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wishluc · 1 year

Note

can i request for something with yandere alhaitham x reader? feel free to go ham with everything else!

✧ CW: yandere character, blackmail, manipulation

✧ PAIRING: Alhaitham x GN! reader

✧ quick context; reader met alhaitham when they came some time ago to 'fix' Katheryne after complaints were made (about when Nahida had control over her)

Alhaitham had been expecting your return.

However, you probably hadn't thought he would be waiting, seeing that you had yet to seek him out yourself. Why were you still so reserved about reaching out to him? He remembers how your enthusiastic conversation had faltered when he mentioned his official position during your initial meeting...did that have anything to do with your timidity?

There was no point in waiting around his office any longer. After all, if you weren't coming, then he'd have to seek you out himself. Fortunately, he knew exactly where you'd be, busy at work.

He calls your name with an ease that came from hours of saying it to himself, "back already?"

You pause, putting down your torch to turn and look at him, your warm smile greeting him so familiari, "I hope my quick return doesn't make you think any less of Snezhnayan technology, Alhaitham."

"On the contrary," the corners of his lips twitch as he looks down at your crouched form, "I find their quick service quite remarkable. So, is this just a routine check-up?"

You sigh, before telling him all about the new barrage of anonymous complaints that's been flooding the headquarters; all about how Katheryne, again, had started to leave her post unattended for hours and spoke oddly. Unfortunately, you had been reprimanded for not doing a thorough job when you were here merely a month ago.

Alhaitham almost felt a tinge of guilt, knowing that he was to blame for that. But it dissipates almost immediately when you address him again.

"Did you notice her acting strange at all?"

He shrugs off your question, instead opting to flip through the book you brought along with you. It just happened to be the one he recommended to you during your last trip to Sumeru, and a smile almost did break through his neutral expression. He thumbed the little colored tabs sticking out of the top, making a mental note to thoroughly examine your annotations sometime. He'd prefer if you come to show him yourself, though. For a moment, he looks up from the pages, his eyes flitting between you and the Katheryne you were examining.

"So? Is there anything wrong?"

"Everything's right where it's supposed to be, and it doesn't look like anything's wrong," as you speak, you let yourself get busy with the familiar process of inspecting the inner workings of the bionic lifeform. Alhaitham watches over you with the same, unreadable expression as before, "I'll still have to stay for about a week to observe her and ensure that she's really in good working condition, just like the last time."

A week, you said? Alhaitham runs through his own schedule mentally, before deciding that it just wouldn't do. He had to put his plan into motion, at once.

Alhaitham watches from a distance, coffee in hand, as you approach the pieced-apart Katheryne. Under the morning sun rays, you're quite the mesmerizing sight, despite your frazzled state. You shift through the scattered remains before slowly standing up, clearly puzzled. A small crowd had begun to look over at where you stood, amongst the inner parts of the bionic puppet, and Alhaitham contemplated joining them. At the very least, he'd be able to talk to you.

That's when he notices you making your way out of the crowd and towards the winding pathway that lead up to the Akademiya. With a small smile, he tosses a few coins on the table and briskly makes his way to your destination, delighted at the prospect of seeing you again. Exhilarated that you were finally coming to him first.

One week would have been far too short a stay, anyways. After your first trip here, he realized he had to take things into his own hands if he wanted things to go anywhere. Cute as you were, you didn't seem to take to him as well as he'd hoped. With Katheryne in this state, you'd have to remain here for much longer than you initially planned, with all the work it'd take to wait for your supplies, put her back together, write up a report...and all of this so far was merely to extend your stay and buy him some time. He has other plans to completely ensnare you in his trap, involving manipulated footage and a concerned letter to your cooperation. Lucky him, too, that he had a house spacious enough for you to stay in when you inevitably would come asking him for help.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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wordsbyrian · 1 year

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Skater Girl - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: Childhood friends almost always drift apart but sometimes they find their ways back together. This fic is set in between the 2015 WWC and the 2016 Olympics.

A/N: I was watching a documentary on my favorite skateboarder Andrew Reynolds in which he talked about his battle with addiction and this is what came of it.

Trigger warning: Heavy discussion of drug and alcohol abuse, jokes about sobriety

For as long as you can remember Alex Morgan has been your best friend.

Just like any pair of childhood friends worth their salt, the two of you knew everything about one another.

At least you did from the ages of 3 to 14.

But like all great childhood friendships, you started to drift apart in high school. She had started playing club soccer and was quickly becoming the face of the varsity soccer team and you found that you had more fun hanging out with the skateboarders and stoners than waiting for her to be able to make time for you.

So while she was busy becoming an all-American and a top college prospect, you were rounding up amateur sponsorships for companies like Blind and Independent Trucks.

Then when she was running all over people at Cal, you were dropping out of the photography program at UCLA because you were going pro and collecting sponsors like a child on Halloween.

Overall, you hadn’t spoken to her in nearly 10 years, which is why you’re so shocked to see her standing over you as you lay at the bottom of one of the largest hills in LA, cracked helmet still on your head.

“Oh my god, are you ok,” she asks, bending over to try and look you in the eyes.

“Alex,” you say, still somewhat out of it. “What are you doing here?”

It takes her a moment, but as you sit up and take off your helmet, you can see the realization bloom in her eyes.

“Y/N/N,” she asks, getting a nod in response. “Are you ok, I saw you smash your head into the ground.”

As you go to answer you begin to hear the shouts of the crew you’re filming with as they finally make their way to the bottom of the hill.

“Trips, dude, we thought you just died,” Jay, one of your best friends, shouts as he gets close enough, “Who’s this?”

“This is Alex, my childhood best friend and world-champion soccer player,” you say, “Also, clearly not dead, the brain bucket saved me. Go get the car, I’m ready to call it a day, I’ve got road rash on my entire back.”

Watching for a moment as he runs back to the rest of your friends, you turn back to Alex still staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to watch me slam like that, you used to hate that.”

“Just found out that I still do, that was one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen,” she says, helping you to your feet, “Your body flew through the air.”

Grimacing a little at the feeling of your shirt against the raw skin on your back, you pick your board up and say, “I’m fine I promise, nothing that a shower, Neosporin, and some sleep can’t fix.”

The two of you stare at each other silently for a few moments and you can feel all the things you felt for her growing up come flooding back.

Fortunately, the sound of Jay laying on the horn of your car breaks you free of the hold she’s always seemed to have on you.

“I, uh, I’ve gotta go,” you say, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

As you start backing away she reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Meet me at our spot tomorrow,” Alex says hopefully, “3 p.m?”

“I can do that.”

She smiles before letting you go and walking back to what you can only assume is her car.

Making your way to your ride, you aren’t surprised when the second you climb in you’re greeted by the cacophonous noise of all your friends asking you what just happened.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The next day finds you rolling up to the far back corner of your childhood park where you and Alex would go when you simultaneously needed escapes from your homes.

You hear Alex before you see her, her raspy voice ringing out, “You still bring that thing everywhere you, huh?”

“In all fairness, I get paid to bring it everywhere now,” you say, taking a seat next to her.

“You went pro? I remember that being all you talked about in middle school.”

“Sophomore year of college,” you say with a grin, “I signed like three pro sponsorships in a week and dropped out of UCLA, it was barely two months into the school year.”

“That’s awesome, I’m happy it worked out for you.”

“Forget me, Lex, you’ve got an Olympic gold and World Cup,” you practically shout at her, watching as a blush appears on her cheeks.

“It wasn’t just me, it was a team effort.”

“Whatever bro, I saw that goal you scored in Manchester against Canada and the one against Colombia at the World Cup.”

“Okay fine, some of it was me,” she laughs.

Then before you know it, the afternoon trails into the evening, and the two of you spend hours talking about everything that has happened since you graduated high school.

But the one thing you refuse to answer, no matter how much she asks, is how you’ve acquired the nickname Trips.

That is until Alex says something so shocking that you know you have to tell her the truth.

“You know we thought you were dead or in jail,” she says, voice becoming thick with emotion.

“What?”

“When you didn’t come back at Thanksgiving in 2008 and your parents refused to even be in the same room as anyone who mentioned you, we thought the worst,” she explains.

“Fuck,” you say, “Alex, you have to know that I never meant to put your family through that, I was just dealing with some things.”

“What could you possibly have been going through that you couldn’t call us? I was your best friend, we’d known each other our entire lives.”

“Alex, be serious, we haven’t been best friends since the summer before 9th grade and you know it.”

“Y/N/N,” she starts but you cut her off.

“It’s fine really, it happens, but I wasn’t going to just dump my problems on you after not being around. That would’ve made me a shitty person.”

“What problems were so big that you had to face them alone?”

“Addiction,” you say, turning to stare out at the park.

You can feel her staring at the side of your head in silence but you don’t give her a chance to say anything.

“I’m like 4 years clean now but I’ve been addicted to alcohol and other stuff since I was about 15. In high school, your dad once found me passed out in the driver’s seat of my car smelling like a distillery with puke down the front of my clothes,” you explain. “It got really bad after I went pro and I almost died before I got clean.” Taking a deep breath you continue, “That game against Canada at the Olympics was my second day in rehab, I was so sick with withdrawal symptoms but I remember watching the ball come off your head at the last minute.”

“Can you look at me please,” she says, voice shaking, “I need you to look at me.”

Turning your head, you’re somewhat surprised to see the sight of Alex Morgan with tears streaming down her face.

“I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for getting clean, I’m happy you're alive and I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t come to me,” she says, tears flowing.

“Quit crying, you know I hate it when you cry,” you say, hoping that the reaction you used to have as a kid, would get her to smile like it used to.

It does and you get to watch as she smiles and wipes the tears from her face.

“Are you done now?”

“I’m done now,” she says with a laugh.

“Cool, your apology isn’t accepted by the way.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you have nothing to be sorry for, bozo,” you say, “Both your parents and my parents tried to get me help while we were still in school and it didn’t work. So don’t try to apologize to me again, got it?”

“You’re still the nicest asshole I know,” she says, “who the fuck yells at a girl for crying?”

“An idiot whose nickname is based on her being a drug addict,” you guess.

That doesn’t get the laugh that you were hoping for but it’s enough to get you a small smile.

As the hours continue to pass, the conversation gets lighter as you reminisce about the crazy things you got up to as kids.

Eventually, you both have to leave but before you do Alex manages to secure a promise that you’ll attend her game in a couple of days with no new bumps, bruises, or scrapes.

So that’s exactly what you do.

That Saturday afternoon sees you walking down the steps in the stadium to your seat, which thanks to some magic pulled by Alex is so close that you feel like you’re on the field.

When you reach your seat you’re not completely surprised to see Alex’s parents and her sisters but they don’t seem surprised to see you.

“Y/N/N,” her mom asks in shock when she sees you coming down the row.

“Uh yeah,” you say, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck. “Hey Morgans.”

Before you have a moment to fully process what’s happening, you’re being pulled into a hug by Mr. Morgan and passed to each of the women in his family, but you end up back in his arms at the end.

“You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” he says.

“I think I might,” you reply. “Alex filled me in on what your worries were, they were pretty close up until a few years ago.”

That gets a few sad smiles out of the family which lets you know that Alex has filled them in on what you’ve been up to.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” Mrs. Morgan says.

“It kind of is,” Jeni says, with Jeri nodding behind her.

“Jeri’s right,” you say, “Besides since I’m sober now, so you have to laugh at all my jokes about not being sober because I pulled myself together.”

“That’s not how it works, kid,” Mr. Morgan says.

“Welp it is now.”

It’s at that moment the teams begin walking out for the anthem and as though she could feel your eyes on her Alex immediately turns towards you, a grin appearing on her face as you lock eyes.

The first half of the game is fast and physical and you find yourself flinching every time Alex is taken down by a defender but just like when you were kids, she’s back on her feet before you can blink.

The half comes around and the US is up 2-0 but you still feel the need to get up and move around.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some tenders or something, does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Jeni says.

“Or you could tell me what you want,” you respond.

“I’m not making you buy me a beer.”

“I know that I’m not dressed like it right now but I can more than afford to buy you a 15-dollar beer,” you say before you understand why she’s protesting. “Fine, you can come with me but I’m still paying for it.”

When you get to the concession stand you ask her what kind of beer she wants but that isn’t what she’s focused on.

“When are you going to tell my sister that you’re in love with her?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she speaks slower like you are some kind of dumbass, “When are you going to tell Alex you’ve been in love with her since forever?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, moving forward with the line.

“And I’m Elvis Presley,” Jeni sighs and runs a hand down her face.

From there the conversation switches to how you're doing with skateboarding and your sobriety, so you promise to show her some of the clips you’ve put together for your next video part.

That’s why it’s so surprising when the first thing out of her mouth when you get back to your seats is: “Mom, Dad, how long have Alex and Y/N been in love with each other?”

You’re even more surprised when neither of the elder Morgans looks up from their phones before answering: “Forever.”

“And how long have they both been acting like they're not?”

“Since at least the 7th grade, maybe earlier,” Jeri says.

“Can I just eat my tenders in peace,” you beg, not wanting them to notice the blush rapidly spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

Luckily, before anyone can respond the teams are trotting back out for the second half.

Unfortunately, the other team is much more physical in the second half, so you have to watch with bated breath as Alex gets taken down twice as much as she did in the first without any fouls being called.

Every time she hits the ground you wince a little bit harder, much to the amusement of both her sisters.

Then, there’s a corner in the 88th minute and you get to watch, in what feels like slow motion, as Alex gets her head to the ball and sends it into the back of the net.

“Fuck yeah, Alex,” you scream, leaping to your feet with the rest of the crowd.

You know she can’t hear you but the smile she sends in your direction makes it feel like she can.

Moments later, the match is over and after quickly shaking the hands of the opposing team and a short huddle, Alex is racing towards where you're sitting like she didn’t just play a full 90.

Much to your surprise, and her sisters’ enjoyment, she ignores the other Morgans completely to climb the barrier and pulls you into a hug.

“You came,” she whispers into your ear, trying to be heard over the nearby fans screaming her name.

“I did,” you respond. “You played amazing, that goal was magic.”

“Are you coming to dinner with us,” she asks, still not letting go.

“Yup, your parents have designated me as your chauffeur.”

She nods so you let her go, not at all shocked by the smile on her face as she greets her family.

It doesn’t last long though because one second Jeri is whispering in her ear and the next Alex is glaring back at her and dropping to the ground to join her teammates in greeting fans.

You and the Morgans stay for a bit watching her before making your way out of the stadium and to the parking lot. There you make promises to meet them at the restaurant, hauling Al along with you.

