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talaok · 3 months

Text

His favorite patient

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: Your friend Pedro takes care of you while you're sick, and he's such a good doctor, that something sparks between the two of you.

warnings: reader being sick and having a fever (?) and my shitty writing cause im tired

(this was a request, and a very beautiful one too)

All you had done was text him that you were sick, and the next thing you knew, he was knocking at your door.

And that wasn't even the weirdest part, the weirdest part was that you weren't surprised, because that's how Pedro was, caring, protective, and always there for you, no matter what.

The first thing he'd done as you opened the door was scolding you for even being up, and consequently, the second was ushering you to your own couch and forcing you to sit down.

You laughed the whole time at how worried he was, but then again, your genuine gratitude shined through with his every act, a gentle smile and a "thank you" spilled out of your lips the moment he made you tea, or wrapped you up in a blanket, or pulled you into his chest when the cover stopped being enough.

You remained like that, hiding in his arm while watching tv for the whole afternoon, but unfortunately, after he'd made you some soup (which you had tried convincing you could cook on your own) and ate it with you, it was time for him to go.

So with a heavy heart and a final hug, he was gone... only to return 2 minutes later.

"Missed me already?" you joked, opening the door again

"Always" he smiled, before getting more serious "I have a problem with my car" he explained "It's not turning on, and I-" he scratched the back of his neck, trailing off "I kind of have no way of getting home"

"oh" you breathed, understanding the situation "You can just stay here" You shrugged, the solution obvious in your eyes

"Are you sure? I don't wanna be a burden or anythin-"

"a burden?" you frowned, stunned "What are you talking about Pedro, you could never be a burden" you promised, inviting him in again "and plus... I feel safer with my own personal doctor here with me" you grinned playfully

"yeah?" he laughed "Well then how could I refuse to help my favorite patient?"

"Favorite?" you gasped, feigning flatter as your right hand went to your heart "You're gonna make me blush doctor"

He snorted at that, his eyes lingering on yours for a second too long.

"Well then, the doctor's ordering bed rest"

You scowled at him, rolling your eyes

"I'm already starting to regret my decision" you muttered, but in no time, you were laid beneath the covers, ready to go to sleep.

"Ok then you're all set, I'll go prep the couch" he said, starting for the door

"what?" you asked

"the couch, I need to-"

You stopped him before he could go on

"You're not sleeping on the couch Pedro" you stated, watching his brows frown "It's uncomfortable as hell" you explained "and there's enough room here for the both of us" Your eyes went to the empty spot beside you

"Oh- no, y/n I can't"

"yes, yes you can" you interrupted him again "And you will" you decided "I'm sick, so that means you have to do whatever I tell you"

"sweetheart..."he sighed, glaring at you

"please" you pouted, "It would make me feel better knowing you're close to me" you pleaded, your best puppy eyes on you.

And what could Pedro do but not agree when you were looking at him like that? He was only a man after all.

"alright" he grumbled, "but I hope you know that means you'll have to hear me snore the whooole night"

But as it turns out, you didn't.

Your fever started going up the moment you shut off the lights, you turned and tossed the whole night, while him... he stayed up with you, checking your fever, giving you medicine and placing wet cold cloths on your forehead, until finally... you started feeling better and began drifting off... if only, of course, those damned church bells hadn't rung.

But even then, Pedro was there, placing his hands on your ears to try and protect you from the noise, and once they stopped, once he had gotten a taste of how good it felt to stay so close to you, well then he didn't have it in him to lean away, so he did the opposite: he put his arm around you and pulled you close, gently whispering "You need to rest", before inevitably, you did as told.

And it was only the morning after that you remembered all of it, it was only once you woke up, his arm still reassuringly around you, his words still reverberating in your ear, that you realized everything.

"good morning" he murmured, his head nestled into your neck

"morning" you smiled, your voice hoarse as you turned around to look at him, finding him but an inch from your face... and yet he didn't lean away.

"thank you" you whispered "for everything"

"darling I'm always gonna be here for you, whatever you need"

You smiled wide, watching his eyes fall to your lips

"stop it" you murmured

"stop what?" he laughed

"being so nice"

"why?" he asked, smiling

You bit your lip, pondering if saying what you wanted to say really was a good idea... but then again, it was the truth, so...

"'cause you're making me want to kiss you"

"'s that right?" he smirked, inching closer

"mh-mh"

"and what's stopping you?"

"I don't want you to get sick" you said, watching him huff a laugh

"sweetheart" he shook his head, grinning brightly "I would catch a thousand colds if it meant I got to kiss you"

And although your heart skipped a beat, you couldn't help but laugh out a quick "that's disgusting", before his lips finally met with yours.

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Note

Mafia!pierre where he kidnaps reader to negotiate with her dad (another mafia leader) but slowly starts falling for her and gets protective?

Warnings: Kidnapping, bad language, protective!Pierre, murder

Words: 1.3K

A/N: Yeahhhh I started writing and it turned into a fic, whoops

"You kidnapped her?" Pierre looks up from his paperwork, a slight smile on his lips. "Maybe." Pierre's right-hand man groans, throwing his arms up, and walks away. "Whatever, her bastard of a father deserves it anyway," Pierre grumbles, thinking about a particular person sleeping in his bed.

It was pretty easy to kidnap you. You'd think the daughter of a Mafia Boss would have exceptional security, but Pierre and his men could move in and take you without a fuss. It helped that they had an insider slip you a sedative during your nightly tea.

Pierre groans, clicking on the security cameras to check in on you. Seeing you curled around his pillow and still out, he smiles. Your father will notice soon that you have been taken and come screaming for your back. Yet, it will be challenging for him to get you back. As Pierre will finally have his demands met.

Bored, he leaves his office, heads to his bedroom, and nods off the guards as he enters his room. "Shame, you are delicious looking," Pierre whispers, poking your cheek, watching how you wince, batting his finger away. "Leave m awone." Words muffled by his pillow, Pierre rolls his eyes.

"Don't want to wake, fine, I'll wake you." Grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand, he throws it right in your face. "Ahhh." Waking up with gasps, face and neck cold from the water, and suddenly woken. "How dare you wake me up like this! Father will-" You stop blinking when you see someone you know all too well.

"Gasly." You hiss, Pierre smirking as he sets the glass down. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocks back onto his heels. "You're a deep sleeper and far too trusting of your father's staff." Unable to think of a comeback, you glare at Pierre, who rocks forward, poking your cheek. Slapping his hand away, he chuckles.

"Wonder how much Daddy will give me for you? I'm sure it's a lot." Wincing at his words, you know the truth. Pierre will see nothing from your father; that man could care less for you. If your mother was still around, maybe he'd care, but with his new mistress and her pregnant, you were trash to him.

"You'll get nothing from him." You bite back. Pierre clicking his tongue, bops your nose, knowing you hate it. "Please, his precious baby daughter? He'll give me whatever I want when he finds out you've been taken." Looking away, you take in the dark classic French and Roman architecture, shocked by his excellent taste.

"You'll get nothing," Sighing, you look down. "I mean nothing to him." The last part whispered that Pierre didn't hear it. "Speak up, Y/n. It's annoying when you mumble. Don't get comfortable in my bed unless." He steps forward, leaning in the heavy scent from the pillow floating off him. "You want to warm my bed for me every night." Slapping him hard on the cheek, you scramble off and slam the bathroom door having to pee.

"Awwww, don't pout cherie. You and I can have our own fun." His laugh echoes as he leaves you alone. "Creepy French bastard. Hate that you smell good." You hiss, staring at the cologne that was clearly his. "Oops." Hand knocking it over as it spills open and down the sink. "Hope you're not a limited edition." Skipping to the shower.

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

5 weeks later

"Clearly, her father doesn't give a fuck about her. We can just kill her now." Pierre doesn't answer, watching the camera outside as you tan; you're so still; Pierre sent someone to watch and make sure you don't fall asleep. "We're not killing her," Pierre growls, glaring at the men before him.

"Of course not, because you've been fucking her every night since she's been here." The room goes still as Pierre searches for the one who said that, eyes land on the one person not looking him in the eyes. "You've got the ball to say it, but not look me in the eyes and say it?" The guy looks up, face pale, staring at the ice-cold eyes of his Don. "It's true, though; she's been in your room every night. Fucking that whore." Pierre shoots out of his chair.

Grabbing the guy by the collar, he slams his head down hard, and a sickening crack bounces off the walls. "If you think I'd stick my dick in her pussy you are very wrong. But, I will not tolerate you calling her a whore. Burying him in the sea." He lets the guy slide down as the others move fast. "No one bothers me for the rest of the day." Pierre closes the cameras down, heading to the pool.

"You'll burn if you stay out here." Groaning at your peace being ruined. "Go away, Gasly. I'm sure you're busy with my father." The lie tastes like acid on your tongue. "I'm ignoring him." Pierre, not wanting to tell you the truth. He licks his lips, the 2 acts of kindness he's done for you today making him sick.

Technically it's 3 acts of service as he let you stay in his room. Pierre has been sleeping on the couch in the room, having never touched you. He's joked about it but stops and walks away when he senses your uneasiness. The anger in his office, hearing his men call for your death, felt wrong; even hearing that bastard call you a whore was like a pit. He hates that he knows how you take your tea, favorite scents, flowers, etc.

It was small stuff that you'd tell him at night. The silence in the room was deafening, and you couldn't handle it. Pierre noticed and placed a small sound machine in the room, only turning it on when you stopped talking. He hates that your father doesn't care you've been kidnapped. That he still hasn't sent word that his daughter was missing, nothing. It makes him want to tear the man apart.

"You're lying. Found out the truth have you?" You pull off Pierre's sunglasses, watching the man before you look away, suddenly interested in the pool. "Like I said, I'm ignoring him. He's sent something, but I wasn't satisfied with it." Pierre snaps, angry at himself more than you. Rolling your eyes, you lay back down, soaking in the sun. "You can lie to me all you want, but I'm waste. Father has his dumb little mistress ready to pop soon, and the moment it's a son, he'll send someone here and kill me." Pierre freezes upon hearing those words.

Why does he get this pit in his stomach anytime someone mentions you dying? It's stupid; you're the enemy. Yet he cares when he sees that rejected look in your eyes and wants to take it away or learn another fact about you.

Shit, he was fucked. Was he starting to care for you? No, he couldn't be. You're an annoying person who spilled his favorite cologne yet clings to his pillow to inhale more. He likes when you tell him his stupid orange shorts look lovely against his sun-kissed skin or his eyes are like rare sapphires. He hates that you pick flowers and bring them into his office. How you have become too comfortable in his daily routine and home. Like you're supposed to be here.

"No one will hurt you while you're under my care. If anyone so much as jokes about it, tell me." Looking back, you see how serious Pierre is. Hearing a commotion, you look, seeing a black bag and people struggling. "Is that what you mean? Killing your own people?" Not at all disturbed by the scene. You've seen worse while living with your father.

Taking a step forward, he touches your chin, the two of you looking at each other. "Yes, I don't care how many of them I kill. No one touches what's mine." Dropping your chin, he walks off, leaving you there.

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nickfurysrighteye · 3 months

Text

college au!chase davenport x fem!reader PART 2

summary: after your kiss in the library things between you and chase get a lot more..intense

cw: NSFW!! male masturbation, oral + fingering (f! receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), moaning kink (idk if there's a proper name for it or if it's even a thing but oh well), use of pet names (ex. baby, love), dirty talk, cumming inside.

words: 5.2k

a/n: this is my first time writing something this smutty so i hope you like it :) if you missed the first part, clik here

MDNI!!!

after your "study session" at the library you were left wondering if chase felt what you felt, if that kiss is haunting him like it does with you. it's the only thing you can think about. during lectures, while you study, while you're talking with your friends, the only thing going through your head is that kiss. the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands all over your body giving you that tingling sensation.

the fact is, that kiss is not only haunting chase like it's haunting you, but it has become an obsession. he can't stop replaying that moment in his head and his imagination is taking over, making up fantasies about fucking you at any time in any place. he can't no longer study because his mind is filled up with images of you naked laying on his bed moaning out his name as you cum on his face while he's eating you out. he likes to imagine your tits bouncing as you ride his dick, your wet cunt spilling cum all over him.

it's perverted but he can't help it, he gets so hard at the thought of cumming inside of you his dick aches. he lays on his bed every night with his eyes closed imagining fucking you over and over and over again while he pumps his dick with his hand. "fuuuck..y/n please..oh my god..holy shit" he whimpers and moans while thick loads of cum cover his hand. he never had sex but he also never thought about it like this until that kiss with you in the library.

your number saved on his phone stays untouched, he's too scared to text you or call you. if he has these kind of thoughts while you're not around he doesn't want to know what his mind will come up with once he's with you.

chase's torn though, he's scared but doesn't want you to think he doesn't like you. one afternoon he decides to text you.

"hey y/n it's Chase, i'm so sorry about not texting you sooner. i'd really love to see you." once the text is sent he throws his phone on the bed, he's so scared you'll be too mad at him to even respond to his text.

his phone chimes. it's you.

"hey chase, I'd love to see you too. mind if I come over tonight?" oh my fucking god she wants to see me he thinks, he really didn't expect you to be this calm.

"sure, why don't you come over around nine thirty?"

"perfect i'll see you later :)"

at nine o'clock the doorbell rings and Chase opens the door to find you standing there.

"hi" you smile.

"hi, come on in."

"i'm having deja vu" you laugh trying to shake off the tension. you hope he doesn't sense how nervous you are, and if he does you hope he's as nervous as you.

"would you like some tea?" chase ask kindly as he walks to the kitchen.

"sure, thanks." you follow him. "where's your brother?"

"oh adam went out with his friends, honestly i have no idea where he is but he won't be back soon." his back's facing you as he prepares the tea, boiling hot water already in the kettle. you lean against the counter.

"so... we're alone?"

