#verse: raised elsewhere

[nocasdatsgay]

Then There Were Three:

A Neapolitan Bonds Fic

Day One of @polyacotarweek : Beginnings

Summary: You are invited to the Autumn celebrations as an emissary of Dawn. The High Lord’s mate invites you to meet him after the party is over. Alternatively: The night the mating bond snapped.

MasterPost | Poly Week MasterPost| AO3 Link |

Pairing: Azriel/Eris/Reader | Rating: E🌶️ | Word Count: 4962

Warnings: heavy flirtations, slightly rough sex, Reader does panic near the end.

A/N: I did my best to be vague about the reader’s origins. I realized it leaves autumn out of her home court choices but you can pretend she’s from there if you squint and pretend she was raised elsewhere 😅

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @hieragalbatorixdottir @ysmtttty @mybestfriendmademe

You grabbed a flute of champagne off the table in the corner and took a sip. Autumn champagne was so different. The breed of champagne fruit grown in Autumn retained some of the sweetness like those grown in the warmer courts. However, it had a crisp undertone from the chill air. It was one of your favorites and you needed to remind yourself to buy a bottle from the market before leaving the Court.

You looked out at the party taking another sip to steel your nerves. They called you the floating emissary behind your back. Not that you would deny that name. You’d made your home in almost the same amount of courts as your friend Lucien. You were no spy- just versed in law and good at making fair treaties. Thanks to that, you had a good reputation with the High Lords.

At the moment, you were employed by Dawn, sent with a few others to represent the court for the Autumn festival week. It’s been held since Eris Vanserra became High Lord but this was your first time attending it. The ballroom was filled with delegates and courtiers. There were also natives of Autumn, high fae and not, intermingling. The party continued out the door to the courtyard.

The courtyard itself was beautiful. The trees were so vibrant, more than the last time you saw them. You’d been here once before under Beron’s reign. That one visit was enough to have you never come back to Autumn while he lived. Thankfully, you never had an excuse to come back until now.

So much changed in the past few decades.

You decided you’d rejoin the mingling, maybe find a few other courtiers to chat up. You held your glass tight and went to step away when a tall male seemed to stop and turn to you. You immediately recognized him, his black hair and Illyrian wings giving him away.

“Lord Azriel,” you curtsied, free hand fanning out the skirt of the maroon dress you wore for the occasion.

“Just Azriel.” A smile ghosted his lips. His gaze never left your own as he asked, “I don’t believe we’ve met, Lady?”

“Y/N,” you replied. “Just Y/N.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes and across his face.

“And where are you from, Just Y/N?”

You knew in your mind that he was just being polite but your stomach still flipped on itself. If this was the High Lord’s mate and famed shadowsinger being polite you were terrified of what he could do when he was truly flirting.

“Depends. I’m a liaison for the Dawn Court, currently.”

“The Floating Emissary, I’ve heard of you.” His gaze raked over you and you felt your cheeks heat. “You’re much prettier than Lucien.”

“I would hope,” you laughed. “Handsome male that he is, I have to surpass his reputation somehow.”

His laughter rang out like a song. You steeled yourself again. The last thing you needed was the High Lord of Autumn catching you speaking with his mate and assuming you were flirting. Why it worried you, you weren’t certain. Possibly because Azriel was devastatingly handsome and easy to flirt with.

“Was there a reason you were hiding out over here by the drinks?”

“Taking a break. Parties require more small talk than some might suspect.”

He hummed in agreement. “Would you be up for a dance?”

Your mind seemed to stop working, trying to process what was just asked of you. You glance at the throne and the High Lord is gone. Part of you was disappointed at that. You decided to down the rest of your champagne.

“Of course.”

Azriel grinned at you. “I like your style.”

He held out his hand and you took it in yours. Your stomach flipped on itself again and the texture of his hand had heat flaring between your legs. You smiled and mentally shook yourself, trying to keep it together. Some of the crowd parted as he led you to the dance floor, though no one seemed to care.

“An Autumn dance?” Asked, his hand went to your waist and you inhaled sharply. “Or a Night Court dance.”

You told yourself the look in his eyes was just him being impressed. It was not the look of someone who wanted to devour you whole in the middle of the throne room with everyone watching. You watched his shadows swirl around your arms. Like they were studying you.

“Autumn,” he replied as the band started the next song. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You knew the song and took it as a challenge. Of course the dance he wanted was faster, and involved a lot of footwork and being close to your partner. Thank the mother your skirt slit, though hidden due to volume, was high.

“You must have a lot of practice,” you said as he guided you backwards. “It’s not the easiest dance with wings.”

He twirled you and pulled you back.

“It’s not. Nesta spent two weeks teaching me for my mating ceremony.”

Right. Azriel was mated to the High Lord. You glanced around, letting him guide you again. Your eyes widened when you made eye contact with that very male. He was watching you intensely. And speak of the Weaver and she shall appear. Beside him was Nesta Archeron herself, watching you just as closely until a tall Illyrian male- her mate, walked up beside her.

“Don’t mind them.” His hands didn’t leave your shoulder and waist but it felt like he’d gently tugged your chin. “They’re just enjoying the show.”

He said it as if he wasn’t doing a Fire Waltz with you. Thankfully you two were not the only ones dancing. You’d be mortified if everyone was watching. He twirled you again and pulled you flush to his back. You spent the whole time he walked you around like that focused on not letting your scent get away from you. Another twirl and you were back in front. You were imagining it, you told yourself; the slight sweetness of his own scent.

Thankfully the song ended. There were claps from the crowd for you and the others who danced. The High Lord nor Nesta and Cassian (you believed that was his name) were where you last saw them as you looked around. You thought Azriel would bid you good night, and part from you. Instead he leaned into you, and you held your breath.

He whispered into your ear. “A left from the main hall, three doors on the right. Be there after the party.” You could only nod. “See you then, Y/N.”

You didn’t exhale until he moved away, leaving you slightly dizzy and flushed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the mother, what were you doing? A smart female would go to her room and forget whatever the Shadowsinger said. A smart female would walk in, explain her apologies and how she must go. The irrational part of you saw this as just an unconventional in for negotiations. It’s not bribery to flirt. Nor is it that unethical to speak in private with one of the heads of court.

You arrived at the door and could feel something like a tug in your chest to go in. Your nerves were getting the better of you. You looked down the hallway both ways twice. You could leave and write a note, explaining it’s improper for you to meet him this late. He would have to understand. However before you could make a decision the door opened.

In front of you was not Azriel. It was the High Lord, Eris. You’d never been up close to him before. The front of his long red hair was pulled back into braids, and his whole being glowing in his power. Amber eyes stared back into yours. You scrambled to gain your bearings, still too stunned to explain your presence. He raised a brow at you, expression like steel and your mouth opened and closed. You took a breath.

“High Lord,” you bowed. “Good evening.”

You straightened and you watched his gaze run over you.

“Come in, Y/N.”

You could have swooned with how your name rolled off his tongue. Gods what was wrong with you? He stepped aside and held the door. You forgot what you were thinking, stepping in past him. His scent made your eyes flutter.

You scolded yourself. You were a trained emissary; one of the best. Yet here you were losing your mind over a High Lord and his mate. Which said mate was sprawled out on a chair, wings spread and legs opened like he owned the place. He looked at you smugly when you raked your eyes over him.

“You requested to meet with me Lord Azriel?” Your voice was calmer than you felt.

Lord Eris shut the door, drawing your attention back to him. Even without the power radiating off of him, he was devastatingly handsome. He went past you and sat on the couch. Looking between the two of them; it was night and day almost.

“Just Azriel. Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you. I think I had enough at your ball.” You looked at Eris. “It was very lively. Thank you for inviting us.”

Your subtle reminder that you did not come alone caught his attention. You could see it flash in his eyes. That didn’t seem to deter him.

“Have a seat,” he gestured to the chairs behind you.

You brushed the back of your skirt, pulled them forward so you didn’t sit on them awkwardly. You looked between the two males in front of you.

“Thank you for inviting me to meet you.” You used your most polite and naive tone. “Though I am uncertain what has warranted a private meeting.”

The High Lord and Azriel already had their own drinks on the tables beside them. The High Lord picked his drink up and took a sip.

“Azriel was explaining to me what a famous emissary you are,” he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Giving my brother a run for his money.”

“I don’t know about all that,” you replied and straightened the front of your skirt.

“I think I do,” Azriel grinned at you.

The next few minutes encompassed Azriel listing out your achievements- the Summer Court trade route, for one. He brought the peace treaty between Spring and the Night Court. You argued Lucien did more work with that, considering he was mated to the High Lady’s sister. A few laws you overlooked during your brief time in Winter came up as well.

“Should I feel left out that I’ve never received the honor of you working in my court?” Eris asked.

“Are you trying to recruit me to be your emissary, High Lord?” You teased.

“You can rest easy knowing I’m not trying to steal you from Thesan,” he joked back. “However, I might invite you back more often if you can dance like that.”

“I saw you watching.” You crossed your legs. Unintentionally, the slit fell open. You ignored it even if the two males in front of you were eyeballing your legs now. “You’re mate is a very skilled dancer.

“He learned from the best.” Eris took a sip from his glass. “I almost married her for it.”

That you didn’t know. You filed that away in your mind to examine later.

“Don’t lie. You did that to piss off Cassian,” Azriel countered.

Eris rolled his eyes. You wondered if you should continue the small talk or be direct. Both the High Lord and his mate seemed to like the direct approach so you finally asked them.

“Why was I really invited here?”

“You know why.” Azriel kept a heated gaze on you as he downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were pretty.”

Your mind was telling you to leave. The solar courts were more lax but this was Autumn. If anyone saw you, your reputation could be ruined. But you couldn’t move with both very handsome males staring at you like they wanted to eat you alive. Situations like this didn’t happen to you. Was it so terrible that you were enjoying the attention?

“You can leave and neither of us will stop you.” Eris reassured you. “Nor will it be held against you. This is strictly off record. It’ll be as if it never happened.”

“As if staying is any better?” You countered.

“Do you think so little of us that we’d allow your reputation to be ruined?” Eris chuckled.

“A female can never be too careful.” You wished you had taken another drink. If only to give your hands something to do. “Do you always recruit a female from your parties or am I special?”

It was meant to be a joke. A tease really. There was nothing teasing in Azriel’s eyes when he replied.

“You’re the only one we’ve ever agreed to make an offer to together.”

Heat flared between your legs and you knew your scent betrayed you. Especially with that wicked grin Eris had on his face. You squeezed your legs together and barely kept your composure.

“What would you like me to do?” You whispered.

Azriel held up his hand, fingers curling to beckon you over.

“Come here baby girl and let me show you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*`*~*~*~*~*~*~

If you told yourself yesterday you’d be falling into bed with a High Lord and his mate, you would have laughed. Then you would have asked in what world Helion would agree to share his bed after centuries of waiting for his mate to be free. Falling into the High Lord of Autumn’s bed? Impossible.

And yet.

Azriel was behind you, kissing your neck. His hands had pushed down the top of your dress on one side so he could cup your breast and roll your nipple between his fingers. Eris sat on the edge of the bed, hands up your skirt and pulling down your panties. Once they were off he pulled you forward by the hips and moved your knees onto the bed so you straddled him.

You fell back against Azriel, moaning when Eris wasted no time slipping a hand up your skirt and pushing two fingers into your slick heat. Azriel chuckled at you, pulling his mouth off your neck. You reached your arm back, hand grabbing his hair if only to hold onto something. Eris didn’t even move; you rode his fingers, thighs brushing against his pants.

You whined when he removed them only to be silenced when he stuck them into your open mouth. You hummed against them, sucking on them. He didn’t anticipate you would lower yourself on his lap and rub against the bulge in his pants, by the groan he made. Azriel had worked the zipper in the back of your dress down and it was hanging limply on your arms.

“Soon pretty girl,” Eris said and took his fingers out of your mouth.

Azriel removed your hand and arm off of him and Eris pushed up your dress. Azriel tossed it aside just like Eris had your undergarments. You were about to protest, you being nude while they were not, then Eris snapped his fingers. The clothes on himself vanished, and you inhaled sharply at the feel of his bare skin against your own. Azriel was naked as well, judging from the hard length against your back.

“Nifty trick,” you said, running your fingers over the dusting of hair on his chest.

“It is useful.” He looked about as hyper aware of the fact his cock was pressed against your cunt as you were. “Who do you want first?”

“Depends on how you want me.”

They invited you. You were not going to insult one by picking the other first. Eris’s gaze went behind you to Azriel. He looked back at you with a knowing smirk.

“How is your reflex?”

His hand came up and cupped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, just brushed his thumb against your skin. You wonder if he knew what a power move he just made. Surely he could feel how wet you were. Az put his hands on your waist, waiting.

“Okay, I guess.” You replied. “It’s decent.”

He hummed, removing his hand. “Azriel gets you first then. He can be rough and we don’t want to ruin that pretty throat of yours yet. Are you okay with taking me in your mouth while he fucks you?”

“Yes,” you replied very quickly.

“Good.”

Several things happened at once. Eris moved from under you and down the bed, while Azriel lifted you up with his arms. He hooked his hands and arms under your thighs and lifted you up, carrying you for a moment before dropping you back onto the bed. You screamed when he did that, which had them both laughing at you.

“Not used to being handled properly?” Azriel bent you forward over Eris’s lap, your hands propping yourself up.

“No.”

You couldn’t think of a witty response. Not when his hands were lifting up your hips to positions exactly how he wanted you. And Eris- the scent of him surrounded you while you watched him stroke himself.