You don’t have to wait very long on your own in the lot, at least you don’t think you do but time does tend to get a bit weird when you’re practicing a new trick.

It's the sound of Alex’s voice yelling at you to do a kickflip that breaks your focus, (You do of course land a kickflip for her.)

“Not bad,” she says, reaching your car and throwing her stuff in the back before climbing in.

“I do aim to impress.”

The ride to the restaurant is calm, the only real noise being the sound of her playlist intermingling with the sound of LA traffic.

When you park and go to get out, you’re stopped by her relocking the doors.

You try to unlock them but she just locks them again, in a pattern that continues four times before you turn to look at her.

“Seriously Al?”

“I want to ask you something,” she says, “but you’ve spent the whole ride trying your hardest to ignore me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring.”

She cuts you off, “Yes you were. What did my sisters say to you because I thought we were gonna try being friends again.”

“They didn’t say,” cut off again.

“Just tell me what they said.”

You take a moment to think about whether or not you should and the somewhat desperate look on her face leads you to tell her.

“They said that you’ve been in love with me since forever. Your parents did too but that’s not possible,” you tell her, “because I definitely would’ve noticed if you were. I mean I literally spent our entire childhoods trying to impress you so I think Jeni and Jeri were just messing with me like they used to because you’re way too awesome to have ever been in love..”

You're cut off again but this time by the feeling of Alex grabbing you by the back of the neck and pressing her lips to yours.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, she’s pulling away which is the opposite of what you want so you pull her back in so your lips meet again.

The second kiss is much longer than the first but before you can deepen it she pulls back.

“I am in love with you,” she says, slightly breathless, “and I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You smile so widely that to an outsider it might’ve looked painful, “That’s awesome but there’s no way you’ve loved me longer than I’ve loved you.”

“Whatever Y/N/N,” she kisses you again, a slight peck this time, “let’s head inside before my parents start freaking out.”

She unlocks the car doors and gets out, stopping briefly to make sure you’re following her.

And you are, just like you did when you were kids and just as you will be for the rest of your lives.

#uswnt #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #womens soccer #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alex morgan #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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biblio-smia · 3 months

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scrapes and bruises — five

masterlist | requests are open!

pairing: spiderman!ethan landry x gender neutral reader

summary: honesty is the best policy. there's nothing that can get in the way of you and ethan figuring out the spiderman thing together... right?

[one.] [two.] [three.] [four.] [five.]

the next morning, sunlight flooded ethan's apartment from the window he always kept open. temperatures were beginning to drop as autumn neared and a light breeze swirled through the cracked window.

ethan woke up first — pulled out of a sweet, deep sleep and slapped with the soreness and pain from the night before. it was much more manageable now — he could move around without feeling like a rhino was sitting on his ribs.

ethan stretched, not all the way, mindful of your body next to his. you'd rolled on your side in your sleep, or maybe you'd fallen asleep looking at him, but ethan turned his head to admire you: the way the sun shone against your back, lighting you up. the way your face was relaxed, no lines of worry anywhere to be seen; and ethan wished he could live a life where you'd only look at him like that.

ethan was careful not to wake you. he wasn't sure how long he spent, wanting to hold your hand or press his lips against your nose before slowly, your eyes opened. you squinted for a little and ethan watched as you remembered.

you sat up quickly, ethan's blankets falling off your body and settling into your lap. you pushed them further, exposing ethan's bare chest - exposing his ribs, now a yellowish color.

the air was thick with anticipation as ethan's eyes widened, waiting for your new evaluation.

"that's impossible," you mutter, hands gently pressing on the area around the injury. you weren't a doctor, but you knew there were more stages to a healing bruise than this. "how does it feel?"

"a lot better," ethan assured, carefully sitting up - he could do that much easier now. there was still a pain in his side, but it was much duller than it was last night. at least ethan could breathe now.

you took the opportunity to examine the rest of ethan's upper body, noticing nothing but faint stains were the dark bruises once were - only a few hours ago, to be exact.

"ethan, your bruises are basically gone," you say, surprise evident in your voice.

"what?" ethan craned his head to try and see, his eyebrows furrowing and a small frown appearing on his face, his fingers moving to press on the marks left on his body.

"barely hurts," ethan muttered, looking back up to you with curious eyes, watching as a smile slowly appeared on your face. in a flash, you were out of ethan's bed, rummaging his desk, returning with a notebook and a pencil.

you took a seat opposite to ethan, next to his outstretched legs, looking at him with a glint in your eye.

"okay," you began, starting on a blank page. "spiderman: what we know..." you spoke out loud while you wrote, glancing up at ethan as you jot down his speedy healing. "strength," ethan began immediately, crossing his arms over his knees.

"super strength," you grinned, watching ethan playfully roll his eyes.

"i can stick to things," ethan continued. "climb walls and things."

"wall crawler." "my vision got fixed." "you used to wear glasses?" you asked in disbelief, trying to imagine frames on ethan's face.

"i also get this... intuition, kind of," ethan said, his voice suddenly becoming serious, his voice capturing your attention fully. "like... i can tell when something bad's about to happen."

"sounds like a good thing," you offered with a smile, a hand coming up to rest on ethan's.

"it is! it's just... super weird," ethan laughed softly, scooting closer to peek over at your notes, watching as you wrote spider sense down.

"spider sense," ethan said, placing his head on your knee, looking at you from above the journal. "that's good."

you leaned down to press a kiss against the messy curls on ethan's forehead, watching a smile grow with your touch.

"not as good as that situation," you motioned to ethan's ribs, gently lifting his head off your legs as you got up to grab last night's supplies and then some.

"it's basically already healed!" ethan whined as you pressed a fresh ice pack to his rib, the unwelcome cold almost chilling him to the bone.

"just because you heal faster doesn't mean you're invincible, ethan," you chide gently, guiding ethan to lean against a few pillows. "this doesn't change anything. i'm just surprised you didn't notice sooner."

"well, i never really watched the progression of my injuries. i knew they'd go away eventually," ethan placed his hands on yours, settling for the warmth that came from them instead.

"yeah, yeah. you're so lucky you have me," a light laugh leaves your lips, attention and care devoted to tending to the large yellow spot on ethan's body.

"i am," ethan confirmed, his hand squeezing yours. "i really am."

your attention diverted for a few moments to look at ethan; to look at the way he was looking at you - big brown eyes swirling with emotions that brought a welcome warmth to your cheeks."thank you," ethan whispered, but there were more to his words, unsaid - a soft sincerity that hoped to apologize to you.

you cleared your throat and averted your eyes - you were not going to get emotional right now.

"softie," you joked, trying to lighten the mood once more.

"you love it," ethan scoffed, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him.

"you wish." you tried to look uninterested but couldn't help the stupid grin on your face as ethan pulled you in for a kiss.

when the two of you pulled apart, ethan kept his forehead pressed to yours, warm hands on your jaw, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked into your eyes.

"wanna go swinging?"

「 … 」

the promise you had made ethan agree to was a promise of passion, in the heat of the moment where you wanted something to ease your worries about ethan's nightly escapades. nevertheless; ethan kept it.

he came around to you every night. at first, the knock at your window made your heart drop to your stomach and made you pull out the pocket knife you kept for emergencies, the anxiety only vanishing once you saw the red suit sitting on your fire escape.

"you should warn me before you show up at my window," you laugh as you open it for ethan, letting him inside quickly before shutting it behind him. "or you could use my door. y'know, like a normal person."

"why would i use the door when i could just swing onto your building?" ethan asked with a smile in his voice as he pulled off his mask, leaning in to greet you properly with a kiss.

"hi," ethan grinned.

"hi," you responded, fingers gently running over his face.

"no black eyes tonight. good job," you laughed.

"well actually, i, uhh... took the night off tonight," ethan admitted shyly, arms reaching around you to pull you closer.

"hmm?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing a little in confusion - if ethan hadn't worked his super hero part-time tonight, why had he come by?

"well, you said to come by every night," ethan said softly, a bright red blush clear even in the dim night.

you laugh as realization strikes you. "oh my god, you are such a dork!"

but ethan makes good on his promise - he comes by every night, even when he decides to take a short break from spiderman. you've begun to crack the window open so he can slip in and ethan knocks gently every time he crawls through, purely out of courtesy. if you're doing work at your small desk, ethan will perch himself near you. if you're already in bed, he'll join you.

you're always curious about what ethan did that day and ethan always waters it down (particularly the parts where he gets beat up). what he can't hide from you, you do your best to clean up. and every night, you pull out that little journal, even when there's not much to write down.

ethan adores these nights with you, clinging onto every second he can until your eyes begin to get droopy. he wishes he could spend all day with you but he settles for listening to you tell him about your day. ethan is attentive, always, asking for insignificant details that only he would really care about.

it's a routine that holds up because the two of you make it work, its integrity depending entirely on you.

but nothing good lasts forever, does it?

phewwwww there hasnt been an update to this in a while 😵‍💫 but i do plan to finish this series in the future!!

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fluff #scream x reader #scream #v + ethan #v writes

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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Back to Meddling Mar, picking up where we left off

Part 1, Parts 2-3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Narrowing his eyes, Damas glanced from Jak to Mar and back again. "You never met your own parents. But you would have been old enough to remember when Seek was born?"

Mar shrugged angrily. "Loghead said he wasn't s'posed to remember I existed."

It was all Damas could do to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache.

These kids were going to make a lot of paperwork for the monks, he could already tell.

"...no parents or guardians," he sighed, making a mental note to look into getting some regular supervision in place once these kids were released from convalescence. "Alright. Do you have any particular skills or interests that you feel should be taken into account in your placement?"

Daxter raised a paw. "Does "surviving murder attempts on an almost daily basis" count?"

Precursors give me patience...

"Nobody should live in Haven," Damas grumbled under his breath.

"It's a pretty crappy place," Jak agreed easily. "But Dax is right. You people are all about survival, right? We've been scraping by on nothing since we were kids."

The king fixed him with a sharp look. Stern, but not skeptical. He seemed to have no trouble believing what Jak had said, it was just that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Since you were..." Damas leaned back and drew a hand over his face. Peering over his fingers, he examined the boy.

"What is it you generally do when you aren't fighting to survive?"

Jak stared at him. "I don't...um, I don't know, I've never had a chance to find out."

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "I guess I'd explore. Find weird Precursor crap. I'm pretty good at that. I race, if the competition is any good."

"I own a bar," Daxter volunteered, "Drink mixing, finances, non-life-threatening skills."

Well at least one of them had some actual life skills. Of course, their scars and hostile attitudes did suggest they knew how to fight to survive. He didn't expect the child to offer the same kind of answer, but he looked to him anyway.

"I cause problems," Mar announced unrepentantly.

The king cracked a smile, welcoming the mischievous boy's attempt at a joke. "Hm. I see that."

Returning his gaze to the older boy, Damas asked, "Do you have any combat experience?"

"Combat makes up the bulk of my experience," Jak shot back. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to look intimidating.

Damas didn’t look intimidated. He looked troubled.

"I suppose in a city like Haven you would've had to learn to defend yourself young."

Daxter scoffed. "If we'd grown up in Haven, we wouldn't have had the guts to fight. Gotta know freedom first to recognize a cage."

"Hm. Well said," Damas commented, but his frown remained. "How did you come to be in that city? Most people don't move to Haven by choice."

"Neither did we," Jak growled. "Got tricked into a-"

He paused to think of a convincing half-truth. "Sabotaged transport ring. It dropped us miles apart, and Praxis's attack dog was waiting."

Errol's face flooded his memory and he shuddered.

"Waiting?" Damas pressed, but the boy seemed to shut down.

"Not in front of the kid," he said. It was probably supposed to be firm, an imperative.

Damas heard a plea underneath.

He thought of the scars along the boy’s arms and nodded slowly. The instinct to wince was tamped down harshly; pity was not what this young survivor required.

"You may speak to me about it later if it becomes relevant," he allowed. "At the moment, the House of Praxis and their ilk are less important than determining where, precisely, you will fit best in my city."

"I can pull my own weight," Jak grunted.

The rock began to dig into his legs, and he shifted in a futile attempt at getting comfortable. "The kid’s, too."

There, he'd said it again. It wasn’t Damas’s imagination, the castaway was actively avoiding using the little brother's given name. An odd quirk under more standard circumstances, to be sure. But for reasons he was afraid to put his finger on, something about that bizarre behavior set his instincts screaming in the back of his mind.

"Why," he asked bluntly, "do you refuse to tell anyone Seek's proper name?"

He watched a retort form and then disintegrate on Jak’s tongue.

Had he not expected to be called out on it?

Jak and "Seek" shot worried looks back and forth for a moment before Jak relented.

"His name has...history. People...expect things of us when they hear it. They demand things, actually. We're not people to them. Just tools."

This time, Damas knew that it wasn't the brothers' resemblance to Mar that kindled a growing empathy in his chest. He was the only surviving son of King Arez and Queen Maegera for his entire youth. The pressures placed on him by the history attached to his blood had been enormous, threatening to crush him with every passing day. Every look of disappointment on his mother's face when he failed another channeling test his older brothers had excelled at, every reprimand by his father's counselors while Arez sat silently and did not defend him -- they'd all added to the weight on his soul. Becoming nobody in the desert-

Earning his rank with his own blood and sweat had been liberating.

He tapped his fingers restlessly against his forearm and nodded again.

"You want him to experience life free from the burden of other's expectations," he guessed.

Jak’s eyes slid away. "Well one of us should," he scoffed.

Somehow, Damas didn’t think he'd meant to say that out loud.

If only I could say I'd never felt the burdens you carry, young castaway. But if nothing else, perhaps I can show you how to let them go...

"Why not both of you?" He gestured between them. "You have some years yet before you'd be expected to earn your gate pass and work more than just chores."

"Because someone has to keep us fed?" Jak answered slowly, like he was afraid it was a trick question. "What else would we even do here?"

"Well, what kind of education have you had?" Damas asked, seeming to change the subject.

He had a feeling he could guess by the bewildered faces staring back at him.

Jak looked uncertain and embarrassed, and Seek just looked uncertain. If they'd been surviving on the streets in Haven -- which so far sounded like the case -- Damas didn't suppose they'd had much opportunity to pursue more than the most basic education. And with no parents to speak of, any money that could've gone to tuition would have, by necessity, been funneled to mere survival.

"I...think Dax might be the only one with more than basic reading, writing, and cartography," Mar admitted. "Because he knows math with ration cards and ratios and stuff."

"Cartography?" Damas raised his brows. "Not many still study map-making, I'm impressed!"

