maybe that's what's putting me off. It'll probably make me feel inadequate after reading it and comparing it to my stuff and then I'll feel bad about my writing. Which would by both oddly motivating and off putting, lol.

As a little bonus, I'll just say what I'm currently working on/planning to work on for now.

1. second chances (Drarry)

I've been writing on that one for over a year. Which is the longest I ever spend on a fic and also the longest fic I've ever worked on in total and also the one I most edited. I'm writing it for my girlfriend. I feel like I'm getting closer to the end and I will post it once it's finished.

Jkr sucks, by the way. She'd probably hate the story which satisfies me greatly.

It's a time travel au, obviously, in which Drarry was a muggle therapist after the war. The magical world doesn't respond well to the idea of therapy but that's not Draco's concern even though it should be. He just wants to atone for his sins. Being thrown back in time gives him that chance... But it also awakens deep traumatic issues while he struggles to help the good side and betray his parents and friends in the meantime. It's very analytical of his character and he suffers a lot and it's a lot of fun to do.

2. Karak'nirir- the goddess of creation (Voltron)

A Lance centric Voltron fanfic in which he is gifted the power of a goddess. I'm trying to get back into world building and well... I just really love Lance XD

3. The clockroom (BBC Merlin)

... It's on hiatus... Again. It's so hard to find the time to work on it. But I will... At some point. Probably. I hate unfinished business.

4. ... I'll probably focus on the Merthur marriage concept next. In which Arthur tries to raise Merlin's status and has Merlin learn magic in order to defeat Emrys. Cause then Merlin would be druid king and they can get married XD i want to apply some stuff I'm currently learning through "my soul has your claim" and maybe that will change how I write in the long run, too.

5. .... I should be working on a book that's publishable. Maybe feedback from professional book sellers will help me improve my work also.

By the way... Having 4 wips kills my brain. I hate it. One fic at a time. That's how I work best. It's too much for me. I'm dying. I have no ideas how other people do it.

Anyway.

Thank you for the question, anon ^^ I hope I answered it well enough XD

#bbc merlin #voltron #faq #ask #answer #anon

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happypopcornprincess · 11 months

Text

The Heartbreak Prince - Chapter Six

Warnings: Major Spoilers for Top Gun (1986) and Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Word count - 2.3K

A/N - Angst, angst, angst, ANGST!!!! That's it. *I'm sorry :(*

Italics are thoughts and/or emphasized words Taglist is open and feels free to request headcanons or drabbles on this series

Series Masterlist

My Main Masterlist

Send your requests here!

Saturday

“…Miss Bagchi?”

Nisha’s eyes focused again on the girl sitting before her, staring at her in confusion.

“Yes, Sinopa?”

"I just wanted to know what you thought about supervising my project for my final year. You just grew quiet suddenly. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine Sinopa. No worries.” Nisha laughed nervously and straightened up in her chair.

“Okay,” she smiled and got up from her chair, “I’ll mail you the project details then.” As Sinopa exited her office, Nisha saw how excited she was, probably overwhelmed by having a project supervisor.

A sad smile spread on her face, rewinding back years ago to watch Bradley do the same on his 18th birthday.

They cleaned the entire house for a birthday party. He refused a party at first, but Elena and her friends wanted one, so he agreed. Ice and Maverick flew in from Miramar. That might be the only positive thing that girl ever did in her life. This is because cleaning the house with Maverick, Ice, and herself made him come back.

The sunshine boy, her Sunny.

She heard his laughter after months. Maverick and Ice started a water fight in the garage while washing his Bronco. This ended up with all four drenched and soapy.

She shook herself out of the memory. Whatever happened in the past didn’t matter anymore.

-/-/-/-/-/-

The west coast sunset was as beautiful as the day Bradley saw them for the first time.

He swam in the shallow water, watching the sun disappear on the horizon. The water was cold as ice, and the clouds overhead approaching the beach were a welcome relief from the heat.

He had turned to the beach for answers since his Miramar posting. With everything going on in his life right now, the only thing that could clear his mind was a swim in the infinite ocean.

He called Nisha countless times and texted her to ask if she was okay. She hadn’t replied to anything. She was the only thing he could think about. It had been forever, but he was too dumb to realize that.

He swam to the shore, where he had left his belongings, carefree as the beach was empty of visitors on this stretch. As he got dressed, the wind blew hard and he shivered. He looked around the sand stretch and noticed someone sitting far away.

The flowy skirt, and her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes locked on the horizon.

Nisha.

-/-/-/-/-/-

The bottle was almost empty. The familiar burn of whiskey on her tongue did little to calm her down.

She had sworn off alcohol since moving to Miramar, but one phone call from her parents was enough for her to return.

Silent tears ran down her eyes thinking about her parents back in India, and how they handled her broken engagement, even after so much time had passed. Shame, ruthless comments from relatives, the shunning from the whole town for rejecting 'The Maheshwaris.'

Her mother cried on the phone, and her father refused to talk to her. They wanted her to get a job in India. With her qualifications, it would have been easy. But she could not go, leave San Diego. It was one place that felt like home after so long. She hadn’t told them why.

She doesn’t want to think about the reason right now. She wants peace.

“Nishi?”

Oh, how unlucky this day could get!

She turned to the source, and it was Bradley Bradshaw standing right next to her.

She attempts to get up, but stumbles, her head spinning from alcohol effects. If it wasn’t for Bradley, she would have fallen face-first into the sand. He grabs her arm and steadies her, his touch gentle and caring. She stares into his eyes for a moment before pushing him away. “Go away, Bradshaw.”

He straightened her up easily. “So, we’re on a last-name basis now? Great!” He grumbled, looking down at the bottle. He struggled to keep her upright. "You're drunk?” His grip tightened on her arm.

“Uh, huh?" Nisha mumbled, reaching out for what was left in the bottle.

Bradley took it away, “Nisha, why are you drinking?”

“-oh my god! I’m thirty-four for fuck’s sake Bradley, I can drink as much as I want!” Nisha staggered back, trying to get out of his death grip on her arm.

“Nisha, come on!” He dropped the bottle to hold her steady.

Nisha pushed him away. “You idiot!” she screamed. “That was expensive!”

/-/-/-/-/-/

Bradley had never seen her like this. He had no idea what to do. She was alone, and it was getting dark with storm clouds overhead. And there was no way she could go back to her house being this drunk out of her mind.

“Nisha, listen to me,” he tried to hold her hand, but she repelled him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Nisha, listen-“

“Let. Me. Go!" she growls, walking away from him.

He ran after her. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Nisha, please."

She didn’t even look at him. “I don’t want to.”

Bradley spoke up, his heart racing up at the way she was acting. “Nisha I’m here! Talk to me!”

Nisha stopped hearing this.