“Open your mouth, princess.”

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. When you did that, Azriel grabbed your ass and you felt him spread you open. He pushed into you and you forgot what you were doing, dropping your head with a moan. Azriel was big, you gave him that much. He held you by the hips until he was damn near pressing into your stomach. There was no movement from him as you adjusted. Until he grabbed you by the hair to lift your head. You were looking at Eris again.

He whispered into your ear, “open your mouth.”

You did so again. He let go of your hair and lowered your mouth onto Eris’ cock. He was big too. You went down as far as you were comfortable with and rubbed your tongue against him.

“Good girl,” Eris murmured.

That made you clench around Azriel. There seemed to be an understanding in that moment. When you bobbed your head, Azriel pulled out and slammed back into you. Azriel was indeed rough. He took exactly what he wanted from you, your whole body moving in time with him. Eris was stroking your hair while you used one hand to make up for what you couldn’t take into your mouth. You finally pulled off of Eris, salvia stringing from your mouth to the head of his cock.

“Touch me,” you turned to almost look back at Azriel. “Please, I can’t,” you didn’t know how to express what you wanted or why. Your hand still stroked Eris, your other arm starting to shake.

You felt the weight of Azriel shift on your back and his arm hook around your waist. You fell face first into Eris’s thigh when Azriel’s fingers found your clit. You even stopped stroking the High Lord. How were you supposed to think when Azriel was hitting all the right spots inside and outside of you?

Then Azriel pulled out of you. You yelled in protest- until he was lifting you up and spinning you around. These two males had to have a routine. Azriel put you right into Eris’s hard length like it was nothing. Before you could think, his hand was in your hair, pushing his length into your mouth. You could taste yourself on him and it made you dizzy. More movement behind you: Eris had shifted onto his knees.

They moved in sync, more so than before leaving you to sit there and take it. Eris lifted your hip up at a different angle that had you seeing stars. Azriel was gagging you and being just as rough as Eris promised. In no time, your orgasm was rushing through you with unstoppable force. Your muffled moans had Azriel spilling down your throat. You’re certain Eris followed and came inside you.

You were a wreck when they both pulled out of you.

“You did so well.” Azriel wiped the tears off your cheek while you caught your breath.

There was drool all over your mouth and you could feel Eris’s cum slipping out of you. You needed to clean yourself up. You went to move off the bed and ask where the bathroom was. Instead you pulled back onto the bed with an invisible force. You were held there on your back by your arms; shadows pinning you down. Eris snapped his fingers and you were mostly clean again.

Eris grinned down at you. “Oh love, did you think we were done with you? We’re just getting started.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You waited until their breathing evened out before easing out of bed. Looking for your dress in the dark on wobbly and sore legs wasn’t ideal, but you needed to get back to your room before someone noticed you were missing. Samira would not believe you if you got caught sneaking into your guest chambers. You found it and slipped it on, fighting with the zipper and giving up when you got it halfway up your back. Shoes were next. Your underwear was nowhere to be found.

You huffed. The last thing you wanted was for them to find it and return it with a smug grin. You finally found it by the bathing room door. Slipping them on, you didn’t hear bed creak or the sound of footsteps until something whispered your name.

“By the cauldron,” your whole body jolted, heart racing. You turned to see Azriel behind you, thankfully wearing pants.

“Sorry,” Azriel chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You caught your breath and whispered. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. I can winnow you into your room so you don’t have to walk.”

“That’s kind of you.”

He put his hand on your arm and when you looked him in his eyes- your whole body recoiled and you inhaled sharply. That tightness in your chest you felt all evening snapped. You took several steps back staring at him horrified. Your hand went to your chest. You stared at him with eyes wide and he stared back in what you were certain was horror.

What just happened was impossible. Azriel was with the High Lord. You needed to leave. Panic ripped through you at the implications. It was not possible- you were imagining it. You needed to leave. You took several steps back, not looking at Azriel. Maybe it was just you. Maybe you lost your mind. It had to be. There was no way-

Someone was calling your name.

You blinked. You’d backed yourself into a corner. You couldn’t catch your breath no matter how much you breathed in and out. A warm hand made you startle; you focused on amber eyes staring back at you and it happened again. That sharp tug in your chest like a rope going taunt.

“Look at me.”

A soft but firm command of a High Lord you couldn’t ignore. You blinked and you were crying. Strange emotions that weren’t your own were overwhelming you. It was too much, the sudden wave of feelings hitting you. Something cold wrapped around your wrists. You looked down and screamed, shaking your arms when you saw black lines.

“It’s just shadows,” Azriel said calmly from behind Eris. “They’re trying to help.”

“It’s alright,” Eris whispered, brushing your hair back with his hand. “Take a deep breath.” You did as you were told. “Good girl. Now breathe out.”

You found your voice even if it was laced with your tears. “I didn’t. I swear it, I don’t know how.”

How do you explain that this wasn’t a trick? They had to think that. If they felt it then they had to believe you cast a spell on them. They could throw you in the dungeons for this or worse. What were the odds you climbed into their bed and- two tugs halted your thoughts. Warmth flooded your chest. You choked back a sob.

Eris sighed. “Az can you go get a calming tonic from the infirmary please?”

If he disappeared, you didn’t know. Eris dropped his hands to your shoulder and gently guided you backwards. Your legs hit the back of a chair; he gently sat you down into it and then knelt so he was eye level with you.

“I know this is a lot to take in. I promise you, we are not upset.” He took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. You swallowed and blinked profusely. “Aren’t you afraid I’ve placed a spell on you?”

You couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet. Eris laughed.

“We invited you to our bed. Was it that good you suddenly thought of a spell to cast in between orgasms to trap us?”

Your face heated at his remarks. Thankfully out of the darkness Azriel appeared with a vial. He handed it to you and you took it with shaky hands. You felt dramatic for your reaction but there was nothing you could do about it. Eris took it from you and uncorked it before handing it back. You downed it quickly. He stood and took the bottle from you, vanishing it into thin air.

“Well?” You looked between them after a moment passed. “Aren’t you going to say something about this?” You gestured between yourself and them, specifically pointing at your chest.

“It’s a mating bond, what else is there to say about it?” Eris replied.

Your stomach flipped at his candor and Azriel hummed in agreement. As if this happened all the time. Maybe they took a calming tonic also when you weren’t looking.

“How are you both calm? Mating bonds,” you forced the term out, still not believing it was real, “are between two fae not three!”

Azriel and Eris glanced at each other. Both of them had a knowing look. Azriel shrugged and Eris sighed. He turned to you, meeting your gaze again.

“Years ago we were told this could happen.” You blinked, something akin to shock washing over you. He continued. “We were told specifically that the light of dawn would bring forth a third bond.”

“Like a prophecy? That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard,” you replied without thinking.

Azriel bursted out with laughter. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

You scoffed in response, uncertain of who she was. “You also said you didn’t plan to steal me from Thesan. You, High Lord Eris, are a liar.”

Now it was Eris who laughed. “Glad to see the tonic is working.”

If they had been told before- “So you knew it was me?”

“No, we did not. I felt a draw to you but,” he looked you up and down. “I think the reason is self explanatory.”

“My shadows took a liking to you out in the throne room,” Azriel added sheepishly. “But they didn’t tell me. The bond snapped for me when I touched you.”

Mates.

Mates, plural.

You had mates.

Realization sunk in and you slumped against the chair. You never entertained the idea of having a mate. For you it was an old wives tale, a fictional love story you read about in romance novels. Yes, they existed. But it seemed like it was reserved for High Lords and other important fae. You weren’t anyone special.

“I think,” Eris interrupted your thoughts. “We should rest. Azriel can winnow you to your room. We can talk in the morning if you are up for it.”

“Can I stay?” You whispered.

You had no right to ask that of a mated pair, let alone a High Lord you didn’t really know. However, the idea of leaving made you uneasy. Your friends would understand. Gods, how were you going to explain this? Yes, well a High Lord and his mate asked me for a threesome and surprise seems like I’m their mate too! You mentally groaned at how ridiculous this all was.

“Of course.” Eris pulled you out of your thoughts. “Azriel can get you a change of clothes from your room. If that’s alright with you.”

You nodded. This time you saw the shadows envelop Azriel. It was amazing to watch him disappear almost into a puff of smoke. However, that left you alone with Eris. Not that you cared. The potion was deeply in effect. You realized he was shirtless and your gaze ran over his bare chest and arms.

“We have a guest bed you can sleep in.” You looked up to see Eris with a slight smirk on his face.

“A guest bed?” You furrowed your brows. “In your own chambers?”

“Az’s wings are sensitive. Sometimes he doesn’t like to share a bed.” He paused. “I know I speak for us both that while this isn’t an ideal situation, we would like to get to know you. If you wish.”

“Are you asking for permission to court me, High Lord?” That did something for him because you could feel it before he shut it down. “I need to process it, I think.”

“That’s reasonable.” He gave you a soft smile.

You didn’t have to wait awkwardly for long as Azriel returned quickly with your bag. There was indeed a guest room right next to the High Lord’s bedroom, which still shocked you. As surreal as the past few minutes were, you were exhausted. You bid them an awkward good night and when Eris shut the door and you swore you heard him whisper something to Azriel, about how they owed his sister-in-law a lengthy apology.

#acotar #polyacotarweek #poly acotar week #polyamory #Azriel/eris/reader #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #female reader #azriel got rizz #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d1 #Neapolitan Bonds

[bookyeom]

LESLIE HIII i hope you’re doing okay!! + sorry it’s taken me so long to stop by </3

as a request i wanted to ask abt the prompt “stay there. i’m coming to get you.” from the second prompt list with either minghao or wonwoo if that’s okay!! 🫶🫶

A/N: OKAY SO @wqnwoos I know this was requested forever ago from a prompt game and I'm so sorry it took so long, but I was super inspired yesterday after I saw ur post saying "my heel broke" and I messaged u asking if you were okay because OMG your HEEL broke are you OKAY??? but turns out you meant your shoe broke not your actual heel and, well... here we are. Whatever the heck this is.

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader Genre: slight crack?, established relationship Rating: PG (only because I think there's a swear?) Word Count: 1.4k Request Prompt: "stay there. i'm coming to get you." Warnings: like one kiss?, I think there's swearing maybe, expensive things being broken if that triggers u, also reader wears heels

You can't believe it.

So many times, you’d gazed longingly at the expensive new shoes you’d splurged on, sitting pretty in their box, wondering when you’d finally pluck up the courage to wear them. You weren’t one for spending big unless it was technology or something you’d use often, but you’d been eyeing these heels for what felt like forever. When your birthday rolled around, you’d finally done it, but then they’d sat in their box for months – until tonight.

You’d only just arrived at the restaurant to meet your friends when you’d taken one wrong step, and the heel on your right shoe had broken completely off. You’d tripped and thankfully been steadied by your friend’s arm, so you’d been left physically unscathed… but you felt the pain elsewhere. In your wallet. How the hell had that happened so quickly?

Your friend managed to fish a pair of flats out from their trunk, so you were grateful for that at least. You tried to laugh and play it off as a joke, as a funny story to remember with your friends in a few years, but truthfully? You were pretty bummed. You’d saved for those shoes for ages. So here you sat, nursing a glass of water as you listened to your friends chat animatedly around you. You were having a good time, you were, but you couldn’t help but wallow in your feelings just a little bit. You really couldn’t believe your luck. 

You felt the buzz of your phone from inside your purse, eyeing it as you took another sip of water, before glancing around the table. Your friend group had a rule not to be on your phones very much when you were together, but you figured you were safe to have a quick peek while your friend recapped her many failed dates over the last month.

Wonwoo ❤️: how’s your evening going?

You felt your heart jump a little at the sight of your boyfriend’s name on your screen. You wondered if that would ever change, but you didn’t think so. You adored him. You’d been told the honeymoon phase would pass, but it had been well over a year and the two of you were still going strong. Wonwoo would object if you ever said it to anyone else, but the two of you were just as lovey-dovey as when you’d first started dating.

Exhibit A: him texting you to ask a very obvious question. You’re pretty well-versed in Wonwoo, and you know what his text actually means: it means that he misses you.

YN: not the best, tbh… I broke my heel 😭

The reply comes not even a minute later.

Wonwoo ❤️: are you okay?? 

YN: I’m so sad 😭

You jump a little when your friend nudges you with their foot, raising their eyebrows pointedly at your phone. You teasingly roll your eyes and oblige, sliding your phone back into your purse and tuning back into your friends’ story. You can’t help but feel a bit better after a couple of texts from Wonwoo, and you aren’t embarrassed about it in the slightest.

Not even a half hour and some entrees later, another friend is in the process of regaling tales about her horrific boss when the door to the restaurant opens, and you spot him. You do a double take as your eyes meet, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and he seems to freeze in place for a second.

You take in the sight of your boyfriend: his glasses are askew, his hair disheveled, and you think he must have thrown on whatever hoodie and sweats combo he could find laying around in a hurry. He hovers by the door as he stares at you, blinking, and your mind begins to race. Why is he here? Is everything okay? Wonwoo is never one to draw attention to himself if he can help it – which just makes this whole thing even more confusing. 

“Hey,” you interrupt quietly, causing all heads to turn towards you. “Wonwoo’s here. Give me a second?” 

Your friends all nod in unison, and you can feel them watching as you stand up and make your way over to the door. As soon as you reach him, your hand is automatically searching for his, gently tugging him through the door and back out into the cold.