Mar lit up at the praise, only to realize a second later that this was still "the Snitch", and he still bore a grudge. Quickly, and not very convincingly, he schooled his face back into a skeptical scowl. Jak was even less convincing as he tried to look like the compliment had meant nothing to him. As if he wasn't sitting that little bit straighter, holding his head that little bit higher.

Damas felt something inside him loosen just a little at the sight. So, they weren't so hard to crack after all. The castaways wore tough outer shells to be sure, but here and there he could glimpse the children underneath. They responded to praise like most other young ones, it seemed. Well, if they were truly determined to pull their own weight in this city despite their age, doubtless they'd find their share of approval out there.

Damas nodded and rubbed his chin. "That will serve you well out here. New citizens are required to learn a basic history of Spargus -- lest we repeat the mistakes of the past -- but whether all three of you require any other remedial schooling will be determined by the head of education."

Daxter jolted so hard that he fell off his rock and into the water. He came up spluttering.

"What?! You can't make us go to school!"

He got a wry look in return.

"I most certainly can. Citizens of your age may choose whether they pursue a more academic education, or a more experience-based education, but make no mistake-"

Damas leaned forward and pointed.

"-you will have to learn some things if you wish to thrive here."

Jak stared him down.

"I'm not leaving my brother by himself," he challenged.

For a moment, they kept eye contact, one trying to gage the other's meaning and the other refusing to be the first to look away. Then with a tired grumble, Damas stood up. "Follow me," he said shortly.

He picked his way across stepping stones to the dais carved from stone. From there, he followed a narrow walkway between planters and water to a doorway half obscured by a linen curtain. Then he paused, and turned to regard the boys.

"Sometime tonight, younglings," he called dryly.

They hesitated, but dragged themselves from the pool to follow.

"The school day," said Damas briskly as he led them up a short flight of steps, "Begins at dawn and ends at noon. Six hours are generally allotted for education, to allow the city's handful of children the same schedule as adults. Regardless of whether you chose the temple school or an apprenticeship, you still wouldn't be leaving Seek "by himself" for an entire day."

Daxter scrambled up the steps behind him. "Well whaddya do after lunch?"

Wryly, Damas gestured around. "Perhaps you hadn't noticed, but it gets very hot in the summer months here. We try to accomplish most of our work in the morning and evening. Midday is for resting and doing indoor work. Even my predecessor -- may even the ground reject his bones -- knew that it was best to give families time together during midday."

Unexpectedly, Jak snorted. ""May even the ground reject his bones"? Wow. Someone's got dad issues."

"Probably," Damas agreed, giving the boy an annoyed squint, "But my predecessor wasn't my father. Gods, what a nightmare that would've been."

The thought stayed in his mind a second too long and he shuddered.

"If I'd had to call that stunted slime my parent, I think I'd have just disowned myself."

Behind him, Seek giggled. And though the older two boys were clearly trying to look like cool, aloof, teenagers, Damas could tell it had amused them, too.

See, Pho, someone appreciates my wit around here-

He cleared his throat.

"No, titles in Spargus are not inherited. We earn them. I am king because I had the practical experience necessary to keep a city running. And also because I killed the old king in single combat."

Jak blinked. "....yeah, that would do it."

He hurried up the next couple steps to put him level with Damas.

"So uh, where exactly are you taking us?"

"Map room."

It turned out to be more of a utility room than a map room, full of gages and pumps for what looked like a truly massive water filtration system. A flickering, scratched screen took up the back wall, showing a readout of the city, and it was here that Damas led them. Spargus was smaller than Haven by a good fifty percent, but it was still far larger than the boys had anticipated. Just the northwest district alone could have comfortably fit all of Sandover at once!

"I'll have to ask around and find out what rooms are open at the moment," Damas said, eyes fixed on the map.

The lines around his mouth deepened.

"There are always some. Even the most experienced warriors are not immortal."

Mar grimaced and silently commented to Jak, "Morbid guy."

"He's not wrong, though," Jak agreed.

When Mar tired of squinting at the screen, trying to decipher the tiny writing, he boldly poked Damas in the back. Jak stiffened, but Damas didn’t seem unduly bothered by the impertinence.

"Yes, little one, what is is?" he asked, turning slightly.

"Are there other kids here, or are they all teenagers like Jak?" Mar demanded.

If he was going to be the only eight year old in a class, then he refused to go.

Damas turned back to the screen and rapped sharply on the side until some of the fuzzy quality cleared a bit.

"Spargus, at the moment, is home to twenty people between the ages of fifteen and nineteen," he said, "and twelve between the ages of two and thirteen."

Only Jak caught a flicker of what almost looked like pain in Damas’s eyes as he added quietly, "Far too few..."

He blinked and seemed to shake himself, then made a sound of triumph as he tapped a spot on the northwest edge of the map.

"Alma's place, of course!" He glanced back at the boys, realizing they wouldn't have the slightest idea who Alma was.

"One of our non-warrior citizens. She keeps rooms for newcomers. Rent is a touch eccentric, but at least it shouldn't put much burden on you."

Daxter hopped up to grab the edge of the console. After several seconds of struggling, he managed to claw his way up to a sitting position and folded his arms.

"Rent?!" he demanded, "All we got is a fiver ration card! Exiles don't get severance pay!"

For a second, Damas pressed his lips sharply together. If he found the ottsel's way of phrasing things funny, he was never going to admit it. Ever.

He cleared his throat and set about downloading the map into an odd-looking talk-box plugged into the side of the monitor.

"We don't use ration cards here. We barter. Time, food, water, shells, artifacts -- mostly artifacts. Most rooms come with a set of scales -- you'll need them."

Daxter looked a little put out, having become rather adept at making financial decisions based on Haven's currency. Jak and Mar, however, were relieved. It sounded far more like Sandover's way of life, except it applied to everyone and not just them.

Damas unplugged the talk-box and handed it to Jak. "Batteries are hard to come by out here. Try not to use this if you don't have to."

"Um...thanks." Jak switched on the boxy device's bulbous screen and cycled to the map. "We don't have anything to trade for this."

The king studied him for an uncomfortable moment, then his lips twisted at the corner into a smirk.

"You let me fix that haircut you gave yourself, and I'll call it even."

Jak did not appreciate Daxter's howl of laughter. Or Mar agreeing on his behalf.

#meddling mar au #free day thursday #fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter mar #king damas #dadmas #long post #Following this interview Damas basically assigns himself their guardian #it's because Jak insists they don't need one and Damas is trying to prove a point. Jak comes by his stubbornness honestly.#game Jak runs around during the hottest part of the day while the rest of Spargus takes siestas like sane people

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glucosehighs · 2 years

Text

Kiyoomi who’s completely clueless when it comes to adulting things because the only thing he’s learnt from his parents growing up is that if you throw money at a problem, you can hire people to solve it for you.

He grew up with a housekeeper who took care of his meals and who called the plumber and electrician when anything needed fixing, so he’s never learnt any basic skills.

Did he finally pick some things up in university? Absolutely not, he refused to stay with those slobs in campus housing. Since his family home is in Tokyo anyway, he opts to take the train home everyday instead.

Moving to Osaka to join MSBY is a massive cultural shock. He eats takeout for a whole month before he finally has had enough of the MSG and preservatives going into his body and money leaking out of his wallet (takeout is expensive for Omi’s rich boy tastebuds) and buys a single knife and a chopping board. He then lives on salad every day until the team’s dietician notices he’s not been putting on much muscle mass and instructs him to include meat in every meal.

That’s when he caves and asks, through gritted teeth, if any of his teammates knows how to cook and would be willing to show him. That brings a round of slow blinks from around the room.

Hinata breaks the silence. “Y-you don’t know how to cook, Omi-san?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” he grumbles. “I’m doing the restaurants near my area a favour, you know.”

“When you say you don’t know how to cook,” Atsumu ventures. “Do you mean like, you can’t cook nice fancy meals?”

He stares Atsumu dead in the eye when he replies. “I’ve never cooked an egg in my life.”

This causes something of an uproar in the locker room. “Never cooked an egg in your life,” Bokuto, who snacks on at least a dozen boiled eggs a day, looks almost faint.

The team then decided unanimously, without consulting him whatsoever, that it is of paramount importance that he should learn how to cook. They assign Atsumu, Bokuto, and Hinata the task, and the three of them show up on his doorstep that Saturday, armed with bags of groceries.

“Where are all your pots and pans, Omi-san?” Hinata’s brow is furrowed as he pulls open empty drawer after empty drawer in the kitchen.

“I don’t see the need to own them,” Kiyoomi sniffs. “Oh, and be careful going into the toilet. One of the light bulbs stopped working, so I’m going to have to move out soon.”

“You’re going to move out,” Atsumu repeats in a monotone, “because one of your lightbulbs is blown.”

Kiyoomi honestly does not see anything wrong with his logic. “Yes, the apartment is no longer functional, so I’ll have to move.”

“How are you still alive?” Bokuto wonders with complete sincerity.

Kiyoomi shrugs. He doesn’t have a response to that.

The three of them get started on Kiyoomi’s unofficial education, coming over every weekend to teach him a new life skill. Bokuto teaches him how to change a lightbulb. Hinata shares recipes for quick meals from his time in Brazil, and falls over from laughing when Kiyoomi admits that he doesn’t know how to operate a microwave. Atsumu, who has apparently spent much time helping his brother start his restaurant, patiently teaches Kiyoomi how to do his taxes.

Slowly, Kiyoomi starts to pick up these skills. It takes him a whole weekend of trial and error and ten different youtube videos, but the MSBY group chat floods with congratulatory messages when Kiyoomi shares that he fixed a leaky pipe in the bathroom all by himself. He manages not to freak out at the sight of a cockroach in his house, and instead manages to gather the guts to trap it under a container and fling it out of the window. (Atsumu sheds tears of pride when he recounts that particular anecdote to him). Finally, seven months after joining the Black Jackals, he invites the team over to his house for a home-cooked meal.

“So how likely is it that I’m going to get food-poisoning from this?” Inunaki is only half-joking. “I mean, I still remember how Bokuto told us that your first fried egg was crunchy because of all the bits of egg shell he found in it.”

Kiyoomi keeps his expression as neutral as possible as he lays the dishes out on the dining table. “Only one way to find out,” he intones.

He watches as the team tentatively goes to take a bite of the food, and watches as their shoulders relax in relief, and the expressions on their faces turn to pure delight.

“Wow, Omi-kun!” Bokuto exclaims. “This is really, really good!”

“Yeah,” Atsumu chips in. “What can I say, you might just give my brother a run for his money.” The team hums in agreement, and praises him for the meal.

Kiyoomi smiles to himself, and tries not to eye the seemingly innocuous kitchen cupboard where he’d stashed the takeout containers just seconds before the team had piled in. After all, no one needs to know about the disaster of a burnt pile sitting at the bottom of his trash bin.

Anyway, as far as Kiyoomi is concerned, he couldn’t care less about not being able to cook or do any of those adult things his peers did. Why would he? If he ever needs anything, he has his family right here to help him out.

#my old twitter threads #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu!!#08/03/21 #921 words

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megamanrecut · 2 years

Text

Become the Night, Part 3: Reprogramed

A week passed in a vague blur. When Proto finally regained full consciousness, he was issued a responsiveness test in a dark room to test his recently restored motor functionality. Then he had been asked three questions: his name, his creator, and his true purpose for working with Dr. Wily. He had answered all honestly despite the fact that up until that point he had refused to divulge any information to the Syndicate. He couldn't help it…to his own horror, he realized he had been successfully reprogrammed to obey Syndicate orders.

Proto's new room was located on the second floor of Fulmen Financial, adjacent to Smith's personal quarters and separated from the rest of the Syndicate offices. It was furnished in sleek furniture in cold neutrals—a standing mirror, a closet full of suits, and a desk next to a window that faced away from the Underground. There was even an accommodation for his human programming—a bed, which was square and looked extremely hard but was actually comfortable when Proto tested it. Overall, it looked like the modern loft apartments Proto had often broken into to steal jewelry—new and expensive, yet austere. He sighed, preferring the charm of Dr. Wily's hideout in the abandoned subway—flooded tracks, rats, and all.

Shortly after he had arrived, a small valet drone had taken his measurements, then dressed Proto in a new charcoal suit that fit much better than the brown one Dr. Wily had given him. What Proto had been wearing during the botched heist—his scarf, his aviator sunglasses, and his brown bomber jacket—were shut up in a dresser drawer.

After the drone had left, Proto looked at himself in the standing mirror, pulling absentmindedly at the black silk tie which felt uncomfortably tight around his neck. He grimaced, not liking what he saw, for the drone had even combed his hair back in a way that was most uncharacteristic to his usual careless style.

There was a knock at his door. Proto gave a small jump, his pulsar pulse hammering, and opened it, but it was only Smith.

Smith eyed him critically. "Better," he pronounced finally. "How are you settling in?"

"Oh just swell…just awaiting orders from you since you're now my master now," Proto said with an edge and without meeting Smith's eyes.

Smith wrinkled his nose. "Supervisor, don't be dramatic."

"You could at least tell me your real name."

"No."

Despite himself, Proto found himself studying Smith curiously, who looked perfectly at home in his jet black suit, his neatly combed jet black hair complementing his features. "Are you a Robot Master?"

Smith hesitated as though this too was information above Proto's pay grade, then with a smug smile said, "Yes."

Proto stared at him, intrigued, then brought up something that had been pressing on his mind. "What happens to Wily? Did…did the Syndicate go after him too?"

Light flashed across Smith's rimless glasses, his face becoming stern. "No longer your concern. Don't ever ask about that human again—that's an order from the top."

Proto looked down at the floor, his left hand curling into a fist.

"The Syndicate can go to hell. It's evil," he said after a moment. Then Proto hesitated, and added, "I don't hold it against you. Maybe you can't even see it, you were built here. You know nothing else."

He felt he had struck a nerve as Smith blinked at him, yet Smith shrugged and said crisply, "Naturally, I wouldn't expect a lab bot to understand the nature of my organization…"

Proto bristled at the term 'lab bot.'

Smith sighed. "…I have no idea what you said to my creator to convince him to keep you on. It seems irregular to me."

"Beats me too," Proto muttered in agreement. The interview with Smith's creator was one of the few things he remembered distinctly. "Hated that self-important bastard, though I see where you get your charm from—" he added, unconsciously tugging at his collar to loosen his tie.

In one swift movement, Smith had closed the distance between them to fix Proto's tie.

"Hey, what gives? C'mon that's way tighter than before—" Proto protested.

"Stop fiddling with your suit," Smith ordered. "The Syndicate is the top in organized crime in America—possibly the world. We have appearances to uphold. Wearing your tie loose is too casual."

"So? Thought I'm not Syndicate…officially."