"yeah, i thought it wouldn't be a problem considering what we did when we were alone last time." he looks at you with a smirk while handing you a mug. you try to hide your smile. you go sit down on the couch and chase follows you, sitting down next to you. he places his mug onto the coffee table.

"look i don't wanna ruin this already but there's something i wanna talk to you about. about the library thing..i- i liked..kissing you.. and i would have continued what we were doing but i panicked and just ran out and i was too scared to call-"

"chase." you stop his spiral "I really liked kissing you too." a soft smile appears on his lips as he look down embarrassed.

"sorry, I'm nervous. i just like you. a lot."

you put down your mug and get a bit closer to him. "i like you too, a lot. since we kissed i couldn't stop thinking about you. actually i've never stopped thinking about you since i first talked to you." you stop for a moment, gazing at his features once again. it all comes back again: the warmth, the ecstacy, feeling his touch all over you, how his lips felt so familiar onto yours, like they had always belonged there.

it's not easy, explaining the longing desire not only your body but also your mind has for him. any experience, any connection you had with anyone else before compared to him becomes dull, vain, shallow. you only shared a kiss and it's eating you alive.

your hand finds it's way onto his neck and pull him closer. this time he kisses you more roughly, with more passion. his hands are quick to travel all over your body again pulling you even closer. all of chase's thought are about having you as close as possible to him, he has been longing your warmth for days. he takes your leg and brings it over to his other side so that you're sitting on top of him. his kisses get sloppier, messier, his tongue savors yours like he's been starved for weeks. he grabs your ass, making you whimper a little.

"god you're so cute when you do that."

his lips quickly crash back onto yours and he holds you even closer making you giggle into the kiss. your heart is palpitating and your body gets hotter and hotter as your tongues swirl together. slowly, you start moving your hips, grinding against his groin, making chase moan. you can feel his pants getting tighter as his dick gets harder with your every move, you can feel his hard tip pushing against your clit through your pants. your lips gradually move from his lips to his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind as you pick up the pace with your hips. the fair scent of his cologne inebriate you as you suck and bite at his skin, leaving little red and purpleish spot on his neck.

chase pushes back his head, soft moans come out of his mouth as his breath becomes shorter. this is better than any scenario he imagined for this night, it would be even better if he gets to act out the fantasies that had been taunting him since the last time you met.

"you don't know how much i wanted this." his whisper's followed by a soft grunt.

"there's so much more i can do to you if you want me to"

your hands slide down his torso, getting closer to the waistband of his pants. clarity hits chase for a brief moment and all of a sudden he feels hesitant. he fantasized about doing certain things to you but he had never done it in real life. a wave of anxiety takes over him. what if he can't make you feel as good as he wants you to? what if he can't do it at all? you move your head away from his neck and go to kiss him on the lips again but you see the doubtful look in his eyes.

"chase, did i say something wrong? are you ok?" the last thing you wanted to do is make him uncomfortable.

"i..uh.."

"we can stop if you want." you start lifting your leg to get off of him but chase stops you.

"no i don't wanna stop. it's just that i..uh..i've never done it before. i actually never done any of this before."

you laugh softly "does that mean i get to be your first?"

you're laying on his bed, chase's on top of you, you feel the warmth of his body heating you up, he's leaving faint kisses all over your neck and collarbone. your fingers intertwine and you get lost in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

chase lowers one of his hands to undo the button of your pants, he slide them off your legs. he stops for a moment to admire your body, feeling your curves with his fingertips, causing you to have chills running down your spine.

he hooks his fingers to the sides of your panties, his eyes glued to the wet spot in the middle.

"may i?" he looks up at you for approval. you nod your head so he gently slides them down your legs, tossing them aside. then, he spreads your legs a bit more to fully marvel at your wet folds, touching them lightly with two fingers.

"can i eat you out? please?" you never had a guy staring at you with those lustfull eyes begging you to eat you out. "yes, yes please."

chase then quickly presses his lips onto your soaked cunt, brushing his tongue against your wet lips. he whirls it around until he finds your clit, your heart racing as soon as he hits the spot.

"is this ok?" does this feel good?" he stops to look at you when he hears a faint whimper coming out of you.

"it feels really good please keep going." your fingers find their way through his soft brown hair, messing it up and tugging lightly at his scalp. chase keeps pressing onto your sensitive clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it.

"oh my god chase" your moans awake something in him, making him go faster and harder. he can't help but groan into your cunt, you just taste too good. he gets so much pleasure from just tasting you, he would have never imagined your cunt being so addictive.

you moan and whine, feeling your orgasm grow in your lower belly, but you don't want to cum just yet. while his tongue is focused on your clit, chase's fingers feel the wetness of your folds, then he carefully slides two fingers in. slowly he starts pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside you. your cunt feels so tight around his fingers, the only thing he thinks about is how good it would feel to have it wrapped around his dick.

each curl of his fingers sends chills down your entire body, like electricity running through your veins. clear, slick fluids covering them more and more with each thrust as his tongue brushes against your bud. the silence of the room is filled with your desperate moans, at this point you're not even trying to hide how good it feels having him between your legs.

the sweet sounds escaping your mouth fill him pleasure. his pants have become so tight around him he's just craving some release. he can feel precum leaking from his tip, soaking his underwear, as he grinds against the bed while his face's buried in your cunt, lapping up all your juices like he has been dying of thrist.

you can't take it anymore, you just want to have him. you need him. you need to feel him inside of you. you want to fuck him until he begs because he can't take it anymore.

"chase please i need you..please chase fuck me" you moan louder and louder, your cunt pulsating as you get closer and closer. suddenly he stops, taking out his fingers, licking them clean. the absence of his touch is making you ache, your body needs more of him. it needs to feel more of him. he takes off his shirt, showing off his toned body, his pants hang lower from all the grinding so the v line of his hips is showing. your eyes scan his body, going lower and lower, admiring all of his features. the faint line of light brown hairs guides your eyes from his belly down to the waistband of his underwear showing from his jeans.

chase notices you're staring; he chuckles "what?"

"nothing.. it's not every day i get to see a guy with a body like that between my legs, so i wanna enjoy the view." you lightly bite your lower lip, your words make chase laugh a little more as his cheeks become a fair red color.

chase leans back down to kiss you ardently, hands traveling up your shirt, cupping your breasts. he takes the shirt off of you, having you now fully naked on his bed. he couldn't ask for a more beautiful view. his eyes land on your round tits, they're even better than he imagined, so soft and full.

"you're so fucking beautiful." he dives into your neck, leaving a trace of harsh kisses, licking and nibbling the soft skin. your hands find their way to his bulge, applying enough pressure to make him groan.

"ugh fuck – i want to fuck you so badly" he moans into your neck as he holds you closer.

you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper "then take your pants off."

now chase's lying on the bed, completely stripped, his long, thick dick in your hand throbbing and soaked with precum. you tease him by rubbing it against your folds, wetting his tip.

"please y/n, please"

"you want me to ride you? you want me to make you feel good chase?"

"yes please y/n, i want you to make me feel good please ugh –" his words turn into moans as you slide your cunt against his length and slowly grind the tip against your clit, getting him all nice and wet.

you decide it was enough with the teasing so you take his dick and slowly insert it inside you, taking it all inch by inch.

"oohh fuck —" he hisses, you take your time starting to pump his dick inside you, fully adjusting to his length. you start to find your rhythm, slowly going up and down, moving your hips, savoring every movement, every sensation having him inside you makes you feel. chase's hands travel up and down your thighs and caress your warm skin. he moves them upwards and grabs firmly at the soft skin of your ass, making your hips move at a quicker pace. although he loves how you're making him feel so good, making him feel a type of plesure he never experienced before and could have never experienced it without you, he needs more.

"ugh — your pussy feels so fucking good" he lets out, his eyes close for a moment and he lets his head go even more further into the pillows. this still isn't enough though. his body yearns for more. he plants his feet firmly on the bed so he can prop his hips up and push you even harder down his dick, now he's fully guiding you up and down while gripping your ass so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a red mark afterwards. he hits your sweet spot so hard you can't help but moan and whimper, completely melting as he thrusts deeper into you. those harmonious sounds that leave your pretty lips make him spiral; his ears have never been blessed with such lovely sound before this very moment, he wants to give you even more pleasure just so he can keep hearing the sweet noises you make for him. he frees one of his hands from your hips and wonders down to where the two of you are connected. he place his thumb onto your sentive clit, rubbing small circles.

the moans become even louder and he can't help but listen, completely in awe. the fact he can give you this much pleasure feeds his ego in a way he could have never expected. you sink into him and suddenly he wraps an arm around your body, keeping a tight grip onto your side. a thick white ring forming at the base of his dick, now the whimpers and the moans mixed with wet sounds.

"—shit i'm gonna fucking cum - fuck chase oh fuck – oh my god "

"yeah baby just like that — cum on my cock just like that ~"

a wave of electricity passes through your body as you reach your climax, as chase still pushes your hips up and down to fuck you through your high you let your body relax onto him. his grip turns into an embrace, protecting your body from the cold air of the room. chase moves his hand to your cheek to move away some strands of hair that covered your pretty fucked out face, placing a gentle kiss onto your lips while the two of you are still connected at your core.

"let's..slow down for a minute..ok?" words escape your lips between breaths while a soft smile curved your lips.

"we can take all the time you want baby" chase caresses your pink, warm, cheeks and kisses you gently, moving his lips delicately. it's different from before; this time it's not passion what you can perceive into the kiss, but rather love. it's a kiss to make you feel taken care of, to show to you you're not just a piece of meat to him. no guy who only wanted you for your body would kiss you the way chase does and he wants to be sure you feel that with each and every movement of his lips.

he gracefully turns you around so that you're laying on the bed below him, still caressing your skin and leaving soft pecks onto your lips, cheeks, neck and collarbone.

"you wanna keep going?" you look up at him with big shiny eyes. he nods and places himself at your entrance, your cunt's still wet and puffy. he pushes back in and starts to thrust with his hips gradually finding a steadier rhythm. as he slides back and forth he kisses you tenderly but the more his pleasure grows the messier the kisses become. an arm swiftly moves beneath you, his palm open against your back, drawing you closer to his body and elevating your hip to thrust even deeper. he touches your sweet spots again and low, soft moans come out of you.

the rush your moans give him feel is unbelievable. they turn him on so much. he picks up the pace, panting and groaning as he feels your tight walls wrap around him, clenching each time he hits your favorite spot.

"please chase don't stop – ugh how can you be this fucking good —" your words feed his ego so much his lips curl into a smirk.

"if you don't want me to stop, let me hear those sweet sounds you make f'me –"

chase lifts his body up and spreads your legs to bring your cores closer and thrust harder. "spread your legs f'me baby ~ like that, wider." chase's hand travels from behind your back down to your clit and begins to rub it in circle motions once again, giving you that heavenly sensation.

"fuck! – chase –"

all of a sudden, you hear a muffled sound of keys rattling in the distance, followed by the sound of the front door being shut closed. a dulled voice starts echoing through the hallway.

"shit your brother's home" you're quite surprised by his early return home, it can't be later than eleven.

adam enters the apartment, throwing his keys on the little table next to the front door.

" – what did you want me to do man? i wouldn't have left if your friend wasn't a piece of shit! –" he spits his words angrily at the person he was talking to on the phone "– what does that have to do with anything? dude if you don't want someone flirting with your girl don't fucking bring her to the party! whatever man i gotta go, i'll see you tomorrow." a deep annoyed groan leaves his mouth as he falls back on the charcoal colored couch, letting his head fall against the cushion and rubbing his tired eyes with his fingertips. his eyelids fall heavy, his head hurts a little bit from the couple of drinks he had at his friend's place so to calm the throbbing adam stays there lying against the cushion.

despite your concern, chase doesn't stop thrusting into you for a single second, with the same force, trying to savour the pleasure. his finger's still rubbing small circles around your clit, waves of pleasure come crashing into you with every move, your cunt getting more and more wet and making his dick slide in and out of your needy hole with more and more ease. it was aphrodisiacal for him, seeing you like this, almost as if you were a drug: legs spread, tits bouncing back and forth with every thrust..although his favorite thing is seeing your cunt all stretched out by his cock, wrapping it all and making it so so wet, milky fluid spilling out of the sides every time his thick cock makes his way into you. on top of all of this, he's the one getting you this wet, making you feel so good you moan his name. except that now instead of the sweet sounds he likes so much, all he hears are soft whines muffled by a pillow you keep close to your mouth with your hand.

"why so quiet now huh?"

"your brother's gonna hear us."

"you think i care? it's not like he worries about noise when he brings girls over while I'm home" he leans closer to your ear "also there's nothing that turn me on more that hearing your sweet voice moaning my name" his lips leave hot kisses on your neck as he whispers "so please love let me hear how good i make you feel" he grabs both of your wrists with his left hand, pinning them above your head so that you can't cover your face and he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

"ugh — chase -"

"yeah like that keep going – louder" the thrusts get harder and quicker.

"ugh chase – oh fuck ugh–" you raise your voice even more, the pleasure is becoming so much you feel another orgasm approaching.

"fuck y/n – you're gonna make me fucking come–" he frees your wrists and instead wraps one arm around you, crushing you with his body and placing the other hand on your puffy clit again.

