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sorrowsofsilence · 3 days

Text

Cymbal-ism • Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: smut 18+ (unprotected pnv, pls wrap it b4 u tap it; male!recieving, slight degrading, rough!folio) enemies to lovers, arguing/bickering

Prompt: You're the new bad omens drum tech, and Nick Folio sure does get on your nerves. Is he a pain in the ass? Or is it the fact you two have some un-discussed sexual tension? Sent via anon

Author note: its hella late, ive had three margaritas, and this is not proofread lol

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

“You’re fucking insufferable,” you muttered under your breath as you brushed passed the short-haired brunette, shoulders knocking against him.

He scoffed, his golden brows narrowing as he hollered after you down the hallway, “Huh? What did you say?”

You glanced his way, flashing him the middle finger with a sarcastic smile while you opened the studio door, before slamming it loudly behind you in frustration.

Nick fucking Folio.

You two got off on the wrong foot the first day you met him two weeks ago. You had bought coffee for the team as a kind gesture, hoping to make a great first impression since you would be with them around Europe for two months.

However, shit hit the fan when you and Folio collided in the hallway as you got off the elevator, spilling the drinks all over him, and immediately giving him a childish vendetta.

To him, if his new drum tech was that clumsy, this tour would be the longest two months of his life. But to you, he was the one who entered the elevator looking down at his phone, not paying attention.

And even though you two barely knew each other, he already made your blood boil.

Perhaps it was the fact he was always trying to nit-pick every little thing you did or the way his attitude was always witty, having a sarcastic retort for everything you said.

It’s also possible it was the way Jolly, your childhood best friend and how you landed the job in the first place, was constantly teasing you about the sexual tension budding between you and Folio.

Or deep down, you thought that maybe it was the way Nick’s annoyingly perfect hair slicked back so effortlessly, or how flawless his ochre eyes were when he glared at you, the deep abyss titillating every time his brows furrowed in your direction.

Everything about him, and to do with him, pissed you off.

But it made you even more mad that you found him extremely attractive, his presence making your heart pound with anger and infatuation.

Nick stormed into the room, kicking the door closed with his foot, “If you’re going to insult me just do it to my face, you coward.”

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you said, kneeling next to the drum kit, loosening bolts on the boom stand.

Folio hovered over you, analyzing your movements as you adjusted the cymbals, taking them down one by one to place them in their cases. There was less than an hour until sound check, and none of the drum gear was moved from the studio room to the stage- thanks to somebody.

Groaning, you stopped to look up at him in annoyance, “I’m glad you think I’m pretty Folio, but maybe you can take your eyes off me and help? Instead of ogling?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he started sliding the copper off of the loosened bars, “I’m just making sure you’re not fucking up my set.”

“Sure buddy,” you said, standing up and starting to unscrew the kick drum.

The two of you worked in tense silence, the air thick as miffed glances were shared taking apart the kit.

You tried not to watch the way his arms would flex as he twisted the rack tom, tattoos glistening slightly as the room heated.

You averted your eyes for a final time when they met his once again, stacking the cases onto the trolly to wheel it out to the stage.

Folio pushed passed you to grab the handles, ready to cart it down the hall even though it was your job.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You asked as you trailed way too closely behind him, just to push his buttons. The smell of his faint cologne and slight musk of weed on his tanktop left your heart picking up pace.

“Of course I do,” He mumbled, about to walk past the stage entrance.

“To the left- the left-” you shook your head, staring at him with disdain, as he completely ignored you and continued walking, “Oh my god- Folio! it was left!”

You heard a chuckle behind you as Jolly and Ruffilo walked down the hall, stopping at the backstage door as they watched you humorously.

Rolling your head back you gave them an exasperated look, sighing audibly.

“You two ok?” Jolly smiled, folding his arms.

Shaking your head in frustration you bitterly laughed, “He is the biggest pain in my ass. I’m seriously debating quitting the industry as a whole.”

Ruffilo snickered, glancing at Jolly and then Folio, “He only does that because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Excuse me-” Nick interjected, shaking his head in disagreement, “I’d rather kiss a wall for five hours. At least it would be quiet.”

Shooting them a pointed look you walked passed the boys as they chuckled, letting Folio follow you onto the stage.

It only took about ten minutes to set the kit back up before you sat on the stool, practicing a few solos to test the position.

Nick watched in irritation from the side, but what you didn’t know was under all that show, was an immense amount of admiration. The brunette loved watching you play. He was always impressed with your coordination and keen ear, the ability for you to instantly stop playing and slightly adjust a drum before falling right back into a quick rhythm, breathtaking.

He’d never want to admit how good you are; but he would always be biting back a smile as he watched you test out his kit for him, making sure it was set and tuned to perfection.

You sighed once you finished your adjustments, before tossing Nick the sticks.

“All yours pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” He huffed, before looking at the kit, “Also, your dumb ass forgot the hi-hat.”

Not believing him at first you glanced at the drums before swiftly swearing to yourself.

He was right.

Getting up you pushed past Nick, but he followed you back down to the studio, an annoyed murmuring coming from your mouth. As you entered through the door Folio closed it behind you, locking it.

“Nick seriously what-” You began, but were cut off by the brunette.

“God, do you ever shut that annoying fucking mouth of yours?” He said, standing close to you as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“If it’s so annoying to you, make me,” You scoffed, tilting your head to the side.

The proximity of Nick subconsciously began to make your face warm as you backed up from him, but he was right on your trail.

You hit the soft padded wall of the studio, Folio’s body millimetres from pinning yours against the surface.

The tension grew as you both stared at each other with hatred.

“Fuck, you.” Nick spat, false venom dripping off his words.

Without hesitating you sneered, “You wouldn’t, pussy.”

It took all of two seconds before his auburn eyes flicked to your lips, a greedy hand reaching up and gripping your jaw as his mouth attached to yours.

It didn’t take long before you melted into Nick’s touch, angry at how good his tongue felt swiping against yours, the grip on your face tightening as his other hand reached to grip a fist full of your hair at the back of your head.

Fury, hatred, and lust fueled the fire between you two as your fingers gripped his belt loops, tugging his hips toward you as you began rutting against him.

You wanted nothing more than to claw down his skin, begging to dig your nails across the ivory and ink, embedding your mark. You wanted him to wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as your imprint but decided that grazing your teeth along his lips would have to do.

Nick moaned into you, quite literally ready to tear your shirt off, tempted to rip the cloth from its seam and destroy the fabric; but he withheld himself, aware that the two of you were hallways away from the exit to the tour bus.

The two of you pulled away panting, catching your breath.

“What the hell are we-”

Nick stared into your eyes, attempting to shift his desire into a glare as he leaned down to bite against your neck, nipping and kissing down the skin, “Just shut up, for five minutes. Please.”

A small whimper escaped you as his tongue grazed your collarbone, Folio’s fingers fiddling with the button on your jeans. You shimmed the fabric down your legs, kicking it off as you tugged at his tanktop, pulling it over his head.

His fingers gripped your hips, pulling them toward his own as he rubbed against your underwear, the bulge and stiffened desire evidence of how badly he wanted this. Reaching for the bottom of your shirt you tore it off your torso, exposing your chest.

Folio pushed your hips into the wall as his fingers danced along the hem of the thong you wore, threatening to dip lower to where you wanted him most.

“Please,” You whispered, desperation falling from your tone.

Folio shook his head, almost throwing his head back in humour, “We need to do something about your mouth.”

He pushed your shoulders, beckoning you to the ground before pulling his belt from the clasp. Freeing himself from his jeans, you watched hungrily as he gripped the back of your head, lining up his hardened desire to your lips.

“Open. Now.”

You obeyed, too turned on to fight back his commands. Wrapping around him you began to suck along the skin, closing your eyes as you relished in the feeling of how hard he was, all for this.

You reached up to stroke the base but he gripped your wrist, holding you in place as his hips thrust forward. He took complete control of how fast and how deep he went, using you to his desire.

“Your whore mouth exists for me to fuck,” Nick swore, his other hand holding the base of your neck as if feeling for himself through your skin, “All that backtalk can be shoved right down your pretty throat.”

Moaning at his words you closed your eyes, gagging on Nick’s thrusts as you took your free hand between your thighs, allowing yourself to slide past your panties to trace small circles against the skin.

Your arousal coated your fingers as your hips rutted against your hand, Nick’s fingers leaving your wrist to grip the back of your head. He pushed you down further on him, your eyes watering as he forced you to gag along his cock.

Air dissipated from your lungs, your body shuddering from the lack of oxygen momentarily before Nick pulled you away, causing you to cough.

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost chuckling.

You licked and sucked against him for a moment longer, before he pulled you up, gripping your hips. He kissed you desperately again for a few more minutes as his cock pressed against your thigh, before you pulled away, a hand against his chest.

“Are you going to just kiss me, or fuck me like you said you would?” You pushed, your hand gripping his erection, fingers dancing across his skin.

Nick moaned into your lips again before taking his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers between your folds as he prepared your body for his, “Don’t make it a challenge, or you won’t be able to walk after.”

The brunette lifted your leg, gripping underneath your thigh as he hoisted it up to his hip, positioning himself against your arousal. It was a matter of seconds before he slid between you, your body taking him eagerly as your head fell back, mouth agape at the sensation.

He filled you fully, satiating the hunger you always had for the drummer as he began to thrust into your core, pounding senselessly. The angle gave him access to where you wanted him most, soft cries heaving from your chest as your brows furrowed.

Frustration dissipated into pleasure as Nick gave you everything, fucking you with complete adoration and need. Your nails gripped his shoulders, digging into the skin with haste as you rested your forehead against his neck.

“I hate how gorgeous I think you are,” Nick mumbled into your ear, soft groans escaping him.

Your laugh turned into a moan as his fingers trailed to stimulate you while he thrust, your body convulsing from the bliss, “I hate your perfect laugh, and how you have a lopsided smile.”

“I hate how talented you are.”

“I hate the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

“I hate how you walk with a skip when you’re excited.”

Your eyes lidded as Nick gripped the back of your head, forcing you to watch him as he spit on himself, lubricating your combined story as you pushed into him to meet his hips.

His thrusts began to waver as you clenched around him, the stimulation from his cock and fingers causing your legs to shake. Nick was close himself, trying to push you to the edge first before allowing himself release.

“I h-hate how-” You tried to get out your words as complete bliss took over, but Folio’s lips attached to yours once again, his pace never ceasing through your orgasm. Your walls engulfed him as Nick succumbed to you, his breathing staggered and haste as his chest vibrated in contentment.

His hips jerked into you as he allowed himself relief, taking over your body.

You watched him for a moment before his eyes met yours, lips agape in a pant.

The brunette shook his head as his fingers squeezed the skin along your torso, “We have two minutes till sound check.”

“Of course, you’re making us late,” you frowned.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Tags: @sammyjoeee @spicywhenspeaking @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @foliosgirl @thatchickwiththecamera @blackveilomens @xserenax-13

#nick folio fic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio smut #nick folio x reader #Nick folio #nick folio bad omens #bad omens smut #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #sorrows of silence #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers smut

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jadegrey711 · 3 years

Text

Snow Covered Dream

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves so I got this request for a soft Eric Northan what feels like eons ago, and I’m finally feeling some inspiration for it. It’s been particularly hard for me for this one since when i originally started writing for it I had a good thing going and while I was an my ipad i rotated it and somehow deleted everything I had. So this is attempt number two for this one. I hope you guys like it and if you could show it some love! And to the sweet person who sent this request in I really hope you think it’s worth the wait.

Prompt: Hey can I send a request in for Eric Northman x reader please? Could you maybe do one where him and the reader have been seeing each other for some time now and then they have sex for the first time and it’s really sweet and the reader lets eric bite her for the first time and they just realise how much they love each other, if not don’t worry about it! Thank you, love your writing!

*NOT MY GIF. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Word Count: 3212 Holy fuck this became it’s own novel. I think this is the most I’ve ever written for something like this. Fuck i hope it’s not shit

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

Warnings: 18+ people. Oral (f recieving), mentions of blowjobs, Tantric sex (if you squint), vaginal sex

Song Inspiration:

Best Part - Daniel Caesar, H.E.R

Morning View - Towkio, SZA

Looking Through your Eyes - LeAnn Rimes

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This isn’t the first time that Eric has stolen you away for some kind of romantic adventure. He’s been around for a thousand years and there’s just so many places he wants to show you; places you’ve never even heard of and spots that feel like no other human has laid a foot there before.

However, this adventure felt different, like when it was over Eric wasn’t planning on letting you go; like he planned to keep you and you couldn’t find anything bad about that.

“Eric are you ever going to tell me where we are going?” You smiled, seeing the mischievous smirk on his lips.

“We are already here, sötma.” he stated and you swore his smile got wider, as you quickly whipped your head back towards the window to see if you could finally see your destination. But only found the same endless snowy expanse out your window.

“Where?”

“This is all of my property. It’s not huge but just a bit further up this road there’s a little house I keep for when I want to truly get away from everything.”

You waited for a few more minutes keeping your eyes peeled out the window for any sign of the house and then suddenly just out in the distance you saw a spot of bright red. You felt your excitement grow as you watched the house steadily come into view. That spot of bright red growing until you could finally see the whole house; a bright red one that was nestled right in the middle of the property surrounded by what looked like a small farm house and hidden away by the snow covered pine trees that surrounded it.To put it in a word it looked magical.

“Do you like it sötma?” Eric asked, turning his head just enough to gauge your reaction.

“Oh Eric! It’s so beautiful! It’s like a snow covered dream.” You said wistfully and then pulled your focus from the car window to Eric and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

Eric hummed his satisfaction. “I’m so glad you like it. This is one of my favorite places and I thought I might share it with one of my favorite people. I can’t wait to show you the rest of the house, I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will.” You beamed at him and took his hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “I’m never disappointed with anything you show me Eric.”

Eric said nothing at your praise, but simply took your hand that was holding his and pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, before taking your wrist and kissing the palm of your hand; sending a flush of warmth through you despite the endless cold outside the car.

When Eric pulled up in front of the house, you immediately got out of the car and stepped out onto the fresh snow just to marvel at the bright red house. The way the snow was settled perfectly on the tops of the roof and on the pine trees that surrounded the house it looked like the perfect christmas card.

“How come you never told me you lived in a Hallmark movie?” You asked turning back to face Eric who had both your bag and his slung under each arm.

“I don’t. It’s just Sweden. Everything looks like a Hallmark movie here in winter.” he chuckled as the both of you walked towards the large wooden front door. Eric easily maneuvered the bags in his hands to pull out the small set of keys and quickly unlocked the front door, letting you both into the house and out of the cold of the outside. However, there wasn’t much relief from the cold inside the house either.

You started to shiver as you made your way to the center of the cold house, clutching your jacket tighter to your body.

Eric looked over and saw you shivering and immediately took off his jacket and put it on top of your shoulders. “I’ll get a fire going in a second sötma.For right now I want you to sit here.” He said as he pulled your shivering body into a main sitting room where a very large fireplace sat on the far wall.

Eric sat you down on the plush sofa that laid in front of the fireplace and you clutched his jacket tighter to your body as you watched Eric get the fire going with his quick and efficient hands.

Hours later after you and Eric unpacked your things and both of you had your dinner. You found yourself sitting in Eric’s lap on a fur rug in front of that luxurious fire. The feeling of the fire warming your skin and the feel of Eric underneath you as he stroked her hair lovingly, warmed more than just your skin; you felt your heart and soul warm from the contentment that you felt in this moment.

As content as you were though in this moment you knew that you wanted more. You wanted more from Eric than just his soft kisses and loving caresses, you weren’t a fool you knew the reputation that surrounded Eric when you started seeing him.

Ruthless killer and slayer of hearts but that wasn’t the side he presented you with everyday nor was it something he tried hiding from you. It wasn’t something that you felt like he needed to hide anyway. Everyone has shit in their past and in Eric’s case he’s got a whole mountain range of shit he’s got to deal with from his past but he’s grown and you’ve seen that growth. Hell. You being here wrapped safely in his arms in some remote house in god knows where Sweden should be proof enough of that growth; of the trust you place in him. So much so that you feel confident enough to pull from his soft touches and look at him in those blazing glacier eyes.

You let out a small breath, and reached out your hand, cupping his face before you pulled him slowly in for a soft lingering kiss. Eric hummed his approval against your lips and then you took him by surprise as you tilted your head slightly and deepened the kiss, your tongue playfully dipping in his mouth and tangling with his.

You smiled against Eric’s lips as you heard him let out a low growl, his strong hands that were at his side, coming up to grab your hips bringing you closer to his body. You let out a low gasp as Eric pressed you closer to his body and you felt just how hard he was for you already.

You pulled your sweet lips away from Eric’s smirking as you heard him softly whisper “No.” when you pulled away. But you or your lips didn’t go far. You pulled away just enough that you were still most definitely in kissing range.

Eric watched you as you placed your small hands on his strong chest, letting you control every action and determining just how far this night was going to go. He loved it when you were brave for him, with him, taking control and taking what you want from him. He’s waited for this moment for so long but one word from you and he would go jump in the endless snow outside and quickly cure himself of his raging hard on.

Your hands continued their leisurely journey down Eric’s chest until you got to the hem of his shirt. You looked back up at Eric’s face, as if you were asking permission. He nodded and your fingers brushed the skin underneath his shirt and gasped at how cold he was. But you didn’t let that deter you one bit as you grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it up and over his head; with Eric’s help of course. And then your hands were all over his bare chest starting back up at his strong shoulders, then trailing down his chest your fingers stop over where his heart is; and feeling a certain sadness that you wouldn’t feel it’s steady beat under your touch.

Eric seemed to sense what you were feeling and grabbed your chin making you look up at him. “Your heart is big enough that it beats for the both of us, sötma.” he whispered lovingly before placing a kiss on your lips and letting your chin go so you can continue with your exploration.

You leaned down and placed a kiss to that spot on his chest, biting your lip when you heard Eric’s little gasp. Your hands went down feeling his hard abs and then those delicious hip “v’s” that you so desperately needed to run your tongue over but maybe later tonight. You looked back up at Eric’s face and grabbed one of his massive hands; Eric watched intently as you flipped his hand over and started to lovingly trace the lines there.

Eric couldn’t help himself any longer the same hand that you so lovingly traced he used to cup your cheek, and traced your lips with his thumb.

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” He asked as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head leaving your chest bare to him.

You felt your cheeks flush. “No. I don’t think you’ve ever told me before. Why don’t you count the ways.” You giggled and let out a little squeal as Eric flipped the both of you over so your back was to the soft fur rug and he was sprawled out on top of you.

“You’re such a little shit you know that?” He smirked as he leaned down and kissed a spot at your chest, giving it a little suck. Making whatever little smart comment you were about to say dissolve from your mind as you felt Eric ladden your body with open mouth kisses. First to your neck and then your collarbones and then to the spot right where your heart was.

“Eric.” his name falling from your mouth in a breathy whisper.

His hair tickled your face as he kissed lower and you let out a gasp as his tongue swirled around your nipple, making your back arch from the surprise of it.

“So sensitive.” he chided and you felt a gush of warmth spread between your thighs at his words. Before you watched him bring that nipple into his mouth and give it a light suck before he went to do the same to the other. “I wonder where else you're sensitive.” He purred as you felt his lips brush reverently against the bottom of your breasts before continuing his journey to where you were most sensitive.

You tangled your hands in his hair as he reached your pants and he held your gaze as he undid each of the buttons, making you smile as he lifted your hips up and pulled your pants completely off, leaving you completely bare to him.

“Oh, Y/N.” He purred as he admired your naked body sprawled out in front of him on his fur rug looking like a norse goddess. “Every part of you is a gift.” He said as he grabbed one of your legs and placed soft kisses there before doing the same to the other. He loved how sprawled out you were for him like a feast all for him.

“Eric.” You moaned out his name again as you watched him settle himself between your legs, his strong shoulders keeping you spreaded out for him as you watched as he took his index finger and ran it down your slit making you gasp. You watched eagerly as he placed that finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Just as sweet as I knew you’d be, baby.” He smirked and then you felt his tongue flick up your folds before swirling around your clit making your hips buck up into his face.

You watched as Eric swiveled his head side to side and elicited more moans from you each one getting louder and louder as he sucked your clit and he fucked you with his tongue. Your fingers alternated between burying themselves in Eric’s soft hair to gripping the fur rug behind you as you watched Eric devour you.

As you felt your orgasm climb you started to writhe under Eric but he easily placed his strong arm over you stomach keeping you under his delicious torture. “Eric, baby I’m gonna come.” You moaned, feeling like you were going to fall over the edge any second.

“Go ahead baby, come for me. Let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart.” He purred before he added his fingers and crooked them inside you and you fell apart. Eric ate you out through your orgasm letting you ride that wave of pleasure until you finally went limp under him.

You watched with shaky breaths as Eric pulled away from you giving your clit a kiss before smiling up at you. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this sweet pussy, sötma.” he said before climbing up and kissing you deeply letting you taste yourself.

“Are you ready for me, sötma?” He asked and then you felt his strong fingers rub against your soaked folds before he entered you feeling how wet you were for him. “Oh yeah, I think you’re ready for me.” He smiled, kissing you again before standing up and unbuttoning his pants before quickly discarding them.