She turns to look at him, with teary eyes and her face etched with hurt and betrayal, she speaks, “Bold of you to say that.”

As much as he tried not to, Bradley felt anger rising in his throat. “Nisha, let’s get you home.”

She laughs humourlessly, “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Nishi…”

Angrily pointing at him, she shouted, “You don’t have any right to say that,” Before walking away, she said, “You don’t have any right to say that.”

She sobs, "You left. Bradley. You left and never looked back. You don’t get to drop into my life out of nowhere and ask to take me home.”

Bradley had been dreading this inevitable conversation for days. He breathed nervously, “I had nothing left back in Virginia…”

“You had me!” Nisha screamed out, “You had me, Sunny. Okay. You had me, and Dad, and Mom, you had us.” She sniffled.

The wind picked up, and Bradley was frozen looking at her.

“Ever since you helped me on the first day of freshman year I have been there. I was there at every game, every test, every time you fell sick, every time you lost, I was there Bradley.” She cried on. She has been by his side through all the ups and downs, supporting him every step of the way. She has been there to encourage him when he needed it most and to console him when he faced setbacks.

Bradley felt his face heat up, his heart beating fast with an ache in his throat.

“I told you not to go out with Elena. I told you so many times and you called me paranoid.” Nisha wiped off her tears and continued, “And I was still there when she left.”

“I missed Carol.” the ache in his throat grew as he heard his mother’s name. Bradley wanted to speak up but could not, “She was my mentor. I cried and cried for days and tried to make you cry too because you needed to. And when you finally did, I was there.”

His mind told him her words were influenced by alcohol, they meant nothing. However, his heart, his heart took over his senses and cried, “Why?” He screamed. “Why Nisha? Why did you...” He stopped abruptly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Because I love you, Bradley! I love you.” Nisha screamed out.

A cold wind blew their hair in all directions as the first drops of rain fell, and soon they were drenched in rain. She breathed heavily, and even though it was dark, he could see tears falling from her face. Her hair was stuck to her face, and for a second he saw the bubbly seventeen-year-old girl who was his light at the end of the tunnel.

“Nisha…” he tried to speak up, but she continued, “And no matter how hard I tried not to… I still do.”

Bradley’s vision blurred. He stepped towards her, but she staggered back again, “Don’t…” but before she could say further, her vision blurred, and she passed out seconds before he could catch her. Bradley quickly caught her and laid her down on the ground. He wiped away her tears gently before he closed his eyes and cried silently. He had never seen her so vulnerable before.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Come on Nishi pick up the goddamn phone!” Eric paced through the living room, looking outside at the weather worsening. Rain hit the windows at full force, the howling wind sending shivers down his spine.

He contemplated calling the University to ask about, and was seconds away from doing so before the doorbell rang. He ran to the door and opened it to give her a piece of his mind but instead, he was face to face with Rooster.

It took Erin a while to register him standing on his doorstep with Nisha on his side, hanging from his arm.

"Hi." Bradley says, adjusting Nisha to his side.

“Rooster?” Erin recognized the regular at the bar instantly and wasted no time taking Nisha’s other hand and carefully guide them to her room.

===

Bradley sat by her side after.

She dosed off as soon as her body touched the mattress, still in her soaked dress, still with dried tears on her face. His fingers ghosted over her hand.

But they stayed there.

He admired her from afar, her confession still ringing in his ears.

Because I loved you, Bradley! I loved you… And no matter how hard I try not to… I still do.

How blind. Oh, how blind he has been.

He looked around her room, how she had turned it into an exact replica of her Virginia home.

Books stacked everywhere, posters of singers and bands from their youth and… was that a lightsaber? A laugh escaped his lips and his eyes settled on her bookshelf. Or a picture frame to be exact.

He got up and looked closely. It was them. One of their first pictures ever.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

1999

They posed in front of their high school’s headstone. His mother held the camera, gesturing for him to move closer to Nisha. She said something, but he couldn’t hear anything.

He looked at her, “Bradley, smile!” Nisha tugged on his arm as she laughed.

His eyes remained fixed on her face as she inched closer. He smiled, a funny sensation rising in his chest, the same one he felt the moment her hand stuck to his with duct tape. He was drawn to her like a magnet, and for a second, he thought he saw the same glimmer in her eyes. In fact, he must be imagining that, but before he could move away, he heard the camera click.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They were forever frozen in that picture. Two kids looking at each other, standing in front of their high school headstone. Unsure of what would happen next.

She fell in the hallway, and he fell for her the moment he looked into her eyes.

Warm and brown.

The same as his.

He loved her since he saw her.

And he didn’t even know it.

Erin's voice broke the silence as he looked at him standing in the doorway. "This will keep her warm," He had bought some blankets, and Bradley helped him cover Nisha with them.

“Thank you,” Erin breathed out. “I was worried sick. She wasn’t picking up her phone and-“

“It’s alright Erin. She’s safe now.” He says, looking at her sleeping form for a last time before moving out.

He couldn't give her peace, but he hoped she would find it in her sleep. She was safe here, with her trusted friend. He will keep her safe.

They left her sleeping in her room. Bradley closed the door after looking at her for the last time. "She was drinking on the beach when I found her. I've never seen her like this, what happned?" he asked Erin.

The young man breathed out, his shoulders falling. "It's not my story to tell. Just... life's been harsh on her for a while." Erin looks at him, "Did she say something to you?"

"No," he replied abruptly.

Erin smiled in response, "I'll let you know when she gets up. You should change before you catch a cold." He pointed towards his wet clothes.

"No, Erin," Bradley replied. "Don't mention me," he said. He looked around the room, then back at Erin. "You take care." He smiled and stepped towards the door.

Before he could step out of her house, Erin spoke, “Be gentle with her Rooster,” he turned to see him standing in her doorway, “she’s healing something she didn’t break for the second time.”

-/-/-/-/--/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Any and all requests, headcanons, and drabble requests about this AU is mostly welcome. Love y'all, Take Care!

Tag List:

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @ijustwantavacation @perpetuelledaydreaming @iamthebeth @thefandomqueenuno @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @hoeensficrecs @samwilson-mylove @xbuchananbarnes-deactivated @jenniweaslee @anna-phora @fluffyprettykitty @ladiesluver @weigheddownbyfandoms

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dontspillthefrijoles43 · 10 months

Text

Birthdays aren’t a bummer with you by my side

Chapter summary: In honor of Leo's birthday I made an excerpt, it can be seen as a stand alone or apart of the Chispo and Bruja series Warnings: Slight angst Word count: 1083

Leo sighed in relief.

The clear blue waves pushed against Piper’s surfboard— that he was temporarily borrowing—making him bob through coast lazily.

The fresh salty air blew through his curls. The seagulls squawked in the distance. And the sun slowly started to sink into the horizon.