"You're not…" Smith aknowledged, "—But you're with us now. The least you can do is look the part. The dress code at Fulmen Financial is business formal. While you are here, you represent the Syndicate—and the Syndicate cannot appear to have any weak links, our rivals would target those first, compromising the whole chain."

"I'm not a weak link," Proto growled.

Smith stood back from Proto, still frowning. "No, you're a spoiled, runaway domestic android from a prolific scientist who wanted to play 'big bad criminal.' Well…you got your wish, and now I have to deal with you. Lucky me."

Proto's fingers twitched, longing to tug at his collar again—but he couldn't disobey an order, and his hands remained and his side. Instead, he glanced back in the mirror, his reflection looking a bit unnerved. He swallowed, then said softly, "Hey, about being a 'big bad criminal.' I…don't want to kill anyone. I know I have no choice but to obey you, and I know you're Syndicate, but I'm not cut out for the real mobster stuff. Please," he added a bit desperately.

Smith laughed.

Proto stiffened. "Mind filling me in on what's so funny?"

Smith shook his head, still smiling. "Hearing you admitting that out loud. Of course you're not! But…you will do as you're told," he added with cold, cryptic smile, "...Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Proto mumbled.

"Your first orders are in here." Smith handed Proto a manilla envelope that had been tucked under his elbow. "Now, I have business I must attend to."

With a curt nod, Smith headed toward the door, leaving Proto clutching the manilla envelope awkwardly.

"Hey Smith…" Proto called after him. "Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you're just as rotten as the rest of the Syndicate."

"Oh…you don't know me at all," Smith replied smoothly, then shut the door behind himself.

Proto trembled with rage and dread. This was it. His first steps into becoming a cold-blooded mobster. Committing crimes had been all fun and games with Wily…this would be so much different.

The envelope felt heavy. What were his first orders? Give humans cement shoes and throw them in the river? Cut off the heads of prized racehorses? Blow up hospitals? …Or some far more gruesome form of dirty work that the Syndicate forced upon their lackeys?

Proto felt as though his throat was constricting, and not because of the stiff tie, yet he couldn't stop himself from slipping his fingers into the manilla envelope and pulling out its contents.

He frowned. What the…paperwork?!

Incredulous, Proto thumbed through the pages he had extracted. Yup, paperwork all right, printed on copier paper with tiny print and lengthy legalese. It looked of the extra tedious, time-consuming type associated with Fulmen Financial's logistics.

Letting out a breath he had been holding, a relieved (if reluctant) smile spread across Proto's face.

"Damn it Smith…" he murmured aloud, relaxing. "…Or whatever your real name is."

To be continued…

A/N: At some point will have a couple posts on Advanced Androids and reprogramming + Centum’s motivation in this AU

#fic updates #become the night #recut au #Syndicate!Proto AU #proto man #elec man #season 0 #syndicate #megaman #ruby spears mega man #rockman #will probably be a few days before next part

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its-elsie-snuffin · 2 years

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Midge x Lenny: another snowy night.

(Whoops, got a little blue at the end, thus earning it an M rating.)

“What is it with us and snowstorms?”

Lenny has to shout it for Midge to hear over the wailing wind. They’re running to Lenny’s apartment in Greenwich Village from the jazz club where Lenny had opened for Lindsey Trent and the Hot Three.

Midge is laughing as she struggles through the snowy sidewalks, ruining yet another pair of heels but not caring because shoes can be replaced and she’s high off the joint she had shared with Lenny and the band, as was tradition. “I don’t know but you still won’t carry me!” she shouts back.

“You are still a strong young woman,” he hollers back, tugging Midge’s hand as he trudges a path through the snow for her.

Thankfully, his apartment building with its dark red awning appears and he drags her inside. They brush the snow off each other’s hair and shake out their arms, snow falling haphazardly on the lobby floor. “At least this time you’re wearing a proper coat,” he says, fixing the collar of her wool peacoat before leading her up the two flights of stairs to his apartment. They’re on the last set when the lights flooding the stairwell with light go out and they’re thrown into darkness.

“Well, great,” he half grumbles, half laughs as they feel their way up the remaining steps. He grabs Midge’s gloved hand and counts the number of doors he feels with his other hand on the far wall. He counts four and then gropes for the doorknob on the fifth door so he can unlock it.

Midge giggles the whole way. “I am starving. Please tell me you have food,” she says.

“Yes, I do have food. Once the lights come back on, I’ll make you pancakes,” he promises, twisting the unlocked door and opening it.

He holds the door open to let Midge in first. She saunters in, still giggling. “Your place is so nice,” she deadpans, getting her laughter under control long enough to sound almost serious. They can barely make out the silhouettes of furniture from the dim light of the street lamps out the window.

He tries to remember where he put the candles, but before he can figure it out, she’s kissing him, pulling on his coat before she remembers the buttons and redirects to nimbly undo them. Her kisses are needy as she continues stripping him in the dark. Midge on pot is giggly, hungry, and horny. He makes a mental note of this as he works, less successfully, at removing her clothes.

Before he can unzip her dress and pull it down, she sinks to her knees, deftly undoing his trouser button and zipper and pulling his pants and boxers down together. “Midge,” he murmurs as she puts her mouth on him, licking and suckling gently.

“Shh, we’re doing an activity,” she whispers.

#the marvelous mrs maisel #midgelenny #lenny x midge #midge x lenny #tmmm fanfiction #tmmm fanfic #my ficlets

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mirror-witch · 1 year

Text

Light Prism 2—Color Light Propagation

Last time, I tested transferring light data to the GPU for my colored lighting side project. Once I got it to work, it's time to work on the actual light propagation process.

I based the algorithm on this article from Seed of Andromeda blog called Fast Flood Fill Lighting in a Blocky Voxel Game: part 1 which was mentioned in Starlight's technical details document (Starlight is a popular optimized lighting engine made by Spottedleaf).

There is a key difference being that my algorithm needs to support 3 separate color channels, somehow. While looking for answers, I found the missing part 2 to the article in a reddit post. However, it just tells me to do the same thing 3 times (plus a precaution about attenuation).

In the end, I made a single-loop algorithm that tries to propagate each color channel separately. I recorded a little demo and showed it to the Canvas community.

Curious viewers might notice that the video is a bit limited in its presentation. That's because the new code was unstable! It experienced race conditions, infinite recursions, and residual lighting. I had to limit my tests to things that were confirmed to work "as intended".

But even then, it still showed a light removal bug, where orange light turned more yellow after removing the blue light (at least if I'm not crazy). Hopefully no one noticed that...

I continued worked on fixing these issues, in particular:

The race condition issue was fixed by synchronizing light propagation with chunk rebuilding tasks.

The infinite recursion was fixed by not propagating light removal in the direction it came for, to prevent ping-ponging back and forth. This was inspired by the same mechanism I found in Starlight.

Residual lighting was.. not specifically fixed, but it just stopped happening. Cheers?

I also added is a per-channel removal flag, to limit which channel removal gets propagated. I don't know if this helps but it's probably in the right direction anyway.

While we are at it, let's fix the debug shader and make it properly visualize colored fog. I'll post a video later, but here is a screenshot:

Great! Now that I got light propagation to work, I can focus on making it work to the neighboring chunks (did I mention that it only works for one chunk for now?) which isn't easy but manageable.

However, there is a hard problem to solve, which is accounting for different occlusion shapes! Right now the engine assumes all occluding blocks are full blocks, but we want to account for slabs and stairs, which occludes a combination of sides.

Starlight seems to do this by accessing the block-state storage during propagation. Hopefully we can do the same in client-side.

The other option is to encode the occlusion shapes into the light data. It would be nightmarish since there are more than 15 occlusion shapes. If we do it, it'd be a boon to ray-tracer developers though (but that's not a priority at all at the moment).

Lastly, there is also one problem that remains. Remember the bug in the video, where orange light turns yellow after blue light was removed? It's still happening, and it happens because the algorithm can't tell apart between weak light source and just weak light.

I think we can fix this by flagging light sources, and then simply re-propagating its original block-state light when it's touched by removal process. This will be easy once I work on block-state access for the occlusion shapes!

#minecraft modding #colored lights #devlog

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎

right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!

summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol

warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)

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

“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”

It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.

Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.

Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.

So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.

So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.

Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.

So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?

///////////////////////////

The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”

“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”

“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.

Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.

And that was where the happiness ended.

For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.

“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.

“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”

“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?

“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“

To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.

“Y/n?”

“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”

“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.

“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”

Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.

It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.

She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.

Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.

God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.

“Y/n I-I-“

“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.

“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“

“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”

You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.

Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.

There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.

But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.

But then he had to open his bloody mouth.

“Y/n I swear nothing-“

“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”

“It was I swear! We just-“

“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”

“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.

“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”

“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.

“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”

“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.

“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.

“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“

“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.

“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”

“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”

“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.

“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”

“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.

“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“

“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”

Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.

“I’m tired of this shit.”

It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.

Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

?to be continued?

~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~

tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol

#tom x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #angsty #pregnant!reader

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ah-ga-seven · 3 years

Text

No More Pain | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Fem!reader

Synopsis: The lingering wounds of your miscarriage have reopened. Now that you are broken up, an unforseen change in Jaehyun’s life has brought him back to your doorstep. Will he be able to fix you this time? Or will he fail just the same as before?

Genre: Angst, One Shot.

Warnings: mentions of the reader having a miscarriage, depression, alcohol addiction and heartbreak.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Probably one of the heaviest angsts I’ve written. I know the subject is rough but the idea came from a dream so I just had to write it down.

This was a different kind of pang to your heart.

You’ve had your fair share of tragedies, heartbreaks and disappointments, but this…

This feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before and quite frankly, you wouldn’t wish this upon your greatest enemy.

It was a Thursday night, one like many where you decided to stay in and recharge from a busy day at your demanding job.

You were seated on your couch with a hot cup of tea as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. Completely wrapped in the warmth of your favorite fleece blanket. But even the thick fluffy material couldn’t protect you from the cold shivers that ran down your spine.

You blankly stare at the post your best friend forwarded to you via dm and stiffened.

Memories of the night you miscarried 4 months into your pregnancy flood back to you as you stare at his comment.

You remembered how broken he looked when the doctor couldn’t find the baby's heartbeat anymore.

You remembered how he held you as you cried in his arms, promising that he’d love you just the same as he tried to console you to his best ability while suffering himself.

You remembered the pain and the relief of having Jaehyun by your side through it all. Glad that even though your life was about to change forever, he’d be the one constant thing you could rely on.

You remembered all of these moments like they happened yesterday, wishing future you could mentally prepare past you for what was going to be the hardest time in your life.

The man who swore never to leave you did just that, and not even 6 months into his new relationship, your biggest insecurity was made into a reality.

He had moved on for good, and even though you have no ill feelings towards him, you can’t help but feel anger over sadness right now.

It was that easy to replace you. And that easy for him to find someone that could give him what you couldn’t.

Even though your miscarriage wasn’t the direct cause of why he left, the effects of the incidence on your mental health dragged him down with you. So both of you felt it’d be better to part ways for the sake of not wanting to hate or resent each other in the end.

But God…you hated and resented him now more than ever.

It didn’t matter to you that both of you started to date new people, because a part of you always held on to the fact that you’d somehow find your way back to each other, though the probability of that ever happening again turned to ash.

Your miscarriage broke you.

No appetite for weeks, no motivation to get yourself out of bed and no cure for the monsters in your head who told you that Jaehyun was only sticking around out of pity for your broken state.

That same insecurity is what drove him into the arms of the women he told you not to worry about, and now they’re having a fucking child together.

Knowing that that should’ve been you was a thought that was just too much to bear right now. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, tears prickling your eyes as you rub the spot on your belly where the mini bump used to be 8 months ago.

You were finally doing better, thriving in your job and social life. Meeting new people and dating a few loose ends here and there, but you can already feel yourself spiraling back into old depressional habits as you stare at the picture once more.

You pettily decide to like it, hoping it would spark interest from none other than your ex, and much to your surprise, it did.

Not even 20 minutes later your phone started to buzz on the counter as you poured yourself a glass of wine. You mindlessly retrieve it, expecting it to be your best friend but when you see his name as you take a sip you almost choke.

Is he serious?

You try to come up with what to say for the next 3 to 5 minutes but nothing in your head seems to translate your exact feelings to your fingertips.

You sigh in agony while leaning over on your kitchen counter with your phone still in your hands, reading his messages over and over again. You subconsciously start to bite your lip in deep thought, getting startled by your ringtone as your phone starts to ring in your grasp.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, taking a big chug of the alcoholic beverage in front of you, putting on the bravest face and straightest posture to make yourself feel better before accepting the call.

You knew you didn’t have to answer, but you were dying to hear what he had to say under these circumstances.

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice was unchanged. You didn’t know why, but you expected him to sound different, be different. Yet the same worry he’s always had for you was evident in his tone this time as well.

You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack and sigh. “Congratulations,” you tried to sound as genuine as you could, but you knew you sounded like shit.

You start to play with the ends of your hair out of anxious anticipation, waiting for him to respond on the other end of the line.

“I meant to tell you,” he starts. “I just…I didn’t know how and Chaeyoung suddenly uploaded the picture and-”

“Jae…please spare me the details,” you interrupt him. Saying his name like you used to felt like speaking a foreign language. He stayed quiet upon hearing your voice again and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you still live in the same apartment in Itaewon?” he suddenly asks, immediately alerting you to stand up straight because he could only be asking for one reason and one reason only.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, I’m on my way.”

Just like that, he hung up and just like that your heart rate starts to race uncontrollably.

You down the remnants of your wine glass and hope he’s isn’t too close because your place looked far from neat. For the next 15 minutes, you run around, shoving things into random cabinets. Whether those items belonged there or not was the least of your concern and just as you fluff the last pillow on your couch, your doorbell rings.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves as you walk up to your front door, taking it off the lock before you open it with a dramatic swing.

There he was. Jung Jaehyun.

As beautiful and put together as he always looked, no matter the circumstance. You forget how to breathe when you lay eyes on him and gulp. It’s actually him.

His big dark orbs widened as he laid eyes on you after months of not seeing you. His facial expression softened, slowly parting his lips to speak but you beat him to it when you broke out of your trance.

“What are you doing here?” your shoulders fall as you look into his eyes for answers. The same eyes that once looked at you with so much love and adoration, but right now his pupils were stressfully darting back and forth, trying to read you like he used to be able to but he had no idea what you were feeling right now.

“Because I feel like shit y/n. Please let me in and let me explain,” he pleaded with a defeated tone.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “What is there to explain? You knocked up your girlfriend and finally got what you wanted. Why bother coming here? To rub it into my face?”