"oh please don't stop don't stop don't stop ~"

"ugh 'm gonna fill you up – you're so fucking tight you feel so good baby ~"

the loud sounds the both of you make are muffled by the locked bedroom door, but it's not enough to make them unable to hear.

adam's eyes open again, he fell asleep briefly and somehow wakes up with an even bigger headache, so big his ears must have started hearing weird things... like the sounds coming from his brother's bedroom? no it can't be, he thinks, chase never has girls over, is he watching porn? adam waits a few moments sitting still on the couch, then his gaze falls on the two full but cold cups of tea sitting on the coffee table. confused, adam starts scanning the room with his eyes for other unusual signs: a leather jacket hanged on the coat rack, along with a scarf and a small bag, both of which are neither his or his brother's.

more muffled sounds come from behind the closed door "chase please –"

a disgusted expression falls onto adam's face when he realizes what's happening "oh my god! are you kidding me!? ugh so gross!" he brings his hands to his ears and walks away to his room, the more he tries to not hear the more disgusted he gets. adam shuts the door of his room loudly, making his presence clear as if you didn't already know he was home.

chase’s face is buried into your neck, kissing it and breathing in your scent as he gets closer to climax. at this point, his thrusts have become so quick and messy he's barely pulling out before he pushes hard back into you. he's inebriated. your legs, wrapped around his waist keeping him close, tremble each time he pushes into you and graze your sweet spot with the tip of his dick. moans come out of your mouth one after the other against his ear. your hands are placed against his back and you're unconsciously digging your nails into his skin, slowly dragging them down and leaving red marks that are emphasized even more by his fair complexion. he's definitely going to brag about them later. your mouth's wide open when you feel your walls clench against him, breath hitching with his every thrust, and suddenly the pleasure overwhelms you, hitting you hard as you cum for a second time. moans becoming cries of plesure filling the room when your orgasm drowns you and draw chase even closer to the edge. he can't no longer contain himself and with loud groans he spills thick long ropes of cum into you. he's moaning, swearing, spilling out incoherent half sentences while still thrusting into you fucking the both of you through your high.

when it wears off, chase gradually slows down until he finally stops and catch his breath. your heart's beating so fast you can feel almost jumping out of your chest, you feel your tired legs ache the moment you let go of chase's waist and relax them onto the bed. still all inside you, chase rests his body onto you, buring his face into the crook of your neck once again.

"holy shit –" his voice is soft and quiet since he's still catching his breath. his words make you chuckle and he can't help but smile against your skin. he could listen to your laugh forever.

chase lifts his body up and pulls out of you, letting the white fluid spill out of your puffy hole. "i'm gonna go get something to clean you up with ok? i'll be right back." he smiles softly with his rosy lips, then leans down to place a gentle kiss yours while caressing your warm cheek with his thumb.

"okay." you smile back at him.

a beam of light shines through the drawn curtain and touches the bare skin of your face and shoulders, the warmth is comforting. you can feel arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead as you wake up and your eyes adjust slowly to the light. you and chase lie skin to skin, both of you only wearing your underwear. being this close to him, you can feel his sweet-smelling scent with each breath you take.

"good morning" chase's voice is lower and a little raspy "did you sleep well?" he delicately moves little strands of hair out of your face with his fingers, then places them onto your satiny cheek.

"yeah. i really like your voice in the morning." he laughs softly at your compliment, his smile is so contagious you can't help but giggle with him.

"thank you" he says with his low voice, "are you hungry? i can make you something to eat if you want."

"sure"

"alright, i'll go to the kitchen real quick, I'll be right back." he places three pecks on your face: on your cheek, then the corner of your lips and then finally your lips. then, chase gets out of the bed and throws on a grey short-sleeved tshirt that was lying around, just to wear something more than only his briefs. he heads for the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind him.

he finds adam already up and dressed, standing at the front door about to leave.

"what are you doing up so early?" adam asks him with a slight surprise in his tone, despite being him who usually wakes up late.

"i could ask you the same question. where are you going?"

"i was gonna go have breakfast at the café down the street, didn't wanna disturb you and your...friend. 'm not really used to being the odd man out."

"yeah, I guess that doesn't happen a lot." chase finds the role reversal pretty ironic and kinda hard to believe, he didn't think there was ever going to be a situation like this.

"what about you? what are you doing?"

"oh i was gonna make y/n something to eat. she's still in bed."

adam starts to chuckle at his brother words "chase, really? you're making her breakfast?" the innocent smile that was once plastered across chase's face fades away "you're so naive it's adorable."

"what? i wanted to do something nice for her."

"those kind of things are boyfriend things, you don't do that with a one night stand. you never give a girl boyfriend treatment when you're not the boyfriend. the way this works is: she comes over, you hook up then leave her out the front door when you're done."

"well..what if i don't wanna do that? what if i wanna give her the "boyfriend treatment" because i would actually like to be her boyfriend?"

adam laughs loudly like chase just asked him the dumbest question in the world, which to him sounds like it. "like you would ever date y/n. she's waaaay out of your league. it would be a miracle if you even got close to go out with her once, let alone date her. trust me, be happy you two fucked and give up."

as soon as adam is finished with his sentence he opens the front door and leaves, his laughs still lingering in the room as chase stands still in front of the dor. suddenly, the sound of another door opening catches his attention. you come outside of chase's room, wearing only the shirt he had on the previous night and your underwear. he turns around to see you getting closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"hey, what's with that face? everything's ok?" you look up at him worried, you didn't hear much of their conversation besides their muffled voices and adam's laugh. chase smiles softly trying to hide doubt his brother's words have raised in him.

"it's nothing, don't worry about it." you don't respond, you just furrow your eyebrows and look at him with those shiny eyes.

chase shakes his head slightly, pondering whether or not tell you. "it's dumb, really...it's just that – mhm – no, no, just – just forget it. forget i said anything."

"what is it chase?"

he takes a deep breath then exhales "i don't want...this to be a one time thing, nor a "friends with benefits" thing. i'm really, really, attracted to you and i'd love to take you out on a date, do things the way you're supposed to." at first, you don't say anything, your gaze is glued on him.

"i knew it was dumb, i'm so-"

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

his smile grows wide again "are you serious?" you simply nod, which is enough to make his smile even bigger. he cups your cheeks with both of his hands and cloeses the distance between you two, crashing your lips together with a big smile still plastered onto his face.

"i'm sorry you must be hungry, i'll go make some breakfast."

"oh don't worry there's no need to rush."

"then what do you wanna do?"

you look up at him, lips curled in a sly smile.

"i'm up for morning sex if you are."

the same sly smile appears on his face instantly.

"let's go to the bedroom."

a/n: thank you for reading and most importantly thank you so much for the patience!!! i really hope y'all enjoyed this fic <3

tag: @maggiecc @kenshomin @thechalkprincessemma @vildetry06 @sexiestmfdeadoralive

#lab rats #chase davenport #chase davenport x fem!reader #chase davenport x reader #chase davenport smut #lab rats elite force #elite force #lab rats bionic island #labrats #lab rats chase #lab rats x reader

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aliveinacoffin · 11 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara fluff

A spider-reader has the fattest crush on Miguels fat ass.

And maybe he does too.

Have a crush on your ass, not his.

Also more than likely ooc but we both know if you're here you don't mind. (I'm so sorry)

___________________________________________

"I do not!" You huffed out, throwing your arms up.

"Oh come on, literally everyone here has noticed your thing for Miguel." Jess laughed, setting her hip on the table while she looked through her watch.

"Even if I do, he one hundred percent doesn't feel the same." You sighed, setting your feet down from the metal table. Your spider eyes wide and to the sky, your mask hid the deep frown you had.

Jess looked up to you, and even though she couldn't see your face, she could tell that you were upset. You didn't bounce back to your usual positivity and silliness, instead replaced by silence.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just teasing you." She rubbed your shoulder affectionately.

"I know, thanks mom." You brushed her hand away, chuckling airily. Getting up you leaned over the table to oversee all the science-y papers that had accrued.

"On the tone of mom...."

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

"It's so cute! Jess is really excited to have a baby. I just wished she hadn't told me her and her husband have been trying for awhile." You said.

"Good for her! I'll have to ask her more about it later." Sun spider, or Charlotte as you've come to know her, said. She already had been jotting everything down in her notebook for the Spider-Weekly, a weekly magazine made for the spiders in the verse, by the other spiders.

It wouldn't make front page, maybe somewhere in the drama section.

"Yeah, she's really excited to be a mom." You had your back turned, your attention focused solely on following the recipe to make more web. You didn't notice the door open to the private lab, or Sun-Spider panicking to do something 'important.'

"Whose excited to be a mother?" A deep voice growled out, commanding in the way the question was asked.

"Jess! Haven't you-" You turned around, the smirk you wore dropped when you saw him.

Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara, or Spiderman 2099 stood towering over you, serious face and a deadly look in his eyes.

He was always so deadpanned, Miguel always wanted spiders to focus on missions and missions only. He never liked gossip, and any time you came in to spill the tea, he did everything in his power to ignore you. Which is why recently you had to go to new avenues, like Sun-spider. It wasn't like she wasn't your friend, you two just weren't that close.

"Uhhh, Jeeeeess???" You winced out. You weren't really I'm the mood to get scolded at, especially not with company. But leaning over, you saw that Sun had abandoned you.

Miguel's eyebrows went up a fraction, such a fast and small movement that if you hadn't been staring at him you wouldn't have noticed.

"I wasn't aware of that." He simply stated, looking over to see what you were doing. He called out your name, quickly taking the vials you were holding.

"Hey! I was working on that." You leaned over to see what he was doing, encroaching on his personal space, his weird hologram suit fizzing gently against your felt one.

"Well, you were doing it wrong, mensa." Miguel said, annoyed. So annoyed that he had to help you doing such a simple task.

"Hey! I may be a no sabo kid, but I know what that means, pendejo." You huffed out, you watched him quickly mix together a variety of liquids and chemicals. Quickly transferring and stirring each step of the way.

"Of course you'd know all the curse words." His brown eyes met yours, a bored look on his face.

"I do not! I know like, simple shit. Yo comprendo un pocito tambíen, cara de caca." You cackled, turning around to hang up your lab coat.

You missed the way he hung his head and smiled, holding back a silent chuckle.

"¿Sí? Veo que eres bilingüe." Miguel straighted his hunched over form, looking to you over his shoulder.

You stared at him, slowly piecing together what he said. "Hey kiss my ass!" You threw a random manilla folder at him.

He caught it before anything could spill out, surprisingly fast for a man with no spidey senses.

"I'd rather not."

You rolled your eyes at his serious response, and came over back to the table. "Thanks! Though, could've totally done this myself." You shrugged, putting out an overconfident personality.

"Yeah, that's why it wasn't on the verge of exploding. How you managed that is beyond me." Miguel shook his head, rolling his eyes. Watching you refil your web slinger.

Silence filled the room while you completed the simple task, the air tense.

"You haven't come to me in a while. I thought you went AWOL." He said, simple words you were waiting for him to utter.

"W-well. I've been turning in my reports on time. Just as long and descriptive as always." You shrugged, not meeting his intense gaze.

"That's not what I meant."

He meant the fact that you hadn't come to his office to complain the the printer wasn't working, or that the morning was horrid as always, or the drama in the office.

The truth? You started to look forward to speaking to him, seeking it to quell the loneliness that was left after the butterflies. You started to avoid the feeling of your fave heating and the speed of your heart, knowing that the stoic man would literally never feel the same.

"I just-got...busy?" It was more of a question than a statement, unsure of your answer.

"How? You've done nothing but prance around as usual."

Okay, um wow, ick.

Just kidding, his ass was too fat to get the ice.

"Hey! I'm a busy spider person! I have many, spider things to do." You were waving your hands around. You turned on your heel, going to walk out before a strong hand literally covered your shoulder.

"Wait, did I....do something?" Miguels voice drastically changed, stern to soft in seconds. His eyes were searching yours too.

"I-no, it's just. I don't know man, I'm sorry." You admitted, eyes looking down while you played with your hands.

"If-if I did something, you should come to me to fix it, as your superior you should always report to me." Miguel said, sliding his hand off your shoulder, and his usual face of stoicism came sliding back on.

That as well, Miguel was technically your boss, the man you scouted you out and now that you work under.

"I know. That...this doesn't have to do with that."

"Then what-what is impending your work." He was stretching, you knew that, but you couldn't just tell him, hey I'm totally in love with you but I know you don't feel the same so that's why I'm avoiding you!

Things don't work that way.

"Nothing it's just...it's nothing really, it's fine." You turn back around, missing the way Miguel reached out to stop you.

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

A ding made Miguel O'Hara look up from the feed he was watching. He turned behind him, looking at the new report that just came in. It was from you.

Miguel filed it away from later.

He had once complained to you how long they were, and how he didn't need to know every detail. You made a point after that to make them even longer and lengthier.

He would never, never admit it out loud, but he liked to read them just before bed. He loved your writing, how he could just step in and be there, like he was there with you, fighting alongside you.

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

"Miguel?" Your voice was unsure, timid. You couldn't see the platform he was usually brooding on, and you stepped out to try and find him.

Your face dropped to an annoyed when you saw him slowly descending from his throne.

"When are you gonna make that thing faster?" You called out.

"I do it so it so my work isn't disturbed further." Miguel said pointedly. You climbed up the platform when it got close enough, pushing away the floating screens from your face.

"I brought you lunch! I didn't see you at the cafeteria so..." You shook the box, and put it down on his desk.

The awkward silence hung on the air again, before you couldn't bear it, but the beating of your heart made you falter.

The sight of Miguels' handsome face and built body made your heart pound and stomach twist.

You mentally slapped your face before you took a deep breath in.

"So did you hear about plush spider-man and Toy Spiderman?"

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

"You should return to your universe." Miguel had waited until the two of settled in silence to say something. Usually, you ranted for awhile before you were called into a mission.

But this time, nothing pulled either of you away. And Miguel listened while you talked, it was mostly you anyway. At first when you started to bug the older man, you didn't know if he was listening or not, but you saw how his ears perked up and how he'd subtly remind you of details of stories that you'd told.

"Woowwww, you're kicking me out? I'm not that annoying, am I?' You looked up at him from where you were hanging, a fake hurt look coming to your face.

"You are, and you should leave." He didn't even look back to you, only reading some article or report.