“Babe,” you say hastily as soon as you’re around the corner and out of sight. “What’s wrong?” Your hand leaves his so that both of yours can run over his arms, his biceps, his shoulders, giving him a frantic once-over to make sure he’s physically alright. When your hands cup his jaw, he finally moves his hands to cover yours, lowering them down to hold them in between you. 

“You’re not hurt?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you stare back at him. “Huh?”

His eyes wander over your face, brows still furrowed in what you affectionately like to call his Thinking Face, before he moves back to look down at your feet. “You can walk fine?”

You are so confused. “Yes, Wonwoo, what? Babe, did you run here?”

You watch as he tilts his head, still thinking for what feels like forever – and then his lips twitch up at the sides. He suddenly looks embarrassed as his gaze falls from yours, but he’s smiling, a hand leaving one of yours to lift and cover his face. 

You are so confused. 

“I didn’t run here,” he finally answers, his hand falling away from his face, “but I definitely may have gone over the speed limit to get to you faster.” 

“Why?” You ask, incredulous. You still have no idea what’s going on.

“YN," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I texted that I was on my way. You said your heel broke."

You blink once, twice, before it suddenly dawns on you. “Oh my god, Wonwoo –” 

“Yeah.” He's smiling so wide that his eyes are crescent moons, and you're smiling, too – and then he begins to laugh.

You can’t help but join in.

He pulls you into his chest, and you can feel him laughing against you. It’s a quiet laughter, but you’re grateful no one can see the two of you where you stand outside the restaurant, because you’re sure you both look insane. You don’t care, though, because all you can think about is how fast he’d tried to get to you because he thought you were hurt. 

Your heart swells from its place in your chest, so full of affection for the man in front of you that you can feel it all over. You pull back, your hands finding either side of his jaw to pull him in for a quick kiss, and you can tell he’s pleasantly surprised by the way his cheeks tinge pink. Neither of you really have a thing for PDA, but you couldn't help it, not when you felt like you were so full of affection you could burst.

“You are such a loser,” is what you say, but you know he can translate it. I love you is what you mean, and he knows.

“I panicked,” Wonwoo laughs, running a hand through his hair as he laces his fingers with yours. “Sorry about your shoe, though.”

You wave your free hand in the air as he slowly walks you towards the restaurant door again. “I’ll deal with it later.” 

He glances in through the glass when you reach it, giving your hand a squeeze. “How much longer?”

You beam at that, lifting your hand up to gently brush some hair off of his forehead. “Not much, if I can help it. I miss you too much.”

“It’s been like two hours," he says, as though he isn't clinging onto your fingers in his with everything he's got.

“Okay, Mr. I’m-going-to-rush-to-my-girlfriend’s-aid-even-though-she-only-has-a-broken-shoe–”

“Bye,” Wonwoo says abruptly, and you giggle. “Love you,” he murmurs, catching you by surprise, but you don't miss a beat. You simply squeeze his hand, and say the words back.

Later that night when you check your phone, you giggle to yourself as you see the two messages you'd missed from Wonwoo, sent directly after the others at dinner:

Wonwoo ❤️: stay there 

Wonwoo ❤️: I’m coming to get you  

And another, timestamped an hour later, when he was back home and on your couch:

Wonwoo ❤️: I’d do it again :)

A/N: lmao this is like. super not proofread but it was rlly fun to write so if you enjoy please reblog! remember that reblogs help way more than just likes for writers :') TAGLIST: @dejavernon @minisugakoobies @starsstuddedsky @hopeinthebox @tae-bebe @eoieopda @savventeen

Message me if you want to be added to the permanent taglist!

#jww x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #seventeen fic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fic #my writing #seventeen imagine #jwwficrecs #jwwfic

[igotanidea]

Ranking: Jason Todd x fem!reader

graphic by @huedmmi (amazing job with that, thank you!!)

Summary: heroes couples ranking? Might seem like a good idea, but not every pair can make the top......

This is placed in the Ego!verse, cause been a while since I wrote for that. You can find other stories of this verse in my masterlist.

***

„What are you doing?”

„Reading.”

“What are you reading?”

“NOTHING!”

Jason sneaked behind her back, trying to sneak a peek of the article on the Internet Y/N was reading. However, all the time she spend being in the relationship with him and her vigilante instincts combined made her act quick enough to shut the laptop before he could see as much as one letter.

Jason smirked

“Oh, you’re hiding something.”

“What?” she scoffed “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You can’t lie to me, you know it.” He teased leaning forward, their faces inches away from one another

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” she moved even closer “Sorry not sorry, but it’s not working.”

“Well then maybe I just have to keep convincing you…..?”

“I’m the one playing with minds, not you, remember?”

“Come on princess….. just tell me what you’re hiding…..”

“Nope.”

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be a tease.”

“Have you met me?” she smirked “Tease is practically my middle name.”

“Please?”

“No.” she cut him off “now stop whining, get up and let’s go.”

“Where exactly?”

“Batcave, duh! Did you think I was asking you for a date, or something?” she raised an eyebrow, looking at him teasingly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it……”

He didn’t like the idea of going to the manor for the debriefing, but….. there might be someone who could help him digging some information out.

***

“Drake. I need to talk to you.”

“Mhm….” Tim muttered not really paying attention, his head elsewhere “How about we reschedule that for next month? I’m busy…..” he tried to take a sip of coffee, but before the god’s drink found a way to his mouth, Jason snatched it out of his hands.

“Drake!”

“Give me back my coffee, Todd……”

“Not before you help me.”

“And why should I do that?”

Jason sighed in frustration. On one hand he could just tell Tim was this was about. On the other that would mean showing his vulnerable side and that was a no go. So he just settled on standing in Tim’s room, holding his mug of out his reach, considering pros and cons of each option.

“It’s about Y/N.” Jason finally said, relenting “I’m worried about her.”

“About Y/N? Why? She’s a tough one. I mean, she;s in a relationship with you, I don’t think much can break her.”

“I’m serious, Tim. You may not notice this, but lately she’s been acting… closed off. She’s…. sad.”

“Sad? Cracking jokes left and right? Two days ago she almost made Dick fall off the rooftop telling one of her funny stories.”

“Please tell me it was not a story about me…..?”

“Nope. Those are not funny anymore and she found a lot funnier subjects. Nevermind… Tim shook his head. The point is, she’s acting normal. Why would you be concerned? Wait. Why would you be concerned?

“Cause she’s my girlfriend!”

“Oh…. You do care….” Tim smiles

“Shut up!”

“You want my help or not?”

“If you helping me require me admitting I care about her…….” Jason sighed “Fine, I do. I do care about her. Please, help me?”

“Of course, I’ll help you Jason.” Tim grinned knowing well enough he just got Jason right where he wanted him “and just so you know, it’s not a secret you love her.”

“Shut up…..”

“Fine! Fine!” Tim laughed at Jason’s flustered face “What’s the deal?”

“Y/N…..” Jason said her name with the mix of affection and worry “she’s been spending a lot of time in front of her computer, lately. She claims she’s reading. And I believe her. But whatever article it is, she’s been spending her time on, makes her distracted. It’s almost like she’s been avoiding me for some reason I cannot fucking understand. She’s lost in her head!”

“The girl is a mind reader, Jason. She can hear people’s thoughts. Is this really so surprising that she’s had enough?”

“Yeah, she had those…. Phases. But it’s not like that. She;s only like that because of what she found on the net.”

“Ok… Let’s assume I believe you. But what do I have to do with it?”

Jason muttered something incoherently.

“Sorry, what was that?” Tim chuckled

“I want you to break into her computer……”

“You what now?!”

“I need you to…..”

“Oh no, I heard you. You want me to hack your girlfriend’s computer. It’s just I can’t comprehend what got into your head.”

“I’m kind of desperate…..And you’re the expert on tech…..”

“I’m not buying into this…….” Tim laughs

“Come on, Drake!”

“Not a chance, Jason. Again. Y/N is a mind reader. She’ll find out what we did in a heartbeat. And I don’t want to have my brain grilled. I saw her in action, I know what it means to make her angry. “

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Y/N…..” Jason mocks

“You are terrified of making her angry yourself…..”

“Ok, fine! She can be scary…… Fuck! You’re no use, Drake!” Jason jumped to his feet, rushing out of Tim’s room, fists clenched, muttering something under his nose.

“It was nice to see you too, Todd!” Tim laughed. He always found it funny how Jason acted under the influence of emotions.

***

“Grayson!”

“Jaybird!” Dick grinned at Jason, the second the latter came through the door to the kitchen “came for some brothers’ bonding?”

“more like binding” Jason rolled his eyes “unless you’ll help me.”

“You must be truly desperate to come to me for help…..”

“Oh, God… have you been watching Thor again?”

“I had a whole marathon. But sure, I’ll give you a hand with whatever you need. What is this about?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N? What about her?”

“Oh, fuck, not you too. Am I really the only person who noticed she’s been acting off lately? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Um…..relax Jace?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to relax seeing my girlfriend hurting?!”

“And it’s my fault?!” Dick exclaimed with shock in his voice.

“NO! Yes! Wait, is it?” Jason took a step towards Dick “what did you do to her Dickhead!?”

“Nothing! I swear!”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why won’t she talk to me?!”

“I don’t know! Come on Jace! Don’t get crazy again.”

“Talk to her.” Jason said, calming down. As much as it hurt him to admit it, he was acting erratic and he didn’t want to be aggressive. Not again. Those days were behind him. “Please, just talk to her.”

“Why me?”

“Cause you’re the only person I can trust to do this without making her suspicious. And because she won’t talk to me.”

“Jason…. She’s a mind reader….”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that today. Thank you.” Jason mocks “I kind of remember!”

“Wait…..” dick eyes grow wide…. “I might……”

“You might what, Grayson?!”

“I might know what this is about…..” Dick muttered slowly, but seeing Jason furious expression, with his eyes burning he picked up the talking pace at once “ok, so there’s this little site with superheroes couples ranking…..”

“WHAT!?”

“I mean, not that I read it…..”

“Sure you’re not Dickhead…..”

“But Barbara…. She’s actually a fan. And so it Lois …..”

“Lois? As in Lois Lane?”

“Yeah….. it’s actually pretty popular amongst the girls… I mean, it’s not any ambitious writing on anything like that but when you need something to relax and unwind after a hard day…..Steph and Cass read it too and we spend last evening going thought it and gossiping and……” Dick started rambling “sorry. Not the point.”

“Make the point then….” Jason had to fight the urge to punch his adoptive brother in the face.

“Um…. Me and Babs….. I mean, Nightwing and Batgirl  might have scored first last week……  And I might have slipped a word about it to Y/N…..”

“You scored first?”

“Yeah…..” Dick smiled wildly “I mean we are a really, really good couple but I never thought we could beat Clark and Lois to the first position. Sure, I also might have did some things to catch press attention, but still I ……”

“Grayson, I am warning you…..”Jason hissed

“Sorry. Long story short…. The news got to Y/N. and you know her. She’s the investigator. She started digging and found the site and now she’s been kind of addicted to it, checking it out every week hoping Red Hood and Ego will make it to the list, but…..”

“But what?” Jason asked but he already sensed the answer.

“You did not…..”

“So what you are telling me, is that you scored first, and I didn’t even make the first …. Ten?”

“Fifty……”

“I didn’t make the top 50?!!”

“I’m not the one making those rankings! Stop yelling at me!”

“That’s why she’s been so sad? Was she disappointed? let down?” Jason asked. What he did not form out loud was the question whether she felt unloved? Because of some crazy internet ranking. “I gotta go talk to her…..”

“Yeah…. You should….That might clear the air. You know, honesty is really important. And honest is, I scored FIRST!”

“We’ll talk about that later, Dickhead. I got more important things to do now.”

***

“Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Jace. What’s up?”

“I know what you’ve been reading.”

“You know what?”

“Stop it”

“Ok, fine.” She sighed “I’m going to kill Grayson for spilling the bean. “

“Sorry princess, but he’s mine. But now… about this … stupid ranking thing… is that really making you this sad? Are you…. Unsatisfied with our relationship?” he asked, all his insecurity and vulnerability coming out in waves. He doubted him his entire life. He always thought that Y/N was too good for him and one day she would just …. leave. And now, it was practically coming true……”

“what?” judging by the tone she became terrified of what he was asking her. “Jace….baby….” she dived into his arms, hugging him tight. What got into your stupid pretty head, you dummy? I love you… I love being with you. If I got discouraged by something someone writes on the Internet that would be …. Childish… immature… stupid.”

“But…..”

“No buts, Jace…..” she pulled back, grabbing his face with both her hands, looking deep into her eyes “I love you, you idiot.”

“I love you too, sweetpea…..”

“Now that is a new nickname……”

“Do you like it?” he smirks “tell me what does it do to you.”

“You’ll have to call me that a few more times just so I can figure out exactly what it does to me.” She smiles pulling him down to kiss.

***

“JASON!!”  

Next morning Y/N standardly checked out the weekly ranking. Just for fun… After that little making up and clearing the air she had with Jason all night, she couldn’t care less about what vigilante couples made the top 10 and who did not. She was happy with her boyfriend. And that was what counted.

But.

There was something so surprising that he just screamed Jason’s name the moment she opened the page.

“Y/N!!??” Jason rushed into her room, shirtless, his face confused. “Are you in danger?! What happened?!”

“THANK YOU!!” she yelled again jumping into his arms. Obviously he immediately pulled her into his chest, enjoying her warmth and hugs and kissed she started planting all over his face , but was still unsure of what was happening.

“Y/N? Not that I’m complaining, but what is this about?”