He looked like a god from this angle, all strong and hard muscles as he loomed over you, his hard cock springing to his stomach. You’d never been particularly fond of blowjobs mainly because of how your past lovers would grab your head and try to force you down more. But you didn’t feel that Eric you wanted to be at his knees lavishing him with pleasure while he stroked your head lovingly gifting you with lavish praises about how good you were for him.

Maybe another night. You thought to yourself.

Eric knelt back down till he was sprawled back over you and proceeded to ladden you with soft open mouth kisses, his hands massaging your breasts until you could feel the need between your legs grow until it was too much; you needed Eric now.

“Eric, please.” You moaned breathily.

“Are you sure you want me now? We have all night, baby.” He said, kissing your neck again. “Maybe you let me play with that pussy for another hour and then I’ll fuck you.”

You felt you center throb at the thought at what kind of pleasure could pull from you in an hour; not still not fuck you.

“No. I want you Eric. I need you inside me now. Please.” You whispered in his ear earning a low growl from him.

“Well, there’s no way I can deny such a pretty girl when she’s begging for me.” He hummed and you felt his hard length press up against your folds. “This what you want from me?” He asked, knowing full well, that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me?” you gasped feeling Eric’s hard length press deeper into you, letting you get used to him as he stretched you out for him.

“Oh baby you’ve got such a mouth on you. I can’t wait to see it wrapped around my cock. I just know you’d look so pretty on your knees for me.” He purred as he slid home, making you moan in his ear as he pressed close to your body,to your warmth.

Eric kept his pace slow letting you get used to his invasion but also to leave you breathless and wanting under him. He knows what you want; that you want him to pound into you and he will have no worry about that. He can’t wait to hear the lewd sounds of your wet pussy as he drives into you over and over until you scream his name. But right now he wants to draw this out, really feel each part of you and then he’ll pound into your aching pussy.

“Eric, please.” you breathed out, your nails gripping his back as he kept his pace slow and sensual, making you writhe beneath him.

“Please what? Sötma.”

“Harder.” You begged.

Eric chuckled against your skin. “I just can’t deny you anything can I?” He asked, looking at your face.

“Please Eric.”

“Alright, baby.” He said and before you knew it, Eric pulled out of you and brought his hands under your back and brought you up to his until you were straddling him and just as quickly as he pulled out of you, did he plunge himself back into your wet folds; setting a brutal pace as he fucked up into you.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your hands wrapped around Eric and held him close as he fucked you.

“Is this what you want, baby?”

“Yes.” You whimpered, kissing Eric’s neck and sucked at the spot where his shoulder and neck meet earning a low groan from him.

“Oh Eric!” You moaned, your nails gripping onto his back. “I-I I’m going to come.”

“Come for me sötma. Grip me with that tight little pussy of yours.” He growled as he drove into you harder and you felt yourself go supernova as your orgasm racked your body. Eric held you tight, slowing his pace down just enough to let you ride through your orgasm.

After a few seconds though you felt Eric’s pace quicken again and to your surprise his quickening pace was building you up to another orgasm.

“Eric. I don’t think I can survive another one.” You moaned, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Eric tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled enough to bring your face to his.

“You can and you will baby. I want to feel you squeeze my cock again, with that beautiful pussy.” He growled and kissed you, his hand leaving your hair to snake between your bodies and rub small circles on your oversensitive clit and you gasped into his kiss as you felt your orgasm crash over you as Eric held you close to him, as he chased his own end.

“Fuck! I love you so much, Y/N.” He screamed as his own orgasm crashed over him, holding you closer to his body as he fell back down onto the soft fur rug underneath him.

As you laid on top of Eric trying to calm your breathing and find your equilibrium again. Eric’s fingers found your hair again and stroked it lovingly.

“I love you too ya know?” You smiled and kissed his chest. “And not just for the sex. Although I could definitely get used to that.” You laughed.

“You are trouble.” He said, scrunching his nose at you before bringing your lips to his in another searing kiss.

#jade tries writing #smutty smut smut #true blood #true blood oneshots #eric northman x you #eric northman oneshots #eric northman x reader #eric northman imagine #true blood imagines #jadegrey writes #my writing

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legoshi-plz · 4 years

Note

Sending nudes headcanon? (Gn reader if you're comfortable enough 💜)

I know this was sent a while ago but this seemed like something quick and fun plus I miss you guys so here goes!

Warning: NSFW +18

///////

Legoshi:

- Doesn’t send them and freaks out when he receives them.

- Recieving them kinda just makes him feel awkward and embarrassed, not a turn on AT ALL.

- If he has a significant other who expressed they would like him to send them pics, he would try his best for them.

- When he takes them, the position is awkward, the lens is slightly out of focus, and his position is about as unsexy as it gets HOWEVER, Legoshi’s body is impeccable and his dick is gorgeous + long/thick so it more than makes up for his terrible photography skills.

Louis:

- Doesn’t ask for nudes but gets sent them quite frequently. The type to keep every nude from every person whose ever sent them to him (never knows when he might need it for blackmail).

- Doesn’t really do anything with the nudes that are sent to him because they kinda repulse him (the unsolicited ones anyway) but when he receives them from his significant other, those actually will turn him on. If he’s not able to get to you soon, he WILL jerk off to them.

- Doesn’t send nudes of himself but will send slutty pics with his shirt off showing off his chiseled chest accompanied by an equally slutty message like “miss how you taste” “could use some company ;)” etc.

- The KING of sending pics with his dickprint on full display in a pair of loose boxers or sweatpants. Also comes with a slutty caption like “come sit on it”

Juno:

- Loves to send nudes and receive nudes but only from her S/O.

- The type to send random nudes out of nowhere just because she thought she looked hot.

- If you send her a nude, she’ll send you back a full video of her fucking herself with her fingers to your pics, showing you just how much they turned her on.

- Effortlessly takes gorgeous nudes that almost look professional without even trying (she’s naturally photogenic)

Gouhin:

- He’s a little old school so he doesn’t really send nudes unless prompted to.

- But when he does, the man literally looks like the embodiment of Sin.

- Chiseled abdominal, magnificent arms, his hulking frame, the perfectly carved V leading down to the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. He’s literally anyone’s walking wetdream come to life.

- Speaking of pretty dicks, his is massive and thick and hella veiny and oozes clear precum that really makes his dick glisten and it’s just really erotic.

- Surprisingly good at taking nudes. The angles are always hot and he’ll even flex for them, especially flexes his arms (he’s super proud of them.)

- Doesn’t complain about receiving nudes but he hates a tease so if you send him something, you better be busting it wide open for him. Nothing cheeky or suggestive, he wants to see you SPREAD ‘EM!

Jack:

- Innocent baby boy. When he gets a nude, he’s gonna need a couple hours of alone time because him and his hand are about to become extremely acquainted.

- The type to write you entire paragraphs describing what your body does to him and exactly what he wants to do with you when he gets you alone. Sometimes even starts typing paragraphs about how lucky he is to have you and how much you mean to him (he’s a complete sap)

- Tries to reciprocate but his nudes are pretty awful. Especially since he’s a grower not a shower. Also he always has these huge dopey grins on his face while taking them which makes the whole thing more comical than sexy.

Bill:

- A complete and utter fuckboy but we all already knew that.

- Sends nudes unsolicited because he’s terrible.

- If he were to ever settle down and find a significant other, he would overload them with a multitude of nudes every time he’s horny and they’re away (and he has absolutely NO SHAME about it).

- Seriously, make sure you’re alone before you open ANY of his text messages. You could text him and ask him if he needs anything while you’re at the grocery store and he’ll text you back a picture of his dick and say “for you to come here and suck it”

- If you send him nudes, he’ll drop what he’s doing to call you so the two of you can have phone sex (again he has utterly no shame)

- His nudes are pretty generic. He loves to take full body ones because he loves to show off his stripes and the white fur on his tummy/chest. Also he’s got a pretty nice physique that he likes to show off as well.

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mangolover · 3 years

Note

Hi! May I request Childe from genshin impact with prompt 3? Gender neutral reader. Thank you!

Hey! Thank you so much for the request!

I honestly really enjoyed writing this to the point I had to rewrite in the shorther version because original one was too long, hehe.

Anyways, I really like Childe and really tried to do him justice, but the man just screams angst to me (and the prompt didn’t help), so I’m sorry if you were expecting some Childe fluff.

Anyways, without further ado, here’s your request!

50 Followers Drabble Event, prompt #3 with Childe

If you wish to check out the offical “50 Followers Drabble Event”, press here

Title: Painful Letter

Prompt: “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe x gn! reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: descriptions of depression (kinda?), heartbreak

Spoilers: none

Word Count: 800+

Description: Childe left you without a single letter for 9 months and you decided to go on an adventure around Teyvat in an attempt to heal your breaking heart, only to recieve a short letter that will bring back panful feelings and thoughts to you.

I honestly think that Zhongli, Beidou and Xiangling would be amazing friends.

Also I am aware that drabble is supposed to be under 100 words, but I consider it to be under 1000 words

Painful Letter

You were holding a letter addressed to you in your hand, the fingers of the other hand tracing over your name on the envelope. You almost forgot about it, one fatui agent from Northland Bank shoved it into your hands while you were in a rush, desperately trying to make it to ship on time before its departure from the harbor. You decided to go on an adventure around Teyvat in an attempt to heal your breaking heart.

He had left a year ago, telling you it will only be up to 3 months, but that he will try to return by the end of the month. All the promised letters stopped coming after the original deadline slipped by and you were left with no explanation. Childe had to go to Snezhnaya for some Fatui business and you respected that. You knew that he was one of the Harbingers and you didn’t plan on meddling in his work.

You didn’t dare hope it was from him, but you didn’t know who else it could be from. Maybe Beidou sending you a letter from one of her adventures? But then Fatui wouldn’t be the one to give it to you. You were hesitant to open it as you sat on your bed, the ship rocking slowly with the waves of the ocean, it almost seemed like it was trying to soothe you. Did something bad happen? Is this bad news?

You were heartbroken after you worried so much for the ginger haired man, you got nothing for more than half a year and yet one the first thought of something happening to him you were ready to recklessly run to his side to save him. Countless tears were shed on many sleepless nights. Good 4 months were spent in the harbor, awaiting his return or a letter explaining his extended absence, but you got nothing. After that you holed yourself up in your shared home and lost the will to do anything, holding onto the hope that he will come back any day now and apologize with a tight embrace. Some days you didn’t even have the strength to get out of your bed and dress yourself so Xiangling and Zhongli made it their mission to make sure you get enough food, soothing tea and fresh air while your best friend Beidou was away on her travels, picking you up some souvenirs to try and make you feel better, but to no avail.

After what seemed like hours, you finally tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper. Your eyes eagerly scanned the neatly written words while the torn envelope was in your other fist, clenched tight to prevent your tears when it quickly became clear it was in fact a letter from Tartaglia.

“My dear y/n,

I know that the deadline I set for myself has long passed by us and yet I have not returned. Besides I had plenty of time to write you bunch of letters, but I didn’t for any reason. Maybe I was just to immersed into the work and battles to remember?

Anyways, as you may heard, the work here is not yet done and Signora should be arriving to Liyue soon so you can ask her some questions if you’d like, she agreed to answer if you catch her when she’s not hiding in the shadows.

But scrap that, how are you? How’s mister Zhongli? How are things in Liyue going? Have you been taking care of yourself y/n?

I hope I’ll be able to come home soon,

Your Childe”

‘That bastard!’ was your only thought as you read the too short letter once again. He didn’t even apologize for not saying a word for 9 months, almost like the cold weather of Snezhnaya has frozen his heart. But one question in particular has caught your full attention.

‘Have you been taking care of yourself?’ you felt hot tears prickle the corners of your eyes and you tried to muffle a sob by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth. You felt like you had broken some unsaid promise to him and that this was your punishment, Childe going M.I.A. for months only to sent a letter like nothing had happened., even stating that he had time to write to you, only he forgot. By now you let the tears fall freely from your eyes as you laid on your side, hugging your knees to your chest as you tried to muffle your sobs. You still love him and this whole journey was a mistake, but now you could only continue it to try and repair the new holes left in your heart.

“No, I have not been taking care of myself, but I’ll start from now on for you, my love. Hopefully I’ll see you once I return with my heart in one piece again” you silently murmured to yourself.

That night when the shining moon was already high in the starry sky, you went on the deck with the both the envelope and the letter. You crumpled them into a ball and tossed them far into the water with a sad smile and tear stained cheeks.

This was the first step to start taking care of yourself and you were ready to take it, for him.

#🥭#50 followers drabble event #genshin impact angst #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact childe #childe x reader #childe x gn reader #genshin childe #genshin childe x reader #genshin childe angst #tw depressive #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressive stuff #tw implied neglect #tw unhealthy relationship #tw angst

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Ladybug (Not) in Paris

So this is the follow up fic to my Series Ladybug in Smallville and it’s sequel Ladybug in Gotham (And Space). When i opened my asks a few days ago, i recieved multiple prompts asking for part 3. A lot people also asked for a reaction from people in Paris after Lila was exposed. I don’t think I did a fic just focused on the fallout before so I decided to try my hand at it. Warning: i’m not kind to the characters. Even the ones i usually like. Sorry.

Ladybug (Not) in Paris

Ladybug’s interview with Nadja didn’t just sent shock waves through Paris. It was a hurricane, a tornado; throwing everyone off their feet and destroying everything in its wake. Yet somehow, it was the aftermath, when everything settled down, that hurt the most…

Tom and Sabine

Four months ago, they had thought they had done right thing. Marinette, as far as Sabine and Tom were concerned, had changed too much. They hardly recognized her anymore. First the accusations of her bullying some poor girl; of being a thief and a liar. Then expulsion! But no matter how much evidence was presented against the young girl, Marinette refused to budge on her claim of innocence. Their daughter’s actions had weeks of silent treatments and disappointed looks from them. They longed to see the daughter they remembered. The one with the smiling face, looking up at them with love and trust as if they were her entire world; always believing that they had the power to make everything better. The one who they recognized. One they trusted.

Nadja had sided with Marinette and tried to convince the two parents to hear their daughter out. A furious Sabine all but threw her out the house; she didn’t need to hear anymore lies or tall tales from her offspring. Even if her friend was foolish enough to buy them.

It was all too much.

And when Gina, Tom’s mother, suggested they send Marinette to her friend. They leaped at the chance. Tom and Sabine truly believed their daughter had become toxic to their way of life, to her friends way of life.

Nadja had found out Marinette had been sent away three days after the girl was gone. She ended her friendship with Sabine right there and then.

After Marinette was gone, they waited for her to call them. Either to beg for her to allowed back; promising to change. Or just to let them know she was alright. Or just call as an olive branch, like she always did. She never called. Gina did. She told them Marinette had gotten to Smallville safely, and that was it.

It would be a month before they’d hear from Marinette; and it was only because Gina had conferenced her in. Only Tom was willing to speak with her, though he had nothing positive to say. Sabine refused to give up on her silent treatment. She would continue to refuse to speak to her daughter for months.

Sabine and Tom settled into relative peace without the chaotic presence of their daughter. Each ignoring the gaping hole she left behind. They only updates came from Gina.

Then Ladybug’s interview aired.

They had been working in the bakery at the time. A customer was watching it on his phone.

As the interview went on, and Ladybug denounced the school, the teachers, the students, and the wrongful expulsion of Marinette Dupain-Cheng; but most of all how much a liar Lila Rossi was; it was like their world crashed.

They quickly closed up shop and rewatched the interview.

Sabine had turned paler than she ever had before. Tom lost all feeling in his legs.

What had they done?

They sat in silence as the memories of the last few months their daughter had lived with them filled their heads; her desperate pleas of her innocence, her tearstained face begging them to listen. But they hadn’t. They sent her away.

They sat in silence, just watching and rewatching the video. Tears slowly slipped down Sabine’s face. A very small part of Sabine wished it would change. That suddenly Nadja would be confirming Marinette misdeeds instead. Anything! So it wouldn’t mean that Sabine had been a terrible mother, like Nadja had claimed she was when she found out Marinette had been sent away.

But no the vindictive look and overly pleased smile on her former best friend’s face didn’t change.

It was Tom that called Marinette, putting the phone on speak. She didn’t pick up the first call. Or the second. When she finally answered, Tom immediately launched into apologies. He promised his daughter the world to make it up to her as soon as she came home. Sabine just cried in the background.

Silence came from the other line. And for moment Tom thought the call had disconnected.

“I understand,” Marinette’s voice rang out through the living room. “Thank you for apologizing.” That was it. That was all said. There was no forgiveness in her voice. No love in her tone. “I love you. I do. But I will not be returning to Paris.”

Tom burst into tears right then and there.

When the call ended, neither parent knew what to say; just wondered how much of their relationship with their daughter was left to salvage.

For the next month, both parents would try to call their daughter every day. Most days she wouldn’t answer. They understood why but that didn’t stop the dreadful feeling they had for every call that went to voice mail. The only she called them was to tell them the farm needed to be repaired and that she would be living with Clark and his husband.

They longed to see their daughter’s smiling face, looking up at them with love and trust as if they were her entire world.

It would a few months later that they did see it. Sabine and Tom were watching on of Sabine’s favorite red carpet events: the Wayne’s Annual Gala. It was a charity event that all the celebrities went to. A show Tom barely paid attention to.

However, his wife’s gasp got his attention. She pointed to the screen, and then it was Tom’s turn to gasp.

Their daughter was on TV, on the red carpet with Bruce Wayne, Clark, and the rest of the Wayne family; fitting in seamlessly with her dark hair and her blue eyes, in the most gorgeous pink dress they’d ever seen. Marinette easily passed as Bruce and Clark’s daughter. The press there screamed questioned about adoption or another love child.

Bruce seemed to take great pride in showing off his new ward; bragging about her accomplishments and that she made all of their outfits of the night. Clark, while didn’t brag, didn’t hesitate to tell everyone how amazing his niece was. Marinette just laughed; looking happier than Sabine or Tom could remember her being for a long time, even before she left.

The part that broke their hearts? Was their daughter’s smiling face, looking up at them, Bruce and Clark, with love and trust as if they were her entire world; like she believed that they had the power to make everything better.

From how wonderful their daughter looked, and how much better off she seemed to be. The two men had.

Clark and Bruce did the one thing Sabine and Tom forgot how to do.

Be there for their daughter.

Alya and the rest of the Students

Four months ago, Alya had partied with her entire class over the fact that they had gotten the biggest bully kicked out of school. All the kids enjoyed the peace that had filled the classroom after her departure. They had another party when they learned Marinette had been sent out of the country. No one in class spared too much mind toward theirs ex-friend, apart from a few scathing remarks about her.

Alya was glad the dark presence in their life was gone. Happy that her bestie Lila didn’t have to worry about the awful bully anymore. Everything was good again. Everyone was happy. Everything was peaceful.

Then Ladybug’s interview aired.

They had been at school, in class. The bell had just rang for lunch when Alya got the Ladybug alert on her phone. She was sitting next to Nino, texting Lila to hurry up and make a move on Adrien. She was surprised to see the hero giving an interview as she hadn’t had much time to so much as glance in Alya’s direction. With Bustier’s permission, Alya played the interview on the white screen of their room; with a little help from Markov.

The entire class cheered when the interview started as they all ate their lunches in class.

The interview had started off great. Ladybug had a new costume and Nadja asked about it. The hero showed it off a little. Then it got serious.

Ladybug said Chat Noir was never returning; confirming something Alya had suspected for months.

Then she mentioned the Ladyblog…

“Bad journalism,” Ladybug said. “That’s all that blog is. It’s poorly researched and full of lies. I’ve seen better research from the magazine that said Bigfoot’s having an affair with the Lochness Monster.”

“What Lies?” Nadja asked.

Alya nodded. “This had to be a mistake. Everything I write is true!”

Nadja pulled up the Ladyblog on the screen behind them.

“Well, for example, who the hell is Lila Rossi?”

Silence filled the classroom. Everyone’s eyes on the screen. Lila froze in her seat.

“That girl is not my best friend,” Ladybug stated. “I saved her from her own akuma save five times now. That’s it. I don’t know the girl. I don’t like the girl. What was written would only serve to put Lila in danger. And what’s this about Lila saving Jagged Stone’s cat? From a plane? Which airline was this? Who could be so careless?”

After that the reporter and the hero ripped the Ladyblog to shreds; dismantling each and every lie on the blog.

“Every reporter should know one cardinal rule,” Nadja said seriously to the audience. “Check your resources. Don’t be like the writer of the Ladyblog.”

Alya seethed in her seat, throwing furious glares at Lila who had paled and looked read to flee the classroom. No one else in class knew what to say or do. Lila was lying? How could Lila be Lila? It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true.

As the interview went on, and Ladybug denounced the school, Bustier and a few other teachers, the students, for the wrongful expulsion of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I heard one poor girl even got expelled,” Ladybug shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, there was no investigation, just word of mouth, easily planted evidence, and then expulsion. I’m surprised I didn’t have to deal with her Akuma.” Ladybug’s sad tone was clear to hear. “I looked into the incident a bit. A rather brilliant Robot name Markov had been recording the room at the time.” Marinette nodded to the screen. “I had them blur the students’ faces for security reasons. The girl with the short hair is the victim in question.”

