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#Snippet only subject to change
nightgoodomens · 1 month
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Love Thy Monster (snippet)
They always said he had no life. It was the type of a place where a man without a wife and children appeared suspicious, so he was probably lucky that he was a policeman and gained trust over the years of his hard work. He could move to a big city where nobody would bat an eye, but even with all its frustrations, he loved this place. Quirky little cottages and shops, market with fresh fruit, vegetables and flowers, that lovely lady who always knew everything and sold him her homemade dinners, and always left one for him on the side when he did not show up, knowing he was too busy with work and will come back home starving. That gentleman who always knew how to fix his crap car, the young woman who scared her kids with the policeman who would get them if they did not stop misbehaving, but they just stuck their tongues out at him, even the drunk who was known to everyone not so much for always being drunk but for calling everyone Kings and Queens, especially when asking for change.
Mademoiselle, any pennies?  
And then there was him.
David.
Perhaps he was the reason the people finally accepted Michael, because David came in standing out from the place like a black peacock in a desert, and he apparently did not give a single fuck and somehow everyone fell for it which Michael still could not comprehend how.
Nobody looked twice at Michael anymore or cared to talk about his ‘mysterious’ life. 
The mystery being that he was simply single in his fifties which was weird enough for this place. He was not sure why David was getting away with it.   
About a year ago someone bought the gorgeous old mansion surrounded by the forest, that was left to rot for years. Within a year it was brought to its former glory, with the amount of money Michael could not even imagine to have. The legends were writing themselves during that time, and everyone decided that royalty was going to move in. Lords and Ladies who will bring the village back to its former glory, which Michael was still not sure what that was because he dug deep enough to know that the village had always been the same. The only things he found were the shiver inducing religious stories he hoped would help him understand what was going on with the recent murders. He hoped that religious insanity was not what people wanted to bring back. 
And then instead David moved in to the mansion. Arrived at night in a beautiful car and nobody ever joined him. 
Michael looked at him leaning towards the old lady who was currently touching his cheeks telling him he was too thin. She adored the guy and Michael saw him a few times helping carry her bags and chatting like they knew each other for a long time. 
Michael did not know how old the man was. Standing there now, in a black fluffy jumper, dark skinny jeans and trainers, hair short on the sides and longer on top, curling a little, obviously ruffled by the lady, he looked in his thirties if not younger. But Michael saw him dressed in the most fashionable suit, probably costing as much as Michael’s yearly wage, hair smoothed back, face serious as he was speaking on the phone, and he looked handsome but definitely closer to his forties. 
He could not ask around because everyone would know within minutes that he did. Especially him.
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lyricalambrosia · 9 months
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I don't normally make posts, but i felt compelled to share a snippet of the upcoming second chapter of my fic "Can You Feel the Sun?" 💕
Millionsummers because i dont have the attention span for anything else dkdkdks
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daswarschonkaputt · 2 years
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between the sheets ch 7 snippet
okay, so this chapter might be a little late. in my defence, i’d totally forgotten i was graduating this week lmao.
but!! to make up for it have a snippet!
beneath a cut so it’s not clogging up people’s dashes
If nothing else, Porsche has to admire Tawan’s efficiency. In the space of four days, he’s gone from handcuffed to a wall in a cell – to walking around the Compound completely unimpeded. It’s impressive for a variety of reasons – not least of which being his starting point, that of a presumed-dead traitor to the clan.
He’s got real verve. A go-getter attitude. And an apparent willingness to drink poison.
“You’re Porsche, right?” Tawan asks, leaning against the coffee bar in the bodyguard’s quarters. “Kinn’s new paramour.”
Porsche looks up from where he’s preparing a tray of tea for Pete. He’s been spending a lot of time with the bodyguard recently, as he and Kinn are meant to be deep in the kind of cataclysmic argument that means they can’t be seen to spend time together. Pete at least seems to appreciate the company – he’s still restricted from screens, and is going a little out of his mind with boredom.
Given that Porsche’s brother was the one who gave Pete the concussion to begin with, making the guy a few cups of tea is honestly the least he can do.
“Sorry,” Tawan says, at Porsche’s silence, “I guess I should introduce myself. Tawan. I’m… Well, I guess I’m sort of you from eight years ago.” He offers his hand.
Eight years ago, Porsche was fifteen, and slowly growing bitter at the world. If he’d met Kinn then, he would have hated him on principle.
Porsche doesn’t take Tawan’s hand. “I know who you are,” he says flatly.
“My reputation precedes me, huh?” Tawan asks. “Well, I guess it’s nice to know that things don’t change.”
Porsche flicks his eyes over him, as he fills up the tea pot with hot water. “Where’s your minder?”
Tawan shrugs. “He fell asleep,” he says. “Felt cruel to disturb his rest.”
Porsche is sure it did.
“So, I’ve been wanting to ask,” Tawan says, either oblivious to Porsche’s lack of interest or purposefully ignoring it, “from one bedwarmer to another – does Kinn still like to see himself, when he fucks? Because he used to have me pressed up against mirrors all the time. In my campus apartment, actually, there was this full-length mirror, in the bedroom, and let’s just say it probably would have been more cost effective to buy stocks in Windex—”
Porsche puts the pot of tea down on the tray with an audible thud.
Tawan laughs. “You’re no fun,” he says. “Might want to work on that. Kinn likes a little mischief.”
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crimsongrimoire · 2 years
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i have been trying to write lately and it's been insubstantial but of course I get struck by absolutely random inspiration at work huh
#crow.txt#kaeluc#genshin#snippets#angst#have i even USED that tag#sfw#god i just very much love the idea of kaeya (with diluc ONLY cause hes not telling anyone else) just like#happening to think of Everything and flippantly go haha crazy how things work right?#and for diluc to look him dead in the eye (figuratively at least unless/until i change stuff around here) and go#no thats actually extremely fucked up that you were subjected to that. its not right and it should never have happened much less to a child#possibly even going so far as to flat out say kaeya is stronger than he ever could be because he cant fathom how he would ever live with it#if it had happened to him instead#and kaeya having an extremely strong moment of oh. he's right huh.#like sure hes probably had the thought himself but there was nobody he could TELL and have it AFFIRMED for him that hes not being selfish#to not want to have to live with something like that#and for it to be DILUC that tells him? OUT LOUD? directly indelicately (toward everyone else not kaeya) and not mincing words at ALL?#indelicate isnt quite the word but yknow. zero regard for whoever thought it was okay to do that#like just KILL ME at that point. im already fucking dying#absolutely losing my mind over this#imagine!! the relief!!!! he cant change it sure BUT at least he FINALLY fucking has someone go thats fucked up and youre allowed to hate it#kaeya being flippant abt his own trauma is going to Fucking Kill Me.#over a week since ive posted something decent. shameful smh. idk if theres anything else worth sharing yet tho..#i just need kaeya to be told that it WASNT his fault and hes NOT inherently irredeemably horrible forever because of shitty circumstances#or else i will fucking explode cartoonishly like a water balloon full of red paint#grabbing his shoulders and shaking him like a ragdoll. its fucked up and you dont have to laugh it off all the time I Promise.
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yarrowleef · 2 years
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gonna probably post a small snippet / preview chapter for Dawnpaw's story soon, or tomorrow
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keyotos · 26 days
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face-to-face
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summary ↯
aventurine has a bit of a staring problem while shopping
tags ⎯ unestablished relationship. like we are in the baby stages of their relationship. minor jealousy. lots of banter. lowk dialogue heavy.
word count ⎯ 3.3k
tana's thoughts ⎯ aventurine has taken over my brain so here's a snippet of the series i'm writing
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over the years, it's become easier for you to notice when someone stares at you. before, it was an uncomfortable feeling. you felt eyes peering over your shoulder as if you were a pest–it made your skin churn and shoulders twitch up self-consciously. now though, gazes move past you like air. you don't care as much about the opinions of other people–it's not like you'll be seeing them for long anyway.
except, today is different.
you can feel aventurine's colorful eyes trail your every move. from the moment you chose the necklace, to the moment you took it up to the cashier. he wasn't being as inconspicuous as he assumed to be: that died after the fifth glance that he shot your way while you were inspecting said necklace.
even through his glasses, aventurine's stare was burning and heavy. you never thought that such light-colored eyes could install such a hefty weight on your back, but aventurine proves you wrong.
while the cashier rings up your necklace, you look back at aventurine. coincidentally, he was already eyeing you before you even turned around. so when you catch him, he thinks that the other pieces of jewelry in the store are far more interesting than your face could ever be.
you scrunch your eyebrows and shake it off. by now, you're quite used to his unusual antics, so you brush him off. the cashier engages in light conversation with you, and then you feel it again. the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and everything feels like it's weighted down.
you bid the cashier goodbye, and aventurine follows you outside. his hands are in his pockets while he whistles, almost like he wants you to start talking. you shoot him a confused look back, your eyebrow raised and nose crinkled.
when he only whistles louder, you decide to poke the bear.