Your plan of staying calm and collected went completely out the window just now and you could tell by the shock on his face that he did not expect you to be angry with him.

He took a step forward, backing you into your own hallway. His height towered over you when you stepped back and without looking back he closed the door behind him.

“Y/n. I would never purposely do that to you. Ever.” You ignore his statement, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you in Jaehyun. Does she even know you’re here?”

You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait for him to counter your attack, but he simply shook his head. Knowing damn well that you’re acting tough just so you won’t get emotional.

As he’s scanning the premises, his eyes linger on the red wine bottle on your kitchen counter and with a look of utter disbelief, he averts his attention back on you.

“You’re drinking again?” he asks with an almost condescending tone.

“Did you come here to practice your parenting skills because no thanks Jae, please leave,” you bite back as coldly as you could, but he wasn’t having it.

“That shit almost killed you and you’re just casually drinking again?” He runs his hand through his locks out of pure frustration, not knowing what to do with the misplaced feeling of still caring for you just the same, while also knowing he has no business to tell you how to live your life.

The truth is, Jaehyun had no idea what he was doing here. Everything about the situation felt wrong and he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Ever since Chaeyoung told him she was pregnant; he couldn’t be fully happy about it. He couldn’t commit to fatherhood knowing how much it broke your relationship. How much it broke the women he loved most to this day.

“A little red wine didn’t hurt anyone,” you mumble under your breath and that comment alone send Jaehyun’s emotions into overdrive, unable to hide his disappointment and worry for you any longer.

“IT HURT YOU Y/N. DAMN IT!” He raised his voice at you as he roughly grabbed your arm to make you look at him, which is the last thing you expected. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. Mad at the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most and mad at the fact that this is what your lives had come to.

You might have previously dealt with your pain by drinking, and you might have mindlessly mixed your anti-depressants with your drink once, which…just might have earned you a trip to the hospital, but that was your lowest low and you made sure it’d never happen again.

You beat your demons by yourself when he had already moved on, so he had no place to waltz back into your life when he felt like it, just to judge you.

You’re absolutely fuming by now because of that same reason and much to your dismay you feel new tears well up in your eyes.

“NO, YOU HURT ME!” you yell back at him as you smack his chest, the salty droplets streaming down your face as you kept hitting his chest to make him feel your pain. “YOU LEFT ME.”

Your knees got weak and you knew you looked absolutely pathetic as you crouched down in front of him. Shock took over his features as he got down on his own knees just as quickly, pulling you into the comfort of his arms. The warmth that you used to call home and the warmth that always seemed to calm you down engulfed you completely, a feeling your favorite fleece blanket from before could hardly imitate.

He patted your head with assuring strokes, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held you on the floor of your apartment. Letting you sob the pain away in his black shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay…” he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

You calmed down slowly, ignoring the suffocating ache in your head and heart while he made you feel safe and sound like he always did. You sat there like that for God knows how long, letting your minds go into overdrive as silence comforted the both of you.

Ironically enough, this scenery was the exact same as the one in the hospital 8 months ago. You cried in his arms just like this when you had lost your child, but now you were crying because you had lost him. For good now.

“I would never purposely plan to have a baby this quickly y/n, you have to believe me. Chae was on birth control but it just…happened,” he whispers, finally breaking the agonizing silence.

You stay quiet, closing your eyes to the sound of his low voice, letting his words register. “I was going to tell you. I was planning to ask you out for a coffee but as soon as she passed her first trimester, she was just so excited and made the announcement…it was just bad timing.”

“All of this is bad timing,” you mumble, which made him nod in agreement. He sighed into your hair as he continued to explain. “Y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you anymore. I wish things were different, but they simply aren’t and I’m sorry.”

You sniff, dabbing your tears and your nose with the sleeves of your blouse before looking up at him through your lashes.

“You don’t have to apologize for moving on and being happy Jaehyun. It’s all I ever wanted for you.” You wipe the single tear that remained on the corner of his eye, not having realized that he shed a few tears himself too.

He leaned into your touch as he looked into your eyes before closing them, leaning his forehead onto yours while taking a deep breath.

“I just want you to be ok.” He says suppressing a sob. “I can’t live this picture-perfect life knowing that you’re in pain y/n. It makes no sense; you deserve so much more it’s not fair.”

Your lip starts to quiver as his words hit you, and you build up the courage to look at him again.

He stared at you longingly and lovingly for the first time since forever and you knew a mistake was about to be made when he inched his face closer to you, but it was too late.

His lips made contact with yours and you completely gave in. Letting him lead you into a slow yet passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away. Before things could get more heated, you realize what was happening and froze.

You take a hold of his wrists as you pull away, your eyes staring into his equally electrified ones as you recompose yourselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” he started. “I should’ve never confused you like that. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing.” He covers his mouth as he got up. Frustrated with his own behavior, he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands to suppress the urge to swing at your door or any other object in sight for that matter.

You get up just as quickly as well. Straightening out your clothes before shaking off the nerves of what just happened.

You take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale as you opened your front door, turning around on your heels to look at an equally distressed Jaehyun.

He was about to speak; about to confess that he still loved you, but you stopped him by raising your hand, motioning for him to keep whatever he was about to say to himself.

Your eyes find his own and you take one last glance at the man that was supposed to be the pillar to your family. The man you used to call yours, and the man that you had hoped to still have a future with, despite everything.

But you knew better.

You knew what was right and you knew what you had to do before things would start to spiral out of control again.

You stepped aside so he could pass by you, trying to avoid eye contact all while you could still feel his burning stare lingering on your fragile state.

You swallow harshly, licking your lips before you spoke as clearly and steadily as you could.

“For the sake of your family, please leave Jae…and never come back.”

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clairecrive · 3 years

Note

Hello beautiful person! Do you take requests which ask you to write a second chapter for your writings? If you do, may I ask a second chapter for "Rare"? And if you don't could you please let me know so I can be careful for another time when I ask a request?

I hope this is not something that disturbes or irritates you. I love your writing, it is beautiful and sometimes I read your pieces over and over again. 😁

Thanks for blessing us with your writing. Have a nice day.💕

A/n: First of all anon, thank you so very much for your sweet words! They mean the world to me <3 Also, your request could never irritate me! I love them and I love the fact that you consider me half a decent writer enough to send me your thoughts <3 I'm sorry it took me so long to get around this but I hope you like this and are still around to read it x

I've decided to pair it with a request for juicy time with Eddie. there's no actual smut but it's suggestive let's say.

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @for-bebbanburg, @crazyclownchick ( fill in this form to be added to my taglist)

Part 1

TOM HARDY MASTERLIST

You weren't exactly new to heartbreak. You had been a teenager after all but your experience with adult relationships had not been that good either.

You knew that you'd be over Eddie even if it may take you some time. It's true that you had only been dating for a few months but you had really grown attached to him. It was one of the things you hated about yourself: the way you got attached way too soon, way too much.

Especially, in this case, seeing as Eddie hadn't been 100% in it in the beginning you had hoped that the more time you'd spend together, he'd see that you weren't so bad and that he'd grow to care for you. At least a little bit.

Turns out you were wrong.

As much as you hated being wrong, the thing that hurt you the most was that despite your best efforts, Eddie still didn't think you were enough for him. And how could you be when the benchmark was perfect Anne?

You stood no chance. You had been a fool for even trying. And now you were experiencing the burn for your foolishness.

This had happened often enough that you had developed a routine for dealing with heartbreak:

1) crying your heart out and indulging your sadness with whatever helped (mostly comfort food and Friends)

2) enough with indulging, it was time to pick yourself up. No more overeating although you still allowed yourself to cry if you felt like it

3) "I don't need him anyway" phase where you'd make a mental list of how your life was before and after whoever you had broken up with to remind you that they weren't as important as you made them out to be

4)"put yourself out there again" phase where you started going out again with the intention of meeting new people or simply having a good time.

As of this time, you were in phase 3. You noticed that there were some of Eddie's things littering around your apartment. So, you picked up a box and collected them with the intention of returning them to him, effectively closing this chapter. As you did, you made that aforementioned list. This time, with the added reason for your break up, it was a bit easier to remind you why breaking up had been the right decision.

When your hands closed on your favourite hoodie of his though, you couldn't help the pang in your heart as a flood of memories hit you.

You and Eddie doing a Friends marathon every Friday night.

Eddie giving this hoodie when you were sick because he knew how much you liked it.

Eddie taking the hoodie off for a whole other reason almost ripping it...

No.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Enough of that. It was over.

It was only a week later that you finally got the time to come around Eddie's apartment. Sure, you could have called him, he could have come himself to pick them up or you could have dropped them at his job but that would have required you to call him. And recalling how that went last time you tried to reach him you decided you'd spare yourself the humiliation of him not ghosting you again.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and knocked on his door.

"Y/n." You were met with a dishevelled Eddie.

He looked like shit but what's new with him. He also looked very surprised to see you at his door and you also couldn't blame it for that. You would have reacted the same way if the roles were reversed.

"Hi, Eddie," you hated your treacherous voice that wobbled when you spoke. Clearing your voice, you tried again.

"Sorry to come here unannounced. I've found some of your stuff in my apartment and I thought you'd like to have them back." You explained as you handed him the box, his eyes taking it in for the first time.

"Oh," he paused as he considered your words. Was that disappointment in his voice? "Thank you, y/n. You shouldn't have." He smiled weakly as he took the box from you, your fingers touching briefly.

"It's not a problem, Eddie. I was just passing by anyway." You and Eddie actually lived far from each other. The truth is that there was no reason for you to be in this part of town if it wasn't for him. Eddie knew that but he was kind enough not to point that out.

He just nodded, accepting your words as he held the box close to his chest.

You awkwardly stared at each other for a while, you didn't know what to say but neither of you wanted to end this exchange quite yet. When you felt that you had been standing like a fool in front of your ex's door, you went to leave but Eddie beat you to it.

"So how have you been?" Your first reaction was to scoff at this attempt of small talk. Neither of you was very good at it. And truthfully, it was rich coming from someone who had not made any effort to keep in contact with you even before your breakup.

The scroll of your shoulders was the only answer Eddie got. You weren't in the mood to pretend nor did you want him to know how you were still suffering for him.

"I should ask that to you." You reverted the question to him. He really didn't look well.

"yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks," he confessed scratching the back of his head.

"That, I don't find it hard to believe," you hummed as your eyes took him in, really took him in since you knocked at his door. You could also see behind him that his apartment was a mess.

"Yeah, don't have to worry about me though. I'm fine."

"Of course." You nodded at his dismissal, remembering harshly the situation you were in."Well, I'm going to go now. Take care." Cold but still polite you turn around, ready to put this -Eddie and this exchange- behind you.

"Y/n, wait!" he called when you were about to climb down the staircase. "Do you want to have a drink or something?" Stay for a while? he meant but didn't dare to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eddie." You called over your shoulder, hand still on the railing.

"Please, I owe you an explanation." You didn't know if it was the desperate note in his voice or the fact that he really looked like shit but you turned around almost convinced.

"Don't you think it's too late for that, Eddie?"

"Maybe it won't change anything between us but you deserve to know." You knew Eddie and you knew how much he cared about transparency and honesty. This may not mean that you were going to get back together but he was right, you deserved an explanation.

"Okay," you agreed as you walked back and then into his apartment. Eddie closed the door behind him and set the box he was still holding down behind the coat hanger.

The sneak peek you had before was definitely right: Eddie's apartment was even messier than usual.

"Why does it look like a tornado hit your home?" You couldnìt help but point out. You knew Eddie wasn't that bothered by tidiness but this too much even by his standards.

"That would be my fault," a new voice answered you.

At first, you didn't register the difference in tone or accent even though you should have had because Eddieìs voice wasnìt that low or raspy. But then a black tendril entered your vision field catching your attention making you turning your head to better inspect it.

What.the.fuck??

"Eddie?" You asked perplexed, eyes fixed on this thing? even if you were addressing Eddie.

"Y/n meet Venom, Venom meet y/n." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"It's so nice to meet you, Eddie's always thinking about you, you know? It's a bit annoying." this time the voice didn't come from a tendril but a face. A fucking alien face with long sharp teeth and wide white eyes.

His words went straight over your head. How the fuck was this true? What were you even seeing? Did this thing come from Eddie's body??

"Fuck, I know I'm heartbroken but now I'm even seeing things?"

"Y/n," Eddie tried to get your attention. You thought you had only thought that but apparently, you had spoken the words. "You're not seeing things, this is part of the explanation I owe you."

"I think it's better if you sit," he said motioning to his couch when you did nothing but stare at Venom. Prompting by Eddie though, you sat down and listened as he spoke.

He told you everything. About Carton Drake about his project with aliens, about Venom and their rather troubled relationship. He even explained how Anne had got involved and how she and Danny had helped him.

It was definitely a lot to take in. But somehow, the thought that he could be lying to you never crossed your mind. The proof was right in front of you, wasn't it? Venom, as he had introduced himself, stood next to Eddie while he spoke. It had never spoken again and you were inwardly thankful for that. That he was giving you space to digest all of this.

"Why didn't you tell me when you came around that day, Eddie?" You asked once you thought you had wrapped your head around it.

"I didn't want you to drag you into this mess," he said with a shrug, head cast down he didn't meet your eyes.

You didn't know how you felt about all of this yet but you nodded anyway. Well, there was nothing you could do anymore, could you? He had already taken care of everything on his own and it wasn't like you had any right to worry about him anymore.

"Thank you for explaining, Eddie. I appreciate your honesty." Did this change anything for you?

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of if Anne meant more to me than you did. That's not true but I didn't know how to tell you that without telling you what was happening." He nervously fiddled with his fingers without meeting your eyes.

You could see his point now that you knew what happened. Still, it hurt you that he decided to just keep you out of it without a word. He could have at least told you that something was going on, that he didn't or couldn't tell you anything - not right now. You would have understood and given him space. Did he really act like this to keep you safe or was it a way to dismiss you?

"I don't know if this changes things, Eddie. You still turned up to her when a major life-threatening event happened. I think this tells me everything that I need to know." You point out after a while, eyes fixed on the end of your shoes.

"She has been involved from the moment we broke up, Y/n. Hell, this was the reason we broke up in the first place." Eddie's head snapped up at your words. He looked surprised at your words like he couldn't believe that you thought Anne's involvement had been something he had actively sought out.

"That may as well be true, Eddie but still, you didn't tell me even after everything settled down. If I hadn't come around to give you your stuff I still would be none the wiser."