The video played. And it was clear that a long haired girl had stolen the answer key from the teacher and planted them on the victim. Another video played of Lila taking the necklace she said Marinette stole and planting it in the bluenette’s locker. It was a damning video.

After the videos, the students and teacher were stunned. Too stunned to move. Too stunned to speak.

“From what I understand only a teacher named Mendeleiev actually tried to do something about the whole mess,” Ladybug praised. “She had been filing complaints with the school board for months. She and a majority of the staff, actively protested the expulsion of the victim before and after it happened. They stood strong against bullying. Even of the threat of being fired hasn’t stop Mendeleiev. That is the type of teacher, the type of person everyone should aim to be like. She should be the principle.”

Ladybug went on to full tirade against school. She ripped the principle and teacher Bustier to shreds. For allowing bullying of students, victim blaming, and sheer negligence. Reciting how many times Ladybug had to deal with akuma from that school, particularly from Bustier’s class.

“I just wish I could’ve helped her,” Ladybug sighed. “The victim. She lost everything; all her friends, her family, because of this and the actions of a seriously disturbed girl who was nothing more than a liar. I can’t help but wonder what happened if I had found out sooner. If Lila Rossi had never lied. Or if the Ladyblog had fed into them. After this, I will never work with Alya Césaire, author of the Ladyblog, again. She is terrible journalist and from what I understand, and equally terrible friend. Everyone at that school should be ashamed of themselves.”

“I know the girl you’re speaking about,” Nadja frowned. “She’s stronger than she looks. Still, she deserved better. I swear to you that I’ll be leading the charge in investigating the wrongful expulsion. Justice will be had.”

The fallout was epic. And started seconds after the interview ended with Alya launching herself at Lila, ready to strangle the girl, tackling her as rage and misery filled her.

It took Nino and Kim to pull her back.

“How could you!” Alya screamed, tears building in her eyes. “I trusted you! We all trusted you. You! You! You Monster!”

No bother to help Lila off the floor. Her hair was a mess and her nose was bleeding. She looked around her help, as she struggled to come up with a lie to spin everything in her favor. But video proof and a national icon denouncing you on public TV was a hard thing to spin. The class looked at her with cold hatred, already laying all the blame at Lila’s feet.

Lila didn’t get the chance to come up with a lie.

Mendeleiev along with two other teachers and the gym coach arrived before she could.

“Rossi,” Mendeleiev growled, fury in her eyes. She had warned Bustier and Damocles about the girl, had filed complaint and complaint with the school boarding regarding Marinette. The fool Damocles had threatened to fire her if she didn’t stop but she hadn’t. Mostly because it was the right thing to do. Partly because she knew he didn’t have the balls to do it. “You’ll be leaving with me now to the Principal’s office. Your mother is on the way.”

Lila paled. Suddenly remembering that Ladybug had said her name on live TV. Her mother probably saw everything. She’d kill Lila for this. Her mother had to move to France after Lila had gotten in trouble at her last school for lying. Yet the trouble she was in now was far worse than she’d ever been in.

She cursed the fact that Hawkmoth had already sent so many strong akuma. He’d be too weak to send anymore.

Mendeleiev turned her attention to the class with cold eyes. They were just kids so the teacher didn’t blame them too much. Kids made mistakes. She hoped they would learn from this. Grow from this. “Class, Miss Ashton will be your teacher for the rest of the day.” The English teacher stepped forward. “Miss Bustier will be coming with me.”

Caline Bustier nodded, not even bothering to argue. She knew her career was over. Her teaching license would be revoked. Her name smeared across the papers. Still a part of her wanted to cry that she thought she had done the right thing. Everything had be so obvious, all the evidence there. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she should’ve been suspicious to how easily the so called evidence was found.

The students watched as Mendeleiev marched Lila and Bustier out of the classroom, the teachers besides Ashton joining her.

The bell rang. Ashton gave the class a kind smile, “I think me maybe your teacher for quite a while.” She told them. “So today, I would like to discuss Shakespeare’s JULIUS CAESAR and the book the Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.”

“The Ides of March. Wrong imprisonment,” Max answered his face forlorn. He knew what the teacher was getting at. “Both are famous for the betrayals in them. Each main character were betrayed by their friends.”

Ashton’s smile suddenly looked a lot colder. She turned around and write on the white board in Giant Black Letter. “Et tu, Brute.” She read off the board. “Et tu, Brute is one of the Shakespeare’s most famous lines. Historically inaccurate but still used very much today. It’s usually said to one friend from another when a harmless betrayal happens. I, myself, said it just last week when my boyfriend stole last piece of pecan pie. I deserved it once when I erased his futball game off the DVR to make room for the newest episode of the Flash. What about you? Have you ever done anything to deserve it?”

No one in class said anything. They all knew they had.

When class let out, they flood the bluenette’s cellphone with apology texts begging her to answer. Alya had called her bestie a dozen times but not one call got answered.

When Alya got home, she was met with the disappointed faces of her parents and sister. She had tried to explain her side of things but they wouldn’t listen.

Then her sister said, “We need to get a lawyer.”

Her parents nodded, resignation in on their faces. Alya balked, “Why? We didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.”

“Your website told lies about famous and powerful people,” Her mother explained, with a slight fear in her voice. “They could sue us for defamation of character.”

And they did. In the weeks after Ladybug’s interview celebrity after celebrity, or at least their lawyer contacted their family lawyer. They were all pretty lenient as no one wanted to be seen suing a teenager girl over a fanblog but the terms were clear. The Ladyblog had to go.

Her life’s work was deleted on a raining Tuesday. Alya stilled blamed Lila for her sorrows. The Italian girl had been expelled and sent far away by her mother.

Everyone in class blamed Lila for what happened. For getting poor Marinette expelled. Marinette who still didn’t return their calls or texts.

Alya knew she had done wrong to Marinette but it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know Lila was lying. She made a mistake. Everyone should just move on.

Unfortunately for her, they did move on. Damocles and Bustier were fired. All of the students in Bustier’s class was put on probation for their bullying of Marinette. (One toe out of line and they would be expelled.) Most of the student body avoided the lot, fearing they’d be tarred with the same brush. They were persona non-grata.

Alya parents took away her laptop and forbid her from creating another website. She was forced to attend mandatory therapy session; something about owning up to her own mistakes.

Alya wished that everything would go back to normal. She wished her bestie was back in Paris already. So Marinette and her could go back to giggling over boys and dreaming of their futures. Planning to rule the world as the dynamic professional and extremely successful women they were sure they’d become. Her bestie who was always there for her, always willing to listen, always on Alya’s side, unlike everyone else in the world at the moment.

Weeks passed and no one heard or seen a hair from Marinette. Most of the class just knew if they could just apologize to the girl everything would be alright again. They’d be friends again. Alya was certain of it.

Still more time passed, and nothing.

Finally, one girls’ night, after they all finally finishing being ground, they all met up at Rose’s for a sleepover. They laughed and did each other’s make up, ate greasy food, watched trash TV and felt at peace for the first time in a while.

Rose shushed her friends at the Wayne Gala started. “Doesn’t Gigi Hadid look amazing!” She exclaimed.

“Please, look at Beyoncé,” Alya said. “Now that’s a queen.”

All the girls pointed out their favorite celebrity and gushed over their outfits.

“Oh it’s the Waynes,” Rose chirped excited. “They always look amazing. Is that… that’s Marinette!”

All the girls’ eyes were glued to the screen because sure enough Marinette Dupain-Cheng was on the screen being escorted by Bruce Wayne.

“She’s in Gotham?” Alix pointed out. “I didn’t know she was in Gotham.”

Mylene’s eyes were wide. “I wonder how she likes it. I heard Gotham was pretty scary.”

“Screw Gotham,” Alya yelled a giant smile on her face. “She knows Bruce Wayne. She knows the Waynes!”

Bruce Wayne introduced Marinette as the newest addition to his family and went on to rave about her in a proud fatherly tone. His husband Clark Kent doing the same.

Rose awed, “She designed that dress. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

Alya wanted to high five someone. Her bestie was Bruce Wayne’s newest kid. She had to text. She needed all the details. What was it like? How rich were they? How rich was she now? Could Alya come visit?

The glasses-wearing girl was filled with hope. Maybe Marinette would give her an interview, the exclusive. Maybe one with her new family too. An interview with Bruce Wayne would be amazing. Maybe Alya would get to meet Clark Kent, he was a famous reporter. He worked with Lois Lane.

Alya gasped. What if she got to meet Lois Lane? Marinette had to know her. Clark and Lois were best friends, everyone knew that. She was even the surrogate for Clark’s son Jon. She was practically Marinette’s aunt now. Maybe Marinette could get her an internship at the Daily Planet. That would show everyone. They’d all see that Alya was some stupid kid pretending to be a journalist. She was the real deal. They’d see.

…If only she could get Marinette on the phone.

A month and then two went by and still no answer from Marinette. Alya figured the girl had lost her phone. Marinette could be pretty careless sometimes. And forgetful. Alya thought that until she got to class one day, and Juleka was telling everyone that Luka was going to Gotham.

“Marinette invited him,” Juleka said, her eyes a bit sad, but she was otherwise happy for her brother. Luka had been the first to make it clear that Juleka, and the others, were in the wrong and it was up to Marinette to forgive them if she wanted. “Her new guardians are paying for him to come. Her Birthday’s coming up. It’s going to be this huge event for the Princess of Gotham,” She giggled at the name the media had given the bluenette who had earned their love quickly and easily. “She really loves it Gotham.”

“Girl, have you been talking to my bestie?” Alya accused. “Behind my back. Seriously!”

To her credit, Juleka didn’t bat an eye in the face of the girl’s anger. “I haven’t spoken a word to Marinette. Luka talks to her almost every day. They’re friends.”

“Does she get a new phone?” Alya asked quickly. “Or maybe she had a new number! Can I have it? Call Luka and get it!”

“She did get a new phone,” Juleka confirmed. “But she has the same number as before.”

Alya huffed, “Then why isn’t she answering! Why is she talking to Luka and not me?” She was Marinette’s bestie. Alya was the one who should be talking to her every day, not some random guy. She was one who should be flying off to Gotham to attend Marinette’s extravagant birthday party. HER!

“Luka and Marinette are friends,” Juleka repeated. “Last time we talked to Marinette, we all made it clear we weren’t her friends anymore. Why would she talk to us? After what we did?”

Alya gaped. “I’m not the one who lied.”

“No. You just helped bully her.” Juleka shrugged. “We all did. Or at least didn’t stop it. We hurt her. And that’s not something we can blame on anyone else. It was our actions helped Marinette get kicked out of school. That’s not just one Alya. That’s on us.”

“We really hurt her,” Rose whispered. “We made her cry a lot.”

“We shoved her,” Alix looked down.

“Destroyed her homework,” Kim said, regret clear in his eyes.

“Ruined her designs,” Mylene added as she teared up.

“Sent horrible texts,” Sabrina said looking anywhere but at the white board.

“We left her all alone and told her she deserved it,” Juleka clenched her fists.

“We sent viruses to her computer,” Max winced. “Made it more useful as a paperweight.”

“Or we did nothing at all and just let it happened,” Ivan swallowed hard. “And that was just as bad.”

“Because we were scared,” Nathanial said between clenched teeth. “We were cowards who didn’t want the same thing to happen to us.”

“We betrayed her,” Nino admitted. “Every last one of us. That wasn’t Lila. Because Lila was never her friend. Betrayal doesn’t come from your enemies. It comes from your friends.”

The weight of the world seemed to hit her, as Alya plummeted back down in her seat, feeling numb. Her eyes on the white board. The giant bold words screamed at her. She could hear them in her head, repeating over and over again, all in a familiar voice.

“Et tu Brute,” The ghost of Marinette whispered, seemingly more alive in the classroom, than ever before. “Et tu Brute.”

Alya wanted to protest, scream that it wasn’t her. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t find the words for once. The memories of all the harm she had caused her bestie, her former friend filled her head. Everything her other classmates had done, Alya did twice over. She even convinced Marinette’s parents of the girl’s wrongdoings, turning them against her. Lila wasn’t to blame for that, not entirely. It was all of them.

It was Alya. She betrayed her best friend. Everyone in class betrayed the Bluenette.

And much like the Ides of March, they had all taken turns at stabbing the girl. Even when Marinette had tried appealing to Alya, her best friend, but Alya stabbed her. She could still remember the disbelief on Marinette’s face as she left.

Alya swallowed hard. Tears prickled her eyes.

Et tu Brute, indeed.

Adrien

Four months ago, the kindest girl Adrien had ever known was expelled from school. He had only given a weak protest when it happened. Tried to get Lila to reverse it. But nothing worked. And when he heard Marinette had been sent away. He decided to move on, not make a big deal out of it.

The whole ordeal had been terrible. Before she left, Marinette kept calling him and texting him to get him to help her; reveal that Lila was lying. Adrien refused. Everyone in class liked having Lila there and she wasn’t hurting anyone.

It got to the point where Adrien just ignored her calls and texts. He even had Nathalie tell her that he wouldn’t be getting involved, and that maybe they should take a break from each other for a while.

To make matter worse it had come after Fu had taken back the ring; declared Chat Noir and unfit superhero. It was all too much.

Yes, it was better to just move on. Everything would go back to the way it was soon enough. Marinette would come back. Lila would be better and not lying so much. They’d all be friends again.

For now, Marinette was probably happier where she was. She’d move on. The class was happier with her gone. Everyone should just move on.

And they did.

The class went back to being a happy and friendly place. They all went back to being the amazing friends they were. It was a little strange without Marinette but it wasn’t like the girl had been active in his or any of their other friends’ lives. Her accusations against Lila had gotten her the cold shoulder from the class.

Adrien had warned her to stop. If only, the bluenette had listened. But girls always seemed to have trouble listening to him.

Like Ladybug.

If Ladybug had just gone out with him, he’d still be Chat Noir. They were soul mates, why didn’t she see that?

It took the blond a while to get used to not being a hero anymore, a while before he’d stopped unconsciously complaining to Plagg whenever they were alone.

It was fine though. Adrien moved. He and Nino hung out more. It was easier now that he didn’t have to worry about getting so much cheese or coming up with excuses to fight Akuma. Ladybug come back soon enough, he knew. She needed him. They were a team. He was sure of it. Just like he was sure Marinette would come back to class and everyone would be friends again; everything would go back to the way it was.

For now, he would just enjoy the break.

Then Ladybug’s interview aired.

And once again, Adrien’s world was thrown up balance.

Ladybug’s interview had been cruel. She had depicted a coldness Adrien had never seen from her before. She tore everyone to shreds. She tore the school to shreds. It was like she didn’t care who she hurt. Or how many people would be hurt by the truth being out there like that.

He had thought she was the type of person to take the high road. It wasn’t like Lila had been hurting anyone. And Alya had made a simple mistake. Nothing that could be fixed, right? Everyone would get over it. They’d move on.

And they’d be better off for it.

All of Lila’s lies were revealed like Adrien always told Marinette they would be.

The Italian girl got expelled that same day; which Adrien thought was a bit harsh. Bustier and Damocles were fired, again harsh. The class turned again the liar and laid the blame entirely at her feet; that Adrien found was fair.

Then he waited with a big smile in his class the following Monday after Lila’s expulsion. Waiting for Marinette to walk through the door with a happy smile on her, excited to be back. They’d all apologize and everything would be alright again.

However, Marinette didn’t come back on Monday. Or the next day. Or the day after that. She never came back.

No one in class could get a hold of her. The Bluenette didn’t reply to their texts and never answered a call.

It was so unlike their everyday Ladybug. She couldn’t still be mad, right? Even if she was, they were friends. You have to forgive your friends right. No one could be angry forever.

Mariette would get over it. She’d come home soon. Adrien just knew.

Adrien didn’t call her or text. He knew it was best to wait. Marinette always was the one to make peace. It was just the way she was.

So he waited.

And he waited.

And waited.

Weeks turned into months. But there was no sign of Marinette anywhere. His phone making it glaringly obvious that the girl never called.

How were they supposed to go back to being friends if she never called? Didn’t she care?

Adrien wondered where Marinette was.

He found out during guys’ night when Alya texted Nino to turn the TV channel. And then they all saw her. Marinette smiling brightly on the red carpet, looking more beautiful then he’d ever seen her before. She was in Gotham, living with the Waynes’. She was Bruce Wayne’s new ward. Everyone knew that every time Bruce Wayne got a new ward, they always got adopted. Always.

By the time, Adrien got home that night the news was filled with articles like:

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the newest Wayne?

Who is Marinette Wayne, and why you should love her!

Marinette: Secret love child of Bruce Wayne!

Marinette’s name was in lights. All world was talking about her. She was famous.

Which was why Adrien became even surer that Marinette would call. He was the only other famous kid she knew. He could help, be there for her to talk to. It’s what friends did. Marinette would call soon.

The next morning his father joined in for breakfast for the first time in weeks. He only ever did it when he wanted something from Adrien.

“Did you know Miss Dupain-Cheng was in Gotham?” His father asked.

Adrien shook his head, “No. I didn’t know what happened to her when she left school.”

Gabriel nodded. “You were friends, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He had always counted the Dupain-Cheng girl as one of Adrien’s few likeable friends. “Nathalie told me you two had a falling out.”

“We took a break,” Adrien corrected. “We need a breather from each other. Things had gotten pretty bad because of Lila.”

Gabriel frowned. What happened with Lila Rossi had been a blow to the stock prices of the company. They had endorsed the girl whose name made headlines after Ladybug denounced her and publically revealed her lies, and that she had been willingly working with Hawkmoth. Shareholders didn’t like that. “Miss Dupain-Cheng lives with her Uncles, Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent; two notable figures in society. Reach out to her, end your ‘breather’, reconfirm your friendship. A connection with the Wayne family will take us far.”

“Yes, dad.”

Adrien was still reluctant to reach out first. Marinette just needed a bit more time. When she was ready, she’d call him. She always did. She was their everyday ladybug, and that meant something.

However, Nathalie made sure he did. She made sure Adrien sent every text his father wanted him to.

His first text was simple: hey, how’s it going.

There was no reply.

He asked when she was coming back to school. Told her they all missed her.

No reply.

At Nathalie behest, he asked about Bruce Wayne and the other Waynes. What they were like? If all their suits were custom made.

No reply.

He asked if she wanted to get lunch when she got back to Paris.

Nothing.

He never received a single reply. His father was disappointed. Until Adrien suggested that maybe Marinette changed her number. That wasn’t something either them could control. His dad backed off, and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief.

Adrien found out that wasn’t the case when he heard Juleka telling Rose that Luka was going to Gotham. Then Alya started in on the quiet girl about going behind her back.

Then Juleka had said something that shook Adrien a bit.

“She did get a new phone,” Juleka confirmed. “But she has the same number as before.”

Adrien first thought was that he hoped his dad didn’t find out. That would be bad. And ugly.

“Luka and Marinette are friends,” Juleka repeated. “Last time we talked to Marinette, we all made it clear we weren’t her friends anymore. Why would she talk to us? After what we did?”

Then the happy vibe that the classroom had started with went away. Each student admitted their wrongdoing, telling how they hurt Marinette. How they betrayed their once friend. It was awful.

Adrien nearly interrupted to tell them it would be alright. Marinette would forgive them. They’d all be friends again. It wasn’t that bad. They’d move on like none of this had ever happened.

But Ivan spoke before he could, “Or we did nothing at all and just let it happened,” The bigger boy said. “And that was just as bad.”

No it wasn’t. All they did was stay out of it. All Adrien did was stay out of it. It was the right thing to do. Everyone was arguing and fighting. Adrien getting involved would only make it worse. Right?

Right, Adrien thought firmly. He ignored the pit that seemed to appear in his stomach.

Adrien spent the rest day re-convince himself that everything would be alright. Everyone just needed to calm. Marinette also needed to come back. Or at least answer their calls. Then they could tell her everything was good again. Lila was gone. Time to celebrate.

However, while Adrien was getting ready that night, he got a text from Nino. It was of a video of Marinette at her new school. Luka had gotten it from her, with the blessing to spread it around; show everyone that she was fine.

And she was.

Marinette looked happy in her new school uniform. She was surrounded by friends and seemed be having a ball.

She had moved on.

It was what Adrien had hoped would happened, he remembered, so many months ago.

He had hoped Marinette would move on. That everyone would move on.

And she did. And everyone was starting to.

So why did he feel so bad?

Maybe because he was having a hard time moving on to?

Maybe it was because a part of him finally realized that nothing was going to back to the way it was?

Why didn’t everything go the way he thought it would?

“It should have,” Adrien frowned, turning to speak to Plagg. “Right?”

There was only silence to answer him.

“Oh… yeah.” Adrien said remembering, again, that Plagg was gone. Just like Chat Noir. “That’s right.” He’ll get used to it. He was used to it.

It wasn’t like it was a big deal.

Right?

Marinette

Marinette didn’t want a birthday party. She told Bruce she didn’t want a birthday party. She told Clark she didn’t want a birthday party. Yet somehow she was getting a birthday party! She knew the accidently slip to Kara that she spent her last birthday alone had been a mistake. Marinette’s got sad eyes from her new family for a week.