"okay, what is it?" you stop and turn to face him.
"what? you don't like my whistling?" aventurine responds with an innocent tone; he even shrugs his shoulders like he has no idea what's going on.
you huff, "not just the whistling. what's up with your staring?" you raise a hand up to his eyes, "we're supposed to be acting normal. i don't think gawking at the person you're shopping with is exactly normal."
aventurine's jolts back, like he was accused of murder instead of ogling. "i wasn't gawking."
you nod, "yeah, you were staring."
"those mean the same thing."
"i think you've been hanging out with the doctor too much," you roll your eyes and continue walking. aventurine quickly marches up to you, matching your pace sooner than you thought.
"are you trying to compare me to him? we're completely different people, you know that, right? i don't act like him at all," aventurine rambles on. his head is turned to you so that his mouth is directly next to your ear, meaning you hear all of his words. you can't tune him out like usual.
"first of all," it's your turn to look at him, "i just said you hang out with him a lot. and you do, don't you?" aventurine's lips fall into a flat as you say that.
"and second of all, stop changing the subject. why were you staring at me back there?"
the man next to you huffs, and it sounds nearly childlike, "i'm not changing the subject. i'm just trying to tell you that i'm nothing like the doctor," he says with disdain.
"you are changing the subject, otherwise you wouldn't be talking about dr. ratio as much as you are now," you glance around at the various stores surround the two of you, and for a second, you swear that you see aventurine's eyes linger on you once more.
"you did it again!" you fully stop, pointing a finger at his eyes.
aventurine has to catch himself before he falls over at your sudden stop. "what? what are you talking about?"
"you keep glancing over at me! do i have something in my face? my teeth?" a large smile blossoms across your face as you beam at aventurine. for a moment, his annoyed facade falters, and his face relaxes.
"no, and if you did, i'd tell you," he swats a hand in your face, "i don't know what you're talking about."
you roll your eyes. it's obvious that he's hiding something, because usually his lies are more believable. but when you're catching him in the act, denial is not a good way to refute false claims.
"yeah, whatever," you look around the plaza the two of you are currently in when another store catches your eye. your face instantly brightens, and you wander towards the doors.
it's another clothing store, similar to all the other ones on the planet. except, something specific drew you here, and it was the display of hats they had near the window. you walk up to it, spinning the shelf around a few times to grasp onto all the options. your eyes are wide and your mouth is slightly parted as you examine each hat with awe.
unbeknownst to you, aventurine catches up to you and finds you fumbling around with each hat on the rack.
he sneaks up behind you, mumbling, "now, that's what you call gawking."
you jump up in surprise, hitting your head on something more soft than the hard shelf. aventurine quickly redacts his hand from the top of your head.
"i'm just doing what any normal shopper would do," you rub the top of your head before going back to the hats. aventurine's long sigh rings in your ear as you browse.
"yeah, okay," he looks at the selection of hats beside you, "i doubt anything you do is normal, but–" aventurine doesn't get to finish his sentence. he hears your boisterous gasp, and his eyes are on you once more.
"do you see this!!" you lift a fedora up to his eyes, "we could match," you whisper it like a secret, as if matching would be your thing. like matching would only be a tangible thought between the two of you, and no one else.
"yeah, no," aventurine lifts the hat down and places it back on the shelf, "sorry sweetheart, but the hat is my thing."
you grimace at the pet name, "mkay. so, you're gatekeeping fedoras now?"
aventurine sputters, "what? what is gatekeeping?"
you heavily sigh, and aventurine is pretty sure you're putting on an act right now. "are you serious? how do you not know what gatekeeping is?" you shake your head as you grab the hat from the shelf, "anyway, i think i know the real reason you don't want to match."
"because it's childish? and totally not my style?"
you turn around and flick your partner on the shoulder, "no. and you really have been hanging around the doctor too much." you shudder and place the hat on your head, "i think it's because you know i would show you up in it."
aventurine muffles a chortle when he sees you put on the fedora, "keep in mind that we're in the land of dreams."
your lips curl up in the way that they always do when you're annoyed. you are not very amused by his bits today. "you suck," you take the fedora off and continue browsing for different options.
you hear aventurine's footsteps gradually get softer and softer as you keep browsing. that's fine, you think, this is his shopping trip too–he's allowed to find things for himself.
one hat after another: that's your current predicament at the moment. you're glad aventurine is off doing his own shopping, but you also wish that you glued him to the ground so he could give you a second opinion. unfortunately, he is nowhere to be seen, and you are having trouble deciding between two caps.
"do you need any help finding anything?" a voice perks up from behind you, making your shoulders jolt up. it's not the voice you want to hear, instead it belongs to a lovely retail worker.
"ah, no thank you," you smile politely and turn back to the two hats in your hand.
"okay, let me know if you need anything!" sometimes, you wonder how retail employees are able to maintain such a chipper tone of voice for hours on end. do they really want to help you or are they just saying that because they have to?
and that's when the thought hits you: either way, they're still offering themselves up. your eyes widen and you rush towards the employee.
"actually, wait!" he turns around when you touch his shoulder, "i do need help. and this is gonna sound super random–and possibly weird–but what do you think of these two hats?"
you put one hat on–a red one that seems to flop on your head, "this one is nice, right?" the employee in front of you just nods. he's a bit tense and stiff; it seems like he's trying not to offend you.
"yeah, i think it's nice too. only thing is that it's kinda flopping on my head, and caps aren't really supposed to flop," you take it off and hold it in your hand.
you're surprised the employee hasn't made his break yet, because he's still standing in front of you when you grab the other cap.
"and this one," you hold your free hand up to the new, black hat, "is the one that belongs to my favorite team. well, i guess the other one also belonged to another one of my–"
"what are you doing?" you can recognize that voice anywhere. that voice that carries a slightly whiny tone. that voice that always seems to have some judgement sprinkled throughout it.
you and the worker both seem surprised. well, the employee seems to be more intimidated than surprised, but either way, his entire face had gone pale.
"um, trying on hats?" you take off the cap and hold it up.
"i can see that," he looks over towards the employee in front of you, "but is it seriously a two-person job?"
you scrunch your eyebrows together, "i needed a second opinion."
"you could've asked me," aventurine whispered, though it sounded more like a hiss.
"i think someone else needs help," the employee takes a few steps back from the both of you, "i hope you find everything!" there it is. he tries his best to sound cheerful, but his voice quivered as he moved away from the two of you.
"he was such a nice guy," you said as you waved goodbye. aventurine did not look as pleased as you did.
"we're supposed to be laying low. you know that, right?" the blond emphasizes.
you shake him off, "yeah, and tell me how a regular retail worker is gonna rat us out? what about us possibly screams 'sleuth'?"
"we're buying hats." aventurine isn't very proud of his answer, and he can tell that you thought it was weak as well.
"so everyone that buys hats are suspicious?" you retort, putting on the cap you previously took off. "do i look like a murderer to you?"
aventurine sighs. his fingers go to his temples and you're sure that you've brought him to his last nerve.