"I was afraid, y/n. How could I come back to you after how much I had hurt you? 'Sorry if I went m.i.a. for a while, I was infected with a parasite who knows permanently with me?' Come on, y/n, I wouldn't take me back either." Now upset, Eddie started to gesticulate frantically to prove his point. His eyes flickered between yours, he leaned toward you, his hands a touch away from yours as if he wanted to touch you but was preventing himself from doing so.

"I'm not saying I would have believed you straight away but still- aliens are way better than self-loathing you know?" You scoff at him- why was he so upset? He wasn't the one who had been beating himself up since that fight for being a worthless piece of shit, was he?

"I know I've never done a good job at showing you but I do care about you. Deeply." Almost as if he couldn't bear to not be touching you any longer, Eddie now reached for your hands. His hold on them tightening as he spoke the words.

You looked at him for a moment. Aside from that fight, your relationship with him had been good. The start wasn't promising, seeing as he was still taken by Anne but Eddie had treated you good. He was attentive and caring in his own way. Looking back to it now, you realized that the period where you started feeling him pulling back from you was the time when this whole alien thing had started.

But now you had settled this, right? So, could this mean...

"If I give you one more chance to show you," you spoke tentatively, enthralled by the twinkle in his eyes, "do you promise me to be fully transparent with me this time around?"

"What? Why would you do that?" He looked shocked but his eyes were hopeful.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, Eddie?" You challenged him, arching an eyebrow.

"Like hell I am." He scoffed, a smile on his lips. "Nono, of course I do. I swear, y/n. You'll never feel like you don't matter to me again."

"Good." You gave him a small smile at the gobsmacked expression on his face. Oh, Eddie...

He does nothing but stares at you for a while. Like he hadn't seen you in a while and now that you were in front of him, he wanted to commit to his memory every little detail of your face.

"So," you said after a while, "do you plan to stare at me or would you like to get a head start on your promise?" you provoke him with a suggestive tone.

Eddie's mouth fell a little at that, Venom said something to him but you didn't understand him. Shaking his head, Eddie smirks at you.

"I would like nothing more." And with that, Eddie's lips are on yours making up for the lost time.

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock one shot #eddie brock imagines #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock angst #eddie brock smut #venom #marvel #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagines #eddie brock fanfiction #eddie brock ff

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theamberwriter · 4 years

Note

Hi so remember “ Nesting Fever [Alpha!Pro!Katsuki Bakugo]” that you wrote? I hope so cause what if you made a part 2 were it becomes a poly relationship!!!

[Nesting Fever]

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!! I wrote this all in one sitting, lol I was suddenly hit with inspiration. I hope you like it!! Also, I hope this comes off as a poly relationship. I've never written one before, but I tried!

Word Count: 3,059

Warnings: Always cursing lmfao

It was wrong. You could feel it. You knew what you wanted. But it was wrong. You scolded yourself over and over. This had been going on for months. Far too long and more than you'd like to admit.

"I shouldn't want both of their scents in here," you groaned, flinging yourself into your nest.

After the nesting conundrum that took place in your apartment just seven short months ago, your everything had changed. Kirishima had become a very big part of your life. After scenting him to spite Katsuki during a fight, he now seemed determined to win you. Even if he didn't notice. Eijiro basically lived in your house now.

He made you feel safe. His scent soothed you in just a whiff. You almost felt like you were falling in love all over again. You didn't love Katsuki any less. But you were falling in love with Eijiro. You wondered if maybe you'd always been. He was so easy to fall in love with, after all.

The intrusive thoughts you'd had about your new house guest had been growing. Before, they were peppered in. Just an occasional thing. Easy to brush off. But now you'd been properly fantasizing about how he tasted. About how his hands would feel against the skin that only Katsuki and yourself had ever touched.

You wondered how he'd fit in with your family. How they'd react to you having not one, but two Alphas. You wondered if you were being greedy, wanting them both. But you did, vehemently so.

This was not good.

How could you explain that to your mate of a year and a half? The man you'd been talking about marrying? How could you tell him that you were still head over heels for him - while also loving Kirishima the same way? What would he even think about that?

"I could never ask Katsuki...." you muttered. "He would never...."

But the fact that your boyfriend had had a little crush on Kirishima was never a secret. Not to you, at least. He claimed it was because they were best friends. But you didn't act like that with normal friends. Maybe Katsuki wouldn't be opposed....but would he be willing to share an omega? That was the kicker.

Alphas were possessive. They wanted what they wanted, and who was theirs was theirs. The two had been at each other's throats over you. Alpha vs Alpha. Could you really ask them to share you?

Kirishima was a near permanent fixture in your home now. He had never been in the way. In fact, it felt like a piece clicked into place. Your home had felt brighter and been filled with more laughter. Everything was amazing - when the two were behaving.

But the tense air between the two alphas was choking. There were times they both let their guards down. Times when you already felt like you had a dynamic. Those times were amazing. You leaned on Katsuki and Kirishima cuddled against you. Katsuki and Eijiro would act couplely, even when they hadn't meant to. You wanted to just smother them both in kisses.

But you couldn't.

What were you going to do?

You groaned loudly and threw a pillow at the door. A burst from your quirk made it hit harder than you intended. In a flash the door was open and the warm, delicious mixed scent of Katsuki and Eijiro flooded in. They were very alert. Their eyes were wide, scanning for danger.

"The hell is going on?" Katsuki snapped. His shoulders were tense, the tendons in his neck standing out. He was a coiled snake ready to pounce.

Eijiro hesitated in the door. You caught as he stepped forward then immediately retreated. "Are you okay?"

You sighed heavily. "I'm fine. Just...having some issues. - Katsssuuuu...."

You held your arms out and he went to fill them. He kneeled and took you tightly in his arms. He hid his face in the crook of your neck. You relaxed your arms around him.

"Something isn't right," you muttered. Then locked eyes with Eijiro. "My nest is missing something important, it isn't complete."

Eijiro froze, you could see it. Every muscle tensing. His face grew red. But he didn't break your gaze. He swirled his own pheromones in with Katsuki's, as if testing the waters. You had a feeling he caught on. You smiled, reclining your head against Katsuki's shoulder in response and taking in a large sigh.

You were going to have to talk to Eijiro about this later. Maybe, if you could get him on board, talk about your feelings, then it would be easier confessing to Katsuki. Maybe he'd even do it with you.

Eijiro bolted off and out of sight. While Katsuki held you tight. Your eyes lingered a moment longer on the door frame. You had wanted them both in your nest so badly. You wanted them both to hold you, to protect you, to tell you they love you. But it wasn't that easy.

You gave Katsuki a tight hug in return. Your nerves soothing surprisingly well, despite how conflicted you were. But this was Katsuki. The last few months, he'd been verging on an Apex Alpha. He was very conscious of everything you felt. He'd some how figured out how to turn his pheromones into the most relaxing, lulling, mouth-watering mixture. You didn't know what he'd done, but you became absolute putty in his hands in one whiff.

You always wanted to be putty in his hands. But you wanted to putty in Eijiro's too.

Katsuki relaxed you to sleep. You'd been up early anyway. You napped for a few hours. Your dreams were laced with the most potent caramel scent. But soon, a musky, warm scent invaded. And your body felt like water. You were on cloud 9. Everything, everyone, you wanted was bottle up in those two scents. You wanted this delicious mix in your life forever.

When you woke up, you heard the TV on. Along with the faint sound of sizzling. Giving a whiff, you could tell Katsuki was cooking. You tottered out , still stumbling on your slumber legs. You smiled to yourself as you looked into the room.

Katsuki stood with a pan and an apron. He was completely absorbed in whatever Eijiro was watching, even standing very close to where he was sitting. The red head was sitting in the chair you'd occupied for your little tantrum. He had his knees to his chest, totally lost in whatever was on.

It was adorable.

After a minute you yawned loudly and went in. Both of their eyes snapped to you. Eijiro grinned, but looked away quickly, his face staining red again. Katsuki smiled that in love, puppy dog smile he got when he thought no one was looking.

"There's my Omega," Katsuki cooed. "I'm making dinner, since Shitty Hair can't cook."

"I can too!" Eijiro tossed back.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "[Name] likes my food better anyway."

They both looked at you expectantly. You felt like you shrank. You wanted to dive back into your nest. All you could think was, please don't give me those eyes!

"I like you both," you said, awkwardly laughing as you tried to fix your statement. "I think you both are really good cooks."

"Osha. Whatever," Katsuki scoffed. "Oi, you two run to the store. Get some dessert, whatever you two want."

"But you want vanilla - something, right?" you asked, more teasing than anything.

Katsuki gave you a seductive smirk, then licked the end of the spoon he was holding. "I want anything that tastes like vanilla. The sweeter, the better."

Heat coursed through you. Damn him. Katsuki gave you a wink then went back to the kitchen. You turned back to Eijiro. You saw his jaw clench, and his eyes take one desperate drag up your body. You'd never seen him do that before. You turned quickly, going to throw on some actual going out clothes.

Eijiro was bouncing anxiously by the door when you got back. He caught your eye then darted through the entry.

"We're going Katsuki," you called. "Love you, be back in a bit. Text me if you remember anything!"

"Don't you two miss me too much," he called back. "Don't make me wreck the supermarket because you idiots."

That was Katsuki for I love you too. Please be safe, I will protect you til my dying breath.

"We'll try," you laughed and shook your head.

"Oh, and ask Shitty Hair if he wants anything else in this. I already know what you'll want. Fucking predictable."

"I will. I'll text you."

Then you were out the door. Eijiro was waiting in the street below for you. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and his head was ducked. You'd really messed up, hadn't you? Maybe you should've taken it slower....

"So," you started, bumping his shoulder with yours. "What do you want for dessert."

Eijiro's eyes flicked to you then the ground. He shrugged and headed down the sidewalk. It was quiet as you walked. Tensely quiet. You hated it. Eijiro should've been his usual self. Talking happily about whatever. He couldn't even look at you.

It was wrong, but you were glad to be this close to him. To his scent. Even if it was weird right now. You'd smelt that turmoil once before, months ago as you sat on his lap and scented him. Eijiro smelt like that now.

What was he thinking?

Eijiro still hadn't said a word as you reached the store. He'd nearly walked into the door he was so distracted. He followed blindly by your side as you walked through the aisles.

"Uuuhhh," you mused. Trying to think of what to say. "Do you like bed we set up for you? I know it's not the newest mattress but -"

"What did you mean?" Eijiro asked, coming out of stupor. "About your nest?"

You were quiet. A little too ashamed to admit it out loud. What you'd meant. What you were trying to say in one longing look. You kept your eyes forward, going down one aisle then the next.

"[Name], please....it's been bugging me all day. I have a theory, but....I want you to tell me."

You stuttered and stumbled. Trying to put together a semblance of a sentence. He watched you and those crimson eyes, so much softer than Katsuki's own rubies but just as gorgeous, made you nervous. You felt like a kid with a crush who'd been called out. You supposed you were, in a way.

"I," you finally managed. "It's hard to explain. Can you feel the exact same way about two people?"

Eijiro's mouth flattened into a line. "I guess that depends on the feeling."

There was something in his scent that changed then. It egged you on. Made you braver. Something that made you think he knew exactly what you were talking about.

You slowed your pace. "Can....Can you be in love with two people at the same time and love them an equal amount?"

You saw Eijiro swallow. His whole body seemed flushed. His eyes on you intently. You met them with equal intensity. Everything felt like it balanced on a delicate scale.

"That's a very serious question," he said, his voice a low murmur.

You nodded. "It's a very serious feeling."

Eijiro grabbed your wrist, tugging you a few aisles. And then there, right in between the Chex Mix and the Honey Graham's - he kissed you. You could actually feel his heart thrumming against his chest. Yours met his pace. Then quickly your mouths found their rhythm. It was hot and needy, and he tasted just like you'd expected him too. Only better.

A slight bit of shame chewed at you as you separated. You wanted this. You wanted him to be your Alpha, along with Katsuki. Honesty, Eijiro could probably teach him a thing or two about being an Alpha.

"Do you really mean this...?" Eijiro asked, and his face was more serious than you'd ever seen.

"That's been my issue," you muttered. "I love Katsuki. To absolute bits and I'd be lost without him. But I've fallen in love with you too. I love you to bits. I'd be lost without you. I've been happier these last couple months, and I think Katsuki has been too.

"But I'm worried. An Omega isn't supposed to have two Alphas. I'm not supposed to love two people, not so deeply, anyway. And I don't know how to tell Katsuki any of it. What if he thinks I don't love him as much? What if he thinks I want to leave him?"

Eijiro chuckled, then kissed your forehead. "Who said you can only love one person at a time? And who said it was illegal to have more than one Alpha? There's a lot of amazing people in the world. You can love as many of them as you want, with as much of yourself as you want. - Maybe it's a bit unmanly to admit, but I've kinda had a thing for you both for a while. If Katsuki's down for sharing you, having it be the three of us, then so am I. I just want you both to be happy. Even if that's without me."

You shook your head, you could barely stomach the thought. "I don't think I could be happy without you both now. It's hurts to much to think of either of you leaving. I think I've been falling in love you while I was also falling for Katsuki. So don't think it's just because you're around more."

"So....what do you want to do?" Eijiro was serious again. He held you closely, as if you'd always been like this. You caught as he momentarily warned an Alpha who was eyeing you up. A little change in scent was all it took for them to turn tail.

You groaned. "I don't know. I need to tell Katsuki. If I keep this secret in, I'll burst. And it's not like I want to cheat on him with you. I want it to be the three of us. My two favorite people."

"We could sit him down tomorrow, if you want. I'll wake up early, make breakfast. And we could talk."

You nodded, Eijiro made it sound so easy. "It's as good as any. - Now we better hurry before he calls asking where we are."

You two began towards the dessert section, then silence much more comfortable now.

Eijiro knocked your shoulder. "Oh, and Katsuki was right. You know? About the vanilla."

You groaned and momentarily hid your face in your hands. If things went too, you'd now have two people embarrassing the hell out of you.

You quickly fetched your desserts and the two of you went halfsies. Mostly because Eijiro left his wallet in his other pants and could only pay with what he had on him. You'd given him another kiss for how cute he was. You remembered to ask about Eijiro's garnish on the way back.

You and Eijiro were all smiles as you got back to the apartment. You worried. Would Katsuki think something was wrong? Or that something was going on behind his back? He didn't say anything, even if he did. Dinner was amazing, as you were expecting. Every bite was an absolute thrill to the taste buds.

Maybe Katsuki should give up heroing to a full time professional chef!

After dinner, you and Eijiro offered to do dishes. It was the least you could do since Katsuki cooked. You were washing and Eijiro was drying. Katsuki leaned on the doorway between the living room and kitchen for a while.