When it became clear that the birthday party was happening to matter how much Marinette protested, she decided to try a different. She made it clear that she didn’t want a big birthday party. She wanted something small with just her new family and friends. However, the more she said it, the bigger the party plans got. First the justice league got invited. Then the Teen Titans, and then young justice. Then all her school friends. Then all the friends she made while on the Kent farm. She was fine with that. She had invited Nadja, Luka, Kagami and even Chloe to her birthday; the only friends she had left in Paris. She invited Jagged and Penny and Clara.

And yet the party just kept getting Bigger and bigger…

Until it was some extravagant event all press talked about. Her birthday was trending on social media. But did that stop Bruce? Nooo?

Then it just got bigger and bigger.

Until celebrities were tweeting that they RSVP’d already. It was as big as any red carpet event.

Marinette glared at her guardian from the across the breakfast table.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Bruce said. “The party will be fun. You’ll love it.”

“She did want something simple, Bruce,” Clark shrugged.

“Said the guy who invited the Justice League.”

Clark narrowed his eyes, “Said the man who paying One Direction over three million dollars to get the band back together for one night.”

“One Direction was her favorite band!”

“Then why did you invite Shawn Mendes,” Clark asked smugly. “And Taylor Swift. And Maroon 5. And BTS. And Ed Sheeran. And Billie Eilish. And Lizzo. And who knows who else you got! Not to mentioned the cast of Riverdale, supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Teen wolf, and the new Spider Man movie. Bruce, you’re throwing your own Teen Choice Awards.”

Marinette blinked. And then blinked again.

Then she got up and walked away from the table.

She needed to find Alfred. She needed to find someone remotely sane to talk to. Which was a hard thing to come by at Wayne Manor.

Marinette loved Gotham as much as she had loved Smallville. She loved working with the Justice league. She loved her new brothers and sisters. She loved them she really did.

But she’d be the first to them to take a chill pill.

Starting with Bruce, then Clark, the Dick.

Followed up Oliver Queen and Arthur Curry; otherwise known as the Green Arrow and Aquaman.

Every time Marinette visited the watch tower, Oliver would shove his son Roy at her. Once literally. Then Arthur started doing the same his kid Kaldur.

This displeased her guardians. Both had taken to glaring at Green Arrow and Aqauman during meeting. Arthur backed off a little. Oliver not even a bit. The man had plans.

Marinette didn’t find Alfred, as he had left on errands. Instead she found Tim on the coach. “You’re the third sanest person in this house… when Luke’s not here.”

“Alfred, you, me, Adds up,” Tim cracked a smile at his little sister. “What’s up?”

Marinette plopped down next to him, “Make them stoooppp!” She whined.

Tim gave her a look, “You want me to stop Batman and Superman.”

“Well, when you say it like that its sounds dumb.”

“And impossible.”

She pouted, “What should I do?”

“You willing walk aboard this crazy train,” Tim shrugged. “Now you just have to enjoy the ride. It’s the only thing you can do.”

“And try not lose my sanity too in the process.”

“That’s a good princess.”

Marinette sighed. She hated her new nickname but the press ate it up. The party was just making it official.

But what could she do? She loved her new home, her friends, and her family. Marinette was finally getting everything she ever wanted.

Her birthday would be one of the biggest events of the year. She was having a party fit for a princess.

The princess of Gotham that was.

Because that was who Marinette was now.

She wasn’t just Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was just Ladybug.

She was Marinette: Princess of Gotham.

#ml salt #ml fic #Marienette Dupain Cheng #Marinette deserves better #adrien salt #alya salt

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oliviaischillin1204 · 2 years

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I wrote a little tickle fic based on a prompt another anon suggested a while ago, about a clock that showed which sides was in a ler and lee mood at the time. Is it cool if I submit it in your submit box?

!!!!!!! PLEASE DO??? I WAS LITERALLY THINKING ABOUT THAT POST JUST A FEW DAYS AGO SDJHFJ

i wanna warn u that submissions cannot be recieved anonymously, meaning the blog u sent them from will be visible to me (as well as being visible if i post the submission directly)

HOWEVER if you don't want ur blog to be attached to the submission when i post it, please just let me know and i will instead copy/paste ur fic and post it directly (and if you choose this option, please tell me a name you would like to be credited as!! otherwise i will just say 'this fic is by an anon'). of course, if you're fine with having your blog posted with the submission then no worries then!

but either way PLEASE SUBMIT IT I WANNA SEE IT

#i will also tag it if i feel there are any particular warnings needed for the fic #but i seriously doubt there is any content i would need to tag for that i don't normally tag #my posts #asks #anon pls lmk if u see this with whatever ur answer is bc if u just don't respond the curiosity will kill me

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afterhoursfic · 3 years

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Hi! I saw your lactation prompt with Yen, and it reminded me of this prompt I sent to another blog. It wasn't their cup of tea and I was wondering if you might like it? Eskel/Vesemir/Geralt/Lambert daddy!kink, breeding!kink, lactation. wolf school used to use a potion to make their witchers lactate for when they recieved a baby child of surprise. The wolves don't believe it, so Vesemir makes a batch and Eskel volunteers to try it. It works, but it also makes him horny AF. He begs to be bred and his papa Vesemir and his brothers are more than willing to help. It's all about those hoe Eskel rights!

Okay I really loved this prompt and not just for the hoe Eskel part, but I hope you enjoy reading it!

He doesn’t know how the conversation started, just that it was late and they were all deep in their cups on Lambert’s shitty moonshine, even Vesemir for once.

It wasn’t as if they cared for the old witcher practices, if they weren’t useful now, and most weren’t, there was no point in knowing it because it only served to open wounds and secrets that should really remain unknown.

Yet when the conversation predictably goes to Geralt’s child of surprise, a topic Lambert enjoys bringing up every chance he gets (he’s just thankful they don’t bring up Diedre), Vesemir buts in with his own stories of the problem of too many babies earned through the law of surprise and no safe way to bring them to Kaer Morhen. Basically, they couldn’t produce milk to sustain them, a fair point, but the school was desperate for recruits and so they made a potion, and each witcher out on the path would take the recipe so if the time ever came, they could lactate to support their new charge.

The story is just a bit too outlandish for him, and given Lambert’s scowl and Geralt’s somewhat mortified glare, no doubt imagining himself lactating to feed Ciri from one side of the continent to the other, he knows they don’t believe it either.

But then Vesemir lists off the ingredients with far too much ease and then the method to make it, adding in that he almost did it for Geralt, but he was just old enough not to need it when Vesemir found him, which frankly earned a snort from him and a ribbing from Lambert who would no doubt use it to his advantage in the future.

Hearing all of it though Eskel can’t help but feel curious. He craves knowledge, always eager to delve into the unknown, at least bookwise, he wasn’t going to gamble his life on a contract, and hearing this he wanted to know the truth, if such a thing could really work.

As Geralt and Lambert scuffled on the other side of the table Eskel turned to Vesemir, a hint of humor in the older witchers eye when he turned to face him and he whispered, almost impossible to hear even to himself.

“Can you make the potion?”

Vesemir just scoffed as he drained his cup slurring out “Of course I could make it, if you listened a minute ago you would know how to make it as well”

Then there was silence as Vesemir refilled his mug, Geralt and Lambert now staring between them and Eskel could swear his face turned bright red in embarrassment as they pieced together the conversation.

All eyes were on him then and Eskel hated it, feeling like he was examined down to the bone and he was just about to stand up and say his goodnight’s, hoping the next morning the others were all too drunk to remember it when Geralt spoke up.

“You want to try the potion” Sure, he did, but having it said so bluntly didn’t exactly help matters and he just nodded once in answer and the room turned silent again as they all thought on it, on what would happen. He looked up when Geralt hummed and he could smell the startings of arousal? Coming off of Geralt as he turned to him again “Can I be there?”

Eskel nodded again before saying “It’s just curiosity, nothing else”

Again, he felt all of their eyes boring into him, before suddenly Lambert leaned back and smacked his hand on the table “Well guess I’ve got to see it too now, plus it’ll be fun to watch you squirm”

He felt himself let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and almost didn’t even hear Vesemir interject “That settles it, we’ll all be there. Tomorrow good?”

He could only nod as he tried to come to terms with what he agreed to, he was going to down some potion that hasn’t been used in decades to make himself lactate for all his brothers to see. With a sigh he straightened his back before finishing his drink, turning his eyes away as he bid them farewell and escaped back to his room to properly work out what the fuck just happened.

When he woke up the next morning, he half hoped it was all some drunken fever dream. In fact, he’d fully talked himself into believing it until he got downstairs to see a grinning Lambert, never a good sign.

He was only proven right as Lambert stepped closer to grab his pec as if it were a women’s tit before quickly stepping away from hitting distance as he said “So how do you feel about growing your own pair of tits? Will be the first you’ve touched in how long?”

He’s somewhat proud of how he manages to catch Lambert unawares and knock him to the floor in retaliation before he quickly escapes back to the kitchen for food, but not before Lambert tells him Vesemir’s already preparing his potion and that it’ll be ready by noon. Great, now he had a deadline, and he won’t be able to focus on anything else until this whole business is over with.

Although the more he thinks about it he finds himself almost excited about it, about how it would feel as his tits filled out, would they even fill out and what it would be like to leak milk, could he convince one of them to suck at his tit so he could feel that too?

He cussed Lambert for putting thoughts in his head and got himself some bread and meats before heading back to his room, and no he didn’t stomp his way there or slam his door in a horny strop, no matter what Lambert says.

It’s gone midday when he ventures out of his room, it’s not like he can stay there forever and it’s better than having one of them come knocking on his door to tell him to drink his lactating potion. Gods he was so fucked.

It didn’t make going down to the great hall to see all three of them sitting there, waiting for him, and feigning polite conversation as if they weren’t just about to watch their brother, brother, lactate.

Thankfully, he wasn’t made to ask for the potion, Vesemir just held it out to him and he quickly snatched it up, ignoring their eyes boring into him as he unstoppered it to get a smell. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t the sweet smell wafting up to him, almost like a mix of honey and milk he’d seen mothers make their kids at night, and he was quick to shove that thought to the side as he quickly downed the potion in one.

He was surprised when the effects weren’t instantaneous like their other potions and for a long while he thought it hadn’t worked and that Vesemir’s memory wasn’t as good as he seemed to think. He was just about to gruffly tell them that the show’s over and head back to meditate, no not strop Lambert, in his room.

At least that’s until he feels an itch? A pain? On the right side of his chest and for a moment he thinks that somehow, he’s having a heart attack, it’s a feeling so unfamiliar to him that he can’t help but lift a hand to work at the ache steadily growing and he’s only faintly aware when he hears Geralt’s breath hitch.

When he looks to the other witcher he sees his eyes are blown wide and fixed to wear he’s working his chest, which just so turns out to be his pec, his pec that’s supposed to be producing milk and Eskel lets out his own breath. He can’t get his shirt off fast enough and when he does, he’s looking down as he strokes and squeezes at his tits, barely able to keep back his moan when he notices that they're bigger, easily a full handful now and he can’t stop himself from playing with them.

He wants to see himself, to force the first bead of milk out but no matter how much he works his tits nothing seems to work. There is a pressure there that he’s desperate to release but he can’t help but get frustrated when all he does do is work himself up the more he pinches and tugs at his nipples until Lambert speaks up.

“Looks like you’ve got a bigger problem than a couple of sore tits, your cock’s trying to say hello” He ignores Lambert’s snicker as he gets hit over the head to look down and sure enough the head of his cock is peeking out of the top of his pants, hard and leaking over his stomach and clothes. Now that he’s seen it it’s all he can focus on, how his cock is so hard it almost hurts, so he moves a hand under his trousers to start jerking off whilst the other keeps pinching at his tits trying to get anything out at this point and he really can’t help his groan. “Fucking hell Vesemir, witchers took this around kids? That’s fucked up, and more fucked up than usual”

He barely registers Lambert getting hit again or Vesemir’s ‘The effects are different for everyone’ because he just aches too much, he feels too empty and too full, and whilst he can gradually feel something building it’s not enough, he needs more, to be filled up properly to drive him over because he thinks he’ll go insane with want before anything happens.

“Fuck me” It was said as a whisper, one Eskel didn’t realize he’d even said until he heard three gasps of air. He couldn’t wait though, desperate for anything to fill him up at this point, to take him over the edge and get him to spill, from where didn’t matter but he just needed it.

He repeated the command even as his eyes shut, head rolled back as he continued working his cock and nipple, growling when it did little to help the empty ache that begged him to be filled, in fact, he’d just moved his hand down past his taint to try and get his fingers into his hole, slick with nothing but pre.

A growl left him when a firm hand grabbed his wrist to stop him and he looked up to see Vesemir, a vial of something in his other hand as he coaxed Eskels hand out of his pants.

“If you want to get fucked then we’re going to do it properly before you hurt yourself” Eskel could only focus on the words ‘we’ and ‘fuck’ and the thought had his hole clenching, just waiting to feel one of them slide their cocks in and Eskel couldn’t help himself from taking his hand back to stroke his cock again before Vesemir batted it away “We can’t fuck you with your clothes on wolf”

That sentence he did register and was practically tearing his clothes off, shivering as the cool air of the room hit him and he didn’t even realize someone was helping him until he was naked and he briefly caught a flash of white hair before a mouth was on his nipple, sucking and biting it whilst Geralt’s hand fondled his other tit, now swollen and too big for a handful but it still didn’t stop Geralt.

Eskel hissed at the feeling of it, at the gentle pressure and the way Geralt was sucking at his tit like he was desperate for something, his milk he realized in the back of his mind, and Eskel felt his knees grow weak as Geralt doubled his efforts, and he would have fallen if it wasn’t for Vesemir’s strong grip on his hips.

He didn’t even recognize when Lambert came up behind him, just felt his head being pulled back and he found himself leaning back against a strong chest and pulled into a messy kiss purely because he didn’t have the brainpower for anything more finessed.

So focused on Lambert’s burning grip around his waist, on the way he licked into his mouth as Geralt moved his mouth to his other tit, a line of spit connecting him whilst he admired the red, swollen nipple he’d been working on until he rushed forward to latch desperately onto his other one. It was all too much and not enough, and he still felt too empty, was ready to whine about and try and work Lambert’s cock into his ass somehow, regardless of prep, until he clenched his hole and found that he was currently being finger fucked by Vesemir and gods how had he missed that.

“In me, please, need one of you in me now” He heard Lambert chuckle against his lips and Vesemir tut, mentioning something about manners, but then Lambert had a hand under his thigh and was lifting it up to make space for Vesemir to step between his legs. “Daddy” He felt Vesemir shudder, could hear Lambert swear in his ear and Geralt groan with a mouth still around his nipple, and the feeling was enough to have Eskel whine because he was so close to getting what he wanted, no needed “Daddy, daddy please breed me, wanna be filled with your pups”

Eskel whined when he felt Geralt pull away, but he didn’t mourn long before he felt Vesemir's hands under his thighs, holding him up and open which left Eskel clinging onto Vesemir’s shoulders as the older witcher quickly fucked his cock into him. He didn’t even get a chance to enjoy finally feeling full, to grind down and feel his cock settle even deeper into him, the perfect place to come and so deep inside of him he’ll have to catch, but all thoughts of that were gone as Vesemir immediately started fucking him, nothing but the sound of their fucking and Eskel’s unbidden moans on every other thrust could be heard.

“That’s it, daddy, just like that, just like-“ He broke off with a cry as Vesemir moved his hips and was now driving against his prostate “Fuck daddy right there, you gonna knock me up? Gods wanna be full of your pups, want you to fuck me till I’m dripping come, daddy, will you do that?”

“I won’t last long with that mouth on you, wolf”

Eskel couldn’t help but moan, trying to fuck himself back on Vesemir’s’ cock despite the tight grip on his thighs letting out chants of ‘yesyesyes’ and ‘harder daddy’ and ‘right there’, reminding Vesemir he has to fuck him deep if he wants him to catch. The comment is always accompanied by a swear from Vesemir before he shifts his legs to reach deeper in him to make his hole tighter around Vesemir’s’ cock until the witcher is panting and Eskel’s pretty sure he’s drooling over Vesemir’s shoulder as he whines at the witcher to come.

It’s when Vesemir leans forward to latch onto one of Eskel’s nipples, sucking at it that Eskel swears he leaks a bit of milk into Vesemir’s mouth, and that fact with Vesemir changing his angle so that his cock stretches even further into him has Eskel coming. His neglected cock twitching as he spills between them and he’s pretty sure he whines out for his daddy again because he feels Vesemir fuck into him once, twice, and on the third time he stays there, grinding deeper into him as the witcher comes with a snarl, fucking him full of come and the realization has Eskel clench around Vesemir’s cock trying to coax as much out as he can.

When he comes to a little bit, he realizes he’s being passed off to Lambert, behind him but still being held up as Vesemir pulls out. Eskel whimpers and tries to cling onto Vesemir with a soft ‘daddy’ to get him to stay, that and the fact that Vesemir’s come is dripping out of him, he can hear it splatter on the stone beneath him, has Eskel feeling hollow and empty again.

Vesemir just offers him a quick kiss before pulling back to say “You wanna get bred don’t you wolf? You’ll have a better chance with three of us, have you swollen by the end of the night if that’s what you want” Eskel’s shudder and muttered swear is answer enough as Vesemir pulls away and his space is quickly filled with Geralt who again latches onto one of his tits.

He’s not left waiting as he feels Lambert slip his cock into him, the sound of their fucking wet and dirty as Lambert whispers a whole manner of dirty things to him, all centered with him on someone’s cock, whilst Geralt worked at his tits, desperate to taste a drop of him as his brother humped his front. Occasionally their cocks bumped together, but Eskel wasn’t fully hard yet, was still recovering from the last one but even then it was the last thing on his mind, right now it was all about getting Lambert to add to the mess Vesemir had left in his hole.

It’s not long before Lamberts biting his neck whilst he grinds his cock deep into him as he comes, and it's then Geralt moans and snarls as he pulls away, pinching one of his nipples between his fingers and he looks down too to watch a bead of milk bead at the tip before Geralt again snarls as he latches on, humping him desperately as he sucks and Eskel lets out a shattered groan when the ache on his tit gives way to pure relief, ecstasy, as he’s finally letting out milk.

He can hear Lambert whine behind him before the witcher's hand comes to work on his other tit to help alleviate the ache whilst Geralt feeds, slapping their brother away with a snarl of mine when Geralt moves to latch onto that one. Eskel’s sure he can come from this, he can feel Lambert’s cock, still inside him, getting hard again and glancing over his prostate whilst Geralt feeds on him.

Only then Geralt chokes as he comes between them and suddenly Eskel is begging ‘In me, Geralt, get your cock in me now’ and he feels Lambert start to pull out, feels the stretch when Geralt tries to shove his cock in just as the head of Lambert’s cock is pulling out, can feel the stretch of both of them in his hole for just a moment before Lambert’s out and Geralt is grinding out the tail end of his orgasm and it’s that which has him shaking through a second orgasm.

The rest of the night is spent in much of the same way, in that even being filled by all three of them isn’t enough, that ache to be filled comes back and he begs to get two of them in his ass at once, but the promise of another time from Vesemir will have to do for now. Although the implied later, of doing this all again, is not lost on Eskel.

They spend hours on the floor by the fire, where he’s left to ride Geralt’s cock who watches with wide eyes and eager hands on his tits as they bounce with each movement, but it doesn’t last long before Lambert kneels beside him to latch onto his other nipple, groaning at the first taste of his milk. Before he can pull either of them into a kiss, where just the thought of tasting his own milk on their tongues has him shiver, Vesemir pulls his head, teasing his cock head at his mouth and fuck why hadn’t Eskel thought of this, letting out a moan when he feels Vesemir’s cock slide deep down his throat.

#afterhours cw lactation #afterhours cw breeding kink #afterhours cw daddy kink #afterhours fic week #any feedback is welcome

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thorinthehottotty · 4 years

Text

May 1st - Lyn's Writing event - Thorin

Prompt - Beaches

Summary: Despite it being a political marriage, you have fallen for your husband but haven't told him.

Warnings: implied smut, angst

Ithellin was beautiful but hot. Too hot for thick dwarven style dresses. The wool and fur trapping the heat and making it worse. By the gods, you didn't have the heat tolerance of your new people.

When the king of Gondor sent a gift to the new visiting queen of Erebor, you were grateful. The silken fabric was light and flowing and allowed for air to cool your heated skin. Your husband, did not like this. His temper occasionally flaring in the worst of moments. His roaring voice challenged you to speak up. You were so angry at his sudden, and very unnecissary, outburst you couldn't think straight. Instead of screaming back at your king, you pinched your lips together and left. Slipping away from the guards, you made for the beach.

There was a storm in the distance.

The distant thunder and flashing of lightning soothed you with it's sympathy. To know you weren't the only thing feeling electric and angry as the waves rolled in to slap the shore.

You would be back but you desperately needed a moment to think. Alone time only came when Thorin was in the bath.

When you married your husband it was not the romance one might believe. You respect Thorin, you loved him in most ways. Diplomatic marriages were not common among dwarves. They all believed they had a one and secretly it broke your heart. The first year of your marriage was approaching and you had fallen in love with your husband. It hurt to know he didn't love you in the same manner.

He had two heirs already. So he had no need to touch you. The most he would do is give you a proud smile and pat your shoulder.