“We made the first place!! I mean, Ego and Red Hood did! Look, look….” She grabs his hand and lead him to the computer, pointing at the page, almost jumping in excitement. “do you see that?!”

“Yeah, princess I see it….” he smiles, full of smugness.

“Thank you!”

“I didn’t do a single thing…..”

“So, Red hood spotted making some sort of floral carpet for Ego was purely accidental?” she smirked, but her eyes were glistening with pure love and admiration. “You didn’t have to, you know?” she stood up, locking arms on his neck, his founding a way to her waist and pulling her close. “I told you I didn’t give a damn about those rankings and you must have been working at it for hours….”

“It was worth it, baby. Seeing that smile and those pretty eyes shining….. And maybe I deserved a little kiss?”

“Oh, you deserved so…. much…. more….” She brushed her lips over his, making that little kiss a promise of something more to come. “And…” Y/N pulled back “as a bonus, you probably pissed off Dick.”

“Oh, yeah… That was definitely my biggest motivation….” His grip on her waist tightened suggestively.

“Really?” she mutters leaning forward “maybe I can convince you otherwise? Show you what should have been your biggest motivation from the beginning?”

“You know I can’t say no to you, baby……”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x oc #red hood x y/n #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood fluff #red hood x fem!reader

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

To Vex A Viscount (of seas and torment entry)

based on this ask ♡

— regency era au

summary: simply nothing more could be required of a perfect evening when invited to a masquerade with the pleasure of vexing an easily irritable viscount.

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: none (though please do feel free to inform me if you find any!)

of seas and torment, make do (of seas and torment entry)

⚔°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You thank the gods for the salvation the mask wrapped around your face offers you. It will not do well if the other gossip-mongers see your distaste for the evening's festivities; they'd call you insolent, and you simply couldn't have that if you wished to find a husband.

Truly, you'd prefer readying yourself for a long night of restful slumber than being forced to simper and be delightful in the presence of the ton.

"Lady Jackson." You turn at the sound of your name, the voice all too familiar for you to mistake his identity even with the elaborate mask of golden feathers hiding his features.

"Lord Castellan." You acknowledge the viscount with a pleasant tone, though you were well-aware that the niceties shared between the both of you were merely for show. "Good evening."

"I wasn't expecting your presence tonight." Luke continues, speaking as he moves to stand closer to you. You take a deliberate step away from him, weary of anyone who might get the wrong idea.

"Neither was I." You answer truthfully. "But my mama and brother insisted on our attendance."

He looks down at you in amusement. "I do hope the soiree is to your liking."

"Of course." You nod, taking a sip from the beverage cradled in between your gloved fingers. "Lady Castellan always throws such magnificent balls."

You look for his mother amidst the crowds, her grin wide and welcoming as she conversed with your own.

Luke hums. "It was my idea to make it a masquerade. I hear it's quite fashionable in Italy."

"Ah, that must explain its banality." You twist your mouth. It was definitely a rude response, but Luke, at least once in the years you've known him, has never been offended by your brazen remarks. He took all of them in good humor.

He snorts. "I think it's rather romantic."

"And what do you know of romance, my lord?" You turn to him, eyes glinting in the candlelight as you begin to tease him. "Do enlighten me. You seem to be quite well-versed on the topic now that you've returned from your travels. I assume the continent must have been good to the matters of your heart."

He glances down at you from his peripheral. "It was. Very much, actually."

You raise an eyebrow, an invitation (or provocation) for him to speak more. He doesn't elaborate further.

You turn your attention elsewhere instead, watching as several young ladies are led onto the dance floor by the gentleman. The first few notes of a quadrille hum through the air.

"May I write my name on your dance card?" He asks after a moment, his eyes intently looking at the paper that dangled from a ribbon around your wrist.

You looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Me?"

"Surely, you will not have me dance with Percy?" He responds with pursed lips. His hand rises to pinch your card in between his fingers. He raises his brow for confirmation.

Your eyes narrow instantly. Your tone is near accusatory when you voice your confusion. "Why, may I ask, should you wish to dance with me?"

"Must I need a reason to?" He counters.

"Seeing as we've been at each other's throats throughout the entire season, I would assume so, yes." You nod your head. He was acting out of sorts, and it was terribly bothersome. Ever since he returned from abroad, there has been an evident shift in his attitude, more so in his treatment of you. "I believe I am owed an explanation."

You clear your throat, adding: "Perhaps you've taken a sip too many of your whiskey."

"Shall I breathe in your face to prove my sobriety?" Luke remarks dryly. "Indulge me for old times' sake. We learned to dance together, after all."

Memories of a sweltering july tucked in your family's country home came in a vague recollection— guests invited over to stay for a short retreat, taking daily swims in the bay, relaxing underneath a canopy of trees, munching on more sweets tinted blue than you could ever consume again, and a disgruntled gentleman teaching (or at least attempting to) you and Luke the beginning sequences of a routine.

He stands with an arm against his hip, his gaze neutral but his fidgeting made you aware of his impatience. You squinted your eyes as if in thought, aiming to irk him further.

"Vexing woman," He mutters underneath his breath as he grabs the drinking glass from your hold and gingerly places it on top of a cabinet. He takes your hand in his and leads you to the dancefloor just as a waltz is announced.

"Another gentleman's name could have been written on my card." You chastise him. He stretches your clasped hands to the side, his other hand moving to rest at your waist. Though you've not danced with him in a long time, your other hand immediately lays on his shoulder. Both of your feet move in tandem, limbs moving gracefully without much thought.

"I highly doubt it. You've been keeping to yourself the entire evening." He sniffs to dismiss your point. "I must admit, I found it difficult to discern where you ended and the wallpaper began."

You step on his foot. He groans. You smile.

He guides you through practiced circles around the dance floor, never missing a step or beat. His eyes bore into yours, a deep brown that reminded you of chocolate ganache and dancing flames, of warm summers and breezy evenings, of playful goading and a mutual respect, of innocence and an imperciptible heat you've not paid any mind too up until his return.

"You look very lovely." He says abruptly, soft like a whisper; almost as if he had no intention of speaking the thought aloud.

"What?" You reply in disbelief.

"Unfortunate that such a pretty face should belong to a woman with such faulty hearing." He sighs mockingly, murmuring under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. You attempt to step on his foot again, but he moves just in time with an omniscient grin. He repeats his words with more clarity. "I said you look very lovely."

"I..." You struggle for a response. You avert your gaze, blushing. "Thank you."

The music slowly comes to an end and as you separate to bow, he seizes your hand once more. He places a gentle kiss on the back of your glove before turning your palm. His eyes lock on yours as he bends down to kiss your wrist, his lips meeting your pulse. You feel your heartbeat become more erratic with each moment his gaze lingers.

"Well done, sister." Percy claps his hands from behind you. Luke stands straighter, though his lotions are more fluid. "This is the first time I've seen you dance without tripping on your own feet."

"Oh, shut up." You huff, pushing him back into the crowd. Luke follows behind you with a chuckle, his fingers dancing with the ribbon dangling at the back of your frock.

taglist: @ryujinraven (SORRY POOKIE IT SLIPPED MY MIND)

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy pjo #pjo tv show #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson

[leslie-lyman]

Menagerie

Part of the Euclidean Geometry ‘verse

Summary: Early on in their relationship, when everything is new and exciting and uncertain, Pero introduces their girl to his work as a glass artist.

Pairing: modern!Pero Tovar x Frankie x Jack x nameless!OFC/f!reader (written in third person, reader is only referred to as she/her, with no physical descriptors)

Word count: 3.9k

Rating: Explicit 🚨 absolutely no minors!

Warnings: smut; mentions of sex between everyone in this polycule (Frankie x Jack x Pero x reader), but the actual smut is just Pero x reader; unprotected PIV; completely unregulated POV switching; that thing where I write all the dialogue in italics instead of using quotation marks because it just feels right for this series for some reason?; everything your author mentions here about glassmaking she learned from YouTube/Google

a/n: look mom, I actually finished a fic again! Maybe my ability to write hasn’t abandoned me after all…?

Masterlist.

———

She notices the sculptures the very first time they take her home. (Though not, she must admit, until the morning after, having been awfully distracted the night before by the attention Frankie, Pero, and Jack lavished her with on the way to their bed.)

Three glass animal figures sit together in a proud display in the living room built-ins next to the fireplace: a falcon, wings spread wide and claws poised to attack; a rearing horse, tall and magnificent; and a bull, one hoof raised and head lowered as it prepares to charge.

They are Pero’s work. In his post-Army career he now runs a small but highly regarded workshop of glass artisans, all veterans like himself.

His talent is obvious. Each feather in the falcon’s wings is rendered in exquisite detail. The horse stands on just his back two feet, perfectly balanced. The bull’s pose denotes a gracefulness underlying all that brute strength. They feel alive.

It’s the three of them, they tell her.

Frankie, the pilot, is the falcon. Precise, controlled, deadly. Vigilant. Protective.

Jack, the cowboy, is the horse. Proud, independent, wild. Confident. Courageous.

And Pero, of course, is the bull. Strong, stubborn, fierce. Masculine. Powerful.

There’s evidence of his work elsewhere in the house the three of them now share. Their kitchen cabinets are full of mismatched glasses, bowls, and plates, many of them early versions of new techniques or designs Pero worked to master before offering them as options to clients. The base of an end table in the den is a cresting glass wave nearly three feet tall. Brilliantly colored vases that sell for thousands at the workshop line either side of the back deck steps, filled with impatiens and begonias carefully tended by Frankie.

Pero asks her to come to the workshop with him one day, and she can sense without being told that such an offer is significant. It’s still early on in…whatever this is between her and the three of them. Early enough that it hasn’t solidified yet, it hasn’t settled. She wants them, all of them, and they want her (all of her), but whether the fantasy can manifest as reality is uncertain. Can they all rearrange their lives enough to build something lasting, something real?

Pero has been the hardest to figure out. He is the quietest of the men, the least quick to laugh, the last one to betray what he’s thinking. He fucks like he wants to consume her, devour her, and yet he can be as gentle as Frankie or Jack when he’s done, silently cradling her to his chest as long as she wants as they come down from their highs. He’s much less forthcoming about himself than the other two are, and she’s far less sure about what he wants.

It’s a chilly Sunday morning when she meets him at the workshop. It’s the first time she’s spent any real time with him alone, her stomach full of an odd combination of excitement and nerves.

He takes her in through the gallery of finished works at the front of the building. Bright lights and mirror-backed shelves show off the many pieces, from large imposing sculptures to tiny coupe cocktail glasses that sparkle and glimmer. The middle of the space is dominated by a sculpture of a dragon-like creature larger than she is, its many-fanged mouth open in a roar and its skin a rich rippling green.

Pero doesn’t give her time to linger, however, leading her quickly into the back where the workshop itself is housed. A tension in his shoulders loosens when they enter, and she gets the sense that he isn’t interested in showing off his finished pieces. It’s the process of creating that he likes, that he needs.

If the gallery is bright and shiny and polished, the workshop is a dark, gritty warehouse-like space. Multiple forges line one wall, and it is clear each artist has their own space set up here. Pero’s space is near the back, tucked into a corner. Various tools and implements hang from the walls and rest on tables: blowpipes of every length, tweezers, pliers, clamps, paddles, torches, molds. It looks a little like a medieval torture chamber.

Despite the cavernous feel of the space, it’s warm inside; the forge nearest Pero’s corner is already lit and glowing. She sheds her jacket, leaving her in a soft chambray button-down shirt and black leggings. Pero gives her a gruff explanation of safety basics and insists that she wear a pair of enormous clear safety glasses.

Really, Pero?

Do not argue with me, querida.

The endearment is new, and makes her shiver.

You make all the girls you bring here wear these, hm? She says it playfully, but there’s curiosity behind it.

I have only brought two others here, and Jack and Francisco wore the glasses without complaint.

That pulls her up short, but Pero merely hands her the glasses and busies himself with his tools.

She’d assumed at first that this would be entirely a demonstration on Pero’s part, with her as mere spectator. Normally the idea of a date spent watching a man show off some skill to try and impress her as a one-woman audience would make her roll her eyes. But Pero isn’t boastful about any of this. This isn’t about his ego. He’s letting her in, showing her things that are important to him rather than telling her.

And, she quickly discovers, she’s hardly expected to sit idly by and observe.

Pero loads the tip of a pipe nearly as tall as she is with a glowing lump of molten glass the size of a softball.

Glasswork is rarely a solo endeavor, he tells her. Large pieces often require an entire team of people working in sync. Even small pieces necessitate a partner. It takes not only speed and skill, but also constant communication and trust to successfully bring a piece to life.

As he speaks, he rests his pipe against the edge of a table and rolls it back and forth, helping the glass to keep its roughly oval shape.

Give it a try, querida. He offers the end of the pipe to her.

It’s heavier than she’d anticipated, the heat of the glass sinking through her clothes like the rays of a tiny sun. Her first few rolls of the pipe are too fast, but after a minute she begins to get the hang of how to keep the glass from bending and morphing under its own weight.

Good, Pero says, and suddenly there’s a flare of heat in her stomach. Keep that steady turn all the while, and bring it over here.

There’s a large tray set out on the end of the table, filled with tiny squares of glass in shades of blue and green and milky white. Pero instructs her to roll the glass on the pipe through the squares like a lint roller until there’s a rough coating covering it. It’s an oddly satisfying sensation, the molten glass acting like putty or taffy that grows steadily less pliant as it cools.

Now we take it back into the forge, Pero says, and she gives him room to take the pipe from her, but he merely gives her an encouraging nod of his head toward the forge.