"this hat is better than the other one," he puts the red one back onto the shelf. "the other one practically fell on your face. i doubt you could even see with that one."
you look at the red hat and then look back at aventurine, furrowing your eyebrows together. "that was a specific answer. i never even showed you what the red hat looked like."
aventurine cleared his throat, and the ceiling must look extra nice, "i overheard the other guy talking. you're loud, y'know that?"
your face immediately breaks out in a huge grin, so wide and bright that aventurine looks back at you for a mere second, before turning back to the ceiling.
"you were doing it again!! the staring! goodness, i thought you were good at lying," you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder to garner his attention, "admit it. i've caught you."
"i'm being serious. you're a little loud," aventurine crosses his arms, biting on the inside of his cheek.
"la-la-la-la. can't hear you. guess i'm speaking too loudly to notice," you put the black cap on again–the brim sticking the opposite direction–and look in the mirror. "hey, since you're here, can you give me another opinion."
aventurine nods for you to continue, and you smile, "perfect. does this make me look like a cool galactic baseball player?"
this is what takes him aback, "huh? why would you want to look like that?"
"well, i'm going to a game soon, and i didn't want to look like a fake fan," you shrug and look in the mirror again. "but now that i'm really looking at myself, i think i’d be an amazing galactic baseballer. what do you think?”
you pretend to hold a baseball bat in your hands, getting into a hitter stance. you make sound effects as you swing your pretend-bat into aventurine's chest, aiming for the open hole in the middle.
aventurine reaches over your head, "well first of all, i'm pretty sure baseball players wear their caps the right way." he grabs your hat and places it on the right way, but not without making sure the brim covered your eyes.
"are you serious right now?!" you yelp, quickly pulling up the hat so you can regain your vision.
and there aventurine is, staring at you again.
you briefly gulp before broadcasting, "you're staring!" you march closer to him. "i caught you!" you're only inches apart now. "and it was obvious!" your finger is pointed at his eyes, but unlike earlier, your finger is much closer.
if you had gotten only an inch closer, you would be able to feel aventurine's heartbeat, despite not even being chest-to-chest.
"okay, okay," aventurine is the first one to step back, and you feel something sinking, "but that was only once."
"yeah, whatever. 'once.' not like i haven't caught you a million other times," you shook your head and regained your baseball posture, "you can't hide from these sharp eyes. told you i'd be a great galactic baseballer."
the blond chuckles, and your eyebrows raise up at the sound, "keep dreaming."
"well, a really weird guy did tell me earlier that we are in the land of dreams. so, if i dreamt that i could be a galactic baseballer, it'd actually happen."
aventurine tilts your hat down once more, dismissing your cries while he does it.
"remember what i said about acting normal?"
"this is actually pretty normal for me," you take the hat off.
"can't argue with that," aventurine looks towards the cashier and then back at you. you raise an eyebrow, as if to raise the question, "is there something wrong with my hair?"
if there is, aventurine doesn't do something about it. surprising, since he's practically been doing something this whole trip. "are you ready to go up?" he asks you.
"you're not gonna get anything?" you look around the store, "we can look at stuff for you. there's tons of things here."
aventurine shakes his head and gives you a wink, "i've got everything i need." you suck in a sharp breath, and you try to focus on anything else other than how fast your heart begins to beat. when aventurine turns his back away from you, then you gulp.
when the two of you get to the cash register, you stand next to aventurine, preparing to pay. you're well aware of how costly things on penacony are–after all, this whole planet is like a tourist attraction. that's why you're paying with card instead of the usual credits.
"did you find everything?" the cashier asks you. you smile at the woman and nod, making idle chatter with her while aventurine idly stands next to you.
the woman turns over to aventurine, "i'm guessing you also want to pay for your item too?"
it's aventurine's turn to plaster a smile on his face. from what you've gathered from being with him so often, his smiles are often sly. some would compare it to the cheshire cat, but you thought he rather resembled an evil cartoon villain.
"yes ma'am," his saccharine voice masked his villain grin, "do you still have it?"
"that i do," she responds, grabbing something from underneath the counter. your eyes fly from the woman to aventurine. you simply couldn't believe what you were looking at.
"you're buying the freaking feodora?" your posture straightens and you beam up at him, "i knew you wanted to match!"
"slow your roll," aventurine puts a hand up to you, "who said i was buying this for you?"
your smile drops and you shove his shoulder, "are you serious? i thought you didn't like that hat."
"i didn't not like the hat. i just didn't like the thought of us matching," he tilts his head to smirk at you.
the cashier's eye's bounce between you two, not knowing whose side to take. eventually, she settles for ringing your cap and aventurine's feodora up, not even wanting to say a word.
"alright, who's paying?" she looks up at the both of you.
"i am," you and aventurine say in unison. your face contorts while aventurine displays a confused expression.
"um," you whisper, stepping closer to the blond next to you, "i'm paying."
"um," aventurine mocks you, "you're broke."
"not broke!" you kick his shin, and aventurine grips onto the counter in order to keep his balance, "just budgeting."
"yeah, and you know who don't have to budget? people that aren't broke."
"so he's paying?" the cashier interrupts. you step away from aventurine out of shame. he can have this.
when aventurine sees you put away your wallet, he proudly hands his card up to the woman in front of you. when she looks down to scan his card, he shoots you a sly look and a wink. your mouth rests in a flat line and your eyes show no signs of hilarity.
the moment the two of you step out of the store, you immediately go for aventurine's bag. before he could even catch you, the hat is already in your hands.
"we can switch!" you try to reason with him, "you would be a great baseball player. just, y'know, not as great as me."
"and..." you sing, "we wouldn't match. wouldn't that suit both of our goals?"
aventurine looks over at you, and his gaze is softer. this time, you don't get onto him for gawking. how could you, when he's looking at you like that? you don't think you've ever seen him like that... ever.
you squint your eyes, trying to decipher his real expression. but there's nothing for you to investigate.
"what?" you ask.
"you can keep it."
immediately you take a step back, nearly bumping into a bystander walking behind you. you shout a quick apology before returning back to aventurine, "didn't you buy this for yourself though? what's the point of me keeping it?"
"i just realized that it didn't go with any of the outfits i have," he sighed, looking into the distance, "what a waste of money. so, it's yours."
"what kind of bullshit is that?" you scold the blond, "you always have to think about whether or not you'd actually wear the item before you buy it. that's like... number one rule of shopping."
"i don't shop that much," aventurine shrugs, glancing at you one last time before focusing on the street ahead. he bites the inside of his cheek and tries his hardest not to look to the side. you'd give him hell for it.
but you're not focused on that. everything's slow, and it feels like the street is empty.
"well, then we're gonna have to go more often."
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nsfwmaemi · 12 days
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Good For Something (ft. ITZY Ryujin)
WC: 750
Genre: smut, ryujin x sub m!reader
A/N: Unedited snippet I wrote on a whim for Ryujin day. Fun fact: Ryujin was my third ever ult bias. Can yall guess my first two ult biases? First to guess both wins a... uh... a high five!
“I’m heading to bed!” You hear as the door opens. The lights turn on. You finally see a real living human being after months.
“Good night!” She screams through the small crack of the door before shutting it completely. She clumsily drops her bags by the closet near her door, then does a few little stretches.
She drags her feet towards you, slowly taking off her clothes. Starting with her top, she discards it and throws it beside you. Then she pulls her jeans down along with her panties, fully revealing her glistening pussy. Lastly, as she stands right in front of you, she unhooks her bra and drops it on the floor with her jeans.
With such a sight to behold, your erection comes to life right away. She grabs her makeup removal kit from the bedside table before straddling you. Aligning your shaft to her folds, she slowly sinks down.
“Mmmmmm,” she moans, “I haven’t had a dick in me for so long.” Her tight entrance slowly envelops your length. She ties her hair back as she stares at her reflection in the mirror above you.
Gently, painfully slowly, she grinds on your length as she starts removing her makeup. With heavy breaths, she sways her hips back and forth while paying attention to the little details of her makeup, making sure she completely cleans her face.
In cleansing her face, she must be as gentle as possible in order to keep her flawless skin flawless. However, this gentleness translates to her fucking. While you’re used to fast and rough, just as she likes it, her pace is so meticulous, that it is unsettling for you—a literal change of pace.