It was calm.

The whole day Leo and his friends had a beach day. It was non-stop fun in the sun.

First thing they did was make sandcastles along the shore. Harley and Nyssa had the best one. Annabeth and Hazel were a close second— since the low tide came in and knocked half the castle off.

When it got hot enough they played chicken. Jason and Percy were tag teaming pretty well, lasting about three rounds. Coach called the shots, making sure it was fair game. He declared Reyena and Frank the winners for knocking them down.

Then they played hooky with the waves. Diving into them when they’d come crashing by. Percy lasted the longest underwater—although it wasn’t really fair with him being the son of Poseidon and all. So they called it a tie with Breisa and Nico.

Later as the waves crash in stronger, Piper attempted to teach Jason, Breisa, and Leo how to surf. Of course they all wiped out by just standing on the board. Piper had laughed but encouraged them to keep going. Leo had learned some of the basics, just enough to keep him afloat. He was not confident enough to challenge Poseidon at his own game. Breisa had only been knocked off the board a couple of times. And Jason could not surf for the life of him. But he was cool with that.

Now everyone stood by the bonfire, closer to the shore. They were drying off while roasting hotdogs and eating s’mores. While Will strummed his guitar to classic summer songs, mostly playing reggae. Will wanted to prove they were the best summer songs. He turned out to be right. Everyone looked at ease and either sun kissed or sunburned (sucks for Nico and Jason).

Leo opted to go back into the water to watch the sunset. So here he was.

Everything felt great. He can’t complain.

‘Quit lying to yourself’ His brain grumbled.

Ok maybe everything wasn’t so great.

Because today wasn’t just a casual summer day.

His friends hadn’t spontaneously planned a beach day. It was for a birthday. Leo’s birthday.

They surprise him with this outing. To make up for before. They couldn’t celebrate it because …well demigod business and everything had been stressful on their minds.

Not that Leo minded, he didn’t really pay attention to his birthday. Not since his mom passed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his birthday. Just too many painful memories for him to enjoy it.

So every year since her passing, Leo wouldn’t be boasting about it.

But Breisa found out about his birthday. She was bummed that she missed the previous one. So she planned this whole get together.

That’s another reason why he didn’t steer the party away. He was touched by the effort she put in for him.

But it felt weird to be celebrated and given all this attention. He was happy but…Why was he so guilty and not feeling just as excited like everyone else was?

“Needed a minute to get away?” Breisa's voice came from beside him.

He turned to see her swimming up to him.

“Yeah.” Leo answered softly, “Nothing against everyone else. I’ve been having fun and all. Sometimes it’s just—”

“Too much?” Breisa finished.

“Exactly.” He sighed without saying anything more, but Breisa knew better.

“Drachma for your thoughts?” She asked, leaning onto the board.

The waves rocked them up and back gently as Leo tried to place his racing mind together.

“I…I am happy. But it feels weird to be this happy.” He confessed.

“What do you mean, Chispo?” She tilted her head and her wet curls fell over her shoulder. She glowed with magic golden-orange color.

“Like I don’t deserve all this.” He ran his hands through his hair, “I don’t deserve my friends. I don’t deserve this party. Or these gifts. I don’t deserve—” He almost said “you”, but caught himself. “I just…I don’t know why I am feeling like this. It’s my birthday. I shouldn't be feeling weird about being happy.”

Breisa splashed him with water without warning.

“What the hell was that for?!” He sputtered.

“To snap you out of your self-deprecating thoughts.” She huffed, “You put yourself down too much. And I don’t think that’s fair to you at all. You saved the world twice. You saved Jason, Piper, and me an abundance of times. You’re literally a mechanical engineer genius. And all that stuff that happened — we could have never survived without you. Leo, you deserve to be happy. Even if you can’t see it yourself.”

If he wasn’t blushing during her rant, he sure was now.

“Leo hair.” She pointed up to his aflame curls.

He quickly dunked himself in the water. And was embarrassed as he resurfaced.

“Perdón.” Leo muttered while swatting at his hair, making sure it was out. He hesitated but said “Do you really mean all that stuff?”

Breisa hopped onto the board and placed her hand on his, “Por supuesto, chispo.”

Leo smiled with this warmth in his chest. “I dunno what I do without you knocking some sense into me.”

“Probably dropped dead.” She joked.

He snickered, “Don’t sell me short, brujita. I’m a mechanical engineering genius.”

“”Aye dioses.” Breisa shook her head while smiling. “No seas tan galito.”

“You love it.” Leo wagged his eyebrows.

Breisa sighed, “Yes your massive ego is something I find very attractive.” She instantly regretted the words that came out of her mouth.

Leo grinned wide and prideful. “You think I’m attractive.”

She blushed and her magic aura turned a violet pink.“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Huh uh.” Leo hummed, “Then why are you still holding my hand?”

“Shut up.” Breisa didn’t let go of his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you say, Brujita.” Leo squeezed her hand.

They watched the sun sink low into the night. Then made their way to everyone else for roasted hot dogs, s’mores, and other treats.

Maybe before Leo never got to enjoy his birthday. But with Breisa and everyone by his side—he could make peace with it. He could enjoy and celebrate himself. And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

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somevirtualnolife · 8 months

Text

All's Fair in Love and Basketball

Rating: G Series: Tokimeki Memorial: Forever With You Pairing: Yumi Saotome x Protagonist (OC) Summary: Takeru tries to comfort Yumi after a loss in a basketball match, but it's clear that's not the only thing she's upset about. Author’s Note: I just started playing Tokimeki Memorial: Forever With You and watched the OVA and guess what? I really enjoyed it. And unsurprisingly, I was inspired to write a fic about one of my favourite girls, Yumi! Like so many of the TM/TMGS love interests, she is super endearing despite being so silly. And as expected of a TM/TMGS protagonist, my boy is oblivious to girls liking him in any way that could be romantic.

I hope you guys enjoy! I've learned that there are even less TM fics than TMGS ones, so I'm just trying to do my part to feed the fandom (and if you don't like Yumi, well I guess you're getting fed anyway lol).

The gymnasium was buzzing with noise when Takeru Omura entered. It echoed with the sounds of shoes squeaking against the floor, basketballs bouncing, and shouting from both the girls’ basketball team and the attendees watching. It was a junior match between Kirameki and Habataki, one of the last of the season, so needless to say the place was packed. He spotted Yoshio up on the second-floor bleachers overlooking the court, with a big grin on his face as he spotted his friend.

“Heh-heh~ come here to scope out the juniors, eh?” the auburn-haired boy grinned before pulling out his small blue notebook. “They are pretty cute, and according to my intel, you’re pretty popular with them, Mister Basketball Ace of Kirameki.”