"Miggyyyyy." You called out for him. He hated it when you used that nickname, but you loved watching him shake his head.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and watched what he was doing with your head on his shoulder. A massive shit eating grin decorated your face as he tensed and glared at you. You ignored your racing heart and hot face just to see the look on his.

He didn't push you off there, merely pausing for a moment before resuming his work. "You know I hate that nickname, it's annoying and unprofessional."

"Unprofessional? Because we're all a super serious business, a super legit business too." You laughed.

Miguel rolled his eyes, they constantly flick from your face to his work.

"Whatcha doiiinn." You rested your chin on his head, quickly getting bored.

"Working. Like you should be doing." He said, exasperated.

You made a fart sound, "Working is for nerds, me? I'm a cool guy." You walked away from him, getting ready to jump off the platform before you looked back at him. Shocked to see he was staring at you.

There was silence, again. Something so unusual for you two, for you.

"Yeah?" You asked, timid.

"Theres...." Miguel stood up, turning to you fully. "Lunch, tomorrow. Would you...like to go out for lunch tomorrow? There's a special going on at some place downtown, and I thought it'd be something that you'd enjoy."

You blinked owlisly at him, this was so...out of character for him. And he seemed apprehension, like every word he said was like pulling teeth. His fave seemed more red, his skin making it more apparent since he already had a reddish undertone.

"I-I'd love to! I mean," You cleared your throat, and stood up straight, putting on a serious persona, "Yeah sure its whatever." You snifged, wiping your nose to try and look cool.

Miguel gave you a blank stare, but unlitmatly rolling his eyes to let out a chuckle. The sight was something to behold, especially from your serious leader.

"I'll see you tomorrow! And I expect you to be wearing people clothes, since we'll be going out as people!" You laughed, jumping down and running from the platform.

Miguel just let out a fond sigh as he watched you leave. And he turned around to Lyla giving him a smug look.

He scowled, "I don't want a word from you."

She mimicked zipping her lips closed, smirking.

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

#miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #fanfiction #x reader #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse x reader #jessica drew #gn reader #across the spider verse spoilers #guys was that bad #my first time writing that man #god i want him so bad #hes so babygirl #not edited

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fallinforerling · 11 months

Note

may i request (from the prompt phrases) 2 - 8 - 17 with erling 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

the shirt dilemma - eh

A/N: As I usually say: ERLING BRAINROT. I can’t stop writing for this man, I’m ABSOLUTELY in love with him. Thank you SO MUCH!!! for 800 followers. Feedback is always appreciated! Love you always xx

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ requested phrases:

2. “i'll never wear the jersey of someone who isn't my boyfriend.”

8. “why are you staring at me like that?”

17. “you have a really pretty face, have you ever heard that?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I can’t believe people actually waste their time plotting about this stuff…” You murmured more to yourself than anyone else in the room, still scrolling through the infinite amount of photos that you found on Twitter. “Kinda creepy…”

“What’s up?” Jack murmured back, kicking your leg with his foot. You raised an eyebrow in his direction. “C’mon, you just said something that implies tea. Now you have to spill it.”

“I don’t have to do shit, Grealish.” You laughed, kicking him back. “But okay, here.” You sat on the couch. “I was on Twitter, and I found some tweets with my name on it, which is kinda weird since I’m not a public figure so… I don’t know, I was digging on my own shit until…” You turned your phone so he could see it.

His eyebrows raised until they almost touched the base of his hair, giving you a full view of the funniest expression you’d ever seen on him since ever.

“That’s an interesting take.”

“¿De qué hablan?” (What are you guys talking about?”) Julián asked, entering the room with hands full of snacks.

“Nada.” (Nothing) You really hated Julián’s impecable hearing. He was always around the corner when you were gossiping with Jack. “Más bien dame comida, que me tuviste esperando como mil años. Me muero de hambre.” (Give me some food, you’ve got me waiting for like a thousand years. I’m starving)

“Luego no me pidas que te cuente algo, porque te vas a quedar con las ganas.” (Later, don’t ask me for any gossip, cause I won’t share any) He replied, throwing a bag of chips at you.

“I actually love when you two speak Spanish in front of me and I understand absolutely nothing.” Jack said after you grabbed the bag, not paying attention to the dirty look Julián gave you before sitting next to him. “Makes me feel like I’m back in Spain for some vacation.”

“I just love when she speaks Spanish.” Erling’s voice startled you. You looked up at him, who was just entering the room. You tore your eyes apart from his figure as quickly as you could, wishing that the heart eyes weren’t that noticeable for any of them. God, he was so handsome.

“You love everything that she does.” Julián said, giggling a bit when you shot him a nasty look. That little fucker.

“True, you’re the biggest fanboy I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jack teased, nudging Erling’s arm when he sat next to you.

“What can I say? I’m a man with great taste.” Erling shot back, leaving you all shaky on the inside. You had to prevent your mouth from falling wide open. You could never get used to that type of compliments coming from him.

It was times like these when you wondered if Erling had any feelings for you. It would be awesome if he did. But you knew it couldn’t be possible; he was playing and teasing around. You were just friends.

“If you’re going to flirt with her, I’m leaving.” Jack said, openly enjoying how uncomfortable you were getting from all the attention. “But also? We could manage to see if we can get this little brat to come to the next game, eh?”

“No, no! Don’t start with that. I already said no a million times before.” You were tired of it. You knew, from past experience, that you would be recognized, and those stupid gossip sites would eat you up.

“C’mon, don’t be such a… coward.” Julián replied, always up to teasing you as well. “It’s fun, you should totally go. Emilia’s gonna be there.”

“But…”

“No, no, not ‘but’. You’re coming, end of discussion.” Erling cut you off, smiling widely when you looked at him. “Please?”

Aw, man. Fuck big blonde guys with green eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So there you were, two days later. Full of regrets and suffering, seeing how your friends (or more like enemies at this point) were smiling like little kids while you stood in the middle of the Etihad Stadium shop. Your arms were crossed, not wanting to give in two times in a row when it came to these guys’ wishes, but it was getting more and more difficult as the minutes passed and Erling’s eyes kept flashing you little looks that were keeping you on the edge.

“Why?” You finally spoke up, giving in to the silence that had overcome the room. “I’ve already accepted to come against my will. Why do I have to wear a jersey as well?”

“Because! Everyone that really loves the team wears a shirt!” Jack said, giving you a knowing look that screamed duh. “You’re our friend, it would be so rude if you just go there wearing…” He pointed to your baby blue shirt with a grin. “That.”

“What’s the matter with it? It’s City’s color, isn’t it?”

“C’mon, you’re not actually doing the most out here wearing a blue shirt, darling.” Erling’s voice had an effect on you. Dammit. “Be a good girl and wear a jersey.”

No, no, no. Don’t fall for it just because he called you a… Oh, god. God, help your daughter.

“Fine!” As usual, you just gave in once Erling stepped in. “Pick a stupid shirt so I can get out of here.”

You were hoping that you were being dramatic over nothing and that they’d probably pick a blank shirt with no actual handle on the back, but as Erling approached his own fucking section, you knew you were absolutely fucked.

“No! Not your stupid ego getting the best of you, I’m not wearing a Haaland shirt!” You wanted to. But it was the worst idea in the world. “I’ll never wear the jersey of someone who isn’t my boyfriend. That’s just a horrible idea.” You didn’t know why you just said that, but it was out there before you could backtrack on your words.

“Why not?” Jack asked, getting closer to you with that cheeky grin that you hated. “What’s wrong with wearing a friend’s jersey just for today? It isn’t good enough?”

Oh, you knew what he wanted to say with that little tone on the word “friend”.

“Because, my dear Jack. People love to speculate about things without actual proof. So, if they see me wearing Erling’s shirt while being here, they’ll think I’m his girlfriend, and…”

“So what?” Erling said, already handing you a shirt. “Let people assume whatever they want to assume.”

“Perhaps, would it be that bad if people think that you are his girlfriend?” It was the first time in twenty minutes that Julián had said a word, but when he did, he cornered you. “Just saying…”

“Yeah, would it?” Erling’s tone sounded almost evil as he slightly pressed the shirt towards you, leaving you no other option but to take it. “Just put it on.”

“I hate you…” You whispered, still grabbing the shirt with a bit more force than necessary.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you for the entirety of the game, which was ridiculous since you were the most boring person and no one— and when you said no one, it was really no one— was giving you a second look as you sat and watched the game like everyone else did.

The paranoia you were feeling was ridiculous. Never in a million years have you felt more targeted for wearing a fucking shirt that said Haaland on the back. You could only pray that a photo of you didn’t make it to Twitter, where a bunch of weird people were already making assumptions about the actual nature of your relationship with Erling. That’s why you were being so negative about wearing anything City or Erling related. You knew how the rumors started.

Like it would ever happen in reality.

“Relájate, boluda. Parece que estás acá contra tu voluntad.” (Girl, relax. You look like you’re here against your will) Emilia shouted over the fans’ voices, seeming entertained by your current state. Just like her boyfriend, apparently.

“¿Te parece?” (You think?) You couldn’t help the sarcastic tone in your voice. “Todo gracias al pendejo de tu novio.” (All thanks to your stupid boyfriend)

“Ay, ya. No es para tanto…” (Aw, c’mon. It’s not that big of a deal…) She paused, giggling. “Estás así porque te gusta Erling, ¿no?” (You’re acting like this because you like Erling, aren’t you?)

“¡¿Qué?!” (What?!) You shouted, feeling your face go deep red as the referee blew the final whistle, letting the entire stadium know that the game was over.

“It’s so obvious, babe. You totally like that man.” She took your hand, not letting you overcome the fact that someone finally acknowledged your feelings for him. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Was all you managed to say, looking around to check if someone was paying attention to you. Again.

“The dressing room.”

Oh-oh.

Your eyes darted to the pitch, where most of the players were still walking around while exchanging greetings and jerseys. You spotted Erling right away; it was very difficult not to. He towered over almost every single person that walked past him, which could be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Emilie knew about your feelings for him. Suddenly, it felt so real. It felt like everyone knew.

“Move or I’ll have to drag you there myself.” Emilia’s tone gave the impression of being absolutely serious about the dragging part, so you started walking out of pure instinct.

You made your way across the sea of people that were leaving or lingering around the benches. You saw how it all appeared to move a bit slower as you followed her, who still had a hold on your wrist, like she was almost preventing you from escaping. You didn’t want to see Erling right now; the way you were so worked up about Emilia’s words was stupid, but you knew yourself, and it was very possible that you were about to blow everything because of the nerves.

“Breathe. You’re crushing my hand.”

“Is it too obvious?” You whispered once you made it to the tunnels.

“That you like him?” She turned to face you, smiling a bit before fixing your hair. “Not to him, I believe.” Her eyes looked behind you, a bigger smile appeared on her face. “But maybe it’s time to let you know that he likes you. Gotta go, Juli’s coming. Good luck.” She kissed your cheek briefly before walking away, leaving you nervous and shaky.

It seemed like being nervous and shaky was the new thing for you.

“What happened to the “no wearing a shirt that’s not my boyfriend's” rule?” You could feel Erling’s hands pinching the fabric of your new shirt before you turned around to face him. His voice was filled with that unique tone he only used when he won, or got his way around something he wanted. Today, both things happened. “Looks great on you, by the way.”

“You made me wear it, loser.” The only way to dissimulate the silent screaming you wanted to do right now was to answer with irony.

“And it’s the best decision I’ve made so far.” He stood in front of you in all his glory, clearly enjoying how pissed you were. You couldn’t help your eyes from going to his bare chest for a whole minute, biting your lip when your eyes met his. His smirk was so big, you wanted to punch him. “About to make the second one.”

So, so handsome. And so, so cocky.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” Was all you managed to say after a few seconds of pure silence, despite all the teammates roaming through the tunnel, clapping and screaming from their recent win.

“You have a really pretty face; have you ever heard that?” He leaned in, and your heart almost escaped through your throat. You couldn’t tear your eyes apart from his.

What if Emilia was right? Was this the right moment? He was totally flirting with you… Wasn’t he?

“I…”

“What about this? You wait here, looking as lovely as you do right now until I shower… And then I can take you to dinner so we can celebrate the win?” He whispered the proposition like it was a promise. At this point, you couldn’t even speak. “How does that sound?”

“Yeah, sure…” You whispered back, holding your bag so close to your chest that you could feel the handles burying themselves in your skin.

“Perfect.” Then he kissed your cheek, and you really stopped breathing for a few milliseconds. And as you were starting to have a little panic attack, he left.

Have you just… agreed to a date with Erling Haaland? Well, fuck.

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pettydollie · 1 month

Text

princess priscilla

a/n: i miss dad!chris au so here u go xx wc: 522

"hey princess" chris kissed his daughter's cheek, causing her to grin happily. "hi daddy!" she waved her chubby hand. he ruffled her hair as you were feeding her at the table. he bent down to give you a quick peck and smiled softly when he pulled away. "tell daddy about today." you remind your young daughter, quickly checking your phone for the time. its still early, only 10am.

chris turned around from the coffee pot, waiting to see what priscilla wants. she huffed, straightening her shoulders to make her seem tall. you lightly giggled at her antics, as did your husband. "mommy said i can have a tea party." she stated simply. chris nodded, raising a brow for more.

"and you have to go!!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air for good measure. now you turn around and see chris with his hands on his hips and a cheeky grin on his face. "oh, do i?"

"yes!" she claps, giggling. you wipe some spilled food from the side of her mouth. "manners, 'scilla." you smile sweetly, priscilla looking to you for a second before nodding her head and looking back at her father. "pwease." he comes over and twirls a strand of her hair. "aw, of course, princess! how could i say no?"

priscilla grins, satisfied.

an hour or so later, chris came back from the store with all the goodies for priscilla's little tea party. you put the twins down for a nap before decorating priscilla's tiny table in her room with floral paper plates. the girl carefully walked out of the bathroom in a dress-up gown and a plastic tiara on her head. her bare feet padded against the floor as she made her way to you. "mommy!"

you turn your attention to her, smiling widely at her getup. you gasp, "you look gorgeous, my love!" you pick her up and twirl her around, peppering her with kisses. she chuckled in delight, her tiny hands grabbing the ends of your hair to play with. as she twirled your hair, you asked what she wanted to eat. "dino nuggies, pwease."