The opening into the heart of the furnace isn’t terribly large, maybe a foot or so in diameter. But the heat roars from it with a power she can feel, rather than hear. It throbs and beats at her like a warning.

She hesitates, but then Pero’s arms are around her, gently but firmly grasping the pipe on either side of her hands.

Like this, he murmurs in her ear as he guides the ball of glass into the belly of the forge. She’s intently aware of every inch of him pressed up behind her, the firm wall of his chest and his slightly softer belly, so close she can feel him breathe.

He likes to fuck her from behind, she’s found.

Every time they’ve had each other, in the handful of times they’ve been intimate thus far, Pero’s put her on her hands and knees, his impossibly big hands holding her down as he fucks her with his impossibly big cock. He likes to wait until Frankie and Jack are done and spent, their cum dribbling out of her or dripping down her skin, before rolling her over and sinking deep into her heat. His grip is firm and possessive, his fingers insistent at her clit. He never fails to make her come with a pace just the right side of too much, the other men soothing her with soft praises of good girl and you take it so well for him, sweetheart.

It’s an automatic response now, the fire that blooms in her belly when she feels him at her back that has nothing to do with the flames licking the molten glass in front of her.

————-

She somehow manages to concentrate on the tasks at hand enough to safely move through the rest of the process.

Fire the glass, roll it, shape it, fire it again, push, pull, fire, roll, shape, fire…

How did you learn to do this? She asks Pero, holding the pipe steady for him while he plucks at the glass with a massive pair of pliers.

My father, is all he says at first. She lets the ensuing silence be, lets him decide if he wants to elaborate. He does.

My father was a glassmaker. When I was a boy in Spain, I would spend every spare minute in his workshop. He taught me everything he knew. I would watch him craft beautiful things out of nothing, shaping and coaxing the glass to his will in an act of creation. He was like a god in my eyes.

She tries to square this information with the little she already knows about Pero’s life.

Why did you leave Spain?

He plucks the pipe from her hands and returns to the forge. His grip is so sure, his movements so fluid. When he returns to her, he passes her the rod and picks up the pliers.

My father died. I was fourteen. My mother moved us to America, and I was full of grief and teenage rage. A combination I was all too happy to let the US Army exploit.

This part she’s heard. Twenty years in the Field Artillery, operating mobile rocket systems and infantry support guns, leading men and their weapons into combat zones across multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. A life lived under fire.

But you found your way back to this, she says.

He looks up at her from where he crouches over the glass, now taking shape as a small vase.

It is the only other thing I know how to do.

She frowns at his modesty, but before she can respond he beckons her around the other side of the table they’re working at. He’s rolled and pulled the glass until no more than a slim column connects the bottom of the base to the pipe. He puts on thick heat-resistant gloves and cradles the vase, instructing her to tap ever-so-gently at the connecting sliver of glass with a small mallet.

With a barely perceptible chink the column breaks, freeing the vase. Pero then fires the bottom of the vase with a handheld blowtorch to smooth it out, and settles the vase into the bowl of a large round kiln for the final cooling process.

The vase stands maybe ten inches high, vaguely v-shaped with a flat bottom. The once bright orange ball of molten glass is now a brilliant turquoise, speckled with the tiny green and blue and white fragments she’d rolled it in. The rim is uneven, pulled and twisted by Pero’s pliers and it makes her think of the edges of a crashing wave.

She stands next to him and looks down at it before he closes the lid to the kiln. It’s small and simple and doubtless less polished than what Pero could have made with a more experienced partner, but it’s theirs.

We made that, she says, turning and giving him a shy smile.

His lips quirk up - not quite a smile, but there’s a softness to his expression that makes her breath catch.

A satisfying process, no? He asks. She nods. The moment stretches between them, the silence not awkward, but instead full of a warm, quiet intimacy.

Come on, pretty girl, Pero murmurs, reaching up to gently remove the safety glasses from her face. Let’s clean up.

Somehow she finds even the sight of him returning every tool back to its proper place, knowing exactly where each piece goes so that it’s ready for the next time he needs it, terribly attractive.

She catches his hand after everything’s put away, pulling his focus.

Thank you, she says, for this. Thank you for letting me in, for revealing this part of you, she doesn’t say, but hopes he knows that’s what she means. I’d…I’d love to do this again sometime.

He brushes his other hand across her cheek.

Anytime you like, querida.

She moves in to kiss him and it’s soft in a way she hasn’t felt from Pero before. He pulls her flush against him and simply holds her there, lazily exploring her mouth. He smells like sweat and heated metal, and she turns her head to lick the salt from the skin of his neck. A sound rumbles from deep in his chest, and the moment goes white-hot in an instant.

Touch me, Pero, she whispers. Put your hands on me.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He slides one hand to the back of her neck to yank her lips back up to his, the other disappearing into her leggings to grab a fistful of her ass. He swallows the pleased little gasp she makes, greedy for more.

He backs her up against the side of his workbench, moving to unbutton her top. Once he has access he pulls down the cups of her bra and turns his full attention to her breasts, kneading the soft flesh with his hands and laving his tongue over her nipples.

Her fingers run through his hair, longer than Jack’s but with curls less unruly than Frankie’s. His hips press against hers and she squirms against the bulge in his jeans, searching for friction.

Need more, baby? He coos up at her, a wicked glint in his eye.

Need you, Pero, she whines.

He straightens and turns her around to bend her over the workbench, curling his fingers in the waistband of her leggings to yank them down and expose her gorgeous ass to him…

Wait.

He freezes.

Could we…I want…

He runs a soothing palm over her hip.

What do you want, pretty girl?

She twists back around to face him. He lets himself be nudged backward until he feels the edge of a nearby chair behind him and sits. She towers over him now, and he looks up at her with one brow raised.

I want to see you, she says shyly, and his blood heats. He slowly spreads his legs in invitation.

She slips out of her shoes and shimmies her leggings and panties off, then similarly loses her shirt and bra. He reaches for her with a growl and hauls her into his lap. She goes willingly, wrapping herself around him as his hands rove over every inch of her skin. This time their kiss is messy and desperate, and when Pero trails a hand down her stomach and finds the soft hair of her mound to pet at her clit, she whimpers into his mouth.

You want it? He rasps. She nods frantically, their noses brushing.

Then take it out, pretty girl.

She undoes his jeans and frees the stiff length of his cock, pumping him slowly, drawing bead after bead of precum from the tip.

But then her grip falters.

This is okay, right?

Pero frowns at her, confused.

What I mean is…I know we talked about it, and you all said it was okay, that we don’t always all have to be together, but…

Ah, so that’s her concern. Something wild and beastly claws at his ribcage in triumph at the realization that he’ll be the first of them to have her all to himself.

It is more than okay, he reassures her, smoothing a thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. We told you we can each take our pleasure from the others whenever we wish, and none of us is a man who says things he does not mean. Least of all to those we care for.

He can feel her body relax at that, and he tilts her chin and draws her in for another kiss. Her hand starts to move up and down his cock again, the tip of him grazing the pillowy skin of her inner thigh with each pass, and a hiss leaves his mouth at the sensation.

This will not go the way you intend if you keep that up, he warns her. A newfound deviousness unfurls itself in her grin.

Maybe this is what I intend, she says. Maybe I want you just like this, hard and aching in my hands until I make you come all over yourself -

He cuts her off by crashing his lips to hers, stilling her movements on his cock and hooking one hand under her ass to push her up until his length prods against her entrance.

Perhaps, he murmurs, perhaps one day if you’re a very, very good girl, I’ll let you have such a way with me. But for now - he notches himself just inside the slick rim of her pussy - put me inside you.

She obeys, working herself down on him inch by inch. When he’s fully seated inside her she sighs as if in relief, a dazed look in her eyes. There’s a distant thought in the back of her head that despite the workshop being closed today, one of the artists could still walk in unexpectedly at any moment, but she can’t bring herself to care.

They make twin sounds of pleasure at the first swirl of her hips. As her body adjusts to his size she finds her rhythm, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she rides him.

And god, what a sight.

She knows what sex with Pero feels like. She knows what it sounds like, smells like, tastes like. But none of those things has prepared her for what it looks like. What he looks like, as they move together, face-to-face for the first time.

The clench of his jaw, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The tendons that pop and strain in his neck. The dewy sheen of sweat across his brow. And his eyes…

She could fall forever into the endless black abyss of his eyes, she could lose herself entirely in their depths and never look away and would be thankful for it. How could she not be, when he looks at her with such unrestrained want that she feels it like a physical thing…

She brushes a thumb over the scar that bisects his left eye, as if she could soothe the long-ago wound with present tenderness. She knows it’s far from the only scar he carries, and would that she could heal them all through sheer force of will.

Pero swirls his thumb around her clit, bracing his feet as he begins to meet her hips with thrusts of his own. Her movements stutter as her control over her body wavers. She becomes nothing more than molten desire in his hands, to be molded and shaped and consumed by flame as he sees fit. The pressure he puts on her clit is unrelenting, and this is familiar, the way he doesn’t coax an orgasm from her, but demands it. It builds and builds in between her legs and when she would close her eyes and tip her head back to welcome it he grabs her chin to stop her.

Look at me, he pants. Look at me when I make you come, querida. Look…

It starts as a command, but ends as a plea.

The tension bursts inside her, and her cry of his name and the way her climax tightens her pussy around him like a vice pulls him headlong over the edge with her. He cums with a roar, pulling her down on his cock as he empties himself as deep as he can inside her.

It’s a long minute before they both fully come back to themselves, breathing hard as their bodies milk every last drop of pleasure from each other. She collapses into his chest, and he’s content to hold her there for as long as she wishes.

We can do that again anytime you like too, he says quietly in her ear, and she smiles into his neck.

——————

There’s no big reveal, no fanfare or presentation when it happens. She simply comes home one day (and funny, how she’s started to think of it as home, how her apartment has become merely a place where most of her things are, including the vase she’d made with Pero, but not where she lives) and there it sits on the shelf, catching her eye immediately.

The falcon, the horse, and the bull, now clustered around a fourth statue.

A lioness.

She moves towards it as if pulled by gravity. The beauty of it steals her breath. The great cat is posed sitting, tall and elegant, her body at a three-quarters position but her head turned to look straight out at the viewer. Her tail is wrapped neatly around her, and her tiny delicate ears are alert.

What do you think? says a soft voice behind her. It carries an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty.

She doesn’t turn, doesn’t need to look to know the man behind her is the one who made this.

She’s gorgeous, she murmurs.

Pero hums low in his throat, and comes to stand over her shoulder.

You can ask, he says. I want to tell you.

Why a lioness? she whispers.

Pero is silent for a moment.

She is strong, and graceful. Clever, and brave. Loyal. Beautiful.

A tingling warmth floods her chest. It feels like too much, the implied praise too high.

They’re remarkable creatures, she replies.

They ain’t the only ones, darlin’, Jack drawls from the doorway. He’s flanked by Frankie, who has one arm wrapped casually around Jack’s waist.

I don’t know what to say. Tears prick her eyes as she turns to face them.

You don’t have to say anything, Frankie tells her.

Just be ours. Pero says it so softly she almost doesn’t hear him. As we are yours.

She pulls Pero in for a kiss, her answer whispered like a vow against his lips:

I already am.

———

Fun fact I learned about glassblowing equipment during my research for this fic that I wasn’t able to work into the story but absolutely need to share with you anyway:

Did y’all know that the furnaces like the one Pero uses here to heat the glass are called GLORY HOLES?!?!?!? Swear to god. Be careful googling that if you don’t believe me. 😂

#Pedro pascal #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall fic

[stiltonbasket]

For wen!wwx: "I may have made a mistake in taking you to Nightless City, A-Ying" were the last words Wen-shushu had spoken to him, a little more than a fortnight after he was slain in battle. Contrary to popular belief, it was Wen Zhuliu who saved A-Ying and took him to Nightless City. Wen Rouhan raised him to be a weapon, but Wen Zhuliu raised him as a son.

(link to part 1)

By the winter Wei Wuxian turned thirty-six, Qishan Wen had been at war for two years; but in those two years, very little had changed behind the walls of the Nightless City.

The wine ran as freely as it always did, and even the lowest-ranking guest disciples were allotted more treasures and fine foods than most well-to-do commoners would see in a year. The rare few of the clan who had spent time in the halls of the mortal emperor—Wei Wuxian among them, for his master wanted the emperor to know something of the raw power that lurked in Qishan, in case he ever thought of claiming even an inch of Wen territory for his own—were aware Wen Ruohan's sect banquets were far richer than anything the imperial court had to offer: and even if the war were to last another decade, the cities clustered around the great Sun Palace in Bu Ye Tian would flow with gold for ten times that span at the least.

Strength counted for much in the Jianghu, and for a great deal more outside it—and Wen Ruohan treasured the cultivators who labored for him as he treasured his own saber, so long as their younger selves had proved loyal enough to be permitted to reach adulthood.

Of the four children Wen Zhuliu brought back to Bu Ye Tian some thirty-odd years ago, only one had achieved that honor: the youngest, Wei Ying, plucked from the streets in upper Yiling some months before his fifth birthday.

He had grown up well, Wen Zhuliu thought, as he watched Wei Wuxian move across the banquet hall with a double-eared wine cup in his hand. The handmaidens at the Wei-fu had braided his hair with gold, so that the full, shining mass of it reflected the light from the lamps on the walls like a mirror; and though Wen Ruohan recalled him from Langya nearly six months ago now, he had not yet lost the watchful bearing of a general waiting under cover of darkness for his enemy to strike.