Takeru could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. He knew Yoshio meant well, but that notebook caused more trouble than not. Looking at Rei, he always assumed that being popular with girls would be how he wanted to spend his high school life, so having intel on every girl cute seemed useful. In reality, it was a recipe for disaster that provided an onslaught of rumours, hurt feelings and miscommunication that he had to diffuse like it was some kind of explosive device.

Specifically, a bomb.

“It’s not like that,” he finally responded. “The girls usually come out and support us, so we should do the same.”

The ref blew a whistle for a small time-out and the girls relaxed a bit. Below, he spotted a familiar, auburn-haired kohai grabbing her water bottle. Eventually, she spotted Takeru above and grinned widely, waving her free hand enthusiastically. He smiled back and then cupped his hands over his mouth.

“You got this, Yumi-chan!” he yelled.

Her brown eyes seemed to sparkle at his words. It wasn’t before long that the whistle went on again and they were back on the court.

Yoshio looked between his friend and sister as they continued to exchange looks and waves every now as the game went on.

“Oh, not like that, but like that.”

“I- what?” his voice started. “Dude. No. No-no-no.”

“Like I said before, it’s fine if it’s you, but you know-”

The basketball ace lifted his hands in defence. “We just hang out a lot because of shared practice schedules. Plus, you told me to look out for her in case any weirdos came for her.”

Yes, they sometimes hung out on weekends when there was no practice, but it was strictly as friends. Yumi very clearly wanted to experience all that high school had to offer (minus the studying). She clearly wanted to experience club life, friends, and dating. So yeah, Takeru didn’t mind being her practice date now and then. It was safer for her that way.

Right?

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.” Yoshio let out a sigh, which Takeru couldn’t quite figure out the intention behind.

Eventually, the final buzzer went off, showing Habataki taking a lead over Kirameki by 10 points. An unfortunate loss, but it was sort of expected. Their basketball teams often ranked highly in the region. Takeru would chalk it up to it being a private school, but that’s like the pot calling the kettle black.

“Mannnn, that was so close!” Yoshio groaned.

“Yeah, but it is what it is.” Takeru’s green eyes followed Yumi as the girls dispersed after talking with their coach. Her pace was fast, and her shoulders seemed tense at this distance.

“Aw man, I know that walk,” Yoshio quickly got up from the bleachers. “I’ll catch up with you later. I do not need her to come home and suplex me out of frustration.”

Takeru laughed at first but then realized that was a very real possibility. That girl loved her pro wrestling.

“Best of luck, dude. I’ll let you know if I see her. Maybe.” It wasn’t like either of them had a cell phone to contact each other.

As he exited the gymnasium, he shivered slightly as he saw his breath in the cold winter air. With the sun long since set, the streetlights provided a soft orange close in the darkness. The walk home wasn’t too far, but he looked forward to a nice bowl of nabe when he got home. It wasn’t before long on his walk home that he heard someone grumbling and kicking something. Looking to the right he saw the familiar ponytail of a teen girl slamming her foot on the side of one of the plastic slides at the playground.

“Oh, there you are. Yoshio’s looking for you. Or maybe avoiding you,” he joked. It was actually a bit unclear if his friend planned on looking for his sister to calm her down, or to avoid her until the next day. He should’ve asked.

Yumi seemed to freeze at the sound of his voice, her stomping stopping, and her shoulder going up past her ears.

“Go away.”

“You guys can still easily clinch a win against Hibikino. Their team is so bad it’s basically non-existent.”

“I’m serious, I don’t feel like talking right now!”

“Yumi, it’s just one game. No need to have a tantrum over it.”

It was then that she finally turned around, her face fully red, fists clenched.

“Ugh, you’re such a JERK, Takeru!”

Before he knew it, Yumi threw her bag with almost the same speed and force that she would a basketball, which slammed straight into his gut. While it was a bit of surprise was grateful it didn’t go any lower.

“Hey, watch it! Why do you have to be so-” Just as he was about to tell her off, he noticed her eyes were visibly red, watering up to about the halfway point before they started to fall.

Oh.

Oh no. Those were tears. Not like the ones at the amusement park, or whenever she would get mad about her brother changing the channel on her.

“Yumi…”

With one last cry of frustration, Yumi finally sat down on the wooden bench, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s fine. It’s whatever. I… just wanted you to think I was cool,” she mumbled.

Ohhh boy. Takeru wasn’t always the best at saying stuff. He didn’t always think his words threw before saying them, regardless of how they could come across. Sometimes he just felt like he chose whatever was the easiest option. It was probably one of the big reasons so many of the girls were frustrated with him. But seeing Yumi being so sincere, it twisted something in his chest. She wanted him to think she was cool, huh? Sometimes he forgot he was her senior, as they very rarely addressed each other as such. He nervously scratched the back of his neck, before he sat down next to her, carefully patting the top of her head.

“I mean, you did look cool out there, regardless of the loss.”

Yumi stopped for a moment, looking up at him, a slightly confused look on her face.

“R-really?”

Takeru grinned. “Well, yeah! I mean, that 3-pointer you scored? Your form was perfect. Not to mention that you know how to get around the court fast. Besides, you guys really held your own. It was a great match to watch. When there’s no challenge, matches are boring to watch anyway. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

Almost instinctively, he reached over and placed his hand on her cheek, gently wiping away the remainder of her tears. Yumi flinched for a brief moment, but she didn’t pull back.

“You were awesome out there.”

“When you say it like that…”

“Hmm?”

She paused and turned her head for a moment, a bit dumbfounded.

“You, don’t know how you sound right now, do you?”

“Uhh… I hope like a wise and insightful sempai, looking out for his kohai?”

There was another pause before Yumi started to laugh. There were tears, but clearly not of frustration.

“Ahhh, you’re such an idiot.”

“Hey. I just gave you a heartfelt speech and that’s what I get?” Takeru chuckled. He was just happy he was not going to get another hit in the stomach.

Yumi quickly stood up, stretching out her arms before placing them on her hips. “Fiiiine. You’re right. I’m only just finishing up my first year after all. Plenty of time to work hard and show you what I’m really capable of.”

“Right? And come next year, Kirameki is going to squash those Habataki losers. The win will taste all the much sweeter.”

“Uh, yeah! In basketball...”

“Yumi, there you are!” Yoshio ran over to the pair panting. “Jeeze, I thought mom was gonna kill me if I didn’t find you.”

He then looked back and forth between Yumi and Takeru, wheels turning in his head before grinning.

“Oh. Apologies if I was butting in on something~”

“You simply existing is a butt-in on my life,” his little sister stuck her tongue out before turning over to Takeru one last time. “Anyway, thanks for the talk, sempai. I’ll see you Monday for practice.”