"yer just like yer daddy!" chris exclaimed, walking into the room. you handed off scilla to him. he twirled her around playfully. you kissed his jaw and walked out to put the chicken nuggets in the oven.

a little while later, after you gave them the food, you decided to let them have some time together. you and chris junior watched spongebob in the living room (although you don't like it nearly as much as him and his father do) for a bit. you tapped your son's leg. "i'll be right back."

he nods, not taking his eyes off the screen. you carefully peek into the room to see chris bowing on the floor infront of scilla's table. "princess priscilla, the villains are coming! what do we do???" he cries out in faux worry. you grinned widely. priscilla pays little mind. "i don't care, i's having a party!" she giggles, continuing to eat her nuggets.

he gasps. "we're all gonna die!!" your smile drops. "babe! don't say that."

tags @leah-loves-lilies @latinasforchrizz @stargirlsturniololover @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓸

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obeythebutler · 3 months

Note

Hey so I see you said your prompt requests are open. I love your writing! I was wondering if you could maybe do Satan with the prompt: spontaneously deciding to paint their spare room on a Sunday. No pressure, you don't have to write it if you don't want to! Love ya byyyee

Sundays are meant for indulging yourself in the House of Lamentation.

In yours and Satan's case, it means coming to his room to read that one book you've been waiting for all week.

"All set?" Is the first thing you say when you step into his room with two cups of tea. The rare blend which you'd procured from Barbatos after helping him get rid of rats in the castle.

His room is set in darkness, unlike that of his brothers.

You have come to the conclusion that it must be a demon thing. You know, eyes meant for navigating in the darkness and all that jazz. While in the human world, you had gifted a pair of sunglasses to the blonde demon after his incessant complaining about the human world being too bright.

And even if his room is suited to his tastes and nature, even if he has a formidable knowledge of all things in the three realms, who in the nine layers of hell keeps candles on top of precious books?

Your Satan.

"Your room is a fire hazard," You state after having finished half your tea, his arm snaked around your waist. "Plus how do you even know where which book of which topic is?"

Satan shrugs. "I've got it all in my mind, so it's organised to me."

"To you."

"I tried 'organising' stuff once," He mutters, eyes scanning the text in front of him, book in hand as you both read. "Made different columns of books. The first toppled over after three hours. One week later and it returned to its usual state."

"There are many spare rooms in this house. One behind the Planetarium hasn't been discovered by the others yet. Why don't you try keeping some of your collection there?"

"That room isn't exactly suited to my taste." Satan turns the page. "Plus there's a dire need of renovation. I'll have to put some curses to ensure no one can steal those manuscripts."

You say nothing for a few minutes.

Enough time to finish reading the last three pages of the third chapter, and rest your head on his shoulder.

When you flip to the fourth one, the words spill past your lips without thought.

"Want to paint that room with me?"

The book slams shut.

Hours later, after having scrounged Devilkea, there's a color that you both agree upon. When the clock strikes three, you and Satan are armed with paintbrushes and rollers, ready to attack.

"That corner needs more paint," You say, turning your head towards where Satan works.

"That looks alright to me," He furrows his brows. "Does it look different from there?"

"Yeah, just a bit more."

Thirty minutes pass by like a breeze. Your arm hurts at the end, though, and since an idle mind brews mischief you decide that Satan needs a pop of colour.

You wait for the demon to get engrossed in his work, and then execute your move. It was wisely decided to wear old clothes for this activity, given that you were wearing your favourite shirt today.

An undignified squeak spills past the demon's lips.

"What was that?" He hisses. There's paint all over his behind now.

"Paint."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

You grin at him, all teeth. "When everything has dried, we can shift some of your books here. Place some charms on this room, have a little corner all to ourselves." Satan smiles at that.

"Add your stuff too," He tells you, stepping down from the ladder since that part of the wall is completed. "One of your cushions, maybe? You've got too many."

"Never too many."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me fluff #obey me imagines #omswd

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ohyoru · 6 months

Text

✿ mutual confession under the rain ft lyney

author's note; initially he didn't give much impression to me. butthenhisstoryquesthappenedandimnotthesameanymore so yeah! i'm very normal about this rizz lord

lyney knew you're special way before he gifted you the rainbow rose during one of his street performances. the way a sweet smile appeared on your face as your cheeks blushed the similar yet softer hue of the flower's petals had distracted him from the 'oooh' and 'aaah' coming from the children. if it wasn't for lynette stealing their attention with her own tricks, he was convinced that he'll make a fool of himself further.

"that's not how a confession should look like, lyney. do better", his sister pointed out on their way back home that evening. "as blatant as ever, aren't you". despite his chuckle, he knew she's right, but he's completely at lost as for how could he make his feelings for you apparent. he's aware that he comes off rather flirty at times, but surely you know that it's just for the sake of performance? oh no. did it ever make you feel uncomfortable that he's behaving like that with just anyone? but the rainbow rose should be an obvious sign because he doesn't give it to just anyone.

he's too deep in his own predicament that he didn't notice themselves arriving at their door, and lynette locking the door behind her after she entered, making him bumped him head at the door. "until you get on with it, you're staying outside", from the other side of the door, the sound of her footsteps faded. "ly-lynette! let me in. it's going to rain out here!", he looked at the darkening sky frantically, but the door stayed locked. it's just his luck that freminet was away on a mission. so lyney walked away, hoping that the stroll will help give him some answers. moments later, raindrops trickled down and steadily got heavier.

he took shelter under the awning of a nearby shop, shivering slightly, but his mind was more occupied with a more pressing matter. he wasn't sure how long the time had passed when someone approached him. "may i take a shelter here too?", the rainbow rose was kept close to you, slighty wet. he quickly stepped aside to make room for you. "i didn't expect the rain to come down this heavy". you said that, but he noticed the familiar smile on your face, "you don't look too upset about it, my lady". gazing softly at the flower, you admitted, "i've always loved rainbow rose for its symbolism. to receive it from you really made my day".

that made his heart skipped a beat, and words spilled out of his mouth before he could even stop himself, "then i'll give you more tomorrow, and the next day and the days to come, as long as you're willing to accept it". silence filled you two as the mutual confession sank in. "i'll treasure as much as you're willing to give me, lyney. thank you," you hid your flustered face behind the flower, and he felt like he could faint from the intensity of the moment and how cute you're being. from her room, lynette sipped her warm tea, knowing beforehand that locking the door was the right thing to do.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #lyney #lyney x reader

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lewkwoodnco · 5 months

Text

tis the damn season - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: estranged best friends to lovers trope my beloved!!! 😍 AHHH this is one of my fav fics I've written in a while. Poem below is Golden Boy by Cecil Miller, and the Spanish line is taken from a streetcar named desire by tennessee (idk how 2 spell) williams! this might be less proofread than normal + includes a few of my pre-infection hallucinations? lottt of angst, wc 5.1k!!

P.S. I think I'll be doing a part 2 to buy me presents! but not until a little later ahah and also the 12 days of fics are totally going to spill over hahah

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lockwood stares out the kitchen window. Both inside and outside, there is a bleak stillness in the air that sinks in his bones like a plague. It's too cold and too early in the morning for anyone to be properly out and about. But the season always messed up his sleep schedule more than usual, and now that they had taken a break from their cases for the holidays, there was nothing to occupy his treacherous mind, and its return to taut requirings of Christmases past.

Slowly, the other residents of Portland Row start to stir. George grumbles about their spluttering heating system and having to plod through the snow to get the mail, and Lucy promptly falls asleep in the cup of tea she's just brewed for herself. They were all exhausted, and rightfully so, given that the holidays was prime time for people to start looking into properly clearing out ghosts to keep their homes warm and cheery.

He slips out just as George's complaints about the heater start ramping up, and his mind is so scattered that he forgets to put his coat on. It's a little more brisk than what was completely tolerable, strictly speaking, but it was only just for a minute. When he reaches the mailbox, he runs into Mr. and Mrs. L/N, old family friends who had helped him more than he deserved over the years. They made some polite conversation while he rifled through the bills and letters.

"Oh, Anthony, we wanted to invite you over to tea sometime this week. Y/N's home for the holidays."

His hand slips and an envelope slices his finger open. It was bound to happen, given his glum and careless mood, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to suppress his cry of pain in front of them.

"Home...as in here? London?"

Ever since she had left for boarding school, there would always be some talk of her dropping by for Christmas every year. But the plans would never be fully solid, or some other pre-existing commitment would prevent her from making the trip. He was suddenly feeling oddly claustrophobic. He glanced up and down the street, as if expecting her to be hiding in some bushes.

Mrs. L/N seemed to pick up on his distraction, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Of course London. Where's your coat, dearie? Aren't you feeling chilly?"

"...yes. Now that you mention it...perhaps it's best I head back inside."

He gave a stiff sort of wave and walked back, mind reeling. Eight years. Eight years since he last saw her. What the hell was he supposed to do if he saw her now? How was he supposed to feel?

Luckily, he doesn't get much time to panic because as soon as he walks in, he narrowly dodges a wrench being lobbed at his head. Apparently, eleven freezing days with improper heating was more than what George could bear. It's usually a rather quick fix, but maybe the comparatively more extreme frost this year had corrupted the system beyond Lockwood's capabilities, because two hours later he was still no closer to getting it fixed.

Some time later, there's a knock on the door. He yells for someone to get the door, but he's buried too deeply in the house for anyone to hear him. Grumbling, he dusts himself off and walks to the door himself, head buzzing with frustration. He's so preoccupied with what more he could possibly do to get the heating working again that he doesn't think to check the peephole first. So when he opens the door, he gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Anthony."

It was her; rosy-cheeked yet looking effortlessly warm. Her facial features had lengthened and rearranged themselves as compared to when he last saw her, but there was still something expensive to the twist of her mouth and the crinkles near her eyes.

"It's been so long."

Even her voice was rich, like honey. Now that she was standing in front of him, the stitch in his chest from the morning seemed much more familiar. It had been some seasonally grievious paste that had coated his lungs and stoppered his mouth that made him feel eerily weightless if he dwelled on it too much.

He didn't know what to do. Exchange pleasantries, or skip to the part where he slams the door in her face? Before he could decide, he hears some shuffling behind him, and almost instinctively opens the door wider.

"Y/N. These are my associates. George Karim, Lucy Carlyle...Y/N L/N."

"Right. Lockwood and Co., was it?"

The four of them glance at each other, exchanging fleeting smiles for a good half-minute, before George has the sense to usher everyone inside for a cup of tea.

The kettle's already on, and George hands out the cups of tea waring mittens, his glasses barely visible behind the scarf mummifying the lower half of his head. If she notices the cold in the house, she doesn't comment on it.

They make some polite small talk. She's pleasantly amiable and a perfectly gracious guest, and talks about her Christmas dinner plans. Lockwood is disinterested and surly and wants to talk about his fragmented sense of self. At one point, his responses start to become so clipped that he earns a poorly concealed kick from Lucy, accompanied by a stern look. Luckily, it doesn't seem as if she's noticed. She was looking at the white blanket of snow over their garden carefully, as if dismissing their presence.

"Your garden looks beautiful. I'd love to have a look around."

George and Lockwood exchanged a look. It was freezing outside, and the harsh temperatures were clearly not worth braving for the little of the flowerbeds they could see. George opened his mouth to tell her as much, in his own snide way, but he hesitated. Lockwood felt his heart sink.

The thing was, she had had a magnetic effect on most people ever since they were kids, a quality that made it difficult for any grown adult to refuse her or for any child to oppose her. It was the same reason why she was sitting in his house, drinking out of his teacups, eating his share of biscuits (George and Lucy had clearly conspired as soon as they picked up on her staying for tea). But he had been sure that if there was anyone who could pull away from this siren call of hers, it would be George. The very boy who was meaningfully looking at him, trying to express some uncommunicable panic.

"Er...Lockwood?"

And so, he ended up taking her out for a brief and awkwardly quiet stroll in their garden once she was done with her tea. They meandered through the garden path stiltedly, and every snow-dusted weed and sapling seemed to astound her. Still, she divided her attention sufficiently to continue the ocnversation.

"Homeowner and agency head at fifteen. Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I bet you're the media's darling."

He shrugs.

She turns to him, eyes generously pooling with faux concern.

"It can't have been easy."

It wasn't easy, not that she would know anything about it. He wants to be spiteful towards her, lash out at her. God knows she deserved it. But something holds him back.

"So...that was George. And Luce."

She jerked her head back in acknowledgement, but he could see the slight smile playing at her lips as she did so. He had forgotten how terribly exasperating she could be.

"What?"

She shook her head, but that only made her smile grow wider, and so she finally relented. There's a vulpine twist to her lips that Lockwood has no patience for. "Nothing. I'm sure they're lovely people, of course. But if I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you."

He shrugged. "I wanted to share a bit of my life now. They're just about all of it."

She hums pleasantly, stopping short in front of one of the flower beds. She bends down and picks up a freshly fallen violet, its deep indigo harsh and unrelenting against the fresh, pure snow, against the season of vacancy and death. She holds it up in front of Lockwood.

"Viola Odarata. Symbolises humility. Flores; flores para los muertos. Flores."

A part of him wants to sneer at her in painful irony. How arrogant of her to think she could waltz back into his life as she pleased.

"That what they teach you in your boarding school? Useless facts about violets?"

She shivers, even though the air is completely still with no breeze, and her lips part. Too late, he realises he's gone too far. Her smile slips a fraction, and she takes on an air that makes him feel obliged to apologise. He resists it, and for a moment he sees something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before he can place it.