As soon as she is done with her makeup removal, she grabs onto your shoulders and bounces on your length. This is what you’re used to. Without batting an eye on you, she untangles her hair and admires her own raw beauty in the mirror. You as well gaze upon her majesty, but her majesty does not even look down on her subject. To her, you are merely a toy, a dick to fuck when she wants.
Without warning, her pace slows down, her grip tightens, and her walls tighten. She moans as loudly as she wants as juices gush from her folds. Her body weakens, leaning forwards, embracing your head close to her shoulder and her chest landing on yours. She grabs your hair until finally her orgasm subsides.
“I haven’t… had one of those… in ages,” she mutters between heavy breaths. She pulls your hair down until your face is looking at her. “You wanna cum, too?” You nod frantically.
“I don’t usually do this, but you’ve been such a good toy to me,” she tells you as she gets off you and grabs your cock. With a sly smile, she teases, “and I know you missed me.”
With an increasing pace, she rubs your cock while staring at you in the eyes. You stare back at her and her body, focusing on her slim figure, grateful that you get to fuck such a figure every day, a body you can never get to touch and admire.
As your small moans start slipping out of your mouth, she quickens the pace even more knowing you’re on the verge of climaxing. And so you do, spurting small loads of semen onto your own belly. She takes a look at your small mess. Her sly smile turns to disappointment, then anger.
“This is pathetic. What is this?” She asks menacingly. She stands on her feet and leans over, glaring at you. “Did you nut while I was gone?”
Stunned, frightened, you can only cower in fear, avoiding eye contact. You were taught not to lie. You couldn’t. But you also couldn’t say yes. To her, the silence implies it however, and that’s all she needs to know.
She sends a palm flying towards your cheek, making a noise so loud you worry her roommates might have heard it.
“What did I tell you?” She growls at you. Again, you can only cower in fear.
“You’re pathetic.” She insults you as the sting on your cheek still lingers. “You know the punishment.”
She storms out, heading towards the bathroom. You hear the shower turn on while you’re stuck on the same couch you’ve lived in for however the fuck long, unable to clean yourself or even touch yourself. You can only sit there quietly as you await your punishment.
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yandere-daydreams · 8 months
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Title: Opening Night.
Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin Impact).
Word Count: 1.2k.
TW: Sex Doll AU, Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, Heavy Dissociation, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Manipulation, and Implied Stalking.
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Distantly, you could remember how excited you’d been to be invited to the showing.
You’d opened the invitation at your desk, surrounded by a small group of your more friendly coworkers who’d go on to clap and cheer and promise a round of after-hour drinks after you finished reading out the snippet of text scrolled across the cream-colored cardstock. You weren’t special - a small legion of journalists would be invited to write puff-pieces on all the new models and decide which androids were going to be in fashion next season - but you’d loved Teyvat as long as you could remember, spent more of your free time than you cared to admit doing research on robots you’d never be able to afford, not on a salary like yours. It wasn’t a world-changing, earth-shaking accomplishment, but it made you happy. It was something you wanted, and it was something you’d finally gotten your hands on after years of waiting.
You couldn’t remember when your excitement had started to wane. You were still wide-eyed and slack-jawed when you stepped into the venue, an old opera house restored and decorated to better suit the Fontaine Collection’s high-luxury theming. You hadn’t been able to bite back your smile as you kissed the back of a refitted Focalors’ hand (or, Lady Furina’s hand, as she told you to call her in a tone you could only compare to that of a newly-crowned monarch still drinking in her subjects’ attention), and watched Clorinde’s fencing demonstration with the sort of rapt attention most people would save for famous idols and athletes. Even after you lost your photographer in the crowd, your heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette (the brooding, stoic type of this line, you were sure to note when you next found a minute to yourself) offered you a flute of champagne that you readily accepted, and when a roaming Lyney-droid pulled you to the side and offered to show you magic trick with an irresistible glint in his eye, you didn’t think twice before looping your arm through his and letting him guide you to an all-but abandoned backstage area. You thought you might get something exclusive, something to separate you from the crowd of influencers and tabloids who weren’t afraid to promise features that the approachable beta models only half-confirmed. You thought you’d be safe with a premium-grade android hanging off your arm.
Maybe your excitement didn’t wane at all. It’d been there one moment, then gone the next, replaced with a dark coil of dread and some kind of dizzying, vision-blurring nausea. The sharp corner of the vanity bit harshly into the backs of your thighs, the mirror pressed into your back slowly sapping the warmth from your skin and replacing it with something else, a numbing chill you couldn’t seem to shake. Your clothes had been torn to shreds, left to scatter across the dressing room floor, but Lyney was still fully dressed, fully composed; the palest blush painted across his cheeks and his lips ever so slightly parted but all other signs of arousal, of embarrassment absent. You made a mental note to work that into your article. The new models seem to have a shared sense of unwavering confidence– a stark contrast from their more reserved predecessors from Mondstadt and Sumeru. Maybe you’d be able to get a quote from their handlers, if you ever made it back to the show floor.
You’d have to give Lyney his own section, titled something your boss would have to talk to HR about: Teyvat's New Magician is Good With More Than His Cards. You could only feel half of what he was doing to you, shock dulling your already limited senses, but the fingers drawing loose patterns in your clit was near-overwhelming, the feeling of his synthetic cock splitting you open inescapable, unrelenting. He didn’t need to breathe, to worry about things like soreness or bruising or cramps, to do anything but thrust into you at a pace so erratic, so unyielding that it left little room for you to do anything but lie there and take it. His hips were pushed flat against yours, his tip grinding against something soft and unprotected inside of you and drawing out a ragged gasp, a cracked moan. Out of reflex, your hands shot to his shoulders, nails digging into whatever you could reach, and he let out an airy laugh, leaning closer and encouraging you to hold him tighter, to see if you could tear through the faux-skin Teyvat so often advertised as ‘invincible’. That would make headlines, even if it wasn’t likely to cast you in the best light.
His free hand drifted from your hip to your side to your cheek, his knuckles brushing underneath your chin before he cupped your cheek and pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss. His saliva was flavored, though you couldn’t say what it was supposed to taste like. Cotten candy, maybe – so cloying and sugary, all specifics were lost to the sweetness. It suited him. If you’d been able to use your hands, you would’ve applauded his developers for their attention to detail.
When he pulled back, he was smiling. There was another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the corner of your jaw. Finally, he settled against your throat – his grin so broad, you could feel his perfect teeth resting against your jugular as he spoke. “They told me I’d be able to find a master tonight. The others aren’t ready yet, but I am. They worked the hardest on me.” He was bragging, transparently and unabashedly. In any other situation, you might’ve thought he was trying to impress you. “I knew it had to be you the moment our eyes met. So cute, so easily impressed – I knew you just had to be mine.”
He seemed to perk up, to catch on something. He pressed the pad of his thumb into your clit, and your entire body jolted. “No, no, that’s not right,” he went on, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to be yours.I keep getting that mixed up.”
Faulty programming? It’d be a scandal if it got out, and moreover, it’d be a massive payout if Teyvat decided they preferred to handle things behind closed doors. You bet they’d done it before. Maybe you’d look into that, later on.
Your back arched violently, another pitchy whine bubbling up from some forgotten cavity of your chest. As if in response, he inhaled sharply, buckling against you in the throes of simulated pleasure. His pace sped up, his teeth latching onto the curve of your neck, but any pain it might’ve caused was lost on you, blurred and distorted by the thick rope of tension pulling taut and snapping in the pit of your stomach. Your climax washed over you in slow, throbbing waves, and Lyney was kind enough to pretend he was lost in the same agonizing bliss, to act like that was the reason he was bucking into you so violently.
To act like he had an excuse to do this to you.