Takeru waved as the two siblings walked off, clearly bickering as they did so. He was glad that he managed to turn things around. He’d best get going as well, considering how cold it was outside, but for some reason, that tightness in his chest earlier turned into something warm and calming. Sure, Yumi could be a lot at times, but she was also funny, determined, cute, and sincere. He needed someone like that in his life when he lacked those qualities at times.

And he was glad that he still had one more year with her.

#tokimeki memorial #tokimeki memorial forever with you #yumi saotome #yumi saotome x protagonist #my fics #galge

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berryflops · 2 years

Text

" history " | part seven

masterlist | word count: 1, 253 | warnings: angst, fluff, maybe swearing idk?

authors note: fair warning, the series will be based off scenes in the show with elements of the books. every single scene will come from the show unless it is a made-up flashback, and if something is mentioned that you don't understand please let me know, so i can let you know if it was a mistake or if it was in the book :)

I collapsed on my bed, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed into my pillow. My lungs were coiled tightly, a feeling I hated having. The ache that vibrated through my body was horrifying, hitting in waves every time it paused.

I hated Jeremiah Fisher. I didn’t know why I thought this summer would be any different. But all those small moments we had, I’d thought they added to something bigger. Maybe I had overreacted. But my whole life, I was second to Belly Conklin. With Steven, of course. With Susannah and Laurel, always. With Conrad, although I didn’t mind that one too much because of how close he and I were, and how differently he viewed us both.

But Jeremiah. We were the same thing to Jeremiah, until Belly became more. And that was when I realized that no matter what happened to me, Belly would always come first. He’d always help her first. Even if he never clarified it, I knew. I always knew when it came to Jeremiah Fisher.

As my feet sunk into the sand, small grains slipping through my toes, I looked out at the beach to see a familiar figure. He was taller than before, but he was always growing more than the rest of us.

I approached him slowly and sat beside him, not turning my face. The waves crashed onto our feet, slipping away before any damage could occur.

“Hi.” Conrad spoke, taking a puff from his cigarette and looking towards me.

“Hey.” I turned my gaze to the side. Conrad was like a mirror of me, eyes slightly red rimmed and empty. Looks like we’d both had rough nights.

“Haven’t talked much this summer.” he blew out, a hazy cloud in front of him. I held my hand out and was surprised when he didn’t lecture me, instead handing me the cigarette.

I took a puff myself, blowing out before speaking again. “We’re such a mess.”

Conrad smiled, taking his cigarette back. “When were we not.” I gave him the trace of a smile before staring right back at the ocean.

The ocean went on forever, not really, but in my terms it did. Looking at it made me feel small, but important. Like next to the ocean even I mattered.

“Jeremiah and I are fighting again.” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Conrad sighed. “Remember the first time you guys fought?”

I thought about it, searching my memory. I suddenly remembered our first real fight, when we were eight.

I’d forgotten to tell him when my birthday was. Jeremiah forgot a lot, although he never forgot my birthday. That day he’d been busy, and I hadn’t minded. But when he called later that month, asking when my birthday was, and I said it had already passed, he wouldn’t talk to me.

We went April to mid-June without talking, before Conrad made us talk it out. When we made up it was like the house gave a huge sigh of relief.

“Yeah. You locked us in his room for three hours, and Jere hates not talking.” I recalled. Conrad nodded.

“You two could have worked it out without me. Honestly, I think you and Jeremiah could work anything out if you put aside your goddamn stubbornness.” he chuckled. “You guys are so alike, yet so different, and you balance each other out in every single way but your stubbornness.”

I thought for a moment, thinking through my words. “Jere and I only keep secrets because we’re stubborn, don’t we? No one wants to admit anything first.”

Conrad nodded. “Just sit down and talk, Sam. Trust me on this.”

“Thanks, Connie.” I relaxed. We were silent for a few moments before Conrad started talking.

“I’m fucking everything up with her.” his voice was steady, like he was sure of himself.

“I know.” I looked at him. “But don’t be scared, Con. Be you. Shove everything aside and be the kid who danced with Belly when no one else would. She knows that Conrad. She cares about that Conrad. Although she’d care about you no matter what.”

Conrad stood up and held out a hand for me to follow. I took it, letting him pull me up. He hugged me lightly, like the echo of a touch, before waving and walking away.

I looked towards my house to see my brother walking towards me and I jogged to meet him halfway. “Tate.” I said.

Tate took my arm and walked with me towards the house. We didn’t say anything because we didn’t need to. Tate looked away while I changed, I looked away for him. And then we crawled into bed, his head at my feet, and fell asleep easily. Like we always had.

I’d woken up early that morning and decided to make breakfast. Normally we’d go over to the Beck’s house, but I didn’t think I wanted to.

When Tate walked in with Angela trailing behind him, I’d finished up the eggs. They were sunny side up, and I’d filled four plates along with bacon.

A fruit salad sat on the counter, next to three different cereals. I’d set out Nutella and syrup, knowing Angela would eat both. On top of that, there were pancakes, chocolate chips peeking out.

Jeremiah had taught me a lot as a kid. I could never escape Jeremiah in my life.

“Thank you,” Angela yawned, letting Tate lift her up onto a chair. He took his own spot and easily finished his three strips of bacon.

“That’s awesome.” he held out his fist for a fist bump, and I obliged, going along with him into our handshake.

Angela pouted. “I wanna handshake!” She stuck her hand out and I giggled as Tate started instructing her.

My dad was reluctantly dragging himself inside, although he perked up immediately after seeing the spread on the counter.

He slide into his own seat next to Tate, grinning at me lazily. “Didn’t think we’d see you two this morning.” I smiled.

“We decided to be with our family. Haven’t been together in a while, have we?” Angela nodded eagerly.

Tate took a pancake and bit into it, gaining a disappointing glance at him. He stopped before his second bite, letting me hand him a plate so he could load it with pancakes and syrup.

My dad finished his plate faster then Tate and I had, helping Angela finish her egg. “You’ve forgotten to eat, haven’t you?” I tusked, immediately loading fruit onto his plate. He shrugged, scooping over half the fruit up immediately.

I let Tate have my own bacon, taking bites of my egg and finishing it easily. My dad poured himself a bowl of cereal, grabbing milk from the fridge. I ate the rest of the fruit salad and helped Angela eat Nutella slathered pancakes.

Soon enough everything was finished. Tate put away the cereal and my dad put away the milk. Angela got on my shoulders to shelf the Nutella and syrup, letting me run her around the place afterward.

Eventually, we'd all settled in front of the TV, Gilmore Girls playing on the screen. Tate was laying across the couch with Angela on top of him, and me at their feet. Dad was in his armchair.

And it was just like before, all of us watching mom's favorite show for the whole day, just to make her happy. That's the thing about grief. You'd do anything to keep them close, while still trying to let go.