"Forgive me, but you don't seem terribly happy."

"The Problem's raging worse than ever. Happy things don't come by easy these days."

"...I suppose. It wouldn't -" For the first time, Lockwood thinks she might be feeling nervous. Her humanity, manufactured or otherwise, draws him in despite himself. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me...would it?"

He takes in her carefully manicured appearance, her intentionally pieced together life made up of the dreams she worked towards and achieved. And all he had was a house that was more of a burden than a blessing on some days and this inchoate dread over a Problem whose end was nowhere in sight. But he doesn't know how to express this resentment, this jealousy.

"I'm alright if you're alright."

Sad, dispirited eyes look into each other, searching for the fulfilment they're sure the other has found. She speaks in a tight voice.

"It's okay with the both of us, then."

She suddenly reaches out, and gently holds his finger with the papercut with a firm but comforting pressure. His first instinct is to pull his hand back, but he doesn't, and as the long seconds pass, he feels increasingly vulnerable. The cut was no longer bleeding, and was even well on its way to healing over just fine, but it was irritated from where he had relentlessly picked at it.

"Looks fresh."

She traces the cut with her other hand, violet folded in her palm, with a feather-light touch. The surreality of the moment - of her standing inches from her, her breath tickling his fingertips, her warmth spreading through him - catches up to him and makes his breath hitch. It was unbearably intimate and made him feel like the exposed, raw wound he had been nursing for the eight years she had been gone. And how like her to return with pockets full of unfounded promise to stitch the tears in his skin.

And just as quickly, she lets go of his hand and steps back, and Lockwood feels as though cold air has been forced into his airways. She tucks the violet behind her ear, and drifts back inside. The tilt of her joints is so familiar that it stirs something in him. Something long gone, something he was gripping like a fist.

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

When they return, Lockwood excuses himself to his room for a bit of air, ignoring how closely George is watching him. He sits on his bed and takes a deep breath. His nightstand has a few miniature picture frames on it, and in one of them the picture's been flipped around. It's a picture of him and her, taken a few months before she left. It's how he remembered her before seeing her today. Sometimes, when the urge grew too great, he would tilt the frame under his nightlight, and make out the barest outline of their figures looped together on the other side of photograph.

He didn't know what to make of her departure, all those years ago. One day, they were swinging on tyres in her parents' garden, and the next day, she wasn't at school. But as the years churned on, the string tying his heart to hers stretched and tore a slow and painful death from him, out of the cavity she left, and he never felt quite the same again. And as they continued to age, the wound became old news and scabbed over what was once raw and paralysing, but a part of him always wanted to know why she did it, to be angry with her for being so callous.

And now she was back, pulling him under by the ankles, ripping the gash open viciously.

He didn't know how exactly to deal with it, after years of thinking of her adjacently, daring only to keep her in his peripheral vision, where he was kept safe. Maybe it was all part of a larger problem; the twitch in his hand and his recurring nightmare.

He's ten years old again, at a train station he's never been to, and likely one that doesn't exist. It's hard to see just about any discerning features, except for the massive train peeking through the fog in front of him. He looks to the right, and sees her strong fingers wrapped around a railing, her standing in the door of the train. He can't be sure of much, but he's certain she's looking at him. He stretches the moment as long as it will last, because it's all downhill from there.

There's a terrible groaning sound, and the train reluctantly starts to chug along, steadily gathering speed. He walks alongside it, gradually picking up his own pace, until he's nearly sprinting. All the while, she watches him with amused eyes, secure in her place on the train. He's panting, choking on the fog, eyes streaming. But if he can just reach her scarf whipping in the wind, the train will stop, and she'll step out, cool and gleaming and impervious to the cloud of dust surrounding her and-

He wakes with a start. He knows how it ends.

She slips through his fingers every time.

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

She stays for the rest of the day, and the four of them spend a cosy afternoon decorating their Christmas tree, carefully dodging the random mugs of hot chocolate littered across the room. While they were digging out the ornaments from the attic, she finds a box that he, evidently, had not tucked away deep enough.

"Remember these?" She holds up a flimsy, crumbling Santa Claus ornament made of construction paper. "We had so much fun making them."

He nods stiffly, subtly shifting the box towards a corner in the living room. It smarts his eyes to look at the hideous thing, as if its very sight was corrosive.

"Took me a while to find them, though. It must be a pain to dig them out every year."

He puts down the bauble he's hanging, and sighs. "I haven't...brought these out in a while."

Even her look of perplexity looks artificial. "Why not? Aren't there so many happy memories attached to these?" Her face falls ever so slightly. "Do memories of me not make you happy?"

Luckily, they're interrupted by Lucy placing a handful of miniature marshmallows into their hot chocolate. When she moves over to George, Lockwood wordlessly starts hanging their crafted ornaments, and she doesn't press him for an answer. When they're done, the tree looks a lot more crowded and chaotic than it normally does, similar to how Lockwood was feeling with her around. He looks at her, and isn't sure how he feels about the asymmetry of having her here.

Later, when she's about to leave, it starts snowing heavily, too heavily for her to walk home. So after a phone call with her parents, she decides to spend the night. Lockwood's in his bedroom when he hears a knock on his door. It's her, dressed in a spare set of Lucy's pajamas.

"I thought you'd be awake."

She wanted to know what he was doing, and what he was doing was wrapping some Christmas presents. Immediately, she obligingly offered to help, and she was too eager for him to outright refuse. Of course, he might have thought differently if he had known how abysmally little she knew about wrapping gifts. And so they stay up till the early hours of the morning, both of them trying equally hard to teach her the most basic of gift wrapping skills. As the night wore on, they got increasingly drunk on laughter over her heinously criminal attempts and Lockwood's limbs started to loosen up. At one point, he had given up entirely and placed his hands over hers, puppeteering the night's only decent gift wrapping while she smothered her laughter.

He doesn't remember much after that. When he next regains his consciousness, he's lying curled up next to her, with the late morning sun streaming through his windows. He watches her breathe, slow and steady, with a face so relaxed, amiable and familiar.

As her eyes start to flutter open, he panics and tries to look anywhere else, which isn't easy given how she's only inches away from him. They glance at each other, silently acknowledging their positions, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to put as much space between them as he can with his arm wrapped under her. "When do you leave?"

She scrunches her forehead as she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her he instantly recognises and he gets caught off guard by a rush of affection, and a flash of an impulse to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Monday."

He pulls a face.

"We'd have the weekend together. Isn't that enough?"

They stay quiet, watching specks of dust float through the sunlight filtering through his partially drawn curtains. With how close they are to each other, they're not looking at each other's face, and it's unclear if she's asking him, or herself, or the dust they're watching. Was it enough?

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

Later that evening, Lucy wants to take a walk along some of the emptier roads in the snow. She takes their trip as her cue to leave but Lucy insists she come along, so she does. The four of them had cycled as far as they could, and when they reached the too-slippery parts of the road, they had dismounted and left their bicycles in a corner. Lucy and George were wandering around a bit ahead of them, while they slowly shuffled through the snow. She had picked up some newspapers on their way there, and was looking through them as they walked, taking particular interest in the odd article on Lockwood & Co.

"You've certainly had your fair share of media coverage."

"Along with a decent helping of frenzied media sensationalism, I suppose."

"My apologies. I forgot I was talking to the Anthony J. Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Now, is the arson bit complimentary, or would I have to pay extra?"

She was teasing him, and it was irritating. There was a reticent air about him and after some politely delicate probing, which he had been too preoccupied to entertain, she had resorted to amusing herself. Toying with him like a figurine, the way she did all those years ago.

"You wear your grief so beautifully, Lockwood. Like...like jewels between your teeth..."

She pauses, flipping through the newspapers interestedly with inky fingertips, which flickered like shadows next to the soft white snow.

"...and you have such a winning smile. Golden boy." She laughs, and the sound feels like icicles pressing into his skull. "Golden boy," she trills, "you were a bit of a child. The world was having its way with you. You tried to...er, something...golden boy!"

She smiles at him lazily, expectantly, as if anticipating some kind of applause. But Lockwood is in no mood for her childish whimsies.

"I'm fine. I don't have any grief."

She frowns exaggeratedly. "'Course you do."

"I don't."

She mumbles, turning back to her newspaper. "Fine, then. Not like I'm the one holding onto...some kind of...ache."

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. How could anyone be this self-aware and yet completely oblivious? The strain on his self-restraint peaks and he buckles within himself.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

She looks away from the snow. "Lucy said it'd be nice out here."

"No. I mean why are you here, in London? Here, at Portland Row?"

Her lips are pressed together, and there's something guarded in her eyes.

"I just...wanted to see how you were doing."

"Liar."

The word drops from his tongue in such an aggrieved manner with such vehemence that it makes her choke.

"How could you say something like that?"

He scoffs. "Please, let's not pretend you weren't dying to leave at the first chance. Not that you had the decency to tell me-"

"-I was ten!-"

"- having me go through the humiliating process of finding out on my own-"

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? I'm sorry I left? I'm sorry you were alone? I'm sorry I was too selfish to give a damn about you?"

"-and you'll come back, choking on your silver spoon only to leave again and again and again until you're all alone-"

"You never wrote!"

"I didn't think you'd want me to!"

"I didn't know what I wanted!"

"Then what do you want?"

"YOU, you idiot!"

He stares at her, speechless.

"I was ten. And I was so foolish. How could I have thought of anything but you?"

With that, the last of her rosy, polished, alluring boarding-school airs fell apart. He looks at her and sees his own anger and yearning reflected back at him; anger and yearning he's hardly ready to face. Despite all their efforts to get away from the other, to move on, something between them held fast. Or perhaps it was that they were hopelessly, irrevocably intertwined.

"Of all the roads I could have travelled, you are at the end of every single one of them. Every single one of them, except the road I did travel. I'm here, Lockwood, because I thought I might have...I might have chosen wrong."

"So you think you can just stroll back now that it's convenient for you? I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, do you realise that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lockwood? You keep pushing me away. I feel like part of a past you're forever trying to run away from. So fine! I'll leave, then. I'll go back to the sorry hole I crawled out of, back to friends I don't care about, back to dreaming of the only person who's ever truly cared about me. Is that what you want?"

She doesn't wait for a response, and turns around and walks away from him.

"Y/N, come back."

She silently picks her bicycle out of the snow, dusting it off.

"You can't cycle in this."

Still ignoring his words ringing through the dead winter silence, she steadies herself and cautiously swings a leg over her bicycle. Lockwood starts to walk towards her.

"You'll fall. You'll hurt yourself. Y/N. Y/N!"

But she's already off, gliding soundlessly like a ghost through frigid air on icy roads.

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

He's already regretting his words by the time he reaches 35 Portland Row. When he first walks in, the house is so deathly quiet that he's convinced she's left. But her bicycle is thrown down in the garden and he knows she's too averse to the cold to walk home in the snow.

He walks slowly, his measure footsteps echoing on the wooden floors of the house, and he eventually finds her in the living room, sitting with her back to the door, staring at the drawn curtains. The fading evening glow spilling through the edges is streaked across her face and there's a soft crunching sound. As he comes closer, he sees the bowl of ice glinting in her lap, like fractured light, with her face as blank as a canvas.

"Have you gone completely mad? You'll fall sick."

She doesn't even flinch, as if she hadn't heard him. When she speaks, there's a dreamy quality to her typically strong and clear voice.

"I didn't want to come back. This city is nothing I want. I was always going to escape some day. And yet..." she trails off with glazed eyes, as if trying to look through some distant fog. "...and yet."

"You were right." The run back had left him mildly breathless, but was also exactly what he needed to get rid of the buzz in his head, giving way to some much-needed clarity. "About the...heartache. I was just sick of it. You're miles away. I love you in your sleep. I still reach the end of road alone. But I loved you all the while and...somehow that made the pain of leaving you worth it."

"I'm restless. I'm lost. I'm selfish." She swivels her head with an unnerving smoothness, grin wide and grotesque, ice glinting between her perfect teeth. "I'm so alone, Lockwood. Just like you said."

He doesn't know what to say. He walks towards her and picks up her bowl but her fingers close around his wrist like a vice. The gleam in her eye makes him want to pull his hand back. He's too old to play her games and lose.

"That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad habit. One you can't seem to kick even after all these years: tell me, Anthony, why is that?"

"Y/N, stop. You'll spoil your teeth."

It only makes her grind her teeth even more tauntingly. It's an awful sound. "Good. Let them fall out, one by one. It's what I deserve. Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson."

Her grip on his sleeve lessens, but she doesn't let go. She grips the bowl with her other hand even tighter, as if suddenly terrified.

"Leave me be, Anthony. Leave me...to my vices...and violets and...violence."

He reads her face. He tries to figure her out, to read her like the open book she once was to him. When he doesn't leave, she shovels more ice into her mouth, uncomfortably clacking with her teeth, and continues.

"I was racing ahead...into some glorious sunset, towards some fantastic rainbow, at the end of which was some miraculous snowdrop and a wish to soothe my nomadic soul. I didn't have time for the boy with the sad eyes two streets down from me."

"I convinced myself that you resented my escape from the Problem. I was 15 with the bitter taste of lemongrass in my mouth and a stitch in my chest when I realised I spent all those years missing you. I couldn't run away from it, not truly. So I pretend. I pretend you don't hate me and I pretend I'm not an awful person and I pretend there's a chance you'd want me as much as I want you. I came home to tell you how terribly fond I was of you. It was only at your doorstep that I realised I had run out of places to hide."

"I don't have time for love. Nor the capacity for it. But I am tired of trying to outrun it."

She closed her eyes. Her voice was barely a croak. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. If I could...I'd wish away the past eight years of misery." She opened her eyes. "Some nights, I can pretend they never existed. But I can't wish your happiness into existence."

Lockwood somehow finds his voice. "I thought this was the life you wanted."