"Zhao-shushu," he said, toasting him with his half-empty cup of wine as Wen Zhuliu drew closer. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since..."

"It's been nearly a year, I think," Wen Zhuliu replied, inclining his head. "When we were stationed together in Jiangling."

A shadow crossed Wei Wuxian's face; and too late, Wen Zhuliu remembered that Jiangling was where his erstwhile ward bore witness to the execution of Yu Hengshan, in spite of Wen Zhuliu's best efforts to ensure that he was occupied elsewhere at the hour of Yu Hengshan's death.

He was absurdly soft-hearted for a man who had spent the last two years between war fronts and Wen Ruohan's great strategy chamber, and it discomfited Wen Zhuliu immensely.

"How is A-Yuan?" he said softly, for Wei Wuxian's yang son was one of the few subjects they could speak of without stirring the dreadful shuttered look in Wei Wuxian's eyes—though that had been present in some form or other from the day he was sworn into Wen Ruohan's service, and would likely never leave him throughout the remainder of his life.

"He is well," Wei Wuxian answered, nodding towards the artificial stream carved into the ground of the garden adjoining the feasting hall. Wen Zhuliu turned and saw a gaggle of youths and young girls kneeling by the water's edge, scribbling verses of poetry onto plain white lanterns; and then, following the line of his ward's outstretched hand, he saw that the boy at the front of the group looked like a smaller, light-hearted version of Wei Ying.

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen." Wei Wuxian's hand tightened around the base of his cup. "He's nearly old enough to wear a proper guan, if you can believe it."

Ah, Wen Zhuliu realized, with no small amount of pity—for if the war did not end within these next two years, Wen Yuan would be among the new soldiers sent to war, perhaps as part of his own father's regiment.

He reached out and grasped Wei Wuxian's arm.

"A-Ying," he said urgently. "This war will not last long enough to draw your A-Yuan into it. You know Lanling Jin cannot endure for much longer, what with Meng Yao—and once Lanling falls, Yunmeng will crumble soon after. Yu Hengshan was Yunmeng Jiang's greatest backer, and now that he has been slain—"

"Yes, but what then?"

Wen Zhuliu paused, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Once the Jianghu has been brought under our colors, what then?" Wei Wuxian murmured, before taking a long drink of wine. "The Jin might live peacefully under Junshang's rule—they will have no choice, for they are not strong enough to do otherwise—but the Jiang will abandon their clan seat if needs must, and flee to rebuild elsewhere. And once they rise to prominence again, what will our lord do next?"

And what will you do? his eyes seemed to say; and though Wen Zhuliu had vowed to murder Yu Hengshan when he was a child of sixteen, his ears were suddenly filled with the screams of the civilian woman who had discovered the man's decapitated corpse in a rowboat on Lake Lianhua.

He had not lingered long enough to listen to the screams of Yu Hengshan's sister, for fear that his heart would break at the knowledge that Yu Ziyuan grieved this brother of hers despite all he had done to them both—but now, the echoes of her cries were so clear in his mind that he was half-convinced he had heard them in truth, all those months ago.

"I will do whatever Wen-zongzhu commands me to do," Wen Zhuliu said at last. "I was sworn to him for life, just as you were."

In answer, the fingers of Wei Wuxian's right hand rose and fluttered restlessly over his shoulder: the left shoulder, where his wide collar hid the set of obedience sigils that Wen Ruohan carved into his flesh on the day he came of age.

"Yes," he whispered, his gaze straying once more to his son. "I am sworn to him for life—just as you are."

They parted not long after that, for Wen Zhuliu had only come back to the Nightless City for Wei Wuxian's birthday banquet, and he was due to return to Hejian early the next day. He had other generals to greet, and Wei Wuxian had gone off to judge the results of the winding-stream contest taking place in the garden; but shortly before dawn, Wen Zhuliu sought Wei Wuxian out once again and drew the younger man into his arms.

"Happy birthday," he said. "May you have ten lifetimes' worth of them, my child."

Wei Wuxian smiled tearfully—and suddenly, Wen Zhuliu was certain that after tonight, he would never lay eyes on this ward of his again.

"I wish it had not been like this," he blurted. "If I had not brought you back to the Nightless City all those years ago, then perhaps..."

Wei Wuxian's eyes flickered toward the throne at the front of the hall.

"What other purpose could I have served than this one?" he said quietly. "You had your revenge, and I was given the honor of serving Junshang. That is the end of it."

And with that, he kissed Wen Zhuliu on the brow, and vanished into the night.

Wen Zhuliu never did see him again, for he met his death on the Hejian front within the next fortnight; and when his jian was brought back to the Bu Ye Tian, it was sent to Wei Wuxian's residence, the High General's manor, where it would remain until the Wei-fu went up in flames with its master still locked inside it.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #my fic #wrh raises wwx au #wen zhuliu #wei wuxian #once again PLEASE reblog and send in more prompts to see more chapters #no prompts = no updates ;-;

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: EPILOGUE

— part one | part two | part three

——

Four Months Later

Spectral shadows now haunt the vacant house in Tennessee. They are ones of yourself and Harry appearing as nebulous figures wistfully retracing the steps of every memory played out in each room. 

Every wall you were sensually backed into. 

Every floor you collapsed onto with heartache. 

Every dark corner that sheltered your fears. 

The wilted vines of romance that grew under the carpet and ascended toward the roof are surely felt by whoever exists there now, trapping their feet and trying to pull them down into their depths of despair. Their once vibrant color pales from perennial neglect, and they yearn for a single drop of love. 

The two lovers are no longer the providers of such an arduous task. 

You have broken free from the poison ivy and moved to untethered fields. The deadly nightshade that crawled over your body is no longer lethal, and your stitched heart is now thriving with unburdened lungs. Harry willingly took the needle and delicately sewed each open wound with threads of honeysuckle and lavender, patiently waiting for the crevices to bond back together until they blossomed into feelings of certainty and candor. He never pushed the process, always letting you grow at your own pace and sharing his sunlight when you needed it most. 

You adapted nicely to the new soil. You left your dirt behind and pulled up your roots to bury them elsewhere. Somewhere more nurtured with eternal blue skies. 

Harry's roots have always been grounded, so the day he left his home pierced thorns in all he's ever known and left him bleeding until you tore off your petals of armor to seal the gash. The cure was in you all along.

You wonder where he is now. 

As you sit alone on the late January grass, no snowfall settling across the blades in rural South Carolina this time of year, you miss his warm presence beside you. The knitted cardigan you wear replaces his skin, the breeze finding secret passageways through every petite hole in the fabric. Your arms, terribly sore from moving boxes all day, could use his own wrapped around them. 

The lake past the lush, rolling hills is grey from the reflection of the clouds above, and the water looks inviting. No other house can be seen for miles. It's what you've dreamed of — a perfect place to start afresh and continue raising your family away from camera flashes and prying questions. You have privacy at last. 

A sudden soft plucking of guitar strings draws you from your thoughts. The acoustic melody plants seeds in your bones, coursing through the marrow until they lovingly consume your soul.

There he is. 

Music follows him wherever he goes. Even when an instrument is absent from his versed hands, he still carries a symphony with his words. Either sung or spoken, they slip off his tongue with entrancing ease. 

"Look what I found," Harry says in a way that exudes childlike wonder. 

You smile and turn your head, finding him treading toward you while wearing your cardigan and holding a green resonator guitar by its neck. The heavy black case is in his other hand. 

"What box was that in?" you ask, admiring how his hair blows in the wind. It falls into place perfectly. 

"The huge one that I totally didn't have trouble carrying." He smirks at you, narrowing his beautiful green eyes. The light in them is finally back.

Laughing, you watch him set the case down next to you before sitting on it. He then places the guitar on his lap, its curve naturally fitting along his thigh. "Wonder if it's still in tune," he murmurs, twisting the tuning pegs and strumming random chords with his jeweled fingers. 

You're waiting for him to mention how you kept it even through the divorce, but it never comes. You should have a little faith in him for not bringing up that withered phase of life, but it was so miserably monumental that it permeates your mind anyway. 

"Hi," Harry whispers with a hint of shyness as if he's acknowledging you for the first time. You bask in his natural incandescence. 

"Hi. I wanted to talk to you about something." 

He inhales and nods, absentmindedly playing a few dissonant chords. "Okay." 

"I know this move has been hard on you," you say while looking into his eyes, "and I just want to know how you're feeling." 

The fatal flaw in your relationship's early stages was lack of communication. A bit ironic, considering marriage is built on the mere foundation of it. Perhaps that's why it didn't work out the first time. 

"I feel good." He lightly slaps his hand on the guitar to stop the strings from vibrating. "Really good, actually." 

You could cry from relief. "Yeah?" 

His lips quirk up. "Yeah. I obviously miss Nashville, but I'm starting to love it here." 

You nod understandingly. "It's quiet, you know? So different from the city." 

"I think this move is exactly what we needed. To leave all those bad memories behind." 

Leave your dirt behind. Bloom somewhere new. 

"Can I say something I don't tell you enough?" you ask, tucking strands of windswept hair behind your ears. 

Harry lays the guitar down and begins picking at the dead grass by his feet. "Will it make me cry?" 

"It'll probably make me cry." 

He looks at you for a moment before patting his lap twice. "C'mere. I don't like it when you're far away." 

You stand and then settle sideways on his thighs, his arms instantly circling around your waist. His touch is something that took you a while to allow yourself to accept. It started with longer hugs and holding hands, then soft and lingering kisses on the cheek. They all led to bigger things like kissing his heart-shaped lips and letting his hands rest on your hips or neck. Making out like teenagers on the couch to make up for lost time felt more purposeful than ever. It felt different this time around, more significant. His touch was a telltale sign the petals could still be saved from wilting and falling to the frozen ground. 

It was a slow blossoming of sprouts, but he was understanding. That's all you could've asked for. 

"What's on your mind, baby?" Harry quietly asks. 

Unwarranted tears form in your eyes as you look at the man you almost entirely let go of. When your gaze traces the features of his face, you wonder how you would have lived without him. How does someone possibly keep from loving him? You're glad you didn't fall victim to that. 

"I just... I'm so proud of you," you shakily whisper, a teardrop sliding down your cheek. 

Harry's chest deflates. He breaks eye contact, visibly swallowing and rolling his lips in before responding, "I know you are. You've never made me doubt it." 

"But it's not just with your job. Even when we weren't together, I was proud of who you were." 

"You shouldn't have been. I was a mess." 

You shake your head. "The way you still tried to mend things while grieving is something to be proud of, Harry. You should be proud of yourself." 

"I did it because I love you," he says with shimmering eyes. "I did it for her." 

Her, meaning your daughter. She's away with your grandparents for the day while you and Harry unpack and set up the necessary furniture. He does everything for her, and you firmly believe she was the single ray of light in his phases of deep depression. 

"I know, but I was worried about you. No matter how angry I tried to be, I still cared about you so much." You take a deep breath before continuing, "When you would come over during the first few months," — you pause and let out a weak sob — "you scared me. You didn't look like yourself, and it fucking terrified me. I remember your cheeks were so... so hollowed." 

Harry looks out at the lake, almost ashamed. His thumbs rub soothing circles on your hips, and you've never been more grateful to see the supple apples of his cheeks today. 

"We never really know grief until it happens to us," he says, laying his head on your shoulder. "I didn't eat for days. Didn't shower. Barely left my bed. I lost myself completely." 

You know you shouldn't apologize, but you do anyway. "I'm sor—"

"Don't," he interrupts. "Please don't." 

"It killed me. I had never seen you so sick." 

"But it led me back to you, didn't it?" He softly kisses your arm and smiles against it. "All that pain led me to this moment, love." 

You rest your hand on his stomach. "That's not the point, though." 

"I think it is," he remarks. "Everyone goes through shit, and everyone learns something from it." 

You sniffle as Harry takes one of your hands and blows warm air onto it. "What did you learn?" 

He stares at you while pecking kisses onto your wrist. "That your love was worth the fight. That I don't regret fighting my goddamn life for it." 

His love-laced words rush through you like liquid gold and heal every stitch on your heart, only scars left behind.

You don't regret diving into his waters anymore. 