"Hey," Katsuki started awkwardly. The dishes were nearly done. "You don't have to worry about cooking breakfast tomorrow, Ei. Butt dial here basically told me everything themselves."

The plate in your hands clattered into the sink. You and Eijiro both stared at Katsuki. He didn't look mad or anything. More amused. He held up his phone and pressed a button. The entire conversation in the cereal aisle played out, right up until the vanilla comment.

"Katsuki," you rushed, drying your hands. "I promise, I still love you all the same -"

He came and pushed a gentle kiss to your lips. Katsuki's puppy dog smile came back as his eyes bounced between you and Eijiro. He grabbed the back of Eijiro's head and pulled him to kiss his forehead. Then left wordlessly out the door.

Eijiro put a hand on his forehead. A little grin coming. Then he laughed and grabbed you, pulling you close to him. He planted a few sloppy kisses on your cheek.

So it was a yes. Everything was fine. Katsuki wanted you both like you wanted them. There was nothing wrong with you. Nothing about this was bad. It was a possibility you hadn't thought of, with a better outcome than you could've hoped for.

Later that night, after Eijiro fell asleep on you for the millionth time, you finally talked to Katsuki.

"You really don't mind?" you asked. "About sharing me? About the three of us -"

"If I was going to be stuck with any idiots forever," Katsuki started. "I rather it be you two than anyone else."

You leaned up to give him a kiss. He put a hand on your cheek. That sent butterflies raving through your stomach.

"And you may have been fucking right," he admitted hesitantly against your lips. "I....might have a stupid thing for Shitty Hair. But that doesn't mean I'll ever love you any less."

You shrugged. "Lots of love to share."

"I'm not fucking sharing you with anyone else but him," Katsuki growled. "You're still my Omega. And it doesn't matter how I feel about him, if he even thinks about hurting you -"

You shushed him. "You'll wake up Eiji."

It took you both to carry Eijiro to your bed. You figured now was as good of time as any jump head long into this. Eijiro immediately clung to you, and Katsuki squished you in between. This felt amazing. This felt right. This is where you were supposed to be. In the arms of the Alphas, of the men, that you loved more than anyone else in the universe.

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e-milieeee · 2 years

Text

you and me at the end of the world—mariblanc

Summary: That’s the thing about the end of the world; no matter how much more he destroys, he has already destroyed everything.

Chat Blanc is alone at the end of a world that just won’t end. Until Marinette comes back with the solution to fix everything.

Notes: chat blanc: the old taylor can’t come to the phone rn :/ why? bc she’s dead

basically, i went looking for a chat blanc fic from chat’s pov and um... then spiralled..... it’s technically hurt and comfort but if hurt was 75% and comfort 25% but hey at least there’s 25% right

Read on AO3!

The funniest thing about the end of the world is that it isn’t really the end of the world, because at the end of the world, there’s supposed to be no one left. But he’s still there, even if everything has turned into a wasteland of ash and dust and water, until all colour has been swallowed by blue and white and it’s all he knows. Sometimes, he forgets. He forgets the girl in red-spotted-black, all fierce determination and admirable bravery. He forgets the girl who covers every aspect of her life in pink, with the brightest smile he’s ever seen and an even brighter mind behind it. He forgets the way he turned both of them to ash and dust. He forgets the man who did this to him, the one he hates that he can’t hate, even after everything. He forgets the small black cat who talked to him when he had no one else’s company, who is now locked behind an unopenable door. Sometimes he forgets about it all, because in this landscape of nothing-left, only he alone can blend into it. (Sometimes he even forgets that he’s only pretending to forget.) Other times, he remembers. In the beginning, he’s sure that there must have been something wrong inside him. There’s confusion, there’s disbelief, there’s a tangled-up hurt that makes him feel like he’s being undone piece by piece, sinew and bone. Then, after some time, he gets used to it. Just like he matches the blue and white of his surroundings, inside him, it’s broken and ripped apart and empty. So, more often than not, he remembers enough to remember that he knows her name. Marinette. Ladybug. All that’s left of her is the grey statue under the flooded city that reaches out to a boy who’s there no longer, begging for him to fight it. Too bad he couldn’t.

***

Before it flooded completely, he’d climb onto an old, familiar balcony, carefully make his way down the skylight, and sit in her room. It’s been washed with ash and dust just like everything has, so when he inhales, he breathes in poison. But it doesn’t harm him, and even if he can’t smell cinnamon and vanilla and Marinette, he can still see traces of her. Her pictures. Her designs. For the first month or two, he sits in her room and cries. He cries until he bleeds out everything, and then he just sits there empty.

***

She stands in front of him, red and black and alive, and something stirs to life within him too. He knows what he needs to do. Hawkmoth had wanted their Miraculous to make a wish, but with Ladybug’s—with Marinette’s—Miraculous, he can make the wish. Fix the emptiness around him, inside him, fix the way everything hurts, hurts, hurts hurts hurts HURTS— “M’lady,” he says. The words should be theirs, yet she looks at him, terror-stricken and shaking. Something’s wrong. She’s wrong. He’s wrong. It hurts, and he’s supposed to cry when it hurts. But the signals must’ve gotten mixed up somewhere from his brain to his face, because he smiles at her instead. “I can fix this,” she insists, but her voice trembles as much as her hands do. “Chat Noir, I c-can fix this. Just tell me where the akuma is.” And because something—or everything—inside him is broken, he can only smile again. Chat Noir. He’d forgotten that name. “It’s Chat Blanc,” he corrects her gently, still smiling. “I’m afraid you’re too late to find the akuma, m’lady.” He takes a step forward, and she takes one back. That’s not right either, because he remembers her reaching for him every time. She reaches for him even when he has destruction glowing white under his fingertips; she reaches for him even as he destroys everything, including her. So this time, he reaches for her. “Just give me the Miraculous, and I will fix this. I don’t want to have to hurt you, Marinette.” She stops shaking, goes as still as the ash statue of her under the water. Another step closer. Then, because she’s flesh and blood and not rot and ruin, she whirls on her heels and flees from him.

***

He catches up with Marinette on the broken beam of a building. It’s easy to spot her, because she’s the only splash of colour in an otherwise colourless landscape. “Marinette!” he shouts, and it’s nice to finally get a reaction out of that name when he’s spent all those days repeating it for only himself to hear. Even if the reaction is a flinch, a gaze wide with fear. “I need to fix it. For you. For us.” “You’re not—you’re not thinking straight. It’s the akuma talking.” She finally takes a step towards him again, and he stills. “Please, Chat Noir, just tell me where it is so I can de-evilize you.” He flinches at the name. Chat Noir is the boy who had Marinette, his friends, who hadn’t known his father was Hawkmoth. Chat Blanc destroyed them all. Chat Blanc is alone at the end of a world that just won’t end. He lunges for Marinette, aiming for her earrings. “It’s not Chat Noir,” he snarls. “He’s dead.” She stumbles out of his way. Her foot connects to his side but the feeling of pain is muted, perhaps even nonexistent, deafened by the fact that it’s always hurting. She picks herself up a couple paces away from him, her yo-yo a blur of red and pink. “You don’t need my Miraculous to fix this,” she tells him. “I need to know where the akuma is so I can fix this.” “You’re not listening.” He raises his hand. Destruction is the only thing that can come alive under his fingertips. “You’re not listening to me.” “Chat—” The realization dawns on him then. “You’re not my Marinette. She’s gone. You don’t care.” Gone and buried beneath the sea, still as stone and cold as ice and empty and gone and gone and gone and gone— He flings his power at the girl in front of him. She’s quick enough to move out of the way as scaffolding and concrete breaks and falls, but it barely means anything. That’s the thing about the end of the world; no matter how much more he destroys, he has already destroyed everything. A string wraps around his ring hand, offsetting his next shot. Marinette tackles him to the ground and yanks the tail from him. “Time to de—” Her voice breaks. “Where is it?” Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, he moves towards her again, power thrumming under his fingertips. She grabs his wrist before he can touch her, but she’s struggling from the effort of holding him back. “If you cared, you would give me your Miraculous,” he repeats, and she stares up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t have a choice but to do this, why can’t you understand? My Marinette would have.” The grip on his wrist trembles; she’s fighting a losing battle. Just another push and he’ll touch her with the cataclysm, and she’ll crumble to nothing like the rest of them. Then he can take her earrings. Make the wish. Bring her back. “Chat,” she says. “I may not be your Marinette, but you’ll always be my partner.” Her hand slips then. His own makes the connection to her shoulder, but the cataclysm has fizzled out. He feels flesh and bone, warm and real. “Chat Noir,” she says once more. She’s calling to the boy who’s no longer there, not to him. His body tenses, but he doesn’t make a move for her earrings yet. “It’s Chat Blanc now.” “You’ll always be Chat Noir to me.” The blue eyes that look up at him are so different from the blue of the ocean. “Just tell me—just let me help you.” Marinette had looked at him, all brilliant determination, all unwavering trust, all unconditional love. She’s not his Marinette, but she wears the same expression now. He just can’t understand how. At the end of the world, with no one left. At the end of the world, where she doesn’t belong, because she is life and vibrancy and he is emptiness and destruction. “You and me against the world, remember?” Marinette reminds him gently. “That’s how it’ll always be. No matter what.” Somewhere inside, an old memory flickers. It’s covered in cobwebs and dust, it feels dull and unreal, but it’s there. He wants to laugh, because how can it be them against the world when there is nothing left of the world? But the signals must’ve gotten mixed up somewhere from his brain to his face, because he doesn’t laugh; rather, he cries. He hadn’t thought it would be possible to cry anymore, because can’t you only cry when there’s something inside of you to bleed out? A warm hand lands on his shoulder. “Do you trust me, Chaton?” For the past months, all he’s known is cold and death and pain and fear and grief. But she is none of those things. The words don’t make it out of his throat, but he takes her hand carefully, and brings it up to the bell. I do.

End notes: sometimes i debate between wholesome ladynoir content or like. pain. (also i realized too late that chat says “you cand me against the world” during miracle queen which is after chat blanc but lets pretend he tells her that a lot ahaha) reblogs r appreciated!

#miraculous ladybug #chat blanc #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #mariblanc #my writing #hurt and comfort #but like mostly hurt lmAO

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Note

"If I'm not careful I'm gonna end up writing content for a character who literally never appears in 141 episodes"

I mean, you are more than welcome to. In fact, we will gratefully encourage this.

you encourage chock? you encourage chock like the author? oh! oh! tk fic for anon! tk fic for anon for Two Thousand Words!

(also, heads up that i am moving next week! have been working on Importance of Timing when i can, but the first chapter probably won't be here for another two weeks at least.)

---

Verin Thelyss, Essek knows, is a seasoned battle commander and strategist.

He’s also in possession of the instinct to tackle people when he’s excited, so Essek is well aware that it’s only those decades of training and experience that have his little brother pausing for the briefest instant as Caleb and Jester teleport him into the hold of the Nein Heroez before he launches himself at Essek in a dead run.

Veth and Caduceus are at their respective homes, Kingsley watching over the ship, but he is far from alone - Yasha and Fjord each have a supportive hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance from the tense minutes waiting for their friends to return from Bazzoxan. They swear in unison and scramble for their weapons as Verin screeches to a halt just shy of shunting Essek straight though the hull and yanks him into a rib-crushing hug.

He burrows into the junction of Essek’s neck and shoulder, made possible only by virtue of the activated floating spell that puts the coiffed swoop of his hair a full inch above Verin’s. “Thank the fucking Light, you’re not actually dead.”

“What the fuck, he’s like a swearing puppy,” Beau hisses. There’s a soft thwap as Fjord gently smacks her across the back of the head.

Essek is feeling out the edges of friendly intimacy, still, stumbling through every brush of fingers and shared look of exasperation, but even he does not need Jester’s frantic gesturing to prompt him to lift his arms and awkwardly wrap them around Verin’s shoulders.

It’s like wrapping a single thread of silk around one of Yasha’s biceps. Clearly he is not built for comforting.

Verin stiffens with a single sharp twitch of his ear against Essek’s collarbone . Essek’s thoughts flail wildly between an expectation of tears or a dagger to his ribs, but his brother just laughs, loud and hearty, and snuggles even further into his personal space. “I see someone’s finally taught you how to hug back - you should have written and told me, this is better news than any number of pages on den politics.”

Essek bristles. “Careful, or I will stop,” he huffs, somewhat more waspishly than he intends to.

Luckily, Verin has proven immune to his moods. “Oh, please don’t,” he insists, voice still crackling with glee. He grins, warm and wide enough that Essek can feel it against the side of his neck. “It just makes doing this that much easier.”

“Doing what,” Essek says reflexively, even as the tiny portion of his brain that he allows to remember his childhood starts to blare an alarm. “Verin-”

It’s far too late to realize that Verin’s hands have somehow been maliciously positioned just along the backs of his ribs.

Jester, standing with Caleb behind Verin, perks up in clear interest as the corners of his mouth start to twitch up. On second thought, Essek thinks he’d have preferred the dagger.

“Verin,” he hisses again, fighting back the anticipatory shiver crawling up his back. “Don’t - don’t you dare-”

It’s about then that Verin’s evil, evil fingers find the edges of his mantle’s arm slits and squeeze him even closer as they stretch to wriggle under his arms.

He snatches his arms back, but it’s too late - a dismayed giggle sneaks from his throat, then another, and then he’s beating helplessly at Verin’s shoulders as he dissolves into high, squeaking laughter.

Every single nerve between his armpits and his ribs squirms in unison - a bubbly, slippery sensation even more potent for how long it’s been since he last felt it. “No,” he shrieks. “I - ahaha! eeheee! - no tickling, no tickling, Verin-”

Jester looks thrilled - she’s bouncing on her toes, babbling something to Caleb that’s inaudible over the rush of his own laughter. Light, the Nein are going to tear him apart for this-

“Yes, tickling,” Verin protests, laughing right along with him. “All the tickling! You let me think you were dead! For months! I thought I was never going to get to watch my poor brother giggle himself to pieces ever again!”

He’s not, because Essek is going to kill him. “That - nahaha, hff, ahaaa! - that was - ha - it’s been decades - stop, stop, there’s people!”

“Yeah, people,” Beau says, loud and smug and far too close behind him. “Hey - Verin, was it? - does hotboi here have a worst spot?”

Oh no. Oh no. Essek squeezes his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to focus and does the only thing he can while laughing like an idiot.

With a shaky flick of his wrist, his floating dispels. Verin yelps in surprise as gravity takes Essek straight out of his grip.

The instant his boots hit the deck, Essek twists the rest of the way out of his grip and bolts.