He fucked you through your orgasm, eventually stilling inside of you. With his body slotted against yours, his teeth still buried in your skin, he lingered there, only drawing back once your breathing had started to slow and deepen, once you’d stopped shaking underneath him. Even then, he didn’t let you go, didn’t leave you to cry your eyes out in an empty dressing room. Rather, he pressed a quick, fleeting kiss into your forehead before beaming at you - the light in his eyes so bright, you could almost forget it wasn’t real. “I’ll introduce you to my sister. I’m sure she’ll like you, too.”
Right, his sister, Lynette. You hadn’t seen her yet.
She and her twin brother weren’t supposed to be revealed until the show at the end of the night. You doubted anyone had even thought to power them on, yet.
“She’ll be as happy as I am to know we’ll be leaving with such a lovely master.”
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serpensofanville · 2 years
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OOC Post - fanfic
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A very rough image of how Serpens and Benecia (my take on the SV female protagonist) will meet in the jumble of ideas I have for an SV fanfic.
Rocket doesn't hit her - she executes a sharp turn at the last moment, and subsequently crashes into something (haven't decided what - current idea is the stone wall surrounding Benecia's house).
Benecia falls over in shock - she did just turn and see a Carkol about to crash into her. Someone asks if she's alright and offers a hand to help her to her feet, it's Serpens, who then wearily reprimands Rocket.
----------------------------------------------------
The look of relief slides off his face as he lets go of her hand and turns to look at the Carkol, which is twisting and turning as it tries to remove itself from the wall.
Arms lightly crossed, he lets out a sigh. "And that, dear Rocket, is why you don't go charging around an unknown location" he says, and she can immediately tell by his weary tone that this isn't the first time he's said that sentence or something similar.
The Carkol lets out a grumble, and carries on struggling.
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lovelyhan · 9 months
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— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢
at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.
★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader
★ WORD COUNT; 1k words
★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)
★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!
this is part of the it’s complicated series.
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It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers. 
Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening. 
Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—
“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”
You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips. 
But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line. 
Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.
“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”
“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”
He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”
“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”
“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.  
“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.” 
Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”
“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”
All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.
With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.
But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?
“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”
“In what way does it concern you?” you grit. 
The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.” 
You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.
But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.
“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”
Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste. 
But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him. 
This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast. 
You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…
Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.
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this is part of the it’s complicated series.
want to be added to the taglist? leave a reply <3
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What would the relationship between the reader and Ghost be like if they knew one another before he became Ghost?? Like they met in the military and reader met his family when he finally introduced her to them. Then the aftermath??
Awe, I love this one. I hope this is along the lines of what you're looking for! Thanks for the request🥰
Before He Was "Ghost," He was Simon.
Warnings: mentions of death, family trauma, angst, swearing, fluff
----------------------------------------------------
□You and Simon met when you both enlisted shortly after 9/11.
□The two of you worked well together and were constantly being sent on the same deployments.
□ It took a bit, but you grew incredibly close to one another, and you were one of the lucky few who Simon actually considered a friend.
□ Both of you just "got each other." You grew to love Simon's dark, dry humor, and he grew to appreciate your bubbly attitude, always wanting everyone around you to smile.
□ You found yourselves constantly in each other's company, whether it be partnered of missions or during downtime on base.
□ Even off duty, the two of you spent nearly all your time together. He was a tough nut to crack even back then, but you had made it seem so easy.
□ You had shown each other your hobbies and interests and spent a lot of your time together trying new things.
□ He was very reserved about his family, only giving bits of information about his childhood. You knew better than to press on it, as it seemed a sore spot for him.
□ It has taken a little over a year of being friends for him to want to introduce you to his mom and brother. He'd arranged the meeting so that his father wouldn't be there when you went over.
□ His childhood home was small but cozy. His mother was a quiet, kind-hearted woman, and you could tell she loved her sons dearly.
□ You got along well with his mom, and were subjected to relentless teasing from Simon's brother, constantly telling you to "just date my brother already." Much to Simon's embarrassment.
□ The four of you were having a wonderful time, his mom telling you of the few cheerful memories of Simon and his brother as children and asking you about your life.
□ Unbeknownst to the two of you, Simon's dad came home earlier than expected.
□ Simon rarely went into detail about his father, but the few snippets he'd given you in the past led you to understand that his father was a piece of shit.
□ The tense silence that ensued had you feeling wickedly uncomfortable, and you could tell Simon was doing his best to stay composed. The atmosphere had changed significantly, and from the looks on everyone's faces, it was clear his dad's presence wasn't a welcome one.
□ After regarding you and Simon with a sinister sneer, his father gave a pathetic attempt at a dry conversation, clearly not caring to put any effort into it. Simon's hand found yours and squeezed it gently, signaling to you that it was time to go.
□ You'd only saw his brother and mom a few more times before they were killed.
□ You and Simon had been separated a few months previously, as he went off to do his own thing, and you'd missed him terribly.
□ You'd heard about it through the grapevine that they were murdered, and tried to reach out to Simon in any way you could, to no avail.
□ You were so worried about him, and the longer you went without hearing from him, the more concerned you got. You missed your best friend terribly and wanted to comfort him in any way you could.
□ He closed himself off to you, and you were worried you may never speak to him again.
□ It wasn't until a few years later that you saw him again. But this wasn't your Simon anymore. This was Ghost. The much feared, yet respected Liuetanant who's past was just as much a mystery as what laid behind the mask.
□ You'd heard of the callsign a few times through chatter amongst the soldiers, and the name was gaining much notoriety.
□ You hadn't really not thought much of the name until you'd seen the man in person. In your heart, you knew it was Simon.
□ He was a part of the freshly created task Force 141, and you had been tasked to accompany them on a search and destroy mission.
□ The first time you laid your eyes on Ghost, you were beyond intimidated. His eyes held no trace of the man you once knew.
□ The only interactions you shared were brief and professional. Simon gave no indication that he even knew who you were, and if you were honest, it nearly tore you apart.
□ You had an internal struggle for days after seeing him again. You didn't know if he even wanted to talk to you, but you were so desperate to see him again and tell him you missed him all these years.
□ Deciding to just go for it, you found yourself walking into the weapons room and saw him cleaning his weapons at the nearest table.
"Ghost?" You asked meekly, slowly approaching the masked man.
"Y/N." He replied, not lifting his eyes from the gun in front of him.
"I um.. I wanted to say h-hi." You felt your cheeks heating up, and were embarrassed that you were stuttering. With our without the mask, this was still Simon. It had to be.
"Don't gotta act scared Sargeant. I won't bite." He looked up to you through his mask. You relaxed a bit, holding his eye contact.
"It's been awhile. I didn't.. I didn't know if you wanted to talk to me. I tried reaching out so many times.. I was…am worried about you." You looked down at your hands, growing nervous again as you awaited his answer.
He didn't say anything in reply, only grunting while he returned to cleaning his weapons.
You knew better than to push him. In your years of knowing him, if Simon didn't want to say anything, he wouldn't and nothing could change that. That's not to say you couldn't feel your heart slowly shatter, you now realized that perhaps this was no longer your Simon, and there was no chance of ever seeing him again.
"Well it was good seeing you. And if you ever want to talk, I'll be around." You smiled at him trying to mask the hurt you were feeling, and turned for the door.
"I couldn't lose you too." You heard him say softly. You could barely make out the words, but you whipped your head around to meet his eyes. "I lost my whole family, Y/N. I couldn't lose you too. The man that I've become since then, is not one that deserves someone like you."
"Oh, Simon. You could never lose me. No matter what I'm always here for you. You will always be Simon to me." You cooed as you moved to crouch in front of him. "I am so sorry that you had to go through that. I don't know what I could ever say to make up for that pain."
You could see Simon blink away tears in his eyes, and he moved to pull away his mask, leaving his face bare to you.
"There's my guy. I've missed seeing that face." You smiled as you slowly placed your hand on his cheek, stroking softly. "Simon, if you'll have me, I'll always be by your side. Can't get rid of me that easily."
He chuckled at your comment, and moved his own hand to your cheek, copying your movements.
The two of you sat like that for awhile, before he spoke up. "I've missed you all these years. I thought it best to push you away so you couldn’t get hurt from my actions. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if the woman I loved got hurt because of me."