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #gold rush series

[musicoftheheart]

as promised, i present: “missed connections”

im still quite ill and my voice absolutely died by the second verse so the high notes sound awful, but i didnt want to make you guys wait any longer (im also not looking for criticism so id appreciate noone pointing out any flaws—its still a work in progress. and a reminder my pronouns are they/he/she :) )

i plan to wait until im properly rested and recovered before i send the song to her, but when i do you guys will be the first to know!

lyrics and context below the break

lyrics:

weve had a thousand missed connections but i still made it through to you

in other worlds we met before but no such luck for you—

and i, weve only just had our beginning

but im hoping that our end is years to come

both born part raised in england, both moved up here at just three

go to the same school but ill join six months after you leave

we share friends, but we're never introduced

so our lives two lines remain apart, side by side but never cross

we'll carry on without each other's heart

weve had a thousand missed connections but i still made it through to you

in other worlds we met before but no such luck for you—

and i, weve only just had our beginning

but im hoping that our end is years to come

now weve both moved onto high school but weve still missed one another

you almost joined me in our last years but one thing led to another

and you, you moved away to the big city

while i stayed here all alone

chasing loves who never loved me

not realising that ive yet to meet the one

weve had a thousand missed connections but ive still made it through to you

in other worlds we met before but no such luck for you—

and i, weve only just had our beginning

but im hoping that our end is years to come

i was an arrogant ass

you were loud and bold but hiding

somewhere along the way we changed

and suddenly we're minding—

our own business, when one day we met the one

now im sitting in my bedroom, writing down this song

weve had a thousand missed connections but i still made it through to you

in other worlds we met before but no such luck for you—

and i, weve only just had our beginning

but im hoping that our end is years to come

yeah im hoping that our end is years to come

background:

so, as the song says, throughout our lives weve had a bunch of 'missed connections', where we were a hair's breadth from meeting but just missed each other.

we were both born in england and moved to the same area of scotland at the same age, but i attended a different school at first. by the time i moved to the other school, she had just left six months before.

despite that, we shared a lot of the same friends, moreso as we got older but still a few when we were young. our friends mentioned us in passing to each other but not very often.

in high school, i had to transfer again because the school i went to didnt have the final two yeargroups, and she went through the same thing. it was planned that she and i would attend the same school, but there were some issues between her and a few other students that meant she had to go elsewhere.

now, we've both left school and ended up meeting online. we got talking and realised just how much in common we had (both took drama for only one year, in the same year [so if we'd have gone to the same high school, we wouldve definitely, no doubt about it, interacted through class], both enjoyed the same hobbies, had similar music taste etc) and then realised how many times we almost met.

then i went and had a crush, got overly attached, and wrote a song :)

#original music #music #songwriting #songwriter #singer songwriter #me singing #singer #guitar #queer community #queer love #lgbtqia

[red-dead-sakharine]

Raphael x Tav/Reader (gn)

Dinner plans - Part 2 (good ending)

hurt/comfort, pining, slight fluff

The vote looks quite clear, so I just ploughed ahead 😉

> Part 1 <

He turned his back on the camp - on you - to leave. A few paces further and no one would even hear him swoosh away.

He didn't realize how his fists clenched. Hope's voice invaded his mind now, "Eat. Shit." his brow furrowed, "Stuff your maggoty tongue in some other woman's ear." His jaw clenched, and he was barely able to keep himself from exploding into his cambion form in a burst of angry flames-- "Raphael!"

He closed his eyes. Now it was your voice in his head again. He should never have come here. The sooner he was back in Avernus, the better, and so he picked up the pace.

"Raphael, wait!"

He stopped. The voice wasn't just in his head - but he didn't dare to turn around. To expose the damnable feelings he couldn't keep from showing on his face right now.

There were steps behind him in the soft grass. He'd know that pace anywhere. There was a distinct rhythm to your walk, he would have been able to pick out from a crowd of a hundred people with ease.

"I thought it was you. Almost didn't recognize ya, in that fancy outfit. Since when are you creeping through the dark?" He heard the smirk in your voice. Were you quoting his own poem back to him? No, certainly not. The choice of words was coincidence, for sure. His mind was set. He wouldn't inflict this torment upon himself again.

He took a breath to steady his voice, "I was on my way to you, little mouse, but business calls me elsewhere. I have a war to fight, after all." Yes. Good. He sounded just as charmingly non-chelant as he had intended. He'd be damned, if he'd give you any hint of how he truly felt.

"Oh." Was that disappointment in your voice? "I had hoped, you'd join us celebrating."

He forced out a scoff, "As if I had the time to waste on such a sorry excuse of a celebration." Good. That shut them up. Now all he had to do was say something grandiose in parting, and he could teleport away.

His eyes dropped down to your face, as you stepped around and in front of him. Damn you.

"I'm sure anything you could set up would be much more impressive, but we had to make do with what we've got. Stay. Please? This is as much your victory, as it is ours."

It took all the self-control he had, to keep his face neutral, while his insides felt like an orthon was step-dancing on his stomach. You wanted him to stay. You wanted his company. 'Please'? You wouldn't have said that, if you weren't serious. Not like this; not with this tone. As much as he wanted to stay mad, to cling to the decision he had made earlier, to leave and start his war, and never think of you again, his resolve was crumbling faster than a dry sandcastle.

And with every passing second he spent looking into those beautiful eyes of yours, that longing, he had tried so hard to suppress, bubbled up in him and threatened to overtake him, and ruin his composure. Damn these unruly feelings!

"And what, pray tell," why was it so hard to keep his voice casual now?, "would I do at this party of yours? Drink awful, cheap wine, and have boring conversations with your companions, who don't want me there any more than I want to be in their company."

Good, yes. That sounded appropriately pejorative.

You looked dejected, and for a moment that invisible orthon was kicking his insides again. But then that spark returned to your eye - that spark he enjoyed so much. That spark of unbreakable determination.

"You could recite some poetry," you offered with an honest smile, "I always enjoyed your little rhymes."

That stupid orthon was grabbing his heart in its fist now, and squeezed it like a lemon. Damn this - whatever this was! Damn you, for making him feel sick!

"Oh, did you now?" he raised a brow at you, doing his damnedest to keep the casual tone, "And what would you have me recite? Do you expect me to compose a verse to your heroic victory over the elder brain?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and he made the idea sound absolutely ludicrous, but he had, indeed, written down some rough verses featuring you. Not that he would ever admit that.

"No," you chuckled, "I can't really picture you singing verses to my glory. But I'd bet a hundred gold pieces that you wrote something about the crown."

His composure was cracking, and he was certain that it showed on his face despite his best efforts. How did this stupid mortal know him so well? Understand him so well? Of course he had written about the crown. He needn't mention that it was in the same poem that heralded him as the glorious new archdevil supreme, with his little mortal hero at his side.

It took him a moment too long to respond, and he could see that mischievous glint in your eye, and that smirk on your lips. You knew, you were right. And you knew that you had him.

"Come" you said, and he felt his arm rise, as you started walking, and looked down to find your hand in his, dragging him after yourself towards the camp, "Have at least one glass of awful wine with me, and if you're really having such a bad time, I'll let you go."

'Let me?' I can go whenever I damn well please! he thought, as he followed you; his hand still in your clutches.

He wanted you to never let go again.

▶️ Continue

#bg3 #raphael #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #whump #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #fluff #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 raphael #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael the cambion #rds #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3

[jazziejax]

Beloved Arachnid

Being raised by your grandparents was basically like growing up alone. Especially in such a capitalistic city where they were only focused on making the rich stay rich and the poor get poorer. Where the people that were supposed to love you only focused on how much further they could climb the social ladder and gain more. And Honey was tired of conforming to a life she did not enjoy.

And since she had no one there for her when she needed it, she made it her mission to be there for all. Animals, children, old people, she took on a lot of responsibility in hopes of making the people around her, better.

All of the inner city people knew who Honey was. Brooklyn, Harlem, Bronx, and Queens. She helped kids study, played games with them, helped elders run errands and helped out at local shelters and food drives. She even opened her own organization to look after children when their parents were at work. She was loved immensely by lots of people and her beauty was just a bonus.

And the love she received from those communities almost made up for the love that was absent in her home. Almost.

Because when she went home, she had to deal with the constant nitpicking from her grandmother about her academic achievements, her talents, her looks. And her grandfather was never there since he was always working for the next evolutionary breakthrough in science. So when she couldn’t do what she loved, taking care of those in need, she placed her focus elsewhere.

At the top of her grandparents penthouse, was an old greenhouse full of dead plants. That’s where she spent lots of her time trying to revive the tattered, see-though dome into a colorful place full of plant life. And with a little elbow grease, a random cat and her family’s money, she turned the place into a home away from home. A home away from home, where she got bitten by a radioactive spider and developed powers overnight.

And with this new power, she took her caring nature to a whole new level and became the city’s one and only Spider person. Thats not true. New York already had a spider vigilante by the named Scarlet-Web. So Honey just stuck to her regular duties with helping those communities in need on a deeper level.

She grew older, helping fight crime every now and then. Everything was as normal as it could be in her life. As normal as it could be considering she was the heir to millions of dollars and forced to go to school to become a scientist. So, yeah, pretty normal.

Normal until a group people walked through a portal and told her she was a royal alien.

Note- I’m gonna be writing this over here and over on Wattpad! Tgis is the prologue of my series Beloved Arachnid!!! I’ve been seeing so many spider verse fics and some are good but I need more ‘x black reader’ fics because Black Girls need love too! This is a rough draft because I don’t really know what kind of a direction I want to go in yet but…yeah.

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spider gwen #spiderman #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #gwen stacy #miles morales #hobie my beloved #hobie spiderverse #hobie x black!reader #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x black reader #hobie x reader #daniel kaluuya

[polyhexian]

Since expanding the Jasperverse is apparently my current hobby let's try this on for size: The Collector decides rather than tattling to Philip that his current Grimwalker is stealing the new Grimwalker, it'd be WAY more entertaining to see Philip's face in the morning when he realizes what happened, and thus keeps quiet about the whole thing. Jasper makes a clean getaway with baby Hunter, but for plot reasons doesn't end up running off to some other Titan, and spends the next several years raising his son in hiding and on the run.

Fast forward to Darius finding a 6/8/10-year-old Hunter on his doorstep (or figurative doorstep, your Darius doesn't have a house so maybe it's his mom's doorstep, or Hunter corners him in Bonesborough or something), and this kid informs him that he's gotten separated from his dad, but his dad told him that if things ever went south, he could go to Darius for help.

Darius is just, like, bluescreening, because this kid looks exactly like Jasper, and admits that his dad's name IS Jasper (when it isn't something like Onyx Bloodwilliams or whatever), and is also speaking of Jasper in the present-tense, so like, 1) Jasper is alive??? and 2) JASPER HAS A KID???

A kid who is apparently relying on Darius to take care of him now. And the kid, Darius is disconcerted to learn, KNOWS Darius - he keeps asking him for his version of stories his dad has told him, like is it true that you - and can you tell me about the time you and my dad - And Darius is just like, oh my god, I never considered having kids and I was barely able to consider being in love with Jasper, but Jasper has a kid and has told the kid all about ME, and I need to be the best guardian figure possible to this child until his dad shows up and I can ask him WHAT THE HELL???

(Where's Jasper? Idk, maybe he told Hunter to split up while he goes and lays a false trail elsewhere, maybe he's dealing with bounty hunters who aren't even after them for Golden Guard stuff because who knows what Jasper's been getting up to for the last few years, maybe he's gotten in with the rebellion and is running a mission or something, who knows.)

Also Hunter is, like, a weird kid with a number of worrying skills. He's not a child soldier in this 'verse, more like a child spy. He goes through life like he's playing the world's most intense game of hide-and-seek. He squints suspiciously at everyone and everything. He can pick a lock in 6 seconds. He recreationally pickpockets and thinks it's doubly fun to reverse-pickpocket the item without his mark even realizing it was missing. He can cry on command and make for a good distraction. He knows how to break someone's instep if they try to grab him. He eats bugs.

Bonus irony points if this Hunter still has all the issues Canon Hunter has, but he has those issues because he's loved, not abused. He's very good at doing exactly what he's told…because he knows his and his dad's survival depends on doing everything Jasper says when he says it. He's scarily good at fighting for his age…because Jasper's trained him to be able to defend himself. He's got PTSD and anxiety…because he's spent his whole life worried that people will hurt him and his father. He doesn't have any friends…because they've never been able to stay in one place for very long.

Idk where Darius would stash Hunter for safekeeping. I mean, for HILARITY and SUSPENSE it'd be great to see him trying to sneak the kid around the castle. Hide him in his apartments. Shove him under his office desk whenever some other Coven Head comes in for a chat. Hunter takes it upon himself to explore the castle's fantasy ventilation system and maps out every vent and secret passage in the place to pass the time and give Darius a heart attack. Darius finds a tiny scout uniform and insists that this is totally just a small demon that's been assigned to Darius as an escort. Hunter is scarily good at maintaining a disguise, and Darius doesn't have time to unpack all that. Hm, we know nothing about the covens themselves, could there be some sort of masked Abomination Coven uniform? That'd be better so no one could try to reassign Darius's random scout escort.

The castle might not be feasible though (and Darius would realize that getting Hunter anywhere NEAR the castle would be the EXACT OPPOSITE of what Jasper would want him to do) so the other options are stashing Hunter at his mom's house or recruiting Eda into the situation.

Darius: I need you to house this kid. Eda: Do I LOOK like a babysitter?? Darius: He can pick a lock in six seconds and he's pickpocketed you twice since we started this conversation. Eda: …Intriguing.

Either way though, Darius knows he has to be there for Hunter. He knows that Jasper is relying on him to be there for Hunter. It's like, here Darius, have a universe where you DON'T shoot yourself in the foot and hurt the people you love! He barely understands what's happening and he never wanted kids and he doesn't know if he and Jasper would ever have been a thing so maybe he's not the stepdad but by GOD is he gonna be the dad that stepped up.

Hunter is a good kid despite his upbringing and is really excited to finally meet Darius after everything his dad told him about the guy, but he also really misses his dad and is worried if Jasper's okay. Darius is like, come on, we both know your dad is the strongest witch in the world (even if APPARENTLY NEITHER OF YOU HAVE MAGIC WTF??) he'll be fine. And Darius is maybe not cut out to be a father, but Hunter's a weird kid anyway, so they make it work. Granted Hunter gets REALLY irritated by some things, like, Darius doesn't know how to be as attentive to his infodumps as his dad is, and Darius can't teleport, and one time Hunter skins his knees really bad and Darius slaps on a healing patch and Hunter is REALLY UNIMPRESSED to learn Darius can't just HEAL IT HIMSELF and Darius is like HUNTER YOUR STANDARDS ARE SUPER HIGH AND A LITTLE SKEWED, OKAY???