He married you to get a leg up in negotiations. Men were proud and stupid and trusted their own kind. So if he married you, men would trust him more. You were talented with wit and tongue. You always appealed to your kind with ease. Those you spoke with melted into your soft tone and gentle words happily.

The water was colder than you expect as you stand on the beach, hugging yourself. The air salty, the wet sand soft beneith your feet. When was the last time your stood on a beach and felt the water lap at your ankles. A hot wind blew in off the sea, making your heated skin sticky with sweat.

The tears of frustration roll down your cheeks in time with the crashing of the waves. For a moment, you wanted to wade into the sea and stay there for eternity, comforted by it's dark caress as it dragged you out. Instead, you just took in the mirroring turmoil it brought you and found relief in the music of its anger.

The royal guard found you quickly and Dwalin was the one to approach you as you glared to the approaching storm. "Lass, we've been worried sick about you," he coaxes softly upon seeing your enraged tears on your face. You don't meet his gaze. "It's not safe for you to be out here without a weapon and by yourself."

"I need a moment, Dwalin," you reply with a hard voice. The quietness of it nearly being lost to the strong winds.

"Thorin has asked we bring you back." Your face crumbles into a scowl as you look to your friend. He's holding the shoes you kicked off on the rocks a ways back. Near where the rest of the guards were.

"I will return in a while. You can tell him I said that." And you turned back to the ocean. Dwalin gave a frustrated groan.

"Lass, I-"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE! JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING MINUTE TO CLEAR MY DAMN HEAD! PLEASE!" You scream, turning back to the water and wading in until it reaches your knees. Guilt ate at you almost immediately.

"Aye, my queen." And he retreated. You had never raised your voice to him so he understood you were distressed.

The storm seems to stay distant from you as you carefully sort through your emotions and pain, trying to file each grievance away and relieving yourself with your tears. The fire of rage had long since burned away from your belly and left you with the gaping loneliness that filled you.

Why did you ever decide to marry the king?

It wasn't often you took a moment like this to pity yourself. You did not wallow. You gave your people everything. Your king everything.

Dís was the one to offer the idea to you both. You cursed her, the only one to whom you had admitted any feelings in regards to you husband. His sister smiled knowingly at you as you explained your frustrations to her.

You couldn't help the swell of anger when his voice was recieved by your ears. "The storm will be upon us shortly. Get inside." Defiantly, you twist toward him to glower.

He is taken aback by your puffy, red eyes, but only for a moment. He glowers back, stepping up and closer, a challenging step. "I don't want to fight with you!" You snap.

"Then listen to me!" He bellows back. He gapes when you sink into the water. "I am not above throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you back kicking and screaming! To hell with making trade with Gondor!"

You continue to pout in the cold water, ignoring the shock it gave your body. "What is the matter! Why are you so angry about the damn dress?" You snarl. "Why are you always on the attack with me?" He's shocked when he hears your voice begin to break. His entire face flutters in horror as your lip trembles and tears roll again.

"You are Queen of Erebor. Not Queen of Gondor."

"It is rude to turn away gifts, my king." Thorin flinched away at that. You only called him that when people were around. A formality.

"Get out of the water." His voice is cold.

"I will leave when I am ready to." You rasp.

"Get out of the water." He repeats with a snarl. "Get into the castle. Go to our chambers. And get out of that damned dress."

"I like the dress."

"I did not ask if you liked it or not, do as your king demands." Your lips twitch, defiance rising. You were not acting like a queen. He knows it. In a flash, your dragged from the water and you gasp as your brought up to his chest.

"It's too hot here to wear wool and leather. I don't have the heat tolerance you do!" Thorin doesn't relent, carrying you back to the sandy beaches. "Put me down! You've no right!" He drops you rather unceremoniously into the sand and you glower at him.

"I have the only right. You are my wife. My queen. Is that not what you promised? Does that mean nothing to you!?"

"It means everything to me!" Your answer stops him cold, and then much quiter, you add. "You mean everything to me. You're my king. My friend. My husband, and you don't have to love me like one but I do." His face etches in confusion as he kneels into the sand beside your nearly sobbing form. You swipe a hand at your cheeks, probably looking every bit a mess as you feel. Thunder cracks closer and he looks back at the approaching storm.

"What do you mean by that?" He asks.

"It's political for you. I know that, but that doesn't mean I don't think of you as my husband. I love you."

He moves a hand for a moment to push the windswept hair out of your face and behind your ear. "This dress makes me yearn for you as a husband does for his wife," Thorin explains softly making you gaze at him in disbelief. "I promised you long ago I would not touch you inappropriately. I understand touch is a basic necessity and I did also promise you to give you everything you could desire." You blink up at him, unsure of what to do with this information. "I apologize for my reaction to it," he admits to you. Watching you with the kindest eyes. "I should never have spoken to you in that way."

"I'm sorry for my words as well." You whisper back. He watches you for a long moment and it spurs on more blathering with the difficulty of the words you have to say. Your eyes falling into your lap. Somehow it was harder to look at his gentle stare than his glare. "You are my one true king. You have my sword, my bow, and now my heart. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable with the dress. When we arrive back, I will change into my other clothes and I won't wear it for the rest of our stay. I just can't-"

His hand brushing over your cheek has you pausing and glancing up to see just how delicately he was looking at you. He's so close, eyes sapping every bit of anger from your being and leaving you a trembling mess of nerves. His nose brushes past yours, almost intentionally it would seem as he tilts to press the most tender kiss to your lips, stealing all thought from your wandering mind and leaving you only with the coaxing of his lips. That kiss parted your lips for a spilt second and the smallest of gasps left you. Thorin leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours more deeply this time, but only just. It still held the delicacy of his sweetness.

By the fourth kiss his other hand raised to cup your face and you both were leaning into it, soaking it up like it would be the last time either of you would ever kiss instead of the first. He kissed you like he feared you would flee, as if not to scare you. You didn't know how badly you needed it as your lips softly smacked together. They tingled from the brush of his beard.

The clearing of a throat has you both parting slowly. Thorin peeks beyond you to where Dwalin stood. "We should be heading back. The storms about to hit. It'll be a nasty one."

Thorin gives him a nod and stands, dragging you with him. "Will you come inside now?" He asks you.

"Yes," you respond. It gives him a sigh of relief and your shoes are lifted for you. It's good timing the lot of you have as the rain begins just when you've entered the castle. Thorin takes you immediately to your chambers to change, water and sand trailing behind you as you make your way.

The shutters to the balcony have already been closed and are rattling from the wind. The chambers have become extra stuffy.

You slide the your shoulders out of the fabric and let it fall from your frame along with your soaked slip. A hand reaches from behind to stop you when you reach for the dry one drapped over the bed. Someone had prepared similar graments and your other ones in case you decided against it. You freeze because normally your husband would turn away and give you your privacy but you could feel him behind you.

"No," he hums quietly, pushing his warm body up against the back of yours. It has your heart racing in your chest and you feel more vulnerable now than on the beach below your window. His mouth decends on your shoulder and you shiver under it, melting back into him. He kissed up your slowly as his hands stopped reaching for the bed and instead, you.

They came around, wrapping about your naked form. One pressed over your navel, the other palm stetches between your breasts, right over your racing heart.

"I'm going to make love to you, yâsith," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. "I'm going to keep you in these sheets until the early morning light."

"Anything you desire," you promise the king. "Anything."

Yâsith - Wife

@tomisbaeholland

#thorin #day 1 #beaches #sand #i think I made something a bit angsty...#Lyn's Writing Event

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whumpsblog · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Thanks for the update on TSOHL, I'd love to get on the taglist! Also: Whumpee talks to someone on an online app, only to eventually call them.. That someone is whumpee's whumper. -sol

A dialogue prompt for @broken-horn. Obviously, the events below that take place after Hanna escapes Conner’s possession. TBH I really had no idea where to take this prompt, and writing it took a while because I couldn’t figure out how it needed to end. You had me stumped! Thank you for the prompt and feel free to SEND ME MORE in the future!

Tag List: @bloodandbandages, @broken-horn, @eatyourdamnpears, @butwhatifyouwrite. If anyone wants to be added to the list or removed, contact me.

Anon: 51 Depot Street Verona NH, 13874

The first time Hanna is contacted by Anon she assumes the message was sent to the wrong person. She doesn’t give the message any more thought and she goes about her day.

Two weeks pass and Hanna gets a second message. This one reading:

Anon: 5961 Caravan Drive Troy WA, 95832

Her gut churns and she delete the message quickly with an unsettling feeling in her gut. Recalling how the same thing happened two weeks before, she contacts Anon, informs them that they have the wrong username, and deletes the message.

The third message comes two days later:

Anon: 7390 Apt 34 LeeHigh Ave Monroe AZ, 29402

Irritated, Hanna blocks Anon but keeps wondering about the messages through out the day.

Two morning after Hanna wakes peacefully tucked underneath Zeros warm body, who is still soundly sleeping in their bed. Its the weekend so shes sleeping in. She checks her phone for the time sleepily, and in the process of doing so she sees she has six new messages from the website. She oppens the platform and then her inbox, and this is what she finds.:

Anon: 8374 Murray Lane Manchester OH, 14890

Anon: 3801 Jacob Street Ontario MT, 25920

Anon: 5039 Fleming Ave Newcomb VT, 49013

Anon: 8027 Plank Road Rochester NY, 12983

Anon: 7480 Old Military Road Penfield FL, 71693

Then . . .

Anon: Hello Hanna.

Hanna tells the Big Six about Anon later that day and as a group, they decide to have Hanna remove herself from the site and have Tyler monitor it in her place. Tyler spends the next two weeks checking the chat room and nearly everyday he receives a new message. He tries hacking into the system to determine the location of the sender, but whoever it was was operating on a secure, and unfortunatly untraceable, network. With no other leads, he researches the addresses that he has recieved so far. After several hours he determines that nearly every adress was the home adress to a well-known or wealthy individual, such as politicians, celebrities, and businesspeople.

At the end of the two weeks Tyler logs into the server and enters the chat room, only to instantly receive two new messages.

Anon: 893-502-3018.

Anon: We need to talk.

Tyler’s glasses reflect the glow of the computer screen in the dark room and the Omega sits in his chair still and supprised. The green halo around Anon’s unassigned avatar indicates that he’s still online, so Tyler gets to work. His hands fly up to the keyboard and while impersonating Hanna, he quickly responds.

Hanna: Who is this?

The message sends and three floating dots appear in Anon’s chat box.

Anon: A friend.

Hanna: Who. Is. This?

Anon: A friend.

This wasn’t going anywhere. Tyler tries a new approach.

Hanna: Why are you sending me these addresses? What do they mean?

He types the message quickly and hits send.

Anon: They’re gifts. Presents for my love.

‘What the fuck?’ Tyler thinks to himself. There’s a momentary break before Tyler receives two more messages.

Anon: They’re locations of Omegas.

Anon: Current locations of Omegas.

That’s all Tyler needs. He logs off and races off to get the others.

The a small team of Omegas spend the next week traveling to the nearest location that had been provided to them, staking out the building, infiltrating the building, and traveling back to Safe Have. The mission wasn’t easy, but Anon hadn’t disappointed them. In the end the team arrives home with five new Omegas who are beaten, bruised, scared, and malnourished. Upon arrival Hanna meet them at the entrace and immediatly sends the injued and the new arrivals to the infirmary with Jayden to receive medical attention.

“So, the intell was accurate.” Hanna says to Zero as they walk back to their shared room.

He nodds. “You think its a spy on the inside of the Slave Market?”

Hanna chews on the inside of her lip. “She had considered the possibility, and though part of her hopes thats whats was going on, the other part of her is skeptical. They needed to contact Anon.

Later in the afternoon the Big Six gather inside of the office. Madison, Jayden, Zero, Tyler, and Hanna, all stand around the island in the center of the room and hold their breath as Madison calls Anon.

He picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” He says.

“We got the Omegas.” Madison says sharply and straight to the point. “Now tell us who you are.”

“I want to speak to Hanna.”

“This is Hanna.”

“No. Your not. You’re Madison. Now, Madison, hand me over to Hanna. I know she’s there.”

Madison pulls the phone away from her face and she covers the microphone with the palm of her hand. “He called my bluff.” She says irritated. She turns to Hanna. “He wants to talk to you. Do you want to take it or should I tell him to fuck off?”

Hanna has her palms pressed into the edge of the desk and she’s leaning against the peice of furniture with all her weight. She looks at the phone that Madison holds out to her, before taking it, putting it on speaker phone, and placing it down on the counter before her.

“This is Hanna. Who is this?” Hanna says.

There's the sound shuffling on the other end, followed by a smooth male voice. “Hello Hanna.”

Zero is marching up to Hanna and she knows that he’s going for the phone. She holds a hand up to Zero and stops him in his tracks.

Of course it was him. It all made sense now.

“I missed you Hanna. How have you been?”

Hanna’s stomach clenches and she grips the edge of the desk tightly. “Well to be honest I was doing great right up untill five fucking seconds ago.”

Conner grumbles on the other end. “Such a filthy mouth you have there Hanna. I see your set back in your old ways. Pity. I had you behaving so well for me before you left.”

“You mean before I escaped?” Hanna snarls.

“No, actually, I do mean left. What else do you call it when your lover walks out in the middle of having sex, and leaves you inebriates and tied to a bed?” He chuckles to himself and he sounds unhinged. “I knew you were a vixen Hanna but damn - - that was criminal.”

Hannas ears flush and suddenly she wishes that fifteen year old Jayden had been excluded from this meeting. “We were never lovers.”

“No?”

"No.” Her voice is as unyielding and cold as steel.

Another pause. “Well, I guess I underestimated you Hanna. Your acting abilities had me fooled. It felt real to me.”

Anger and a practiced speech boils in her chest. She knew one day she would be able to say these words to Conner, but she hadn’t known when. “Your delusion was your downfall.” She says. “You thought you had me wrapped around your finger, trained and obedient like some sort of dog, but you were wrong.” She smirks and it can be heard in her voice. “The whole time I was the one that had you wrapped around my finger. I tugged on your heartstrings and did what you wanted because I knew, one day, you would let your guard down, and I would be free. I never belonged to you. Not for a single god damn moment.”

There’s a long strech of silence on his end and everyone but Hanna and Zero start to wonder if he’s still there.

“Very well then.” He sighs. “I’ll be seeing you soon Hanna, and until then, take care of yourself.” Another pause. Then, “I want you in prime condition when I come to collect what is rightfully mine.”

>> The Story of Hanna Light Master List <<

#TSOHL #either Jayen was going to die in this chapter or Connor was going to give Hanna a wedding ring #clearly neither of those two things happened

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

For a fic prompt! How about Duck and Indrid are childhood best friends who are college roommates. Indrid has been in love with Duck for years, but when Duck starts dating Minerva it throws Indrid into a deep depression. Ideally Duck and Indrid do get together in the end (though hopefully Duck and Minerva’s breakup isn’t nasty) and you can get as angsty as you’d like! Honestly the angstier the better is my motto! Also I’m all for Indrid still having future sight, if you’d like! Thank you SO MUCH!

Here you go!

Quick content note: it contains trans Duck, including a scene where Indrid takes his side when he comes out in PE and, it’s implied, that coming out is not well recieved.

Indrid Cold lays face down on his bed. His phone is shoved under the black cotton of his pillow case, and he’s drawn the windows shut against the warm August air.

This is a misery of his own making, he knows this. He can’t decide if the fact that it’s a misery nearly two decades in the making is impressive or pathetic.

To understand the origins of it, one has to rewind the tape of his life back quite a ways.

——————————————————-

Duck Newton is six years old and hunting for miners lettuce in his backyard, when he feels like he’s being watched.

Looking up, he finds a face framed with shaggy dark hair, glasses perched on a pointy nose, peeking over the fence at him. As soon as the face sees him, it ducks back down.

Weird.

He goes back to foraging, only to find the face watching him again a minute later. This time, when it disappears, he clambers up the oak tree alongside the fence and scoots carefully out onto a limb that sticks out into the neighboring yard. The face, which belongs to a boy about his age, is staring up at him, as if he expected Duck to appear. He’s standing on the edge of the decorative fountain the old neighbors put in the yard.

“Why’re you watchin me?”

“I wanted to know what you were doing.”

“How come?”

“I’m bored. My dads are putting the house together and I don’t want to draw anymore.” He points to a stack of pictures, next to some crayons that are melting in the sun.

Duck thinks; he hasn’t had anyone to play with since school got out. Leo, who lives down the block, is nine, so not as interested in having Duck trailing after him like a little brother as he used to be.

“…You wanna go see a huge crawdad?”

The other boy perks up, “I have no idea what that is. But yes.”

“C’mon, meet me in the front yard. What’s your name?”

“Indrid.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“What’s yours?” Indrid crosses his arms, eyebrow raised

“Duck.”

Indrid stares at him, wide mouth curling up at one side. His stare is a bit unnerving, and Duck feels the need to explain himself.

“It’s a nickname.”

————————————————————

“I think that’s the same large one from last year.” Indrid peers over his sketchpad, staring down at a crawdad scuttling through the clear creek.

“Told you we shoulda put a colored tape on them or somethin so we could keep track.” Duck looks at the crustacean, and then back at the project he’s working on.

They’re nine years old, hazy and sleepy in the summer afternoon. This part of the creek is shaded, keeps them hidden from passersby and parents alike (they’ve learned to tell at least one parent where they’re going, after Greg, one of Indrid’s dad’s, panicked looking for them).

“What are you making?” Indrid wiggles next to him in the grass, gnawing his pencil as Duck shows him.

“S’a reed raft. I’m gonna see how far I can float it down the river.”

“I will draw a flag for it.” Indrid scribbles, and Duck grins at him. He continues, “I’m glad you’re back. I hate when you got to your uncle’s during the summer. I have no one to talk to.”

“You could talk to Dani.”

“She’s busy a lot.”

Duck looks a little guilty, “Did you get the postcards?”

“Uh huh.” Indrid nods, smiling at his friend to show there’s no harm done. He knows it’s not up to Duck where he goes. The postcards are pinned to his wall, along with his own drawings, some horror movie posters, and the postcards from the last two summers.

“Oh, look at what I found while we were at the lake.” Duck reaches into his pocket, pulling out a smooth, wiggly-striped stone, “Uncle Jeff says it’s agate.”

He holds it out and Indrid takes it, runs his fingers along the smooth, cool surface. It feels lovely. And it reminds him of what he likes most about being Duck’s friend; Duck can make anything, even a rock, seem interesting and special.

Indrid is reminded of another reason he is lucky to have Duck the next morning.

All the adults are down in the living room, talking worriedly. There’s been a car crash on the nearby highway, and one of the trucks was carrying something toxic. The school is closed, and everyone has been told to stay home because the air could be unsafe.

Indrid is under all his blankets, his sketchbook thrown to the other side of the room.

“‘Drid?” The door creaks as Duck enters the bedroom.

He wants to beg him to hide under the covers with him. He wants to tell him to go away.

He sniffs, wipes his nose on his arm, and hears Duck turn towards the bed. The covers slowly lift, and Indrid blinks blearily, tearily up at him.

“Have you been cryin?” Duck looks worried.

He nods.

“Did you know someone who got hurt?”

“No. I, I saw it happen. In my head. Over and over last night. I thought I was imagining it. But then it happened. Th-that happens a lot, ever since my birthday. It’s like, like I see things and then sometimes they happen and sometimes they don’t. I draw them but, but I’m afraid if my dad’s find out they’ll, they’ll think I’m wrong, somethings wrong with me.”

As he’s talking, Duck sits down next to him, rests his arm around his shoulders.

“Nothin’s wrong with you ‘Drid. This is weird, but it don’t make you bad. You should tell you dads. They’re nice, they’ll help you.” He squeezes Indrid’s arm, smiling at him as he rests his head on his shoulder, “I’ll help you too.” He slips the agate from his pocket and into Indrid’s hands, moves their fingers over it in tandem until the motion soothes Indrid’s breathing down, then tucks it into Indrid’s pocket.

————————————————————————————–

“You okay ‘Drid?” Duck plops down on a cafeteria bench Kepler Middle School, Indrid poking glumly at his fruit salad.

“We had oral presentations today. I did mine on my moth.” He taps the jar in front of him. A week or so ago it had contained a caterpillar that he and Duck had identified as belonging to a Banded Tiger Moth. Indrid had decided to raise it into adulthood, Duck helping him figure out which weeds to feed it before it went into its cocoon. When it emerges, he and Duck have the perfect spot picked to release it.

“What’s wrong with your moth?”

“Nice glasses, mothman!” A voice yells, two boys high-fiving when Indrid shrinks in on himself.

“Hey, fuck you, mothman rules!” Duck thanks his lucky stars none of the cafeteria monitors heard him. He recognizes those two; they’re in Indrid’s CORE class with him, meaning the nickname has already spread. Indrid, with his tics and his tendency to finish people’s sentences, his glasses and scraggly appearance, has been pegged as a target for months. It makes Duck’s blood boil to see them turn something Indrid spent time looking after into an insult.

That night, he grabs a sharpie and one of his grey t-shirts.

The next day, he turns up with “Mothman Rules” scrawled on his chest. Indrid’s smile is worth the lecture he gets about messing up his clothes.