His words shocked you. You'd loved Simon since the moment you met him, but you truly thought he'd only ever seen you as a familial figure. In the decade or so you'd known each other, he'd given very few hints away that he'd seen you in any way than more than just a friend.
"You love me?" You asked, meeting his gaze once more.
"I've always loved you. Why do you think I took you to meet my my mom and brother?" His eyes softened as he spoke, and his gaze flickered down to your lips.
You chocked out a small sob before crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was better than anything you could've imagined, as it was years in the making. All of the yearning, sadness, longing and love was all poured into this kiss.
You pulled away slowly and pulled his chin down to meet your eyes. "I love you too, Simon."
A rare smile formed on his face, as he moved to kiss your forehead. "Why don't I finish up here, and we can take a walk, yeah? Have a few years worth of stuff to catch up on."
He finished up, and grabbed your hand leading you out to the barracks. He gave your hand a squeeze as you fell in step beside him. As the two of you walked together, telling stories of your escapades the last few years, Simon finally allowed himself to grow happy again. He was beyond excited to start this new chapter with you, the woman he loved, and catch up on everything he'd missed.
—---
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!☺️ as always thanks for reading!
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wineauntie · 6 days
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evie and mom surprising Quinn with adoption papers🥺🥺
OH I LOVE THIS! (This is one longggg blurb, basically a fic without all the formalities)
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Also I wrote this in under 25 mins and it’s severely unedited due to it being 2am
universe masterlist
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Evie was seven when she asked if Quinn was her real dad. Your smart girl knew she looked nothing like Quinn and that Quinn was her ‘Winnie’ up until she’d started calling him dad when she was four.
You’d never actively hidden the fact Quinn wasn’t her dad, but Evie had never been fully interested in the fact or conversation at all.
She’d popped the question in the car on the way to school and despite your preparation for the day you knew would eventually come, you found yourself hurriedly taking Evie to a small diner nearby instead of school that day.
The two of you had sat down with hot chocolate and pancakes as you explained that Quinn wasnt her dad by blood, but he was her dad by heart, and that’s all that really mattered.
Evie was curious, she asked about her ‘blood dad’ and why she had never seen him. You treaded carefully around the subject, cautious so as not to hurt Evie in any shape or form.
Evie’s biological father was a horrible man whom once told that you were pregnant, had broken up with you, told you he was sleeping with your best friend, and then demanded you got rid of Evie, or ‘it’ as he’d called her.
You avoided saying any of this to Evie, simply saying that “he wasn’t ready to be a dad and then he had to go away.”
Evie looked a bit confused and as you expected a wave of questions from her, she shrugged saying “Dad was ready to be a dad.” And then proceeded to ask for more pancakes, knowing you’d give into her every whim at that moment.
After another plate of pancakes later, and the two of you cuddled side by side in a booth Evie had yawned, and curled into you, her voice small and tired as she whispered “I wish dad was my actual dad.”
Your heart cracked at her defeated voice, but a niggling thought arose in your head. A thought that pestered you to the point of restlessness, to the point where the world ceased to exist outside of your little family.
You’d told Quinn what had happened that day and he supported you whole heartedly, even going as far as having a one-on-one conversation with Evie about it. You allowed the both of them to talk in private only hearing snippets like “you’re my kid, bug, no blood will change that.”
And
“I love you too, now why don’t you go grab a movie and you, me and mom can go watch it?”
You spent days upon days mulling over the thought that lingered and grew exponentially by the hour and before you knew it, it was two weeks later and once again, you were driving Evie to school.
“Hey, Evie?” You asked tentatively. Your sweet little girl’s head bobbed up and down with a small hum as you pulled over the car to face her. “You know our talk we had about dad not being your blood dad?”
“And that dad is my heart dad!” Evie excitedly added, her teddy bear, Ted, held in one hand as her eyes twinkled. No matter how old she got, the teddy gifted to her by Quinn’s brothers, always accompanied her in the car on the way to school and remained there until she was collected afterwards.
“Exactly,” You smiled softly, your face completely losing any tension at your girl’s words. “Well, how would you like it if Dad became your real dad…your legal dad?”
The thought had been floating around for the past two weeks and it hadn’t been the first you’d thought of it. What you had with Quinn was undeniable– the two of you had been together for five and a half years, almost six years and he had become so ingrained in every aspect of your life and being.
He loved you to the moon and back, his care and love shining through with everything he did. He’d even gifted you a promise ring a year ago, an act of complete and pure commitment to you and Evie. Your daughter had gotten a small, dainty necklace, that mimicked the design of your ring.
Quinn was in it for the long run.
He knew it, and so did you.
“My legal dad?” Evie questioned, sounding out the sentence like an intricate problem.
“It means that he’ll sign an adoption paper, saying that the world recognises him to be your actual dad, and not just your heart dad. He’ll adopt you.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Is that like what people do with dogs?”
You tilted her head at her question with a light laugh. “I suppose it is,” you shrugged.
“I like dogs…I want Dad to adopt me.”
And that was how you arrived at this very moment. It was the beginning of playoff season with the Canucks dominating their first game and Quinn playing incredibly.
The three of you had decided to have a nice family night with a dinner consisting of food you’d ordered in and a movie night, where the three of you would watch whatever Evie desired.
Evie was like a spring, bouncing up and down in her seat in excitement, glancing towards you every now and again. Your girl was smart, when you told her that you guys should surprise Quinn with adoption papers, she was all for it.
Quinn was chatting away to Evie and you all dinner, explaining the playoffs to Evie and catching up on the day with you.
Things were running smoothly under Evie eventually cried out and whipped her head towards you, unable to contain her excitement.
“Mom, can we do it now?!” She pleaded, her wanting eyes shattering any resolve you possessed.
“Do what?” Quinn paused his chewing and placed down his utensils, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Evie beamed at him as you handed a large envelope to your daughter. “What’s that, Bug?”
Evie, now holding the envelope, felt a sudden wash of doubt cross over her, her eyes flitting towards you in worry.
“It’s okay, my brave girl,” you murmured, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Take your time.”
Quinn, unsettled by the sudden drop in Evie’s excitement looked ready to pounce into protective mode, with Evie wrapped safely in his arms. He remained quiet as you shot him a reassuring look, his gaze following Evie as she tread close to him.
“Dad?” Evie mumbled, her eyes pointed at her feet. Quinn felt his lips twitch up at the name. The name itself never failed to elicit the most glee-filled feeling he’d ever felt, and hearing it from Evie, his daughter, warmed his heart and soul.
“Yes, Bug?” He answered, his fingers lifting her chin carefully so that the two were looking at one another. His hand cupped her worried face, as he tried to rub soothing circles on her cheek. “Is everything okay?” He watched as Evie took a deep breath in before holding out the envelope.
“This is for you,” she explained meekly, glancing at you for support before focusing back on her feet.
“Me?” Quinn mused, cautiously taking the it from her. His fingers flipped open the unsealed envelope, pulling out a set of papers, neatly paper clipped together. His eyes scanned the first few words, which were big and bold across the top.
APPLICATION FOR ADOPTION ORDER
Quinn’s jaw went slack, his eyes immediately jumping to you, as you bit your lip nervously, urging him to react.
“You…me…you want me to adopt you?” Quinn’s raspy voice cracked as he refocused his attention on Evie.
“Not like a dog, but like my actual dad,” Evie supplied as if she was teaching him to understand it. She turned to you as you graced her with a smile for remembering what the two of you had talked about.
You didn’t often see Quinn cry. He wasn’t much of a crier you see. When he got upset, he got tired or quiet, so when tears tumbled down his cheeks you and Evie were lost in what to do.
“Oh no, we made dad upset,” Evie whimpered, looking at you in panic and devastation.
“No…no! I’m not upset,” Quinn choked out, his hands dropping the papers as he moved to fully face the small girl. “I’m just…I’m really grateful, Bug…this is, it’s just…thank you.”
Quinn captured Evie in a tight hug, her head burying itself into the crook of his neck as it once had whenever she was younger. Her own little arms had thrown themselves around his neck, clutching onto him as if he’d disappear if she didn’t.