#tsitp #tsitp fanfic #tsitp belly #tsitp conrad #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp steven #the summer i turned pretty #teamjelly #teamconbad #jeremiah fisher x oc #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher fic

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tobiasbotte · 2 months

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I heard the news last night. I spent a good chunk of today processing it. And a not so good chunk of it crying.

I cannot even begin to express how much of my childhood was touched by Akira Toriyama's work.

My dad introduced me and my little brother to Goku and his wild adventures. We'd budge up against him on the couch and cheer as Goku beat the bad guys, and gained new friends.

We'd go to the mall, to FYE, and hunt down the next VHS (yeah, I'm old) in the series, grab bourbon chicken before we left. We'd bounce around, waiting for Dad to pop in the next tape, and chant, "Last time on Dragon Ball Z—"

My brother and I would recreate the fights in the yard as best we could with our gangly, clumsy limbs. Occasionally, we'd take it a smidge too far, and someone would wind up in tears. Oops.

My dad and I would discuss our favorite scenes, what we thought would happen next, who the best bad guys were, who his greatest allies were. Goku was my main hero, but as I got older, Vegeta and his gosh darn redemption arc stole my heart.

I have a lot of memories surrounding this show.

Dragon Ball was the first anime I'd ever seen in my life, and it blew my tiny little mind.

Thank you, Akira Toriyama, for giving me something wonderful, something I always come back to.

'Scuse me, I have to go cry a bit more, fuck—

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #akira toriyama #rip #well #there are no dragon balls to bring him back #but he's already attained immortality though his wonderful works #literally i havent stopped thanking about this news all day #i get sad when my favorite actors die #but this man was a creator who brought light to my childhood #he's part of my core memories #i feel fucking miserable rn

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aajjks · 2 years

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The Conqueror (XIII)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader (FT SANA from Twice and Cha Eunwoo From ASTRO.)

warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER D*ATH, OBSESSION, POSESSIVENESS, lots of bl**d, fighti*g, go*e, etc, DARK THEMES AHEAD. CRAZY JUNGKOOK!

note. *crying noises* this chapter is just SAD. ENJOY! share feedback plz I beg. I hope this chapter shows up in the tags… plz show support and love…

series masterlist.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

Jaehyun and you walked in the cold breeze together, his hand gripped yours as your feet worked in harmony. Jaehyun couldn’t believe that he had found you. “Ahhh yoon-ho? You can let go of my hand… I promise I won’t run haha…” The man blinked twice at your words, his cheeks heated as he passed you an awkward smile, loosening his grip on your hand, “yeah… we’re almost here…” he replied, immediately changing the subject. He glanced at your face once as his thoughts began to run through his mind.

Should he let you really know how he found you?

There was a guilt in his heart. “Y/N? I think there’s something you should know…” he stopped walking, glancing at the wooden house in front of you.

Jaehyun tries to avoid eye contact, but the way your innocent glance falls on him, he opens his mouth. “I-I needed to let you know something.” He stuttered. As he guided you inside his home, the atmosphere inside felt cold but tolerable as you followed behind him, his words confused you. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you nodded at him, “hey, where is samchon?” You asked Jaehyun about his father, while he guided you to a spare room.

The one you were so familiar with, as you walked inside, you’d forgotten that he has something to tell you, that is until you sit down on the wooden bed with a not so soft feeling of the mattress,

A feeling of relief washed over you as your gaze followed the room.

You were home.

“Would you like some water? What am I asking, of course you’d like water…” Jaehyun slapped his forehead as a small laugh left your lips. He looked at you once as he walked away to fetch some water for you.

You watched as he excused himself and observed the familiar room, a bunch of your childhood memories hit you.

A smile found its way on your lips.

“Y/N! We will be together forever right?” A child pouted as he played with your pigtails, his high pitched voice made you giggle.

“I don’t think so… Jaehyunnie…. I know that I’m going to marry a king when I grow up!” You covered your mouth as you teased your friend, you got up from his tiny lap to watch his reaction.

As you sat up you heard Jaehyun gasp as if he was offended, the little boy’s nose scrunched in disappointment. His gaze turned shiny as tears welled up in them.

Your giggles only got louder and louder. “W-Why! Why not me! I’m so much better than a king! I-I could b-be a King for you!” The boy stuttered. Your eyebrows knitted together, as a smirk painted on your lips. “Silly…. If you become a king? You can marry me! My grandma used to say that I’m destined to be a queen of a King.” You took your tongue out and blew raspberries at him.

“Okay then! D-Don’t come crying to me if you never find one!” He huffs in annoyance, turning his head away from you.

“I will! And he will steal me away from you!”

You only kept laughing like an innocent little girl.

But if only you had known before…

Dongmin coughed brutally as Jungkook’s sword never left his neck, his maniac gaze only made it harder for Dongmin to breathe. “Both of you siblings will die! Your psycho sister and you stupid little bastard!” Jungkook’s jaw clenched in anger, “I knew about every little plan of your sister’s… she always hated my Y/N..” Jungkook gritted his teeth, growing angered. “God she is so so dumb! So fucking easy to manipulate! Can you believe that I got her to spill all of her plans?!?” Jungkook removed the sword from Dongmin’s neck, setting him free. “And I even convinced her to follow Y/N when she escaped!” Jungkook grabbed his stomach to stop himself from laughing too hard as he saw the shocked expression on the sweating man’s face.

Dongmin’s heart dropped to his stomach at Jungkook’s other confession.

His sister was a skilled spy. There was absolutely no way you could be safe from him anymore… “w-why Jungkook..WHY!” Dongmin had enough.

You were in danger. He screamed at Jungkook who only charged towards him, and punched him in the face. Dongmin’s head almost rolled back at the force. Jungkook fully attacked the man now, throwing another punch to the man, resulting in him falling down to the cold hard floor. Jungkook marched towards him punching him repeatedly, the King gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched in anger and immense jealousy.

Jungkook’s punches were brutal, his knuckles were quick to become bloody as he kept his pace up.

“WHY?!? BECAUSE SHE IS MINE! Y/N WAS ALWAYS MINE! MINE MINE MINE! AND YOU TRIED TO STEAL HER AWAY FROM ME! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” Jungkook growled as he threw one last hard punch to Dongmin’s face.

Knocking him out.

Jungkook finally stopped himself, he got up, his face had some drops of blood splattered as he glared at the unconscious bloody face of Dongmin.

“Pathetic!” He spat. “No one can take Y/N from me. I’ll kill you all!” Jungkook picked up his sword as he got prepared for the other step.

And as expected, the throne room’s door knocked.

“COME IN!” Jungkook replied as he kicked Dongmin’s half alive body to the side. And walked to his throne, “m-my king.” Jungkook smirked as he heard a familiar voice stutter.