"It is Christmas, once again, and my heart is lonely as an island...once again. What part of this could I possibly want?"

He lets go of the bowl of ice and covers her limp, frozen hand with his own. She speaks in a low voice, barely stirring the dust in the room.

"I'll never forgive myself."

He sits down next to her, his feather-light lips pressed to her temple. She feels drained, and exhausted, as if the spirit that had driven her for so long was finally fatigued. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs felt lopsided. But what a blessing it was to finally fall in the one place she knew her landing would be soft.

"One day. One day, I'll..."

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

He pulls out a fresh violet from his coat, still damp from the morning dew.

"Call it even?"

She accepts the flower and gives him a sweet smile. He revels in this smallest of victories.

Their peaceful moment gets shattered by the deafening train horn, which unpleasantly reminds Lockwood of where they are.

She hesitates for a moment, but then extends her arm and holds his face. There's a troubled look on her face, like there's something indescribable she wished to communicate just at the tip of her tongue. But the compulsion passes, and she settles for a trembling brush of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You're such a darling, Anthony. I don't care what any newspaper or lawsuit has to say about you. You'll always be a darling to me."

"Good, because soon enough you might just be the only one."

She grins, widely at first, but then it chips, and for once he can admit that the sight breaks his heart. She gives him a hug, and he holds her like she's one of the precious metals that adorn her jewellery.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps. See you another weekend."

When they break apart, she swiftly picks up her suitcase with white knuckles and marches to the carriage without looking back. The train horn blares for a final time. The doors shut, and the wheels groan to life. He searches for her face, and finds it, but the reflection of the train station lights hides her eyes. It's at this moment that a disconnected part of him realises he doesn't want to wait for another weekend. He wants her here, and he wants her now.

The train picks up speed, and Lockwood tries to match it. But he's not trying to run. He knows that won't work, it never does.

"Y/N!"

That gets the attention of most passengers, including her. This train accelerates much faster than in his dream, and he's got an awful stitch running down the side of his torso by now, but he's beyond caring at this point. When she sees that it's him yelling like a maniac, she presses her flushed face to the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Would you stay?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @ahead-fullofdreams

#taylor swift #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood imagine #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #tis the damn season #evermore #12 days of fics '23

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

Note

This may be an out-there one but stick with me for a sec! I remember Leona going off to Jamil about how Kalim’s best asset is that he’s friendly and he knows how to use that to sway people whether he knows it or not. With that in mind, may we see Kalim’s magical charms work on Maleficia?

Consider this interaction as a part 2 to this one! They just happen to flow together really well.

P.S. For no reason at all, you should totally go read Jade's School Uniform vignette :))

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

A single spot of sunshine lit up all of Diasomnia's dank, gloomy lounge.

Kalim, a gargantuan smile plastered on his face, was seated at a table, playfully swinging his legs back and forth. He had with him a portable stove and a tea set, both ridiculously fine and expensive. His friend Silver would soon be there, and the two would delight in sharing an afternoon snack and catching up on one another's lives.

I wonder when he’ll get here! Kalim thought, angling his head toward the doors that spilled into the room. He said he was meeting up with his dad first, so maybe they’ll come together?

From a corridor came faint voices, low and calm, like lost souls afraid to startle their own shadows. The shapes of two people extended along a stony wall, green candlelight haloing them as they approached. Their forms steadily grew larger and larger until they had, at last, consumed all light.

"Silver?" Kalim called as he hopped out of his chair.

A pair entered the lounge, chasing away the sun in favor of the stars. Cloaked in black and pale-faced, inhuman horns protruding from their heads, they heralded in the night and bad dreams like the monsters from under one’s bed.

Kalim greeted them with cheer anyway.

“It’s you, Malleus!! You’re with your family today, huh?” he cried out, excitedly waving at the duo. “Didn’t think I’d run into you today. Usually you’re so hard to find for meetings!"

“Asim. I had not expected to encounter you myself.” The corner of the prince's mouth lifted into a slight smirk. "Perhaps you've not looked hard enough."

"Gahahah! I'll try harder next time then!"

“Who might this be, Malleus?”

“Excuse me.” His eyes slid to the woman beside him as gestured toward Kalim. “Grandmother, I give you Kalim Al-Asim, a fellow dorm leader. Asim, my grandmother, and current queen of Briar Valley.”

“Your grandma?!” Kalim’s exclamation echoed off the cavernous walls. There was no effort to conceal his shock, not in tone nor in face. “Whoa, I never would have known…! I thought she was your sister or something! You look a lot alike.”

Maleficia chuckled darkly. “We fae mature quite differently than humans. Our true age rarely shows.”

“So you look a lot younger than you actually are? That’s so cool!” Kalim laughed, oblivious to his own brashness as he ran his mouth. “There’s someone in my year level that’s kind of like that too. Have you met Riddle? He looks small but he’s actually super smart and responsible! I really look up to him!”

Maleficia nodded as she patiently listened in.

Next to her, Malleus slowly surveyed the room, then allowed his gaze to drift back to Kalim. “If I may ask, where have your own relatives, Asim? Were they not to accompany you today?"

“Oh, that!! Only dad could make it this year.He had to take an important business call, so he said go hang out with some friends and he’ll catch up with me later!”

Kalim indicated the canister beside his tea making supplies. “He brought back a new blend from one of his trading partners. It’s a rare tea made with petals and buds from the Queendom of Roses and Briar Valley. That’s where Silver’s from, so I wanted to share it with him!”

“A tea made in part with plants from the Briar Valley, you say…” Malleus cradled his chin in one hand. “Most intriguing. Our kingdom is a small, isolated one. It is not often that our culture is able to merge with that of another."

“The Queendom of Roses is the country east of our continent,” Maleficia said sagely. "It is not only known for its roses, but all kinds of flowers that blossom in the springtime. Being that our Briar Valley is more northward, our flora tends to be much hardier than that of the Queendom."

"That means your flowers and theirs are different somehow, right? It's neat how someone thought to bring roses from two completely different places together!" Kalim grinned widely. "It's like going to a feast where each guest brings a dish from their culture so everyone can have a taste of where they come from.”

Maleficia stared at the young man, her expression indiscernable.

“Oh yeah, if you guys are interested in it, you can try some!” Kalim offered.

Malleus cocked his head. "I believe you stated that your intention was to share the tea with Silver?"

"Don't be shy! It's my treat, and there's plenty to go around! I'll go and brew it. Take a seat while you wait!"

“Hmm, if you are offering… I suppose it would be rude of us to refuse your thoughtful invitation. Grandmother?”

“No objections.”

The Draconias slunk to the table and sat, their lithe forms melded with the quilted leather chairs. They looked right at home with their refined posture, commanding the lounge from their thrones without so much as lifting a finger.

Kalim appeared like nothing more than an attendant in the powerful presence of royalty, buzzing about and fiddling with various tools as he set to making the tea.

Removing the lid off of his kettle, he poured in enough water to fill most of the vessel up. Kalim set it upon the portable stove and cranked the heat up. A soft electric hum started, and the flat disc upon which the kettle sat slowly warmed.

“What a strange device," Malleus mused, his brows creasing at the various dials and settings on the stove. "Would it not be more efficient to prepare the tea with magic? A single puff of fire breath would also suffice to hasten the tea."

"Probably! But you two are my guests. It's my job to feed you and make sure you're enjoying yourselves! This is my way of doing that."

As he talked, Kalim kept his hands in motion. He popped the cap off of his cannister, scooping out unassuming mounds of dried leaves and flowers and letting them fall into each teacup. First, the queen's, then Malleus's, and himself last.

"In my home country, guests are always served before the host. It's to welcome people into our homes. 'You're my friend, and I respect you. I want to honor you with food and drink, to treat you like you're a member of my family.' That's the feeling behind it!"

“I see. So this is the hospitality that comes specifically from the Scalding Sands.” A small smile formed on Malleus’s lips. “I do recall similar kindness from my trip to Silk City. The people of the Scalding Sands are very friendly and warm, much like the sun.”

“The times have certainly changed,” Maleficia remarked. “Back in my day, the children of man were not quite so open-minded. To invite fae to any gathering was to invite danger—such was the common sentiment.”

“Ahhh, that’s too bad. Being left out of a party never feels good!” Kalim let a rare frown appear. “I guess I never realized how lucky I am to live in a time where all kinds of people can be friends.”

The kettle rattled on the stove, a high-pitched whistle erupting from its spout. He swiftly removed it by the handle, and set to pouring hot clear liquid into Maleficia’s cup, then Malleus’s, and his own. Curtains of steam rose up, hiding his features as he chewed on his thoughts.

“Silk City wasn’t always as big as it is now,” Kalim finally said. “My ancestors found a way to use the waterways for trade. It connected us to new information, goods, and people. Then over time, the population grew into the big community we know today.

“Things changed a lot! I’m thankful that they did, because that means all of us can experience so much more together, like this tea. The world really opened up to us.”

The leaves and rosebuds started to unfurl, their colors and flavors seeping into the hot water. A subtly sweet, mellow scent wafted up, filling the lounge with a flowery perfume.

“Indeed, it has.” Maleficia agreed. “Our Briar Valley is set in its ways, yet the world around it seems to constantly shift. I did not think I would live to see the day a child of man so fearlessly entertains me for tea myself—but here we are, fae and human, on equal terms.”

She reached over and squeezed Malleus’s hand. He laid another over hers and smiled back. There was something sad and haunting in their eyes, a mutual understanding of something far darker than their words would allow.

“Yeah, it’s great that we can do stuff like this without worrying anymore! Speaking of, I think the tea’s about done brewing. One last final touch…”

Kalim picked up his entire sugar pot and inverted it over Maleficia’s cup. Several cubes tumbled out and splashed into the beverage. The typically composed queen startled at the sugar and tea concoction (especially when Kalim produced another sugar pot and proceeded to do the same to Malleus’s cup).

“Is this… customary?” Maleficia carefully inquired.

“No, we’d usually add more! Luxurious tea is sweet tea!!” Kalim responded, totally oblivious to her shock. “I thought I’d just be serving Silver today though, so I bought way less sugar than I usually do. I hope it’s still to your liking though!”

“Ah, this style of tea would be the same kind I was served in Silk City. The… exceedingly sweet kind,” Malleus said warily. He spoke no more, but the warning had already made itself evident.

“… I understand. This dish is an integral part of your culture.” Maleficia lifted her cup with the grace and elegance befitting of a queen. “I shall partake in your saccharine fare… Asim, was it?”

“Yup, that’s me! Kalim Al-Asim.”

“Fufu. I will remember your name and face, Kalim Al-Asim. Of that, you can be certain. After all, I had the opportunity to hear many interesting things from you. It would not do to forget such an important individual—and a beloved companion to my Malleus.”

She swallowed her overly sugared tea without flinching. It was strong, peppered with floral notes—two adjacent springtimes at the same threshold. To one side, the Queendom with a sweet medley of rainbow flowers clustered around its roses. To the other, the once great Briar Country, its rosen blooms shrouded by bitter bramble.

So different, yet still meeting in the middle. Humans and fae, reconciling under the same sun.

“How is it?”

Maleficia slowly lowered the cup from her lips. They ached from the sugar in a single sip, yet she was satisfied all the same.

“It was delicious.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Kalim Al-Asim #twst imagines #Malleus Draconia #twst interactions #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland interactions #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #Maleficia Draconia #NRC Family Day

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secret-engima · 17 days

Text

I have tea and a soap box let's spill something shall we (Wakfu Rant)

*sips tea*

I've been in this fandom for like. A month? more? Depends on how long it took me to work through the show. I've not actually interacted with the *fandom* at all, just the canon stuff and my own spiralling insanity. But while I'm here I might as well make enemies /s. Therefore:

Oropo is a much more compelling character deserving of redemption than Qilby. Qilby:

Had a loving literal goddess mom and a bunch of loving siblings.

A beautiful planet and thriving culture he could go anywhere and do anything on

The capability of going into space without any technological aids once he got bored of the Eliatrope world and started to suffer the effects of his eidietic memory thing. We know for a fact that Eliatropes and their dragon sibs literally don't need so much as a helmet to vibe in space, they could have gone out there any time, explored the cosmos a bit, found cool things as souvenirs and brought them back to show off to his siblings.

While this is very clumsily and blatantly retconned in s4, in s2 Qilby is very open and blatant about the fact he willingly picked a fight with Orgonax with the INTENTION of forcing his entire people to flee their world into space just so he would have more company than Shinonome. An entire world and no doubt thousands of Eliatropes and who knows what pieces of their history and culture were lost because this man, and I remind you again that s2 Qilby taunts Yugo with this fact no matter how s4 woobified him, wanted to FORCE his people to join him in space rather than just let manning the fuck up and going out there with his sister on a buddy roadtrip.

Seems very convinced that some or all of his specimens in his lab are the last of their kinds, which at best means he intentionally targeted dying species on alien worlds to capture and put into jars for literal eternity which is all kinds of animal cruelty (assuming some of them aren't sentient!!) and at worst means he is the reason they are the last of their kind because Qilby wanted his souvenir to be Unique.

when his people finally found a new world to settle on and be happy and try to reclaim their culture, he instigated a SECOND GENOCIDE, this one taking out not only their home world but literally every. living. adult Eliatrope (and dragon considering the propensity for dragons to have Eliatrope twins as stated in s1). Literally thousands if not millions of people are dead, thousands of children are orphaned and left trapped in a realm where they cannot *grow up*, the vast majority of his own siblings are dead and oh look at that. He's stuck in sensory deprivation hell. Man. If only there was some course of action he could have taken that would not have led to him fighting his own siblings, losing his arm, and getting stuck in the white void of horribleness. Man this truly is a tragedy of fate. Definitely no way he could have gone back into space without the Zinit. Definitely could not have just hopped on Shinonome's back with a packed lunch and gone out there on his own knowing he would have a loving family to come back to whenever he got lonely. Man.

upon breaking out of the White Void Of Horrible he is even more mentally unstable (and yes I know he's mentally ill during the above events, that does not excuse his actions when he is aware enough of them to gloat about them to yugo later) and immediately decides that he's going to kill this entire world in order to leave and he's going to take his siblings and the few surviving eliatrope kids with him by force.

has ANYONE other than me noticed the incredibly dark and horrific implications of him apparently planning to kill Phaerys and Yugo (and Adamai likely). Yugo says he couldn't go through with it and I'll believe that, but the fact he apparently consciously PLANNED it. Am I the only one who saw that scene and went "if he kills them, then they go back to the dofus and hatch without any memories, which means he will be able to RAISE AND GROOM THEM in the Zinit to believe that whatever Qilby says is right and do whatever he wants, like galavant in space for eternity".