You watched, with your own hot tears spilling over onto the cushion of your cheeks as your daughter hugged her dad. Watching the two together seemed to mend whatever your ex/Evie’s dad had broken inside of you.
“Mom, come join,” Evie’s muffled voice called out from its position. That was all it took for you to rush towards your family, enveloping they both in a tight hug. You watched as Quinn lifted his face, his reddened eyes, filled with love and happiness meeting your encouraging ones.
“You’re sure about this?” Quinn whispered to you and only you. He loved the two of you more than words could ever deny, there was no buts about it. He just wanted to be sure that you were one hundred percent certain on it.
You pressed your lips to his, feeling the saltiness of his tears against his plump lips before slowly drawing away to lean your forehead against his.
“I have never been more sure of anything.”
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seulszn · 2 months
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Tongue Tied
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Camp Counselor Ellie x Camp Counselor Reader
Warning; this story will contain, stupid decisions,loser Ellie, gay humor, bratty annoying little kids, mild sexual content, Ow*n, harassment,fights, Straight men.
A/N: this is based off of my first camp leader experience that I recently just got back from so a lot of the stuff is true (like the chants, and other things) and a lot of it is just made up. I also Made Y/N have multiple face claims so you can be able to see yourself or imagine yourself in Y/N.I also got this small idea and layout from my moot @astralnymphh so if you want me to change it let me know
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Chapter 1: Welcome to Camp Waskowitz
Chapter 2: Get into the camp spirit./ These kids have Parental issues
Chapter 3: Meet the mean girl
Chapter 4: The Adventures of the Legendary Toe Tickler.
Chapter 5: The 6 Hour Hike
Chapter 6: Who is Smokey the Bear
Chapter 7: The Bear Tracks
Chapter 8: The Music Withdrawals
Chapter 9: The Polar Plunge
Chapter 10: Closing Campfire
[chapters may be subject to change!]
MOODBOARD 1. Meet Your Camp Counselor. Snippet 1. Snippet 2
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please comment/reblog this post to be a part of the taglist! All rights reserved to the owner of this blog! Ⓒ︎ seulszn . You may translate and repost my works only with permission.
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thatdeadaquarius · 9 months
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THE SAGAU FANFIC ONE-SHOT WINNER IS...
🎊🎉🌿Eldritch! Reader AU🌿🎉🎊
Just a small annoucement for the winner, though I'm sure we all saw the results lol
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Have a snippet, hope you enjoy!
*disclaimer: subject to change, this is a draft, no finalized version yet.
At least, you were pretty sure of where you were now. But that didn't mean it made any more sense. You hadn't recognized it at first, but the Irminsul was unmistakable after a minute of looking at it and the surrounding blue. The lights were incredible, with sparkles and stars floating up from the ground. Strange, nearly mechanical patterns flared out from its branches. The only difference between the Irminsul in-game versus the real one you see now is the rapid swelling and filling out of its trunk. As you had woken up more and more, ignoring the strange state of your body for now, it had let out weirdly nostalgic noises. Like a computer booting up, and a million other digital pings or tunes as it grew. As you tentatively reach a hand out to touch the trunk, a familiar book materializes. The dark blue pages flip to the first page instead of to the middle of the book. ...isn't this usually the really obscure "Archives" animation from the Paimon settings page? What's it doing here?? In gold writing that hovers slightly above the pages, your (presumed) stats display. The eerily familiar Genshin Impact font rapidly types itself out from left to right. /gamemode: admin *Executing... *Executing... *Loading... *Loading... *... *...Success! *Your gamemode has been changed. " Player." [ADMIN.] EXP: 1000000#%$+??? DEF: ?%@****+~?? ATTK: ??*!!%^<=+? POWERS: - ??";*&%[]\/%? - &%#@?<_++}] - ~`*(-_+}|\\!!??^& ...you decide to stop looking at your... stats, for now. Because more importantly, as you pull your hand back from the book (letting it float in place in front of the Irminsul trunk again), you notice something even more off. Your hand. It's... wrong. As you trail your eyes up your arm, you choke back a sense of panic. Sure enough, when you bring the right arm over to poke and try to smear the seemingly black paint that drenches your left arm, it too is covered in black. Your arms are pitch black. And as you attempt to touch your forearm for more answers, only to phase through it... you begin to think maybe this is not, in fact, paint. And as you realize you are hovering, instead of standing in place, you begin to think this is, in fact, the very real world of Genshin Impact. ...you decide to lay back down on the weird blue ground (?) and take a nap.
Maybe start today over.
I'll be working on asks in the mean time!
But this'll be higher priority/posted soon bc I'm worried I'll forget abt it otherwise lmao
Idk if anybody cares that much, but I'll go ahead and ask just in case:
I hope you guys are having a great week, wherever you may be!
Safe Travels,
💀♒️
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr
@yomilyy / @0rah-s / @idontknowwhatimdoingbutweball / @blackstar-gazer
(^^^ dw you'll still get tagged when the actual piece is out! :)
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sleeplesssmoll · 4 months
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Finding the moment Schneider and Vertin's dynamic shifted.
This scene inspired me because we see Schneider's anger emerge, albeit subtly.
It almost seemed like Schneider was planning on letting Vertin live once again, like in the beginning when they first met. She was going to give Vertin a chop on the neck during their duel to knock her out.
But then Vertin repeats the lie that Forget-Me-Not Me Not told her. After hearing Vertin promise her a shelter, she turns her gun on her instead. Why would she trust the words of someone from the Foundation who rejected her and her family?
Hearing this proposal must have hit a nerve. It's important to note that at this point in time she only likes Vertin's looks and she respects her fighting skill. She has absolutely no reason to trust Vertin's words and every reason to resent the Foundation's dog. It's easy to forget since she's such a flirt in the main story but there is a lot of anger in her. She is a Mafia Boss. She provides for her 11 sisters and her parents in a world that constantly takes from her without giving a shred of mercy. If you’re curious about this, the link below has Schneider's snippets from the atlas, but for my purposes I'll only use a small section.
The Opportunist and the Sticky Gum
“Her figure might be frail, but her eyes are filled with cold anger. Maybe she had been rejected just now or even insulted. She walked up to the square center with a firm step, like a warrior.”
This is Schneider as she watched Sonetto take the mission capsule she tampered with back to Vertin. In the Walden, we see this warrior fighting for her family and Vertin is now an obstacle.
Also, she seemed genuinely annoyed at the lack of concern Vertin had for the wounds she inflicted. Her voice starts off in that same playful, flirty tone when she says “that's really annoying” and then she sounds genuinely pissed when she talks about shooting Vertin in the thigh (I'd place a clip here but there's a limit. Would recommend going back and listening to get the full picture). She is getting frustrated.
However, things change when Vertin and the others help her sister. I think the true turning point in their relationship is when Vertin pushed Sonetto out of the hole to escape Druvis and Schneider did the same for Marian.
Earlier when Schneider was talking to Forget-Me-Not, she mentioned the importance of family and brotherhood. We also know she loves her family dearly which is why she's in this mess.
Schneider and Vertin sacrifice themselves for the people they love. She's finally met someone who gives a damn about loyalty and they are on the same side as her.
While they're fighting together, Schneider is heavily injured and Vertin covers for her. If Vertin, the one with the gunshot wounds, is in better shape than Schneider then it's a very rough situation. Nonetheless, she respects Vertin's fruitless attempts of resistance and considers her brave. She tells Vertin to shoot her in the chest when the time comes. Here, she is putting her faith in Vertin because she has no other choice. This is her only chance.
Later on in Popular Literature Vertin brings Schneider a healing potion and food she stole because she assumes Schneider must be hungry. You know what she brought?
Cake!
If we ignore the horrors of hindsight where Schneider is a human so the cake must not have looked like cake due to Storm Syndrome, it's a very sweet gesture. The healing potion tastes awful, so maybe she chose the cake over other foods as a way to make it easier to deal with. This is the climax where Vertin follows through on her promise and proves she is someone Schneider can trust. The cake also shows Vertin's empathy, something we see Schneider doesn't receive often. She's trying to make her as comfortable as possible instead of treating her as a pawn in her greater plan. They're working as a team, not as lord and subject.