“Consort sana! Welcome back!” Jungkook’s tone was awfully happy, as he turned around to look at the female.

“So… what did you bring for me!?” He quickly asked her, who looked confused as to why there was blood splattered on Jungkook’s face, and on the empty floor.

But she didn’t ask, instead she looked at Jungkook’s face.

And her heart swelled with love. He looked so happy to see her. “My king…” she bowed down. “I found where Y/N went…” she informed, her tongue turned sour. “Chief consort Y/N.” Jungkook’s authoritative voice corrected the girl. Sana raised her eyebrows at Jungkook's angry tone and quickly nodded. “I’m sorry my king… c-chief consort Y-Y/N… she is in gagyeong…” she spoke once again. “That’s all I know..” she bowed down again.

Jungkook’s heart stopped, his eyes widened as a huge smile took over his lips. “Really??!” He couldn’t believe it,

He had found you. “Come here, sana..” Jungkook called out to the awaiting woman, as he walked towards her. The girl’s steps were fast as she obeyed his command a little too eagerly.

Maybe he was going to kiss her.

The two people stood incredibly close to each other. Jungkook’s eyes set on her as sana couldn’t help but blush.

“Thank you… so much.” He spoke to her. Taking her face in his hands. She only leaned into his touch. Jungkook’s other hand was behind his back.

Clenching onto his sword. “Anything you want, my king…” she smiled.

Jungkook forced out a smile, “okay, now die!” His smile faltered as he whipped out his sword and didn’t give sana a chance to respond as he pierced it right through her chest.

A choked noise left her as her blood oozed out, her eyes turning lifeless as her sprayed into his already bloodied face.

Her lifeless glossy eyes staring at his face.

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

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Oh my god i just found you're writing and I'm obssessed. First of all, I'm in love with your edgy!karl series. Seriously, it's amazing. Second of all, I had a little idea that you can take as a request if you'd like. I was thinking edgy!dream/clay but with a shy innocent girl. And a hint of some fear play kink? Like she's all cute and he's so edgy shes scared and intimidated by him when they meet and it turns him on knowing shes both scared of him AND attracted to him at the same time so he uses it against her(consensually of course)

can we call him alt!dream? ;) also,,, i rly like this request...

𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), fighting, smoking, language, oral (fm. receiving), fear play, asphyxiation, sight size kink & praise, dominance

The movie theatre dimmed, the beginning credits of the film reeling as a montage of a city played in the background. You settled back in your seat, accepting the fact that you had been stood up, determined not to let it ruin the movie you had already paid for. That’s right; instead of treating yourself to a new pair of shoes or a set of notebooks, you agreed to meet up with a sleazy guy from class after weeks of him pleading.

You sighed slightly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you realized you hadn’t even wanted to see the film and had only agreed because he suggested it. Someone moved into a seat near you, his legs stretching as he slumped down, purely due to his towering height. You stiffened, crossing your legs to inch away from him at the sight of his various tattoos peeking out from beneath his dark corduroy jacket.

He carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, revealing an eyebrow ring as he swept his bangs off his forehead momentarily. You tore your eyes from him as you noticed the cigarette balanced behind his ear. Even with the seat between the two, you could smell the smoke on his clothes mixing with the faintest hint of vanilla.

You folded your hands in your lap as you noticed him give you a once over. He reached towards you, making you flinch slightly before you realized he was holding out his bag of candy to you. “Want a jellybean? You look upset,” he motioned, voice low as he whispered.

You shook your head quickly, muttering a thank you and playing with your fingers. He shrugged, watching you for a second more before turning back to the movie. He tucked his arm behind his head, chewing on his lip as if debating whether he should keep talking to you or just let you be. You weren’t really sure which outcome you preferred.

On one hand, he fit every one of your guilty pleasure fantasies, while on the other, he terrified the hell out of you. It was more of an intimidating feeling, residing in the way each of his movements caught your attention and the way you could barely keep your eyes off his grungy appearance. Your mind drifted from the plot of the movie and towards the images of his tattooed hands wrapping around your throat and giving you a reason to be scared.

“You here alone?” He asked, popping another jellybean in his mouth. The action made you think of your grandpa waning himself off of tobacco when you were younger. Those jellybeans were blue and a flavor of comfort for you now, while the man before you seemed to only fish for the red ones.

You nodded hesitantly. “I got stood up,” you mumbled, making him shake his softly. “What about you? Are you here alone?” You wondered where you had gathered the courage to talk to him, his demeanor making you want to run, but his voice was a symphony to your ears in the darkness of the movie house, drawing you closer with each of his lulling words.

He wet his lips. “So far,” he answered. He stuck out his large hand for you to shake, his skin was coarse against yours as his finger reached to brush against your wrist. “I’m Clay,” he added, his name rolling into your mind and nestling itself into your memory just due to the tone of his voice. After you gave him your name his mouth curled into a soft smirk. “It’s nice to meet you,” he remarked. You blushed for an unknown reason, thankful for the darkness to mask your emotions.

Someone entered the theatre, marching up to Clay and leaning down to his ear. “Dream, we have to go now,” the guy whispered into his ear, just loud enough that you could hear him. Clay's face twisted into an annoyed expression while the guy turned to leave.

Clay straightened his jacket on his shoulders. “Not to seem to forward, but can I get your number?” He queried. You raised your eyebrows at him, basking in the fact that despite his friend’s agitation, Clay was taking his sweet time making his move on you.

As if you were acting on instinct, you grabbed a pen from your bag as he held his hand out to you again. You found a bare spot on his skin and wrote your number as clearly as you could manage with your shaking hands at the way his eyes watched you alluringly. Without thinking, you blew on the ink, trying to keep it from smearing. You froze, realizing what you were doing as he bit back a smirk.

He was completely eating up your awkwardness.

He reluctantly took his hand back, being pulled up by his friend. “I’ll call you,” he whispered on his way out, heat rushing to your ears.

The movie ended shortly after he left, sending you back out onto the city streets and away from your cocoon where you had forgotten about the sleazy classmate and let thoughts of Clay weasel their way into your nerves. As you stepped through the doors, your phone began to ring, kick-starting your heart at the thought of it being Clay. Instead, it was a friend of yours asking how your date had gone. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you pulled a piece of gum out of your purse.

Her ramblings went deaf on your ears as a car violently pulled up to an alleyway a block from you. You squinted as you moved closer, your apartment being in that direction anyway. A few men got from the car and that’s when Clay stepped into view from behind one of the buildings, flicking his cigarette to the ground and snubbing it out with the toe of his heavy boots as he watched them get out. You could see your number still written on his hand, mixing with his tattoos.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking tiredly at the group of men that had come from the car as his friends began to shout at them. Clay chewed on his lip, looking around and away from the conversation before his gaze met yours. His eyes widened slightly before he turned back, an attempt to keep the attention away from you.