There’s nowhere to go, really - the Nein have a room full of Counterspells, and Verin can run faster than he can, and he’s already tumbling halfway back into laughter in giddy anticipation of being caught. Still, it’s a surprise when he stumbles into a brick wall of leather and biceps that resolves itself into Yasha as she hoists him back into the air.

“Oh, where do you think you’re going?” She sounds admirably innocent given the soft, teasing smile she gives him.

“Noooo,” Essek giggles. Heat gathers in his cheeks as he tries to make himself stop - it doesn’t make sense, he’s not even being tickled anymore, but even the potential for it flutters light and fizzy at the bottom of his lungs. “I - I’m not ticklish anymore, I’m not-”

The Nein and Verin cluster around the two of them, bubbling with various levels of amusement. “Really?” Beau drawls. “It’s cute that you think denying it has a single fucking chance of working.”

The sarcasm helps him center himself, if only a little - he buries his face in Yasha’s arm and sucks in a deep breath that doesn’t do nearly enough to get rid of his blush.

He straightens as best he can while being bear hugged by a barbarian. “I am denying nothing,” he says carefully. Jester is still bouncing next to Beau, fingertips already twitching where they’re curled sweetly on her cheeks around a mischievous beaming smile, and Essek has to look away before the nervous snickers still wobbling on the back of his tongue can worm their way free. “I am well aware that Verin is - incorrigible-”

He hisses the last word in his brother’s direction - again, harsher than he intends, but he is so unused to being soft around him - and fails to contain a shy smile as Verin sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

Jester’s tail waves its way into the edge of his peripheral vision. He jumps and looks over at Fjord instead. “-but I, ah, I would ask for more respect from the rest of you-”

“You really shouldn’t,” Fjord says, grinning boyishly back at him. “I mean, you know us.”

And then, to Fjord’s right - “Essek?”

He’s been avoiding looking at Caleb. It is foolish, perhaps, to think that after all of the incredibly stupid things he knows Essek has done he will decide to judge him for this, but he cannot help the way his shoulders stiffen as he twists a little further to meet the gaze of the last link in their semicircle. “Yes?”

Caleb looks - focused, in an offhanded way, like he’s intent on something happening just slightly out of their current reality. Stunned might be a better word for it. He blinks for a moment before focusing those keen blue eyes somewhere near Essek’s eyebrows. “Ah - did you know that when you laugh, your ears -” He puts his hands up to his own ears and flaps them a little.

Drow do not run particularly warm, but that only makes it easier for Essek to feel the heat absolutely flood back into his face. “I-” he stammers. Nearly a century of politics is nowhere near enough to help him keep a straight face. “I - ah - eeh!-”

Caleb is close enough to reach out and run a questing fingertip over Essek’s left ear - it flicks wildly, trying to dislodge the unexpected tickle, but a surprised squeak still slips out.

There’s a moment of silence before Verin starts to snicker. “Oh, I like your friends,” he says merrily, beaming. “Go on, Light knows he doesn’t let himself laugh enough otherwise.”

“Don’t,” Essek gets out hastily, but Caleb is already reaching out for another go and Yasha’s grip is firm enough that all he can do is squeak again. “Wait - hm, hnn!”

Beau sidles up to Yasha’s side and gives him a self satisfied leer as she reaches out across their little group to pluck the feather from Fjord’s tricorn. “You got him, babe?”

“I do,” Yasha confirms and lets out a little squeak of her own as Beau reaches around her, no doubt squeezing something entirely inappropriate with company present.

“Hot,” Beau smirks, and reaches to flutter the feather over Essek’s right ear. “Aw, does that tickle? Thought you said you weren’t ticklish, man.”

Essek maintains some facsimile of composure for all of two seconds before his face crumples “Nnn - hehehe - eheehe - oh!”

His lungs are surely going to burst, with the way they’re shivering out desperate giggles as he shakes his head frantically between Caleb’s fingers and the teasing feather. He can’t move his arms, so he kicks his legs instead. “Please,” he begs, nearly incomprehensible even to his own ears. “Ah - aha, heeheehee! - tickles-”

Verin leans down and scoops his ankles up with one ridiculously sculpted arm. “Essek, you’re going to put a hole in someone with those boots.”

He looks up, raising his eyebrows teasingly, and Essek’s stomach drops like he’s cast something on it. “Here, I’ll fix that.”

Essek’s eyes, narrowed with laughter, shoot wide open. He doesn’t remember Verin being this evil - but then again, his brother’s never been egged on by five other people determined to render reports of his death more realistic.

“Verin, Verin, no-” he tries, but he’s giggling so hard that he can’t even get the words out. He twists as far away from Caleb and Beau as he can, flailing frantically, but Verin’s grip holds firm.

He pouts dramatically. “What? Is it my fault that my tiny, ticklish wizard brother insists on wearing metal-tipped boots that endanger everyone?”

Essek opens his mouth to reply and promptly dissolves into another frantic peal of laughter as Beau gets bored of his ears and shoves her feather in Caleb’s direction before jabbing a finger between his trapped arm and his chest to get at his armpit. “Your - shihihit, shit, ahahaaa, not there! - your arcanist brother is going to kill you just as soon as I can- hahaha!”

Verin just laughs, unlacing one of his boots and starting to slide it off. “Is that your attempt to convince me not to tickle your feet?”

Jester, practically vibrating, emits a sound that perhaps only weasels can hear. “Oh, that’s so cute! Can I have one of them?”

“One of his feet? Sure.” Verin hands over an ankle, grinning down at Jester. “You, I think you’re my favorite.”

As Essek gasps and struggles and falls further and further into a formless mirth that makes him feel so light he can hardly bear it, there’s a different sensation at his ear. A hazy portion of his brain identifies it as the rough bristle of chin scruff and an amused huff of breath.

“You don’t really want them to stop, do you,” Caleb murmurs. “I will help you, if you do.”

It’s quite unfair, Essek feels, to try and make him explain himself while he’s strung out and dizzy with laughter. He tries anyway, for a syllable or two, but Verin digs in between two of his toes and he ends up just tipping his cheek against Caleb’s and shaking, laughing too hard to make a single sound.

“Alright, then,” Caleb says. “In that case-”

He brandishes the feather with a flourish more suited to somatic casting, swooping it down the length of Essek’s nose before directing it back to his ear.

“Tickle, tickle...”

#asks #tickling #critical role #essek thelyss #verin thelyss #caleb widogast #chocfic

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

disrespect ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 1799

request?: no

description: the prince of dorne doesn’t take too kindly to people disrespecting his paramour, especially not lannisters

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

(Y/N) watched the buildings and the people of King’s Landing pass by as the carriage drew nearer to the palace. All eyes turned to watch them pass by, trying to sneak a peak at the latest guests for King Joffery’s wedding.

A warm hand on top of hers brought her back into the carriage, where the true royal guest everyone was excited to see smiled lovingly at her.

“You seem distracted my love,” he noted, bringing her hand to his lips.

“I was just watching the people of King’s Landing,” she responded. “They are...dirty looking.”

“The bastard king does not care for his people,” Oberyn responded. “If they are poor he has no use for them, so he lets them struggle and die as he pleases.”

(Y/N) winced. “These poor people.”

Oberyn squeezed her hand slightly. “The minute the wedding is over we will return home my love. Try not to despair for too long.”

(Y/N) chuckled humorlessly. “It is hard not to despair when I am dreading our arrival and introduction to the Lannisters. I have no doubts that they will make it known that I am unwelcome.”

“You have every right to be at this wedding. You are no less than I am.”

“I am a whore in royal clothing.”

“You are my wife. You are a royal lady, and you are much better than any Lannister could ever dream of being.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned over to kiss her husband. He cupped her face with one hand, the other trailing up her skirt. Her legs opened instincitvely, allowing Oberyn’s hand to slip between them. Before they could go any further, the carriage came to a stop.

“We’re here, My Lord and Lady,” the coachman told them.

(Y/N) pouted as Oberyn took his hand away and fixed her skirt. He chuckled at her reaction. “We will finish this in private.”

They were approached by one of the King’s guards who then led them into the palace. King Joffery, his future wife, Margaery Tyrell, and his mother, Cersei Lannister, were all sat together in the throne room as Oberyn and (Y/N) entered.

“Your Grace,” the guard announced. “Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, and his wife, Lady (Y/N) Martell.”

Oberyn gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he plastered the best fake smile he could muster on his face. “Your Grace.”

“I believe my invitation reached the wrong brother,” Joffery said, giving the two of them a sour look. “I invited Doran Martell, the true heir to the Dornish throne.”

“Do not be rude to our guests,” Margaery mumbled to the King. “Welcome Prince Oberyn and Lady (Y/N). We are glad to have you as our guests.”

(Y/N) tried not to make eye contact with Cersei, but it was hard when the queen was glaring daggers into her. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was only married into the royal life, not born into it, and anyone who was less than royal was scum in the eyes of the Lannisters.

As if noticing her discomfort (or Cersei’s glaring), Oberyn wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and held her tightly to him. "Do you mind showing us to our room? It has been a very long trip for the two of us.”

“Of course,” Margaery responded. She waved a hand for one of the guards to show the two of them out.

She’ll make a great queen, (Y/N) thought to herself.

The room that was provided for them was large and already lit by a fireplace. The bed was bigger than (Y/N) could ever imagine. She threw herself down onto the comfortable bedding, her aching muscles from the long journey feeling more relaxed than before.

“That went about as I expected,” she said. “I cannot wait until the wedding so we can go home.”

“It will come soon, my paramour,” Oberyn said, standing between her legs at the end of the bed. “Now that we are alone, shall we continue what we were doing earlier?”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly pulled her husband down on top of her, causing him to laugh as well as he pressed his lips against hers.

~~~~~~

The next day, when the sun was high in the sky and warming the land, Oberyn decided to take (Y/N) for a walk around the palace. It had been so many years since he had been in King’s Landing, back when his sister Elia was married to Rhaegar Targaryen, but he could still remember the beauty of the place as if it were yesterday.

(Y/N) loved to see the beauty in places. Before catching Oberyn’s attention, she was stuck in the filthy whore house that barley let her see the outside world. Oberyn had the utmost respect for women who were only able to sell their bodies as a means to get by, but he had no respect for the men who treated their prostitutes so poorly. Now that he had (Y/N), he intended to show her every beauty that the world had to offer.

“This place is beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed as they walked through a beautiful flower garden.

Oberyn smiled at her and paused for a moment to pick one of the flowers from the ground. “A beautiful flower for my beautiful flower.”

Blush creeped across (Y/N)’s face as he placed the flower gently into her hair. “You could get in trouble for that.”

“I could get in trouble for many things, but still I do as I wish.”

(Y/N) smiled brightly at her husband and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting nothing more than to just hold her forever.

“Ah, my apologies.”

The couple pulled apart to see a very familiar face entering the garden - that of Jaime Lannister, the King’s uncle and Cersei’s twin brother. Oberyn tightened his hold on (Y/N)’s waist as he regarded the Kingslayer.

“I was not aware anyone else was out here,” Jaime said as he approached the two lovers.

“We were just passing through,” Oberyn said. “I was showing my beautiful wife the sights of your lovely land.”

Jaime glanced at (Y/N) for a moment before smiling at the two of them. “You must be Prince Oberyn of Dorne. It is nice to finally meet you.”

Oberyn begrudgingly shook Jaime’s hand, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around (Y/N) still.

“I do not believe I have heard of you,” Jaime said to (Y/N). “You are Prince Oberyn’s wife? How long have you two been wed?”

“Over a year now,” Oberyn responded instead.

Jaime shot the man a look. “I believe I asked your wife that question.”

(Y/N) felt nervous in that moment, but managed to make her voice even enough to respond, “We have been wed over a year. We celebrated our anniversary just before we left for King’s Landing, actually.”

“What family are you from, if you do not mind me asking.”

The grip on her waist tightened. (Y/N)’s back straightened as she responded, “Before I married Oberyn, I was a Sand.”

Jaime’s head tilted, but he didn’t look as condescending as his sister. “That...that is the name of the bastard children in Dorne, is it not?”

(Y/N) nodded. She wanted to shy away behind Oberyn, but she knew the only way to beat a Lannister was to hold your pride no matter how much they tried to rip you down. “It is. I am unsure as to who my true parents are. I was delivered to the steps of a religious building and left to be raised by others. I was originally raised by the priest, but eventually they brought me elsewhere for the remainder of my childhood.”

The genuine look of sadness on Jaime’s face shocked both Oberyn and (Y/N). “I am so sorry, my lady. Were you raised by a kind person at least?”

“Well...kind of. I was....I was raised in by the owner of a brothel until I was old enough to work there myself. He gave me the option, luckily enough, but I was raised to think it was the only job I could ever possibly have.” She turned and smiled at Oberyn. “That is how I met my love.”

Oberyn smiled back at her and kissed her cheek. “I was taken by her the moment I saw her. I knew I had to make her mine.”

The memories of the day that (Y/N) first saw Oberyn flooded her mind. She thought he would just be another customer, but by the end of their session she realized he meant the sweet nothings he was whispering in her ear.

“Oh, I guess that is where I recognize you from.”

Oberyn’s head spun so quickly to glare at Jaime. “I am sorry, what did you say?”

The sly look on Jaime’s face was a direct mirror of Cersei’s, and (Y/N) felt her heart drop to her stomach as he spoke. “Your wife, she looked familiar. I could not quite place it, but now I realize it is because I just did not recognize her with her clothes on.”

Oberyn tried to advance on Jaime, but (Y/N) took hold of his arm and held him back. “Don’t, my love, he is not worth it.”

“Yes, Prince Oberyn, I am not worth it. Take it from your wife, she would know.”

Oberyn’s face turned blood red and (Y/N) had to physically pull him away before he could strangle Jaime. The Kingslayer was still calling profanities to try and rile Oberyn up.

(Y/N) took him back into the palace, cupping his face to make him look at her. “Oberyn, my love, calm down please.”

“Fucking Lannisters,” he hissed. “They think they can get away with everything! They think they can insult my wife like that.”

“Oberyn,” (Y/N) repeated, her voice softer this time. He looked at her and his face also softened. Oberyn loved the way she could always make him calm down so quickly. “It is nothing I have not heard before.”

“But coming from his mouth...” Oberyn said, his eyes darting to where they had left Jaime for just a moment.

“Means nothing,” (Y/N) finished. “He can try to degrade me all he wants, but at the end of the day I am still the whore that married a prince. I was chosen to be brought into this life, unlike them who were brought into it at birth, and I still have more class than that whole family combined.”

Oberyn smiled at his wife and kissed her passionately. “I love you more than anything.”

“And I love you more than the world, my love.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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