———————————————————–

Indrid and Duck sit side by side in the principals office. Their gym clothes in Kepler Middle’s colors, grey and maroon, seem even grimmer right now.

They haven’t done anything wrong, not as far as Indrid is concerned.

Duck stood in the boys line-up during P.E, that’s all. When he refused to move to the girls line, the teacher told the rest of the boys to line up all over again, elsewhere. They all moved, except Indrid, who insisted that Duck was in the right line and refused to play along with a bid to deny that.

They have been sent to the principal for “causing trouble.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Duck murmurs.

“I did. You’re my friend, Duck. And Mr. H is an asshole.”

He thinks, but does not say, that it would take far more than a gym teacher and the threat of detention to leave Duck’s side when he’s in trouble.

———————————————————

It’s Indrid’s 16th birthday, and his dads are throwing a very subdued sweet sixteen. He dyed his hair silver, and they’ve ordered an entire table of desserts from a local bakery, and he, Duck, Juno, Dani, and Barclay have stuffed themselves while watching movies and teasing Dani for being ga-ga over her long-distance girlfriend, Aubrey, who she met playing an online tabletop games.

Once the other three leave, Duck grabs Indrid’s jacket and hands it to him.

“C’mon, lets go to the creek. Got somethin to show you.”

Indrid follows him, teasing him as they turn down the creekbed, “We’re not going to have a repeat of the beer incident are we?”

Duck laughs, “No. Learned better than to give that hummingbird palate of yours booze.”

They hit the familiar dirt of their favorite spot, and Duck gets on tiptoe and reaches into the trees above them. Strings of lights, red to match Indrid’s new glasses, and white, snap on. Below them is a blanket, and Indrid sits down with a perplexed smile. Then he checks the futures, and understands.

“Is this entirely sanitary?”

“Enough.” Duck grins, pulling out a lighter and safety pin, “I did it on mine and I still got the ear.”

“Very well.” Indrid crosses his legs, checks the futures it be double sure this won’t end in infection, and braces himself, “left ear please.”

“Right. Okay, one, two-”

“OWowowowow.”

“Done!”

“Ow.” Indrid winces as Duck cleans the newly-pierced ear, loosens his grip on the agate in his fist.

“Can’t believe you still carry that thing around.”

“I find it soothing. Ooh, how nice.” Indrid picks up the black moth-shaped earring Duck hands him.

“Figured it’d be better to start with a smaller one. And now that you’re all done, you can officially burn your list.”

Indrid pulls a worn sheet of binder paper from his pocket. When he, and then Duck, turned fifteen, they wrote out lists of things they wanted to do before they hit sixteen. He crosses out get ear pierced, then mutters, “I’m still missing one.”

Duck looks at him quizzically. He turns the paper around and points to first kiss.

“Wait, I thought you and Carlos-”

“Nope. Never got that far before we broke up.”

Duck sits next to him, gets a mischievous grin on his face, “Think I know how to help.”

“How’s tha-”

It’s barely a kiss, Duck bringing their lips together just long enough for Indrid to feel him sigh happily. Then he pulls back, still grinning.

Indrid is certain that if he looked down at himself, his veins would be pulsing technicolor, his body lit up like the cheap neon in their tiny downtown.

“Ta-dah, list complete.” Duck whispers.

“Thank you.” Indrid whispers back.

He doesn’t think much of it for the rest of the night, figures it’s just a meeting of Duck’s goofier side with his desire to help a friend.

It’s only when he’s laying in bed, playing the kiss over and over again like a favorite song, that he realizes he might be in trouble.

————————————————————-

Indrid knows the likely outcome, but that doesn’t stop him from leaping up excitedly when Duck bangs the front door open.

“‘Drid, I got in! did you, oh, hey Mr. Cold, did you?”

“Yes.” Indrid grins from the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh hell yeah! Juno got in too! Maybe we can all be roommates.”

As much as Indrid would like that outcome, the arbitrary housing system of UWV Huntington has other ideas. Duck ends up partnered with an affable if often absent psych major, Juno gets a single in the same dorm, just two floors down, and Indrid is stuck with a frat-boy business major.

That doesn’t stop them from making the most of their first year of college. Indrid crashes on Duck’s floor some nights, and the two of them manage to swing having a film class together during spring semester. They each dip their toes into the wild sea that is college dating, with mixed results, trading advice and anecdotes in the dark of Duck’s room.

And none of that, not one single bit, does anything to dampen Indrid’s romantic feelings for his friend.

It’s not that he doesn’t try, just as he’s been trying every day since his 16th birthday. He loves Duck as a friend, wants to be in his life forever. He can’t afford to love him any other way. It’s too risky. And so he tries, over and over and over, to quash those feelings. Sometimes they ebb, sometimes Indrid happily dates or hooks up with other people.

But they always come back, like a faithful hound finding it’s way home.

Because Duck will laugh in that ridiculous way of his, be vulnerable with Indrid in those private moments, make Indrid feel understood in a way no one else can. And he falls in love all over again.

(And that’s before he even gets to the moments where Duck will strip his shirt off on hot days, or wander into the room in his boxer shorts, and Indrid feels the urge to plead with him for the privilege of feeling him up).

It’s because of all this that, when Duck asks if Indrid wants to move in together their sophomore year, he almost says no.

But then he and Duck are sharing celebratory take-out in a half-unpacked apartment and he’s happier than he ever thought he could be.

It’s not perfect by any means. Indrid can be messy, Duck can be terse, money can be tight. But Indrid is so at home with Duck, all that fades into the background. They have friends over, compare notes on dates, have junk food strewn study sessions on the couch, keep each other company during all nighters.

Then, in May of their Sophomore year, things change.

“‘Drid? Oh good, you’re still up. Um, I wanted to tell you somethin. Minerva and I are goin out.”

“Oh. That’s a bit unexpected.” Indrid sets his drawing aside.

“You tellin me you don’t use that magic-eight ball brain to spy on my love life?” Duck teases, plopping down onto the bed with him.

“Never. So…why the switch from work-out buddies to this?”

“Dunno, just seemed like we’d been spendin a lot of time together. She actually tutored me back in high school, remember, so it’s kinda fun to be around someone who’s known me that long. Y'know, someone who watched me grow up.”

“I see.” Indrid kicks his jealousy until it goes limp and sinks back under the surface of his feelings, “well, that’s awesome then. I’m glad you’re excited Duck.”

And he is. It’s not a lie, goodness knows he’s well aware he has no claim to Duck’s affection or time. And Minerva does seem to make him happy, encourages Duck’s good habits like going to the gym (something Indrid has tried once and will never do again. Yoga and walking are fine by him).

But soon he cannot go anywhere with Duck, including his own apartment, without Minerva there. Duck spends all of his time with her, and Indrid learns it’s not just him; while Minerva is gladly included in their group get-togethers, Juno hasn’t seen Duck in weeks. And has barely heard from him. She is also a bit loud and Indrid, who has always had trouble with over-stimulation from noise, finds himself out of the apartment more and more often.

Indrid can’t blame Duck for spending time with Minerva rather than him; she’s jockular, active, attractive (even if she does call Duck by his first name). Indrid is odd, reclusive, and well, weird looking.

It all goes to hell at the end of August.

“‘Drid! The study abroad program offered me a scholarship. I get to go to Brazil. This is so fuckin cool!”

“Wonderful!” Indrid claps his hands, “I know how badly you’ve wanted to go. You have to promise me to send me pictures of brightly colored bugs for art inspiration. Oh, and now we can tell Dani she has somewhere to stay while she and Aubrey look for a shared place.”

“Exactly. And guess what, it gets even better.”

“How-” he sees the answer coming, tries to keep his face neutral.

“Minerva’s comin with me!”

“I wasn’t aware wildlife conservation and management was her area of interest.”

“It ain’t, but she’s comin as part of a grad study program. It’s gonna be so fuckin amazin.”

“I’m sure it will be.” The pull between his true feelings and his need to seem supportive renders his answer flat.

“What’s up?” Duck sits down in the kitchen chair opposite him.

“Nothing. Or, well, I suppose I’ve just now realized that I’ll be without a good friend for a semester. I’ll miss you.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too, you big sap. Don’t worry, I’ll write you a bunch, send pictures too when I can.”

Indrid looks at the futures, then down at the table, “No, you won’t.”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I?” Duck looks hurt.

“In all the timelines, you send me one postcard at maximum. In most of them, you send none. I slip your mind entirely, it seems.” His voice is tight.

“The fuck? How is that pos-”

“Any time not spent in the field, you are too engrossed by her to do anything else.”

Duck’s face hardens, “So that’s what this is really about.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lies.

“You’ve been bothered by her since the start! You don’t think I notice that forced smile you get when she’s around, or the fact you leave the house when she comes over?”

“I get overstimulated when there is too much noise, you know that.” Indrid snaps back.

“You hardly come out with us anymore, and you make it sound like she’s controlin me or some shit.”

“I, I do not. I just don’t enjoy when she barges in randomly.” He rubs his temples with his hands, trying to keep calm.

“Christ, you really makin me choose between my best friend and the first girlfriend who’s made me feel this way? Why the fuck can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because it should be me and not her!” Indrid spits out, hands dropping to the table and gaze meeting Duck’s own.

Duck blinks back at him, “Really? Really? You had a million goddamn chances to confess how you feel and you choose now?”

“I, I didn’t, I tried so hard to ignore it, but, fuck, I didn’t mean to say it now but since I did: I’ve been in love with you for years. And, and I just, after everything, we’ve been so close-”

“What, you think that what, because we’ve been friends since we were kids and you been pinin after me for however the fuck long, I should just date you? Like it’s destiny or some shit? What the fuck man?” He stands and Indrid mirrors him.

“Do not put words in my mouth. I never wanted to interfere in your life, I never, you can’t possibly know how I feel!”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m really that fuckin oblivious? I suspected you felt some kind of way about me, and I gave you chances to show me I was right!”

“Name one.” Indrid growls, stepping closer.

“Homecomin, my eighteenth birthday, about a dozen times last year where I asked if you had your eye on anyone and you’d change the goddamn subject,” Duck counts out on his fingers, closing the remaining distance, “hell, coulda used those weird powers of yours to see what would happen if you told me.”

“I was too scared to. And if you were so observant, and apparently not opposed to the idea, why didn’t you make a move on me?”

“What do you think me kissin you on your birthday was?”

“A joke! Goodness, Duck, you know I’m not great with social cues. I didn’t think you’d ever care about me that way.”

“You think I’m that fuckin shallow?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He growls.

“So what was your end-game, huh? Just wait out everyone else, circle me like a fuckin vulture until I’d settle for you? Fuck, Minerva was right, you are creepy.”

Duck may as well have punched him. He sort of wishes he had.

“Fuck. you. Wayne.” He hisses out, stepping around him and towards his room.

“Nah, fuck you, Indrid. Fuck you for makin me think you actually cared about me when all you were doin was bidin your goddamn time!”

“That’s not, no, nevermind. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Duck tosses back, “That’s as good as a confession in my book, you creepy, mothman lookin motherfucker,” and Indrid slams the door.

There’s ten minutes of hurried, angry movement in the rest of the apartment, and then the front door bangs shut.

He cycles through anger (at himself, at Duck, at these obnoxious powers for not helping him prevent the fight), hurt, and numb acceptance that he has blown his oldest, closest friendship to smithereens.

When he finally calms down enough to think clearly he realizes that, if nothing else, he doesn’t want that to be the last conversation they have before Duck leaves.

He faceplants onto his bed, pulls out his phone, and types.

Indrid: I’m sorry for losing my temper, and for not telling you the truth sooner. Even though it would have been helpful if you’d been clearer in the past. Can we talk about this tomorrow, and try again?

The answer is immediate.

Duck: Staying with M until we leave. Don’t text me again unless the apartment is on fire.

He stares at the response, then slides the phone under his pillow, presses his face to the mattress, and lays there numbly until he falls asleep.

——————————————————

“Nope, you are not having a sad hook-up on my watch.” Barclay’s tone freezes Indrid in place, and he slumps back down into the booth at the bar.

Barclay is only a year ahead of him, but at times he reminds Indrid of a mother hen. A very, very large mother hen.

“I cannot believe I allowed you to drag me out on Homecoming weekend.”

“Indrid, you’ve been miserable for almost two months, and I’m honestly really worried about you. Plus, this place has super cheap, real good appetizers.”

“Thank you for not saying ‘apps.’’ Indrid sips his soda.

“That word is an abomination. And you’re avoiding the actual topic.”

“I destroyed my best friend’s trust in me, and am wallowing here while he cavorts in the rainforest with his girlfriend. I’ll survive, but there’s no rule that says I have to enjoy it.”

Barclay sighs, “Look, if I give you permission to be miserable while you do it, will you come to trivia night with me, Joe, and Jake? Dani’s usually out fourth, but she’s helping Aubrey get her magic show up and ready to open.”

Indrid blows a strand of hair from his face (the black patches are getting worse, he needs to dye it again), “I can mope as much as I want?”

“You can cry into your beer for all I care, as long as you let me buy it.”

Trivia night turns out to be much better than anticipated, though Joe, Barclay’s boyfriend, is terrifying to behold in a battle of information.

Movie goes better, game night even better still, and soon Indrid is hanging out with the others more days than not. He even helps Aubrey design and draw up some last minute posters for her show.

It’s the morning after opening night (and the following celebration) that his phone alerts him to a new email. The subject simply says “Bug.”

It’s from Duck.

All it contains is a photo, clearly taken at night on a phone, of a moth with bright pink wings and red eyespots.

He types, Neat! Then, after a moment, adds What species?

He doesn’t expect a response. But the next day, another email awaits him.

Dr. Graslie (Entomologist here) thinks it’s Leucanella apollinairei. Here’s someone more familiar

This picture is of a small crustacean. Indrid smiles; it’s a crawdad.

He replies Careful, maybe it followed you all the way from Kepler. Seen anything else interesting?

This time he waits two days for a response, but it opens with, sorry, internet is real spotty. Big shock, I know.

This is followed by two paragraphs describing trees. Indrid has never been so happy to hear about root systems.

Soon Duck is emailing him whenever he can. At first, it’s only about the wildlife, the field work he’s doing, and the terror of trying to practice hygiene in the middle of a rainforest. Slowly, other details appear; the things he’s homesick for, the ways in which he and Minerva are starting to grate at each other (you’d think being in the middle of nowhere’d get you some peace and quiet. Nope).

Indrid responds with updates from school, pictures of the outings he and the others go on, news about the promo art several places in town have hired him to do after seeing the posters for Aubrey’s act. Says he hopes Minerva and Duck are able to work things out.

Winter break comes sooner than seems possible, and he assumes the next time he sees Duck will be when they’re home visiting their folks.

Which is why, when he’s sitting at home reading after his last final, the door opening alarms him (Dani has already moved out). That is, until he glimpses the future.

“Duck?” He calls softly.

His friend appears in the doorway, luggage left behind him in the entryway.

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

“I, ah, assumed you’d be staying with Minerva until you could officially move out.”

Duck shakes his head, “I ain’t movin anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

“No.” Indrid fidgets with the agate, tucked safely in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“We, uh, we broke up. Minerva and me. It was, uh, mutual, though she was the one to pull the trigger, so to speak. Just found there were some things we didn’t agree on. Weren’t compatible on neither.”

“I’m sorry.”

Duck snorts what’s almost a laugh.

“I mean it.” He stands, voices earnest and gentle, “I know you were happy with her, and the relationship meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah” Duck sounds tired, “It did. But it turns out another one meant more.”

Indrid stops moving. Also, possibly, breathing.

“I…well, I sent you that first email instead of apologizin because I was still kinda hurt, but I realized I missed you. I didn’t want you gone from my life. And the longer I was gone, the more times I turned around wanting to tell you somethin and was sad you weren’t there, got excited at the thought of showin you somethin or sending you pictures, I realized I did plenty to fuck things up. And that’s before we get to the fact I was dreamin about you most nights.”

Duck steps awkwardly forward, until they’re toe to toe, “I missed you, ‘Drid. So fuckin much. And I’m sorry for the things I said durin the fight.”

“As am I. I ought to have thought how my confession would appear to you. I’m sorry I did not.”

“I guess, what I’m tryin to say is I feel like a real dipshit for havin to go halfway across the globe to realize what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Duck?”

Duck cups his cheeks, and then Indrid is tipping forward, into a kiss he’s dreamed of for years. His arms close around Duck’s shoulders, his lips taste chapstick and cold night air. He pulls away to breathe and gets only an instant to do so, Duck chasing his mouth for kiss after kiss, his eagerness sending them tripping onto the bed.

Indrid lands on top of Duck, hears him whimper when his name leaves Indrid’s lips.

“‘Drid, ‘Drid, please-”

“Yes” He kisses his cheek, “whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

Duck giggles into his neck, “You got no idea how bad I wanna make a goof on that. But, fuck, ‘Drid, I can’t, all I want is you.”

“Likewise.” He purrs, hooking Ducks leg around his own, nuzzling up his neck before attacking his lips with kisses.

“That, that a rock in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Duck tugs on his lower lip.

“Both. See?” He produces the agate, holds it where Duck can get a look at it.

“Holy shit, is that the one I gave you a million years ago?”

“Indeed. It became a sort of grounding object, because it was pleasant to touch and reminded me of you. Later it morphed into a sort of good luck charm.”

Duck closes Indrid’s fist around the rock and kisses it, grins, “There, now it’s twice as lucky.”

Indrid holds him close, basks in the love radiating from him as he murmurs, “It’s not the luckiest thing in the room, though. That honor, I believe, belongs to you and I.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #college au #duck x indrid

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drkcnry67 · 3 years

Text

I was so afraid I lost you. (day 12)

A/N: @obxmermaid welcome to day 12. where we find that YN has just recieved an owl from her parents that her father was in a car accident and is in acoma, she goes to stand by the frozen black lake but is immediately submerged when something or someone knocks her into the water and no one realizes she is missing till a few hours later. again apologies for the word vomit.

Pairing: draco malfoy x reader

Prompt: “her body is freezing, she needs help.”

25 days of hogwarts

the water flooded your lungs, the light disappearing, your voice not vocalizing. no one around. you were alone. you were drowning. you had fallen through the ice.

you werent sure how, you werent sure why, you didnt know how to call for help. but lets figure out what happened to get you to this point. lets retrace your steps.

you were sitting in the quad, you were waiting for Draco to finish helping snape with the potion replenishment and for their evening/afternoon together to start. suddenly a fire message appeared before you.

“dear YN, this is to inform you of an accident concerning your father. he was out driving back from a grocery shop when he was attacked, his vehicle was run off the road on the way back to your family house. your father is in a coma. dont worry my daughter, the doctors say he will be fine, their doing what they can to heal his injuries. i know this will hurt alot, but you will have to be strong. draco will comfort you in these times during this time i know that much. cause you are a strong brave girl, you are going to be an extraordinary witch one day with a extraordinary wizard for a husband. you both will live in peace, you both will live in harmony. with every breath in our family, There will be a family reunion for Christmas, and i invite you and Draco to join in the festivities. please dont worry too much about your father. he has been through worse than this in his lifetime and this is not gonna be the last time. write back soon dear. all my love, mother.”

that was it by the time the last word left your lips, you had started walking out of the quad. you had your cloak on and was ready to run. you had to go somewhere quiet somewhere the opposing people wouldnt find you. or anyone for that matter.

you found yourself now standing in front of the black lake. half frozen half not. but something happened, for you were being stalked, then chased, by something or someone behind you, moving at great speed. before you could react you were thrust through the ice and into the freezing lake.

the sound cut out, your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you were inaudible. you were unsure of how to vocalize anything right then, your mind numbing from the frigid temperatures, confusing you. As you slowly grew colder and colder, you knew not of your own locale, your brain foggy from the chill.

at the very moment of you running to the lake, Draco had been coming to find you. he had tried to send a fire message to you, but it came back undelivered. he had asked around and still could not find you anywhere. he figured you were napping in your room or something and would see you for dinner.

when you didnt show he went to the professors. he went straight to the exact ones who he thought might need to know.

Draco: i was supposed to meet YN a few hours ago. i figured she would have been napping or something but none of the ghosts have seen her, they say she isnt in her dorm. she isnt in any of the classrooms, the quidditch tent or the astronomy tower. im worried.

Minerva: its gonna be dark soon we all need to search for her. make sure nothing bad has happened to her.

Snape: ill stay here and make sure i have the proper antidotes and things ready in case of the worst or injury.

Flitwick: ill search in the lower half of the school, perhaps she went on a quest through the lower ravenclaw tower.

Minerva: Mr Malfoy, you and i are gonna go search the grounds. see if hagrid has seen anything. or knows of anywhere she may be.

draco follows Minerva through the rest of the grounds. both of them reaching the path to hagrids hut before Fang comes barging up the path. and running down towards the black lake.

Draco: hargid whats going..

Hagrid: fang senses some danger, come on, follow that dog.

both minerva and draco follow in suit. hagrid had a head start...

arriving at the lake all 4 of them stood there where the ice was broken. the look of shock and horror that bewildered Draco’s features now allowing him to with the fleeting fact of this is an emergency.

he took off his shoes, used the bubble head charm, and dove into the lake. Minerva and Hagrid took the time to use a simple fire spell to melt some of the ice around the docks.