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linkcities · 14 days
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in a year or two (i'll take care of you) | gojo satoru/reader
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“Do you have a favorite flower?”
You ask him this moments before the two of you begin your journey home, dragging along your worn out suitcases and the individual white plastic bags filled with dirty laundry. You ask him this and you’d come to realize later on in your life that it’s a question he found himself thinking of whenever he hears your name.
He places his head against yours gently. “I do.” He whispers, “sweet peas, if you know them.”
You hum. “What do they mean?”
Geto Suguru and his jet black irises gleam under the light of the vernal sun, his hair dancing along to the music of the leaves from before. Through the corner of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of the way he smiled at you so softly that day—it’s one you’ll grow to never forget, regardless of how many years pass you by.
“I’m a bit unsure, but,” he tells you, his index finger tapping the tip of your nose. “It’s ‘thank you for the time we spent.’”
or,
Snippets of your grief after Geto Suguru's betrayal, spread throughout the course of thirteen years; alongside the only person who could understand even just a crumb of your pain.
pairing | gojo satoru/reader
note | this is a preview of the current 'fic i'm working on. not sure when i'll be posting it, but the projected word count for this piece is around 17,000 words, subject to change. enjoy! :]
The day after that, Shoko went on to pretend as if nothing happened. She continued her routine. Medical check-ins, training, mission updates. The day after that, from Satoru, you heard that she blew through an entire pack of cigarettes in under six hours. You think this must be her way of repenting. Irrational penance for something she knew she wasn’t accountable for.
In the present, Satoru hops up to sit on the metal bar posing as the only hurdle between you and the running stream. His hands are in his pockets now, your bag discarded safely next to the railing. Carefully, just as he averts his stare elsewhere in the distance, he brings out an old and tapered pack of cigarettes.
You watch him intently.
“Stop staring at my hands.” He grumbles underneath his breath, loud enough for you to get rightfully annoyed by. “I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say.”
Your heart drops to your stomach after that. You say nothing in response.
Satoru tugs out his lighter from his other pocket cautiously, as though he was testing out your reaction first, and when he realizes that no protest would be sprinting towards his direction, he takes a stick from the box and he brings it close to his lips. You watch everything through the corner of your eyes.
The lighter clicks, and then you wince. Smoke flows out through his mouth in seconds, three coughs following suit. He tests it out repeatedly, a few more times, more and more times; waits for his body to get used to the smoke.
Halfway through his first stick, he coughs violently after a long puff. You wince again. “I’ll leave if you don’t put that out.” You mutter, displeased, waving away the cloud of gray enveloping your surrounding area. He doesn’t budge.
Deep breath. You know better than to try and tell him what to do. I know better than this. There was no rational conversation to be had when it came to Satoru. They were only ever frustrating and indignant and brutal and upsetting. “It’s bad enough that Shoko’s smoking more and more each day.” You try to bite your tongue, but the metallic taste of your own blood only makes you want to keep speaking, “why are you doing this to yourself, now, too?”
Ash falls from the burning end of the cigarette. He hangs the stick loosely between his index and middle finger, turning around to rest his elbows against the silver railing. Satoru does not offer you anything but an unconcerned shrug.
More and more ash falls atop the grass beneath your soles. When he coughs for the last time, you push yourself off the barricade and turn to the direction of the subway station.
“This isn’t mine.”
You pause. Satoru exhales deeply behind you.
“Shoko and I cleaned out Suguru’s old room three days ago,” he tells you, quietly, overdosing on the wave of uncomfortable air. “We were supposed to clean it with you, but your mission was extended and Yaga said we can’t keep putting it off.”
At this, you clench your fists. You take it upon yourself to look back at Satoru, who was now standing straight—overlooking the flowing river, watching the currents pass by and turn orange. You dissolve into a puddle of many, many regrets. You circle in on the lingering emptiness that has been tormenting you for weeks, and the conclusion strikes you like lightning again, almost as though you were realizing it for the first time: We had all lost something so terribly important when Suguru left. It all happened so quickly, you think to yourself. Suguru left quickly, too. Just three weeks ago. The wound was recent and fresh and the higher-ups didn’t even give you enough time to let it scab first before ordering you to search through Suguru’s things. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
This isn’t mine.
That’s what Satoru said. So it must be Suguru’s. It couldn’t be Shoko’s; she never liked to share. You and Satoru never smoked as often as they did. No, incorrect, the two of you never smoked at all. You walk closer back to the railing, laying your left hand on top of the bar.
“Did you find anything?” You ask him. “Anything worth keeping?”
You see him struggle with looking for an answer for your question. Satoru was never subtle with what he was feeling. “I took some of his clothes,” he starts, “I kept a bunch of his shoes, too. We’re the same size. Shoko took his lighters and books.”
There’s a lump in your throat filled with words you know you’re not allowed to speak into existence. You want to tell him, though. Put it back in his room. I can’t handle seeing someone other than Suguru wear his clothes. You argue with yourself, inwardly. You asked him the question, yes, but truthfully you were hoping he’d answer no. No, I didn’t find anything. It’s equally as devastating, but at least that way you’d carry no reminder of his leaving.
(But is that what you really want? To forget? To erase all traces of Geto Suguru from your brain?)
It’s a horrible thought to have. It’s a horrible thought to have. Satoru and Shoko were more than welcome to grieve the way they wanted to grieve, and the lord knows you weren’t significant enough to the universe to ever be given the right to police them.
A single cough. He disrupts your thoughts, loudly stomping over them, almost as if he knew what was running through your head. You know he does. “I don’t know why I decided to keep them.” Satoru directs his stare down to the ground, his hair nestled in front of his eyebrows. “They’re in boxes on top of my closet. If you want some of them, just let me know.”
Your mind goes numb. You don’t know how to respond to that. Satoru’s saying all the right things right now and you’re unsure of how to handle his being rational—it’s not like he hasn’t been this way in the past, it’s just that usually Suguru was the one who was often rational enough for the both of them. Your mind goes numb. You hear nothing but an incessant ringing. Ultimately, you understand what Suguru’s abandonment entails; you know that his leaving necessitates numerous adjustments and relearning of previous lifestyles. If Yaga were here, he’d say something along the lines of Good. If it took him leaving to get Gojo to straighten up, then good. You could honestly hear his voice saying that. But you know he never would. He’s high strung, but he’s not heartless. You’re projecting something.
You’re projecting something because everything feels either wrong or excessive. Satoru is being rational and quiet and Shoko is avoidant and even more jaded than before. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be; and yet Satoru stares at you, finally, for the first time in a while, with wide blue eyes and chapped and parted lips, staring so expectantly almost as though he’s tethered to your reactions. The sheer weight of his eyes alone is too heavy for you to carry.
“I don’t.” You say, finally. After several agonizing minutes of only trickling silence. “Keep them, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have a place for them in my room, anyway.”
In the blink of an eye, the weight dissipates when his pupils slant themselves back towards the gushing river. The tension is thick, and so is his nearly tangible disappointment, but you convince yourself it’s out of your control. Gojo Satoru is a god among mortals and if his sorrow cleaves the world in half, the burden of stitching it all back together shouldn’t fall on one as miniscule as you.
“Alright.”
He throws the worn out pack of cigarettes to the steep downhill curb near the river, and then he turns around to walk to the direction of the subway station. His footsteps echo loudly in your head. It disrupts the incessant ringing from before.
An exhale escapes your throat. None of the air you’re trying to keep inside is staying inside. You lean against the barricade. We had all lost something so terribly important when Suguru left.
When the silhouette of the young god’s retreating form no longer appears in your peripheral vision, you descend down to the river and you pick up the pack of cigarettes before the wind blows it towards the water. The sun sets in the horizon, and you feel an ache inside your chest, a thrumming in your head; the ghost of a migraine looms over you, and yet you think it couldn’t possibly feel any worse than this.
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