S4 can retcon as much as it likes to make the Orgonax thing an accident and Qilby a mama's boy (which I freely admit was funny and I would have enjoyed in any other villain), but going off s2 and moving into s3 I REALLY cannot see why people like him more and hate Oropo.

And even if we DO count s4's retcon that made the first incident an accident the SECOND WAS STILL DAMN WELL INTENTIONAL. And Qilby is still responsible for the death of thousands twiceover on top of the death of an entire culture. All of Eliatrope history, culture, science, medicine, *music*, *STORIES*, it's all gone save for whatever the Emrub kids happen to remember (and the kids will not remember it accurately because they are children). All their architecture is destroyed, all their native cuisine is GONE and so are the ingredients to make them. All because Qilby wanted to force them into space WHEN THEY DID NOT WANT TO GO and HE COULD HAVE GONE ON HIS OWN AT ANY POINT WITH SHINONOME.

Speaking of Oropo! Let's look at what we know about him for comparison!

Was created by accident and is intimately aware of it.

was thrown back in time and lived most if not all of his life perpetually terrified of changing history or accidentally erasing himself and his siblings

Not only saw all of his siblings die off over the years but had their energy absorb into him in something that is no doubt extremely traumatizing to undergo. if any of you have watched the Oropo-centric ova, man for a mastermind manipulator he sure do look like he wanna cry and throw up and curl in a little ball when two of his siblings die in front of him and he is forced to assimilate their life energy.

"Supposedly" staged several key villain creation events which I personally press x to doubt because it's so clunky when mixed in with s1 and s2 lore BUT if we graciously assume that he did then gee. can't possibly be a factor of the third bullet point and his terror of erasing the timeline with his own existence can it? Can't possibly be Oropo falling into Every Heroic Time Travel Trope Ever where the hero ensures a certain event happens in order to maintain the timeline in key points hm? Even if it's a bad idea?

Has been successfully and lovingly married? partnered? mated? to a badass half-dragon wife for literal centuries and every time they are on screen together before the Dramatic Amalia Bullshit they are loving and balanced and give off so many Old Married Vibes and then THEY RESUME that dynamic for the few seconds on screen they have before they both die.

Adopts and raises hundreds of orphaned demigods who apparently were more than happy to live in the Tower and follow him throughout their lives, and in fact show no sign of abuse or manipulation in their behavior until the finale when Anakam decides it's time for everyone to think Oropo is horrible

is actively DYING when we meet him and not just dying but faced with the prospect that there is no happy ending for him. He will never see his loved ones in the afterlife, he will never know peace, he will be assimilated by his creator Yugo and at *best* be essentially digested into raw wakfu and at *worst* be a ghost stuck in the head of a man he has extremely complicated and negative feelings about for the above time travel and sibling trauma.

Adamai EXPLICITLY MENTIONS THAT OROPO IN S3 IS ACTING OUT OF CHARACTER when he goes into his more Blatant Villain Moments. Which sure, could be "the mask" falling to reveal someone "oooo evil" but isn't it far more likely he's acting out of character because he's dying and having a crisis about it.

canonically hates violence, but was so desperate to ensure his loved ones would have a better world he was willing to resort to turning himself into a suicide bomber to "create a better world". Was this a good idea? no. but ppl apparently love to point out how Qilby is mentally unstable to justify his behavior soooooo like. Why is that excuse not applicable to the guy who's literally spent his entire life being uncertain he's even real and has a right to exist but is real enough to DIE and never see the people he loves again and therefor go off the rails in his attempts to make something better for them?

in s4, the same season that makes Qilby sympathetic so if you count that as canon then by gods you better count the Oropo moments as canon, Oropo gives Yugo a reprieve from the literal life sucking torture he's in, helps him get a new outfit, and lets Bouillon play fight him (because again, Oropo hates Doing Violence) to keep him distracted and SANE while his body is being horribly tortured. In the end Yugo even confirms they are real and a part of him which is literally all Oropo wanted in his dying speech if you rewatch the finale and boil down his fury to its bullet points (he is a clone without a future and literally says stuff along the lines of just wanting to be REAL and wanting Yugo to ACKNOWLEDGE him).

For a supposed mastermind villain who wanted Yugo dead Yugo sure does seem Super Duper Alive in the months/two years/whatever timeline Ankama is using this hot second since he created the clones and was therefore *no longer necessary* for Oropo to keep alive.

At the end of the day Qilby actively chose HIMSELF over the wellbeing of others and got multiple siblings killed as well as two worlds and an entire civilization/culture wiped out. OROPO set himself on a path of similar destruction and then ACTIVELY TURNED BACK because he was faced with the choice of his ambitions or HIS LOVED ONES and he PRIORITIZED THEIR LIVES OVER HIS OWN AND HIS OWN GOALS where as Qilby not only did not do that, he didn't do it TWICE. TWICE. Oropo's death count is miniscule and he chose to sacrifice himself rather than lose the people he was doing this for and Echo knew he would make that choice, which means she also knew his love of them was genuine. You cannot compare that to Qilby and tell me Qilby is in any way better.

Okay rant over I'm going back to planning my wakfu canon rewrite and my various Echo/Oropo oneshots thank you and good day.

#Secret Engima Rambles #wakfu #Oropo #wakfu oropo #wakfu qilby #SE rants #if anyone comes in here talking about the manga or the games don't even bother #if its information that the writers of the show cannot be damned to put IN the show then it does not count for the purposes of this compari #also if you like qilby that's fine?#s4 qilby was entertaining #but Oropo is best boy and Imma kill canon on this hill #thanks #long post

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queenquinzel715 · 1 year

Text

1. Tommy Shelby 18+

Wrd Count 1,779

1. Tommy Shelby 18+

Y/n P.O.V

1915

From how quiet all three of them were just made me question, what did they do now? I look at Ada with a raised eyebrow who then looks at Polly. Polly takes a sip of her tea before looking at the Shelby brothers.

"What did you three do?" She sharply asks.

Polly is the only woman in my entire life that I'm afraid of, and just know better than to lie to her. She's descended from a gypsy princess, and she can tell your soul better than you do. Tommy finally sits his unread paper down as John looks down at his hands.

"Well!" She snaps.

"We.." John clears his throat. "We've decided to skip the draft, and just sign up to join the war." He says with a solemn face.

I couldn't believe what I just heard. I look at Tommy full of shock as he looks at me.

"You did what?!" Ada asked as she stood with her hands on her hips.

"Ada, just take a breath." I sigh. "They would've joined the war regardless." I haven't taken my eyes off of Tommy, but he looks down.

A month later

I look around the train platform at all the crying families, the people that cling to each other, and just can't believe I'm standing here. I squeezed John and Arthur in hard hugs and told them to keep eyes in the back of their heads. When I stepped on Tommy I almost lost my hold. He pulls me to his chest holding me by the back of my head. When we pull back he kisses my forehead.

"Please be careful." I beg him.

Present

The Garrison was packed more than usual today, so I'm cleaning harder to get the spills up. A loud knock coming from the front door makes me drop the mop with a gasp. I walk to the door with an exhausted sigh, stopping at the first set of doors.

"We're closed, come back tomorrow." I call out.

"It's me y/n." Tommy answers.

He rushes in once the door is open. After locking it again I walk in to him pouring himself a drink, and down it in just seconds. Ever since the war has ended I've been worried about all of them, especially Tommy. He walks around like he wasn't fazed by almost being buried to death, but I, as well as Polly, see it in his eyes. He's completely locked his head up.

I decide to leave him to his drink as I start to sweep again. He watches me for a moment before pulling out a smoke, and lighting it.

"Did you know about Ada?" He simply asks, I walk toward him with eyes on his.

"Yes. Thought I'd keep it to myself." I tell him honestly.

He responds with a hum, giving me those narrow eyes, as he takes a drink. I take the cigarette out from between his fingers as I sit across from him. I take a hit with a big sigh as I exhale the smoke.

"All I got to tell you, Tommy, is that she's happy." I give him back his cigarette as I shrug.

After we sit in silence for a few minutes he leans back in his chair.

"The Lees cursed my horse." He tells me.

I shake my head as I stand up, and walk around toward him.

"Come on. You need sleep." I take his hand, slightly pulling him.

I guide us through the streets of Small Heath to my flat. Once we get inside I help him with his wet clothes, hang his and mine on the line next to the fireplace. I walk to him as he's hunched over with his elbow on his knees. He moves his hands so I can stand in between his legs. His hands go from my thighs to around my waist as he leans his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair, down his neck, letting him relax. Ever since Tommy has been back I've been here to help with his demons that swarm his head. I know eventually I'll end up hurt, but I'd rather be here now than never know.

"I had to shoot the horse." He mumbles as he pulls me to his chest.

"You did what you had to do, Love. It would've suffered." I slowly move to straddle his lap as I softly talk to him.

His hands move up my slip to hold my hips as he lightly kisses my shoulders. I rub up his bicep to his shoulder. He holds me to his body as he lays his head against my chest. After a moment he starts kissing up the middle of my chest to my neck. He lays back with me still standing on my knees, and he watches me take my slip off. I lean down to kiss him while he slides his boxers off. The feeling of him brush against my opening is something I wish I could feel everyday.

"Tommy." I lightly gasp as I slowly sink down on him.

His hand holds my jaw to make me look into his eyes, and the other rests on the curve of my back and ass. I feel him lift his legs onto the bed causing me to open more before a hard thrust makes me moan out with surprise. With his forceful thrust I could only hold onto his biceps and since he held my face in place my moans could more than likely be heard all the way to London. His hand travels to my ass gripping it as he starts to slow down. I could finally move my hips with his making the both of us moan out at the perfect rhythm. With a quick flip I'm on my back, and he's pushed completely against me. As he grinds in me he holds my hands over my head. I arch against him, meeting his movements, letting my body go, and just losing myself to him. He gives a final forceful pound

"Fuck!"

"Tommy!" We both moan out at the same time.

He moves us to the pillows, and helps cover me up. I expected him to leave, like usual, but he lies there. His arm goes over my waist as we get comfortably warm. I wake up to the sun in my eyes. I yawn with a stretch, but when I take a deep breath I smell smoke. I just about jump up when I see Tommy sitting at my small table reading the paper with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Tommy?" I am confused as to why he's still here.

He sets his paper down with a look of concentration, and when he gets up he puts out his cigarette. When he steps in front of me his eyes look at my face, but they are filled with confusion. He softly holds my face in his hands.

"I'm going to London for a few days." He simply tells me. "When I get back I want to take you somewhere."

"Okay Tom." I softly say with a small smile. "Just come back in one piece." I pull his tie so his lips are closer.

He chuckles at me as he kisses me, rubbing his hands over my lower back, and laying me back. He gives a kiss on my forehead before standing up. I watch as he puts his vest on along with his jacket.

"I'm leaving now, so I'll see you in three days, yeah?" I nod to him, still shocked he's here.

The couple days he was gone I worked helping Polly in the betting shop, and mostly spending my night thinking of Tommy. I always worry when he's gone. I just know he's doing something dangerous.

On the second night I'm woken by my bed dipping, and Tommy kissing me softly. I'm about to question what was he doing here when I realize he's naked down to his boxers, and he climbs into the bed. He kisses along my neck as he gets all the way under the blanket. My hand comes up to grip the back of his shoulder as I gasp. His hand moves to my thigh, lifting it as he lightly bites my ear.

"Tommy." I softly moan.

My night dress is bunched at my waist while I relax my legs on Tommy's waist. He leans back enough to take the dress off completely. My body shivers from the cool air, but once his lips go against my chest it's forgotten. He slides his boxers down while he takes my nipple into his mouth. I arch into him, letting my hands slide down his back. He comes up to lean my forehead against mine, and locks our eyes together. I gasp at him slowly sliding into me. His arms cage around my head while he starts to move. The room is quickly filled with moans, gasps of breath, and the creaks of the old bed. My stomach tightens at his sloppy thrusts. With his face in my neck, my hand on the back of his head, and my other is on his hip feeling his movement.

"Fuck (y/n)." He groans into my neck.

All I could was gasp from how hard my release was, and how great it felt. He falls next to me, pulling me close to him, as we catch our breath. He gives me a kiss on the top of my head before lighting a cigarette. I just keep my head on his chest as he starts moving my hair around. When morning comes he wakes me with a deep kiss, and leaves for the beating shop, telling me he'll meet me there.

When I do finally walk in the shop John is inking at me as he calls out names, and as the day goes John and Arthur crack jokes about when Tommy's and I's wedding. When Tommy would come out of his office Polly would give him grief for taking too long.

Tommy and I stayed together somehow. He did ask me to marry him the day before the family meeting where he tells everyone that the Shelby family is legit. Our reception was practically a business party, but my wedding was exactly the way I wanted it, Tommy made sure it happened. Our family started to grow. Our son, Nicholas was born, and Tommy turned completely territorial. I could go anywhere without someone with a peaky cap on. A year after Nicholas our daughter, Marie was born. The girl is the peaky princess.

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