Draco down in the lake now using his wand to search for you. his idea of shine the light in the lake to find you. instead he used in-audible magic to place out a tracker.

he swam with all his might, using his strength to attempt to get to you. it was another 5 minutes into his swim that he finally saw the light had stopped, he had found you. he reached you. gripping you around the waist with one arm he started to make his way to the top.

but it got too much. the weight was too much. he ditched both yours and his cloaks and it made things a little easier. but as they neared the top he sent out red sparks with his wand to alert that he had found you.

Minerva: there they are. hagrid be ready with those blankets we are gonna need them. ascendio..

she pointed her wand at the place where the sparks had come from. in moments you and draco came shooting onto the dock.

Draco: her body is freezing, she needs help... we have to get her to snapes classroom now.

Hagrid stepped forth, handing a blanket to Draco while placing a few around you, with the help of both Minerva and Draco.

minerva: hagrid would you like to come along for this travel or will you meet us there after you clean this mess up?

Hagrid: go on ahead ill come by later.

minerva in moments poofed you, draco and herself to Snapes classroom.

Draco placed you on the clear table as he sat on a stool on one side of the table with a blanket around his form, then watches as Snape expels the water from your lungs and assesses you for other injuries.

Snape: go get into some dry clothes mr malfoy. miss YN will be fine... she will still be here when you get back... but we dont need you out of commission as well. thats an order mr malfoy.

draco reluctantly went out of the classroom, he went to his dorm and got into some dry clothes and then went back to the potions classroom. snape turns in his direction as he enters the room.

Snape: she is gonna be fine, she should wake in the morning. you may take her to her dorm and stay there with her till she wakes. im sure she will want to see you first.

Draco scopes you into his arms, taking you back to your dorm. he lays you on your bed. he uses in-audible magic to get you out of your wet stuff and into something dry without seeing anything that he knew wouldnt be right.

he kicked off his shoes and placed both your wands on the stand as he sat on the edge of your bed and held your hand in his own. he lit the fireplace to heat the room, made sure you had blankets over you.

he sat there waiting for you to, he gripped your hand and waited very patiently for your body to warm up, for you to stir, to move, for something to happen.

A few hours later your fingers started moving, Draco moved closer to you. His own hands gripping yours tightly.

Draco: come on love. Come on I can't live my future without you.

A few seconds more and your body sat upright and took a deep breath... you coughed a bit as your body shook. Draco’s hands held your own, his voice the only thing keeping you on planet earth.

Draco: YN shh hey hey its okay. you are alright love. what happened?

YN: something or someone pushed me into the lake. i got a fire message from my mom, my dad was in a car accident that has put him in coma.. no doubt caused by your parents.

Draco: and they will pay for that... i was so afraid i had lost you. but right now you need to rest. here scoot over let me in. ill stay with you. that and professor snape told me to keep an eye on you.

YN: well this is excellent. i love having you here. i just hope my father is ok.

Draco: and he will be... lets just get some rest right now so we can figure all this out tomorrow. hopefully with less of you or i almost dying and more of us being normal ish or about as normal as can be for a magic couple.

YN: i like the sound of that.

you moved over so draco could slide in beside you. he laid down all comfy with you laying against his chest and the sound of his heart beat lulling you to sleep. his eyes shutting as well for it had certainly been an exhausting day.

~to be continued~

#obxmermaidholiday

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unfortunategoatthing · 5 years

Text

prompt: Biting

oof, im not really into writing yandere girls, but she did turn pseudo-yandere for a moment there and im not yet sure if i like it yet ngl

Vampire!OC x reader

warnings: dubcon, noncon, blood, biting, etc

It was a cold autumn night, quiet, windless, and the eerie crows of the neighborhood ravens keeping you up. You just wanted to sleep, to curl into your heavy, silken sheets and forget about the world for a short moment. It has been so long since you've had a good nights rest.

This place scares you, and you are not going to lie about that. It scares you, and it's cold and dark and smells like the winecellars back home, all dank and rusted metals and rotting woods. This mansion is old, empty, forgotten memories hanging around every corner and ready to scare you with its horrible truths and non-lies it carries.

You can hear her breathing, she is hungry and you don't know why she hasn't replenished herself yet. She has yet to hurt you, to touch you in any way that holds a threat to your safety, to to pose any inclination of evil thoughts that might have been bred into her all of those years ago. She rasps something, incoherent from down the hall from where your closed door is connected to.

You not sure what scares you the most, this place or Lilian.

Curling further into your blanket, you bring the hem up to your chin, the chill only making things unnecessarily worse to you. Your nightdress feels thinner than ever before despite the thick wool that it's made from.

Eventually, she makes her way to your door. Lilian has a knack for her slow, dangerous stride, and you are sure that in her blinded hunger her prode has been tossed in turn for a stalking way of walking, the kind of walking that you always imagined all vampires or creatues of the undead walked like, shoulds raised and a hunchback, bent knees face curled into a deathly snarl that bared their long teeth and blacken mouth.

Your door creaks as it is pushed open, and you push yourself further under your blankets, unsure of what will happen next. You are scared, and you know it's because of Lilian.

"Y/n, y/n, I- I need you, I need you, darling," you feel her crawl on the bed, a lean hand snaking its way to find your ankle. You let out a heavy gasp, "Please, dont be scared, dont be afraid of me. I need to do this, I can't wait any more, darling."

You whimper, reluctantly sitting up and letting the blankets fall, the chill of the room causing your exposed skin to succumb to goosebumps. "Lilian..." You say softly, watching intently as she moves her way closer to you, to stradle you with her cold, pale fingertips trailing up your arms just until they reach where your nightgowns sleeves begin.

"Y/n," she repeats, silver eyes staring into yours, her long black hair draping over her shoulders and onto your lap, and her own silken nightgown almost gleaming in the dark, "I need to feed- I need to feed and there's no one else here but you, my sweetheart. Forgive me."

"Lilian, no-" Your hand shoots up to the crook of her jaw where it meets her throat, but you aren't strong enough. Her snarl is hoarse and choked, it doesnt stop her from descending her fangs to your tender flesh.

But she doesn't make it all the way.

Your struggling with your hand at her throat pushes her off only by a little, and she strikes the furthest part of your collarbone instead, tearing ths flesh and howling as her fang meets the bone underneath. You let out a short scream, and start kicking your legs.

"Y/n!" Lilian hisses, restraining your wrists and slidding foreward until she was completely straddling you, her nightgown rose up to fit how wide her legs were spread to showcase her pale skin, the frilly hemwork of the gown fluttering up to your stomach. Her lips are red, and the collar of your own nightgown is bloodied from your weeping wound.

She lunges a second time and makes her mark, her grip on your wrists tightening and nails breaking fleah, grinding down on you to keep you from flailing any more. Her teeth break into your flesh, it doesnt hurt as it does like the first attempt but you scream anyways.

Lilian lets go of one hand, and you're quick to start hitting her, yet she seems far more concerned with the ammount of noise you're making, shoving her long fingers into your mouth and pressing her manicured nails into your tongue, allowing you to continue your loud sobs and spitting and sputtering until all that remains is your labored breathing. Your saliva coats her fingers, Lilian only cares about your blood.

Eventually, you feel her stop suckling your throat, and feel a soft relief as she detatches herself from your body. She doesn't move back, though, she stays close and begins to pepper kisses to your neck and collar bone, hesitating over your wound from before before she gives it a tentative lick.

Lilian removes her grip from you as well, only to push you down, holding you as you continue to weep and bleed slowly.

She trembles, as if she was the one who had her throat torn, her hands shaking like leaves as they begin to touch your skin, your bleeding throat and collarbone.

"My love..." she murmurs, her hair falling on your body as she adjusts herself on top of you, "My love, I- I- don't know what came over me, what have I done..." She trails off, holding your face as you lean further into your pillows.

"Lilian," you say weakly, voice hoarse, placing your hand at her stomach. She moves to get off of you, but you dig your fingers in her nightgown, keeping her close, "Lilian, why-"

"I don't know why!" She shrills, pressing harder on your face and leaning in to give you a smothering kiss, your blood still on her tongue, "I dont know why and I'm angry that I don't, I'm angry because I never intened this for you, beloved, I never- I never wanted this for you!"

"When was the last time you... you fed, Lilian," her hands on your face begin to sear, and you know that it is your blood inside of her that burns her fingers, that burns her face and ears and neck red in her emotional state, "Lilian, Lilian, love, tell me, please."

"Th- That farmer last week, the one- the one who dropped off your food with his daughter and had saw you through the window, I saw him look at you and saw that same look I see in my brothers when they look at the livestock and I just-"

You place one hand on one of the hands on your face and the other on her own face, silently telling her to calm down, "Lilian, that wasn't a week ago, that was almost two months ago-"

She gasps, and leaps away from you and the bed standing just at the edge of it. "No," her voice trails down like a spiral, a mere whisper against the rustling of the trees outside your window. "My beloved," Her hands shake, "I never..."

You slide out of the bed, shaking feet meeting the frozen wooden floors, and the blood loss causing your to stumble in place with a short sigh. Lilian moves closer to you, a hand reaching out to steady you, but she keeps her distance.

"Please," you say, hand inching closer and closer to the tall candle stand, eyes never leaving her trembling body, "Please, just leave me."

~~~

The next morning is rough. You are cold and hungry, and your own blood still coats your body. Your nightgown is ruined now, and you don't know what to feel when you throw it down the laundry chute, sitting there for a moment as it bumbles down the metal hole. Some one will throw it out, eventually.

You are quick to draw yourself a bath, unashamed as you walk out naked to the water pump to fill your tub. It has been a long night, and you are already numb to the biting wind. It is a quick bath, albeit cold and your fingers turn blue before they begin to prune. You are relieved when you slip into thick woolen dress(delicate to ensure your wounds remain untouched), even the pressure of your corset warming after a short while.

You are silent as you make your way to the kitchen. As all vampires, Lilian is a noctornal being, but the feeling that you are being watched doesn't leave you. It has been a while since any one has sent food to restock, as you rely purely on Lilian to maintain all of those types of orders, so you are shocked to see the full cabinets and cooler.

It is a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. You have an inkling that it is because of what happened last night.

You make a quick meal, eating alone as you listen to the birds singing.

At noon, when you lounging at the love chair with a book cradled between your hands, you feel a shift in the air around you. That is unusual. Curiosity picks inside of you, and you drop the book a look through the window adjacent to where you are, about ten feet from the loveseat.

Keeping an eye out at the leaveless trees, you move from window to window. You know something is going to happen, you feel it in your gut. Sniffling, you leave the room to scan through the other windows.

As you enter to Lillian's study, you find the source of your gut feeling. She is hunched over her desk, the thick black-out curtains closed and a flaming candle next to her. She seems to be writing something, the feather of her quill moving with her hands motions. Lilian is dressed in one of her older attires, it seems.

You rasp a knuckle on the door frame, she turns her face to look at you, but its only a side glance, "I've never seen you up this early before." You say in a low voice, and even then you feel as if you are talking too loud.

Lilian looks away sharply, her shoulders raising higher and higher as if without them to protect her you would see something that you would not like. "You have never seen in in the state that I was in the night before, yet you had."

"What are you writing?" You tilt your head, leaning further into the door frame.

"A letter to father. I have been asleep for the many years I've been a- well, a vampire and have not recieved much of the knowledge that I should have," Lilian starts, her quill in motion, pausing every few moments as she speaks, "What happened last night was not right, and well out of bounds not only to you, but my character as well.

I also have an apology letter in the works for you. I will say it now, and I will say it later; I apologize."

~~~

yea no haha im not gonna write any further than this atm, ive been at it for three days now and i feel ive been drawing it out further than i should have.

feel free to ask questions/criticize this, i enjoy recieve feedback from what i make. it doesnt have to be nothing fancy, just a 'bro u misspelt this thing here' or 'what in tarnation did u just write' works lol

#vampire girl #vampire girlfriend #vampire #vampire oc #vampire ofc #vampire x reader #vampire girlfriend x reader #vampire girl x reader #vampire ofc x reader #x reader #my writing #exophilia #Lilian oc x reader #Lilian oc #biting #dubcon #yandere #yandere girl #yandere vampire

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shadowdianne · 5 years

Text

Ok people. Time has come. Let’s be ominous and extra on main

So the order for me posting all my WIPS at once will probably be.... the order in where I finish doing all the editing. I’m currently in my last prompts. I’ll still answer the ones I recieve by the end of the week if there is anyone feeling like sending me some.

Aside from that ...

A few months ago I posted a really rambling text about me leaving the SQ fandom writer wise after the SuperNova was over. In the way it’s over once we all put the fics where they will, later on, be revealed. The full explanation of why I’m doing this is even more rambly than the one I gave and is full of nuances that I’ve talked about a little bit with a few of you.

However, I want to say something about it either way. Because words are the way I communicate the most with. And that’s something that I guess is obvious about myself in a myriad of different ways; not only with my fics.

As I’ve said a few times before, SwanQueen was not my first fandom. If I need to pin it to the moment when I actively began to search for fandom-related things, of how I first stumbled into fics and what that entailed…

Going really back in time my first fandom experience was with Sailor Moon and Card Captor Sakura. Yup, that. I was really into anime back in the day and, don’t ask me how, I stumbled into a website that no longer exists that had these pages upon pages on something people called “fics”.

It was around the same time I was building my own sexual identity so you can imagine the mess; I devoured those fics. Most of them were not even good. Most of them had some questionable themes thrown around. Most of them had language on them that I needed a few years until I realized that was hurtful. But some others taught me what “angst” meant, what “hurt/comfort” was, why “fluff” was about or why “smut” at my tender age of 12/13 was something I wasn’t entirely grasping.

Again, I devoured those fics, I searched for more, I found livejournal and ffnet. By the time I started fully diving into fanfiction livejournal was slightly abandoned so at the end I focused entirely on ffnet and from there… Pretty Cure (another anime) Strawberry Panic and the even more dubious Kannazuki no Miko followed. I found some amazing writers I still follow today and whose stuff I will forever adore on MaiHime/MaiOtome and, eventually, Kim Possible. I still didn’t write though. Probably because my English at the time wasn’t the best, my writing voice in Spanish was barely a murmur and while I had always been the “weird kid who likes to write poetry and if you ask her nicely she will write you a story on the spot” I had never truly considered… writing and posting on the internet.

Funny thing is that this kind of things are like that and those who are content creators will probably understand that: You NEED to create. So, eventually, slightly older, and full on the whole Twilight era, I wrote a very… cringey fic. And then another. And another. And another.

At first I didn’t know shit about editing. My actual first review told me I was horrible at writing, that I was a mess, that I should stop. But my second review told me: “Hey, if you do this and that on the editing process it will help you and this will be more readable.” And I followed that comment. I eventually became friends with that second reviewer but, as life tends to be, I lost contact with her years ago. I still hope she is doing ok though.

Eventually, I started working, if working is something that one can say about writing a chapter in 20 minutes and throw it every Wednesday while your mother is at work, not monitoring what you are doing and you have the internet for yourself back when the internet went through the phone, in a multichaptered story. It is in Spanish, it is awful, characterization is horrible… but it also made me meet the person that became a very important person. And still will be for that younger version of me.

From twilight and the occasional writing on the HP fandom with the Hermione/Ginny pairing [Yeah, I wonder what younger me would think of my current main pairing on that fandom] I “graduated” to Glee. Lots and lots of Glee.

And then I stopped. Completely. Not a peep from me. Not a word, not a line. For over a year.

I was a fan and a shipper, however, of this little show called Once Upon a Time. I started watching in the pilot, in a very shoddy link a friend sent me over gmail. I fell in love with the characters but while I loved them I couldn’t… or wouldn’t really, put myself into writing. At the time my English was slightly better but my confidence levels were even lower than currently are. And the ones who have talked to me can safely say how horrible I am at taking compliments.

Yet, I had a very meaningful conversation, one I don’t know if she remembers still, in where I was told: Writing is you. If you want to write… like you did when we first met, why don’t you do it? I tried with a wip that is still there, buried beneath other stories now, that I never fully took off. And then I said fuck it and wrote several others, badly written, even worse characterized, but ones that helped me say… why not.

Disney World Family Business (in case there’s even someone here who read that mess) comes from there. Interview with the (Evil) Queen does too. Dancing Ring (who I’ve seen people roasting me over it and it’s fine because it was awful) was too. Texts on the cloud was there too, Coffee Black News… Eventually, I wrote a fic I’ve erased since then called The Holiday. Over 2k per chapter every day. I did it under a month.

It was… interesting. It was exhilarating. It was magical in many ways. And I had my favorite writers of course. Those who I followed religiously. Who I absolutely admired. And who I, to this day, still admire. And I even get to call them friends now which my younger self would probably be having a meltdown about now xD

I had opened my tumblr account way before that but I had never truly used it. I didn’t know how. Eventually, though, I dusted it off. I put some cringey theme there and I posted, after being sent a couple of random prompts here and there over ffnet pm’s the first “prompts anyone?” post I ever did.

It’s funny because now I’m a tease but the first time I asked for prompts I did it asking for words that I promised I’d make a smut ficlet out of them.

Words of Desire was born. Is, to this day, the one I feel cheekier about. Even if the writing is awful xd I even got my ffnet account in the line of “am I going to get deleted?” after I posted a story called “Lips”

Why I’m writing all of this you guys probably don’t care about? Because that post led to another. And another. And another.

Point is. I felt drunk on the sudden realization I could still tell stories. And so I kept doing it. At some point I opened my a03 account. Don’t remember exactly when in this story but I was crossposting some of my stuff at some point bother in ffnet and a03 so… who knows really. And then I kept asking for prompts. Or I got them asked. And so I did.

And I met other writers, and other content creators. And I loved it. I absolutely loved watching OUAT and then shit on the show and then create fix it fics at 3am on a Sunday. And I learnt about the narrative process outside class. How fanfiction truly is its own genre. I started developing my own ideas. I started looking at books, at people, at places around me with a critical eye I later on developed further to be able to specialize myself in literature. Because, at the end, that’s what I minored in.

I had roleplayed, I had written conjoined narratives. But fic writing at the scale SwanQueen was during the OUAT was still airing was something else. It still is in a way, but different now. And I think those who were around during the fucking show that basically did us a lot of bad in many ways was a different approach that currently is.

During those years not everything was good of course. I hit several walls, I didn’t have the ability to create the stories I wanted. It is not the reason why I’m leaving, I’ve spoken about the reasons -plural- with some of you. So I won’t bother you all more than I’m already doing.

I still love these ladies. I still don’t know how I will open a doc and not write their names. Maybe I relapse from time to time, who knows. Yet, the constant feeling of not being enough, of not being good enough, has devoured pretty much all my creative juices.

I was talking a few months ago with a writer I absolutely adore and I can’t tell her this enough and we were talking about writer’s block. And she said something that is devastatingly true. “You don’t have a creative block now. You’ve had it for a long time now.”

And I didn’t even hesitate when I answered “Yes. I know.”

How do you have a block when you keep posting? Well. By choosing safer options, options you know you will do on autopilot, without emotion even if you know you should be feeling it. And while writing is part of who I am and a huge part of my own emotional stability the fact that I simply cried when I saw the numbers and the stats while being bombarded with anons that I deleted most of them the second I got them… well. It’s far too much I guess.

I love SwanQueen. And to those of you who I’ve created a friendship over the years with I’m not leaving tumblr and I’m not walking out on you. I’m remaining here. You guys are going to need to do more than this to get rid of me Xd

But I do need that. Otherwise I will keep picking safer options, options that I know will take me shorter and shorter time for me to write. And that’s not quality. And not what I want to write. Because while I love writing about them the pressure and the fear and the rejection and the many other little details have outweighed the good.

Regina is a stubborn woman. No matter what fic you guys are reading or writing. I’m a little bit like her in that department Xd

I’ve finished my wips and I gave myself a few months after that first post so I could create closure and, you know, give you all the best I could do. I felt more relaxed at having a date set. I still feel dread at losing my ability to write now that, probably, the number of prompts will be smaller. But I hope I will still get news from you all. And don’t be mistaken. Me not writing doesn’t mean me not reading. I’ll be actually able to read more so expect lots and lots of fic recs on my side and comments on those fics. So hey, everyone wins.

To those anons, those gatekeepers.

I hope you all wake up one day and realize you are alone in the pit you’ve created for yourselves.

To fellow content creators: There’s always this game I play, on trying to find those headcanons that are truly yours, the ones that repeat themselves on every fic. It doesn’t necessarily need to be a headcanon per se. It can be a word, a special mannerism. I treasure those. I often link you to those in my mind when I’m thinking about you all. Thanks for creating. And thanks for being you.

To everyone really: It has been a few amazing years. Thank you all.

VIVA LA SWAN QUEEN

-Dianne out.

#swan queen #SwanQueen #swen

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cathwritestragediesnotsins · 4 years

Text

Truth

Dean Winchester x reader

word count: 1,335

Summary: Reader is in a coma and remembers her life only as the TV show SUPERNATURAL that she loves so much

ALL CREDIT TO OWNER OF PROMPT!!

I stare down at my laptop screen in confusion. I had been scrolling through Tumblr looking for any Dean Winchester fanfiction I hadn't read when a profile named Impala_67_DW sent me this message. (see attached image)

I get an itch in the back of my brain, like when you're on the verge of remembering something very important and it's right there but you just can't quite reach it. I shake my head, trying to clear the idea from my mind.