One of the car members grabbed for Clay’s jacket, yanking him closer as if to get him to pay mind to the man talking. Clay sent him a cocky grin, towering over him. With his normal height and his boots, he had at least a foot on the guy. One of Clay’s friends separated the two, breaking the groups into a brawl while shouting was accompanied with fists and elbow jabs.

You turned, walking in another direction as briskly as you could without bringing attention to yourself and the group of boys in the alleyway. Little did you know, Clay was watching you leave and kicking himself for it.

The next day, your mind was racing with Clay’s whereabouts. He seemed like he had his opponents under control, but what if one of them had brought a knife or another weapon? It wasn’t unusual for boys in the city to butt heads like they were, but the fact that you’d let one nearly pick you up the night before was boggling.

You gripped the strap of your bag as you crossed the street, stepping onto the sidewalk and adjusting your skirt. You kept your head down as you passed various people coming and going from their apartments before your ears picked up on a familiar voice. You picked your eyes up, spotting Clay and a small group of guys walking together. He popped a jellybean in his mouth after chiming into their conversation.

You held your breath as they neared you and that’s when you noticed his bruised face and scraped knuckles. Your number was faded on his skin, but still apparent on the back of his hand. He smiled at you, breaking off from his group and walking backward to match your pace. You bit back a smile. “Glad to see you’re okay,” you mumbled, barely able to make eye contact with him. His friends called out for him and he waved them off, walking in line with you.

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, sorry. I would have called last night but…” he made a gesture to his torso as he trailed off. “I broke a rib. I didn’t really… I don’t.” He laughed sheepishly as you raised your eyebrows. “I’m fine. It’s good,” he brushed.

You picked your gaze off the pavement finally, focusing on his discolored black eye and busted lip. He didn’t seem to be too hurt, but he wore his wounds well. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” He asked, voice changing slightly. You drew in a sharp breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before it could get further knotted in the wind. A few people narrowed their eyes at the two of you and you wondered how you looked together. What kind of juxtaposition it was; his tall, dark figure looking like death in Doc Martens while you barely passed his shoulder in height with your less intimidating color scheme.

You debated how to answer him. Your eyes flickered to his dangly earring; a silver ankh. He ate another jellybean. “I was at first. I’m still kind of weary of you, I guess,” you muttered, making a smile bite into his features.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, which you were beginning to believe was a habit when he was coming up with what to say. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

You shook your head. A blush crept to your cheeks. “No, I kind of like it,” you mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. His hand slipped into yours and you could feel your chest tighten.

“You like being scared of me?” His voice was dripping with allure, making you bite your tongue in a flushed embarrassment. “You just keep getting better and better,” he teased, making your ears burn.

You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but God, were you thankful for Clay’s hands as they kneaded your ass, his lips pressing against yours. He ground his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth as your nails sank into his tattooed skin. His tongue pressed past your lips, his large hand moving to fist in the sheets beside you before dragging up your shirt to grip your breast.

You breathlessly moaned as he broke your kiss, lips trailing down your body as he sat back on his knees, dragging your underwear off as your shirt was also discarded to the floor. He looped his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth as his concentrated stare shifted to your eyes before he buried himself between your legs, your body tensing as a groan ripped through your body. Your fingers carded through his soft blond hair, tugging slightly in appraisal as he pulled away from you.

Clay looked up at you again, slowly pressing one of his long fingers into you, you moaned his name, reaching one of your hands up to grip at the headboard above you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, voice deep with lust as his breath fanned against your wet core. He pushed another finger into you as you nodded. He pressed his lips to your thigh. “I can’t believe you’re scared of me,” he mocked, making you whimper as his fingers pulsed against your sweet spot.

He pressed his lips to your core again, tongue teasing at your nerves as you caught your lips between your teeth. You moved your knee further up his arm for a better angle, driving him deeper. He pulled away, his fingers speeding up. “So needy,” he chuckled, the sound enough to send you over the edge if you really thought about it.

“Clay, please. I want you,” you whined softly, your thighs threatening to close around his head. His eyes sparkled devilishly, leaning away from you before tugging your legs towards him. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, jaw tensing as you moaned around him.

He grabbed your hips, flipping your body and pushing your shoulders into the mattress. You heard him unbuckling his belt and your fingers knitted into the sheets beneath you. He pulled you back by the shoulders, hand moving to hold onto your neck. “Maybe I should give you something to be scared of,” he chided, making a shiver run up your spine as he pushed your thighs apart driving himself up into you. You were sure you would tear in half at the sheer size of him, but you bit back your whimpers at the pleasuring pain.

One of your hands moved to grip onto his arm as he thrust into you, his teeth threatening to dig into your shoulder as you moaned. His other hand moved to tease at your nerves, his determination to summon your orgasm sending your head reeling. You tilted back your head, resting against his shoulder as his hand tightened around your throat.

He let go of you, dipping you against the mattress again as his fist knotted in your hair. He steadied himself, leaning on one of his arms beside your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he thrusted into you at an ungodly pace, lips hovering beside your ear as he grunted your name and how good you felt.

You pushed your hips up against him turning your head enough that he pressed his lips against yours, the vibrations from his moans sending heat throughout your body. Clay’s tongue slipped into your mouth roughly, tasting your whimpers and lust. His teeth dragged against your lip as you felt him throb inside of you.

He pushed your shoulder back, moving you on your side as your leg curled around. At the new angle, he could drive himself deeper into you; dark green eyes focused on yours as his warmed breath cascaded over your chest. His hand moved to your jaw, running his thumb against your burning lips as his sights were almost hungrily looking upon you. Your breathing became shallow as he smirked at you, moving his hand to your throat again.

He leaned down, slowing his pace to drag in and out of you as his lips were close to your ear. He applied pressure, your breath hitching in your throat. “So pretty. Good girl, taking me so well,” he praised, making you moan as he kissed you again before speeding up his thrusts. You moaned out his name again, finishing as your eyes fluttered shut. He chuckled darkly, pounding into you harder. “Fuck,” he hissed, lips pressing to the skin behind your ears, digging his face into your hair as he chased his high.

He exhaled, breath blanketing your skin before he kissed your shoulder, cheek, and finally your lips in a quiet appraisal. You pulled him into the spot beside you. He ran his fingers through his hair as you curled against his side, his other hand brushing softly against your arm. You knotted your fingers with his, brushing your thumb against where your faded number rested. “Didn’t you just break a rib?” You asked, finally noticing the slide bruising on his side.

Clay chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think I was running on adrenaline until a second ago,” he groaned.

Dream Tag List: (to join, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake

#dream x reader #alt!dream #alt!dreamwastaken #dream smut #dream imagine #dream au #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt smut #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken x you #🌸 anon

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