No. This is outrageous. As much as I would love for it to be real I know it's just something that another fangirl made as a cool writing prompt. I type out a message in reply;

"Omg Did you make that? That's awesome! Such a cool idea! Are you requesting that I write it?"

I hit send and it's seconds later that I get another frenzied message.

"No, this is real. Y/N, it's Dean. Don't you remember??"

My faces scrunches up in confusion and a bit of hurt. Are they making fun of me? Not to mention it's painful for them to try to make me believe the man I love-the fictional man I'm in love with-is messaging me. Not cool. I try not to let my irritation show through in my response.

"Is this some kind of weird rollplay? Blink twice for yes lol!"

I clench my jaw and switch to another tab, even when I see the notification that I've recieved an answer from Impala_67_DW; I continue paging through instagram. After about three minutes, when I am a bit more composed, I return to Tumblr and open the message.

"Y/N, you are everything to me. I would never lie to you. You were put into a coma in our universe and your spirit was sent to another one by a witch. But we finally figured out how to contact you. Please believe me! I know this seems crazy but Sam and I need you. Our theory is that if you can remember you will be able to come back."

I roll my eyes, banging on the keys,

"Ok seriously, who is this? Do I know you? Jordan, is this you?"

"Who the hell is Jordan?!"

I sigh and rub my temples. "Damn, this person is persistant." I mutter under my breath.

"Alright, fine, DEAN. I'll humor you. Jordan is my tumblr friend, happy?"

"Oh, ok. Good."

"🙄"

"Sorry, I just...you really don't remember do you? You're my girlfriend. We've been together for 2 years! You and Sam and I travel around the country, stopping the supernatural."

"Good for us."

"Y/N. Please. Listen to me."

"Look, I don't have time for this. So unless you have a fic request, I'm gonna go."

"Your full name is Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. Your favorite color is black and you get annoyed when people tell you it's not a color. You prefer the company of animals over people and enjoy almost nothing more than an evening drive with the windows down and your favorite music playing. Your worst fear is that people will never love you as much as you love them but I tell you everyday that that's NOT TRUE. You wanted to do something to help people when you graduated maybe be a Doctor, Teacher, Psychiatrist etc. but left those dreams behind when your sibling was killed by Vamps. You understand me like no one else because you've been through some shit too. We started dating when I finally grew a pair and told you how I felt about you after you got hurt on a hunt. You and Sammy get along so well because you're both huge bookworms and you decided you were going to teach Cas everything there is to know about Pop-Culture. You love kids but we both agreed we didn't want any. You loved your younger sibling just as much as I love Sammy because you practically raised them. You have the brightest and most beautiful smile I have ever seen and when you laugh is the only time laughing comes easy to me. You love pie almost as much as I do and you are always up for a late-night date to the closest diner. You, Y/N, are a beautiful, wonderful, intelligent badass and I am lost without you. Please come back to me."

I stare at the paragraph I was sent in awe. How could this person know so much about me? I mull over everything 'Dean' said and try to find a lie but it all feels too familiar.

"How do you know all that?" I type out, my brain muddle with confusion and worry, but my index finger freezes above the enter button and the message is never sent. I am hit with a wave of memories and emotions to match. I gasp and my head spins and oh my gosh this is what it must feel like to have amnesia because all of the blank spaces are suddenly filled. All of the things that I went through to make me who I am are brought to light. All of the people that I didn't realize I was missing are suddenly coming back to me and I am overwhelmed by longing for them. Sam and Cas and Rowena and....And there he is. With his fanfiction green eyes and cocky smile. Tears are spilling over my lashes to fall down my cheeks and I feel light-headed.

"Dean?" is all I manage to get out before I lose conciousness.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Any answer from her yet?" Sam asks, looking over Dean's shoulder at his laptop anxiously. Dean's brow is drawn low and he chews on his lip in frustration while shaking his head.

His leg bounces in an attempt to relieve stress but he just can't sit still. He stands abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair, and starts to pace the room. "Why isn't she responding? You said this would work!" Dean growls at his younger brother. "It will Dean. It has to." Sam sighs, carding a hand through his hair. He is trying his best to remain patient with Dean because he knows how important this is to him.

Dean abruptly drops back into his chair and lays his head in his hands. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if this doesn't work Sammy. I need her." when Dean looks up Sam can see tears to go along with the brokeness that has haunted his eyes since Y/N got lost. His lip trembles and his voice quivers with vulnerability. This is probably the most pained Sam had ever seen his brother and he understood why. He missed Y/N just as much, though in a different way.

"I know, Dean." is the only thing Sam can think of to say, because he doesn't know either. He has been through the excruciating pain of losing the girl you love and he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy, let alone his brother. He prays to God that this will work.

Cas stands silently in the corner, staring intently at Y/N like he has been for the past 30 minutes. He seems to feel somehow that this is a very important task so the brothers gave up on trying to interact with him awhile ago. He hadn't moved since they started their attempt to contact Y/N so it's almost startling to the Winchester duo when he finally does speak.

"She knows. She's coming." Cas says quietly but firmly. "What?" Sam asks and Cas repeats himself, insistance in his tone.

Dean is about to ask what exactly the angel means when the sound of a small, raspy voice pierces the tension.

"Dean?"

#dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #reader insert

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batsintheshadows · 6 years

Text

Athera the Companion

Inquisitor’s Name: Athera Lavellan Race / Class / Specialisation: Rogue Elf Assassin Gender Identity: Female

Varric’s Nickname for them: Antlers

Short bio: As a typical da’len hunter nearing the time she could recieve her vallaslin, Athera was taken by slavers while away from the camp with her younger brother. Her sacrifice allowed the clan to escape, but lead to a grueling ordeal before she escaped and found her way back home. Now she is a respected hunter and occasionally travels to visit the elves that live in human cities, so they may know more of their history should they be interested. She also assists with problems that the human guards tend to ignore.

What would their companion card look like? I actually commissioned one of these! it hasnt quite been finished yet tho.

Athera aiming her bow high above her head with a victorious smile as the sun rises, a halla head with three arrows in the horns formed from the clouds behind her and a green bird perched on her shoulder, coat billowing in the wind.

More under the cut, because theres gonna be a LOT here.

Recruitment mission: Athera approaches the Inquisition in Val Royeaux, quietly and from a side street. She wears a hood to hide her face and when asked about it she says that she may be making a poor choice, and if she is it would be better to have the option to hide. Athera tells the Inquisitor that she is visiting family in the city, and has discovered that elves have been vanishing. She says she wants to see what’s going on, but has a feeling that whatever is happening is too much for one person to handle. If pressed about her identity, Athera stays vague, saying that she could get in trouble for looking into this at all, and wouldn’t want that to affect anyone she cares about.

If the Inquisitor agrees to investigate she tells them to meet her at a certain location at midnight, and not to worry about her too much. She has enough martial training to help in any fights there might be.

When you meet up with her, Athera is nervous, checking her arrows and pulling her hood down further over her face. If you ask her about it she says she hasnt ever done “anything quite like this” before.

When you enter the building, you discover a slaver ring and some captured elves. Athera strikes first, no matter what you say, and in the ensuing fight her hood comes off, revealing her vallaslin. when everything is said and done Athera very pointedly ignores the party in favour of freeing the captured elves, who are very grateful for her arrival. She asks if they will be able to get back to the alienage safely and one of them says that they can get them there, leaving Athera free to look for letters and talk to the party.

She picks up some letters and folds her arms, and asks the Inquisitor if they are going to take any sort of action now that they know a Dalish elf is meddling in the city. There is an option to tell her that if she joins The Inquisition then the Inquisitor will stay quiet. Athera is silently furious, but says she would prefer this to end without bloodshed if possible. Athera Greatly Disapproves if you pick this option. You can also ask about her lying to the group. Athera claims she never lied and points out the ways that everything she said was technically true.

Otherwise you can attempt to turn her in, which causes her to flee and become unrecruitable. or you can say that you won’t alert the guards. In the latter case, she is grateful and asks to join The Inquisition. When asked why she says:

“I’m not stupid. A big hole in the sky? Demons around every corner? This could be the end of the world. My clan can’t outrun that. You’re the only ones I’ve seen even trying to make a difference. If theres any way out of this, its with the people that arent caught up in petty squabbles. So yes, I won’t like being away from my clan for so long, but I’ll like it even less if the world dies.”

She agrees to meet the Inquisitor back in Haven, and pulls her hood back up, heading off into the night.

Where they would be in Skyhold / Haven: In Skyhold she would probably hang around in the gardens, but move to somewhere around the stables if it was converted into a chantry garden. In Haven she would be on the docks by the frozen lake.

Personal quests:

Quest 1: After arriving in Skyhold and gaining some approval, Athera will go over what she found in the slavers letters. She says that the slavers were reporting to a merchant called Vivicus, and that she suspects that theyre related to the Venatori. Athera has followed a trail that has ended in Redcliffe, and asks the Inquisitor to go with her as backup. If the Inquisitor tries to bring Dorian, the cutscene will not trigger and Athera will suggest trying again with “company better suited to the operation. Like people that never owned slaves maybe.” Once the cutscene triggers, Athera give you what she knows about the slaver. A small and pretty easy fight with demons ensues as you enter the building, and the party makes it up the stairs to a room with a man in fine clothes sitting on a chair facing away from the group. As the group approaches, the man falls sideways when touched, revealing he is very dead and has a note stapled to his chest that simply says “your move Inquisition -V”. Athera is upset by this, and tells the Inquisitor that they need to be sure the body gets proper death rites. Back at Skyhold Athera thanks the Inquisitor for their help and apologises for dragging them into her mess. She says that itll probably last a while as well, if this guys as much of an asshole as he seems to be.

Quest 2: Occurs after either The Fade or The Winter Palace. Athera is reading a letter, and claims that its information on Vivicus. If asked about where the letter came from, Athera says she’s been tracking weird courier orders and got lucky with this one. Athera says the letter reveals that Vivicus has somehow discovered her identity and is using it against her. She doubts her clan will be targeted, but asks permission to grant them safe passage through the surrounding lands and trading rights at Skyhold. She admits that in spite of what her clan could bring in, its really just a favour to her. If the Inquisitor agrees, you get the option to open a new area on the war table, but cannot select Dorian for the mission. When you arrive, you run into an ambush of slavers who seem to be expecting you. The fight is really difficult, but you only need to defeat half the slavers to trigger a rescue by Athera’s clan. As the last of the slavers fall, Athera gets the attention of one of the hunters and gives him a big hug, introducing him as her younger brother Elgadir. Elgadir is overjoyed to see his sister again and says the clan has been worried since she stopped writing. Athera replies she has been writing weekly and getting letters back as well. After a bit of confusion, they figure out something weird is going on, and tells the other hunters to check if any of the slavers are still alive. One is, and they get to them before the throat cutters do. Elgadir says that he doesnt much like the idea of bringing a slaver back to any of the clans camps, but if this problem is gonna get solved then they’ll probably have to. one of the other hunters goes ahead to warn the clan to prepare for a captive and some guests. Elgadir gives the Inquisition members a warning that if they do anything foolish, they will pay with their lives, but if they approach in good faith, then the clan will be happy to do business with them. The party is introduced to the clan and Athera goes off to talk with her brother and the Keeper, leaving the team free to explore. There are a few quests to help the clan or act like a dick, Athera gets approval or disapproval for them even though she isnt in the active party. To advance the quest, you enter the Keeper’s aravel. Athera sits with her brother hugging her, clearly distressed. The Keeper tells the Inquisitor that they have all come to a consensus that it would be a lot easier to deal with the situation with all the facts, and asks Athera if she would be willing to tell the story herself. Athera then tells the Inquisitor that she was taken from her clan by slavers around six years ago, and though she managed to fake her death and escape, Vivicus has discovered her identity and has been intercepting her letters for a while. The letter that sent her running back to her clan was to be sent to the person that owned her, and she intercepted a similar one at Skyhold intended to sow some discord. Athera says that its probably a game to Vivicus now, and that he will go to any lengths to win. She fears for her clan, as she fears for those she has become close with outside of it. At the prompting of the other two elves, Athera also admits to being very stressed out, since the Inquisitor unknowingly hired someone from the family that used to own her. “Theres a reason I don’t get along with Dorian, I’m scared to death of him.” The Inquisitor can tell Athera to stay with her clan for safety, offer to expel Dorian from the Inquisition (Athera will reject this idea because she knows the Inquisitor wouldnt have let Dorian stay if they didnt like him or need his help.), or keep to the plan of allowing the clan safety in the lands around Skyhold. Back at Skyhold, Athera thanks the Inquisitor for listening to her, saying she feels far more at ease now that someone knows, but begs the Inquisitor not to tell anyone her secret and to make tracking down Vivicus as much of a priority as possible, otherwise she doesnt know what could happen to her.

Quest 3: Takes place after the second main quest you complete after unlocking Skyhold. Athera and Dorian are arguing as the Inquisitor approaches them, though most of the shouting seems to be coming from Athera’s side with a lot of what is obviously swearing in elvish. When pressed, Athera accuses Dorian of going through her letters, and Dorian denies the accusation. “If you would listen before you started screaming at me, you would know that this is my letter. That I was trying to give to you quietly. But if you insist on discussing this in the courtyard...” Athera snatches the letter and runs away, leaving Dorian to ask the Inquisitor to go after her, saying that Athera probably wouldn’t want to see him right around now. When the Inquisitor finds Athera she is incredibly upset, and lets them know that this letter has been opened and Dorian knows who she is now. The Inquisitor can comfort her or be awful, and after theyre done talking Dorian knocks on the door, asking to come in. Athera tells him to keep his distance, and he agrees. Trying to lighten the tension, Dorian makes a joke about how Vivicus is really an idiot if he thinks sending Dorian a letter is going to do anything, what with the whole pariah thing. No one laughs. Athera asks Dorian what he’s going to do, and Dorian suggests using the note to lure Vivicus out. “We’ve been playing cat and mouse for months. I’ll be glad to see it end.” Athera tells Dorian that she doesn’t trust him, and will only go if the Inquisitor comes too. Dorian agrees, and they begin to make a plan, through the door because Athera can’t face him yet. After this, a war table mission to smuggle a letter to Vivicus opens up, and once it is completed a mission on the storm coast opens up called “Trigger Venatori Trap”. Once there the party fights off some Venatori, and Athera slowly breaks ranks with the group, making herself an easier target and leading to Vivicus showing himself at last. The rest of the party sets up a good flanking position and a boss battle against Vivicus, who is a blood mage and ACTUALLY DOES BLOOD MAGE STUFF WHY DID THEY LEAVE THIS OUT OF DAI???, begins as Dorian makes a snappy “oh what an idiot” type remark at Vivicus. The party are victorious, and they return to Skyhold where Athera tells the Inquisitor that she has no idea what to do now, since she has no way of knowing who Vivicus sent letters to. If you did a war table mission to stop the letters, you are able to reassure her that the Inquisition has the situation under control. Athera says that she likes the Inquisition, and whatever comes she would like to stay until the end as long as her and Dorian are kept separate. Preferably on opposite sides of the castle. At this point Dorian wanders past because a little light humour won’t kill anyone and begins yammering on about their victory a little too nervously. He admits that he’s been feeling a bit nervous since finding out about Athera’s past, but has done some deep soul searching and wants to apologise for how the relationship between the two of them has been. He promises to try and do better in the future, to which Athera replies “You’d better! Your family put me through hell! The least you can do is try and make it better.” Dorian doesnt make eye contact, and promises to keep her words in mind. He also says that they don’t need to speak again if Athera needs space. Athera says that would be for the best, but she won’t complain if they end up working together since stopping the end of the world is more important than the hurt one person carries. As Dorian turns to leave, she lets him know that once corypheus is dead all bets are off, and that she’ll probably throw him out the window, but the comment doesnt have much bite to it.

How to get their approval: helping elves and mages, respecting artifacts, killing venatori, freeing slaves, and generally not being an ass.

How to get their disapproval: Cruelty to elves and elven relics, slavery in any form, chantry and templar supporting, being an ass to mages, and victim blaming anyone.

Are they romanceable? Y/N Can you have sex with them? Y/N Are they open to polyamoury? Y/N If they can be romanced and are not, will they begin a relationship / relationships with other character(s)? If so, who? Sera already gets with Dagna, so odds are Athera wouldn’t get with anyone if unromanced.

Who are they friendly with? Vivienne and Sera (after a while).

Who do they dislike? Cassandra, Dorian, and Solas.

Companion card changes: (use a text descrip. if you have no images)

Loyalty: Athera stands in the middle of a dark forest, her bow ready to draw and a smile on her face as she moves. the trees are gnarled and twisted, something could be hiding in them. but she is armed, and the forest is her home.

Romance: (if any) The bow and arrows have been put aside, and Athera sits cross legged by a campfire. there are trees all around and Athera has a serene smile on her lips and a look of total peace in her eyes.

Side Missions: (eg: fetch / gather / kill quests) None because fuck those. Ok maybe destroying monuments to the Exalted March on the Dales. Thatd be pretty satisfying. Also a war table mission to ensure that no letters get to the Pavus family that unlocks a dialogue option at the end of Athera’s last quest.

Opinions on mages / templars / how the world is going to shit? Templars fuck shit up, mages have been friends and guides to the clan and the Templars always try to take them away and people get hurt. She would rather just leave the Templars alone entirely. And of course mages can be trusted with their own lives! Everyone else does it what makes them so bloody different?

She has more nuanced opinions on the Chantry and how it relates to the oppression of mages and elves, and how its all a bid for power, but she’ll only talk abt it with an Inquisitor she likes.

Something guaranteed to make them leave the party: defiling the graves at the elven burial site in the exalted plains, killing the golden halla, or straight up betraying her.

Special Events:

Imprisoned at Redcliffe: How is your Inquisitor holding up in Redcliffe, being slowly infected with red lyrium over the course of a year?

Athera is almost unable to speak at all after a year in Redcliffe. She talks in fragments, and when she first sees the Inquisitor she just stares at them for a long time with a blank look on her face, waiting for them to either do something or vanish. Whenever Dorian speaks she glares at him. After all, this guy from Tevinter shows up and then everything fails and the world dies? She’s been blaming him. The Inquisitor has to talk her down.

She puts all her remaining energy into the fight ahead, wordless, expressionless, and merciless. When it comes time to hold off the horde she says in the flattest voice possible “Going out. Hold them off. Do not fail. Dareth Shiral.”

At the Winter Palace: Does your Inquisitor enjoy the party, any special events with them at the Palace?

Athera spends most of the party doing things to mildly offend the Orlesian elite, talking with the elves, and quietly smashing expensive vases when no ones looking. She likes being in Halamshiral, hates what it is now, and corners more than a few nobles and gives them a “history lesson.” She will do the same to the Inquisitor if they ask, but will be less passive aggressive about it. She also complains about the outfits, saying she hates red but Josephine wanted everyone to “present a unified front” and she couldnt wriggle out of it.

She also takes joy in being announced as “Athera Lavellan, Hunter of Clan Lavellan and Emissary to the Cities.” since she’s betting he’s never had to introduce an elf before, let alone introduce one with a few titles.

When asked about it later, Athera says the only good thing at Halamshiral was Briala, with various comments depending on what happened.

In the Fade: Your Inquisitor’s reaction upon entering the Fade? Archdemon’s taunt, and Inquisitor’s response? Epitaph on their grave?

Athera does not understand any of this. She shoots arrows, mainly at wolves and terrible people. now there are demons here because its their home that theyre the ones invading and what with recent events theres pretty strong evidence that this sort of thing doesnt end well. Athera isnt mindlessly terrified, but she. wants. OUT.

Nightmare: “What’s this now? Valeria, pretending to be a wild elf? You looked much better in red.”

Athera: “Say that name one more time and I’ll rip you in half.”

Nightmare: “Dont worry about Marcus hating you for leaving him. He died a month later, his thieving ways finally discovered and punished.”

Athera: “You-you’re lying! Theres no possible way for you to know that!”

Nightmare: “That you know of.”

Athera’s grave says “Losing Herself”

Trespasser: What is your Inquisitor up to two years after Corypheus’ defeat? Any special events with them over the events of Trespasser?

Athera spent the past two years using the influence gained during her time in the Inquisition to help elves in both the cities and the wilds. she has busted up a few more slaver rings and is one of sera’s contacts. she has traded information with the Inquisition out of respect for her place in it and so leliana can send her some useful stuff back. she’s been using her clan as a safe place, and looks forward to returning every second she is away.

Other Major Events: Any other major events that happen with them over the course of the main game?

She becomes friends with Sera, who she likes for not taking things too seriously when everyone else is so grim.

She also has a Talk with a human Inquisitor romancing Sera that more or less amounts to “I know ur cool so this whole thing is probably legit, but if u ever hurt sera i’ll cut off your arm and hit u with it ok good talk kiddo love u bye!”

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu this took a long time and a lot of thought, but i had LOADS of fun doing it! I always like working on Athera’s backstory, though nothing is quite 100% set in stone yet sooooo... dont quote me on any of this.

I was tagged by @heyscience and i am throwing this tag right back at you! Do it!

#asks

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