Jasper might show up again out of the blue perfectly normal, but we all know Jasper's an overdramatic bastard so it's more likely he shows up at some climactic moment while Darius and Hunter are surrounded by enemies that Jasper blasts to kingdom come, or Jasper shows up missing approximately half his blood like "Hey Darius, do you have my kid?" before passing out while Darius is like WTF and Hunter is like "he does this sometimes."

Btw if you wanna make things even MORE complicated, throw in a new Golden Guard who's an adult Grimwalker but only a few years younger than Hunter. He could be an evil asshole or Jasper 2.0 or idk whatever the plot demands. Lol maybe he's an adult version of Will who doesn't have active decomposition issues. Literally no idea what purpose he'd serve in the plot beyond possibly existing tho.

Eberwolf thinks Hunter is great and thinks the whole situation is a riot and is generally very unhelpful except for when he's actually extremely helpful. Darius would like Eberwolf to stop feeding the child bugs. Maybe at some point Raine gets involved (surely they are doing work IN the Bard Coven long before they become its Head Witch, yeah?) and is like "Darius why do you have a child??" and Darius is like "Don't ask and don't say anything" and Raine watches Hunter lockpick his way into a file cabinet of restricted info and just kinda melts because it reminds them of a certain OTHER miscreant chaos child…

Darius and Hunter's relationship has its ups and downs because on the one hand, Hunter is excited to meet this guy, but on the other hand Hunter is a young kid under a lot of stress and Darius wasn't expecting Hunter to exist let alone be his responsibility and also Jasper probably left some stuff out during storytime. Hunter was NOT prepared for Darius to be this…stuffy. Darius is like "Here I got you some new clothes so you don't look like a streetrat" and Hunter is like "I understand the importance of blending in but why is it so fancy-looking" (Hunter thinks anything with a single frill is fancy) and Darius is like "look at all the extra hidden pockets I sewed in for you" and Hunter is like "SOLD."

Basically tho it's a Jasperverse Dadrius AU where Darius gets to be the good guy and Hunter is messed up in all the same ways for completely different reasons, lol.

WHY DO YOU KEEP SLAPPING ME WITH THESE FUCKING BANGERS???? EXCUSE YOU????

I imagine hunter is also very independent... He probably HAS been left alone before, more than jaspers wishes he was. But it's either bring him somewhere dangerous or leave him behind.

I'm going to imagine he still HAS his old GG staff but because it's so old now it's sort of... Like dying batteries, it's way past its warranty. He uses it extremely sparingly and only when there's literally no other option. So generally neither of them are using magic.

Belos must KNOW he got away. And I actually think he wouldn't put up wanted signs for him or anything- jasper hasn't exposed any of his secrets because he's in hiding. But if he's shoved out of hiding he's going to have to go scorched earth to survive. So theyre on the run... But only certain people know to look for him. Coven scouts all know they're looking for a tall blonde man with four scars on his face. Higher level members of the emperor's coven know way more about him. People like Lilith and kikimora know he was the previous GG.

But only the next GG know who he REALLY is..the next one knows he's a Grimwalker past his warranty, and so is Hunter. He is HUNTING them. Actively.

Man what could split jasper and hunter badly enough that he would pull the trigger on going to Darius after all these years and expose the huge secret that he's still alive? That he has a kid? He obviously hasn't gone to Darius yet, so he considers this a risk. What would put him at greater danger than leaving him to find Darius by himself?

I think jasper would legitimately have to be in serious danger. Maybe he gets seriously wounded fleeing coven scouts and he knows he can't protect Hunter like this so he sends him running the opposite way while he keeps them busy, so Hunter doesn't... Actually know if he's okay or not

OH! Omg hang on... They got caught by the new GG and jasper got seriously wounded like. He's bleeding everywhere. And he sends hunter away, get out of here, go find Darius. I'll find you. And hunter doesn't know for SURE if he's okay or not but he's soooo sure his dad can handle anything, nobody could ever REALLY hurt him! And Darius isn't so sure, but... Nothing HAPPENS. Like there's no big petrification ceremony or anything. If he's dead he was killed quietly. He has no idea where jasper is or if he's okay but he's got his kid now and hunter is CERTAIN his dad is fine, he will be here soon. He keeps saying stuff like "when Dad comes back" like when Dad comes back he can show you x thing or when Dad comes back you can tell him y! And Darius doesn't... Know what to say and he's terrified of when the ball might drop that.. it's been days and he's not here yet. It's been more days and he's not here yet.

ONLY HES NOT DEAD because the next GG isn't nearly as loyal as Jasper was. He's caught him and is basically holding him hostage secret from Belos trying to get his OWN answers on what's going on and what's true.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Five head canon game:

AU AFO is All Might's Bio dad and All Might Izuku Bio dad family drama ensues, can be afohiko if you so desire!

hope you have a nice day!

Another addition to the dfohiko verse! Alright then,

Similar set-up to previous dfohiko branches. Toshinori spends a few years in the States. He returns to Japan when he’s in his mid-to-late 20s, and with Sorahiko’s info, and makes excellent headway in dismantling AfO’s network at the expense of exposing his identity to AfO. AfO is displeased with his son’s decision to reject the ‘good’ family legacy, complains to his followers about red-blooded, hot-tempered youths, and receives the following tentative question: Does Toshinori have a significant other? A boyfriend? A girlfriend? A partner in general?

AfO, who romanced and married and had a child with Sorahiko by Toshinori’s current age: omg you’re so right. He just needs to redirect his passions elsewhere, and then he’ll realize what a terrible world this is to raise a child. Who among you have weddable progeny? To clarify, I want you all to know that this WILL lead me to be that child’s father in-law, and I WILL be taking all grandparent rights.

The thing is, it’s not enough to just fling sexy singles in the area into Toshinori’s path. Toshinori is, worryingly, taking after Sorahiko’s practice of abstinence and just not going on any of the dates that AfO is setting up. So AfO hops over to Sorahiko’s place to complain about their son’s destructive habits, and the lack of grandchildren being brought into the world. The unexpected turn of conversation tricks Sorahiko into thinking, ‘Oh, shit, I’ve accidentally taught my son that love is a nightmare and marriage is a deal with the devil.’

By the time Toshinori entered his late thirties, he’s obliviously rejected any and every potential spouse that AfO AND Sorahiko have set before him. His parents are in despair, though for different reasons. Then. THEN. On a rare evening of freedom, Toshinori spies a despondent young woman sitting alone at a table, holding a book with a red rose’s stem tucked inside like a marker. People are side-eyeing her. He hesitates, but takes the plunge, politely asking Inko if he can sit opposite of her while grabbing his dinner. She’s grateful, but equally wary.

They order dinner, and drinks, and in the meantime, conversation happens. A tentative spark of connection happens. One dinner turns into another, and another. Toshinori nervously confesses to Inko that he has no model for a happy marriage, but he knows what good partners do for each other. He remembers that much, at least. And Inko promises that whatever family they’ve left behind, the one they’ll make will be better. 

+1 Izuku is born; Sorahiko learns about his grandson when Izuku manifests the tell-tale AfO hand holes at age four, and a panicked Toshinori calls for advice; AfO learns four years after that, when he crashes All Might’s Bring Your Child to Work Day.

#bnha #afohiko #toshinko #all for one #gran torino #torino sorahiko #yagi toshinori #all might #midoriya inko #dfohiko verse #shih.txt #asks #ravelights #the devil’s in the details for the family drama reunion tbh #the drama stems from both afo and sorahiko's competition to matchmake toshinori #and also the fact that AfO just. skipped a generation. #popping up stronger in Izuku than it does in the grandfather himself

[daisyishedwig]

@lusthurts tagged me this week, so for them specifically I'm going to share a cut scene from my McKinley 'Verse (that might make its way into a one-shot one day) but then I'm also going to share what I've actually been writing on this week, which is a Sebklaine fic.

He smirked. “What did you do to the football team to get them this worked up this quickly? You’ve been here two days.” Sebastian ignored him, moving past to get to the paper towels. He gathered a handful and dried his face, scrunching his hair in them to try and sop up as much water as he could even if he knew his coif was helplessly ruined.  The boy was still there, watching him expectantly. “One of them said he heard all French guys are cocksuckers.” Sebastian turned and leveled the boy with a hard stare. “I told him that his face was making me reconsider my attraction to men.”  He looked mildly impressed. “Coming out on your first day is certainly a bold choice. Especially in this school.” “Yeah,” Sebastian said, grabbing more towels to dab at his grey polo, “I’d heard this place was a hell-hole.” “Couldn’t convince your parents to send you elsewhere?” he asked, he was watching Sebastian’s futile scrubbing with amusement.  “My father,” he huffed, giving up and tossing the towels in the trash, “said it would build character. Straighten me out, so to speak.”

and the Sebklaine fic!

“How comfortable are you with me?”  Kurt slowly lifted his head from where he had it buried in a pillow on Sebastian’s couch. Sebastian lived alone, and when work and school and Rachel all became too much for Kurt to handle, it was the only place he knew he could go to exist in silence for a while. Even if Blaine was already there, he knew that Kurt showing up at Sebastian’s unannounced meant it was quiet time, and he certainly didn’t mind letting his boyfriend lay his head in his lap while he silently read or did homework. But it was just Sebastian today, Blaine’s other boyfriend and Kurt’s… friend. It didn’t always feel entirely platonic but they had yet to address changing the label, so friend was all it was for now. But he knew they were both simply dancing around the subject, waiting for the other to make a move to change it. And Blaine, for as much as he loved the idea of them all being together, was leaving that decision entirely up to them. Sebastian’s arms were folded tight across his chest. His brow drawn in deep contemplation as he waited for Kurt to answer. “Well, I came to your place to disassociate so I didn’t do it in public, so… decently comfortable.”  Sebastian sighed and dropped into the arm chair at the end of the couch.  Kurt pushed himself up on his elbows. “What’s up?” “Would you… be comfortable…” Sebastian leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face, “participating in sex… with me there?” Sebastian said each phrase slowly like he was just waiting for Kurt to shut him down at any second.  Kurt pushed himself fully to sitting. “That is very strange way for you to ask me to fuck you, Smythe.” Sebastian groaned. “It’s not… you wouldn’t be having sex with me, you’d be having sex with Blaine and I would just… also be there. Possibly also having sex with Blaine. But we wouldn’t… we’re not… I’m not…” Sebastian shook his head, “nevermind, it was just a–” “Hold up,” Kurt said raising his hand to stop him, ““I’m confused… but I’m listening, walk me through what you’re thinking.”

and I'll tag @cryscendo, @kurtsascot, @bitbybitwrites, and @wowbright this week

#seblaine #sebklaine #sebastian smythe #blaine anderson #kurt hummel #daisyishedwig writes

[bakeryblood]

Memories

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Pt.1

cw: Loveless Relationship, Religious Trauma, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Angst, Flashbacks, Abuse

Recommend other warnings if you feel it’s necessary.

_______________________________________________

Y/N sat at one of the old wobbly tables that were placed spaced out through the bar, watching and listening to the band play from a distance. This wasn’t the first time he’d come to this bar and it wasn’t the first time Corroded Coffin had played here, but it was always the same. None of the bar goers were particularly interested in the music, usually only perking up at the occasional cover song they played. Guns n Roses, Aerosmith or Mötley Crüe tended to get them at least a little attention to the slightly raised platform the bar called a ‘stage’.

“You don’t look like you’re having a good time..You said you were taking me out to dance tonight babe..” Kimberly, your girlfriend of the last eight months settled back in at the table with a soda in one hand and a beer she sat on the table in front of you. She seemed so perfectly average to most people, the kind of girl who wouldn’t catch your eye in a crowd. Dirty blonde, straight hair that stopped right below her chin, parted down the middle. Grey green eyes, and casual clothes typical of your All-American girl with a Christian background.

“Have you heard anything you would want to dance to?” You asked her with a lopsided smile before bringing the beer to your lips. She gave a long contained sigh out of her nose, looking up at the band as they looked over the little notebook they’d brought with the songs they had planned to play. The drummer looked like a honest to god child, he couldn’t have been more than sixteen. And the other two members were difficult to look at.

“I’m just saying, this place is..gross…Everyone at work has been talking about After Dark over in Ft. Wayne, it’s supposed to be so—“ Y/N held up his hand to stop her as the singer of the band moseyed on up to the microphone and turned his head away, clearing his throat before turning back and speaking in close.

“Alright folks, we thought this song would be fitting to play last. As a ‘Thank You’ to the owners here always letting us play for you all when they couldn’t get anything better.” Eddie grinned at his own half joke, it was true for the most part, they weren’t any venues first choice given their self written songs were similar to that of a garage rock band. Which was exactly what they were and always would be, no matter how good any of them became as musicians.

“Thank you, by the one and only Led Zeppelin.” The song was definitely a stark contrast to their usual play list, it was soft and emotional even with the lack of the organ piano the track originally had. Y/N pushed his seat back and stood up, holding his hand out towards the sullen Kimber to slowly looked up at his expecting face.

“You want to dance, we’ll dance. Prom of 84’ style.” She laughed at him as he lead her out to the area of floor in front of the band, taking one hand in his and placing the other on her waist. Taking on a slow side step away to the music. “You didn’t even go to prom Y/N.” God he really needed to stop lying to her and forgetting he had.

“Then I guess you’ll have to take the lead.” He moved to switch their hands position only for her to wiggle hers out of his grip and fix them again. The song breathed easy during the verses and when it ascended elsewhere in the song Y/N let her spin before pulling her back in. She felt like the main character in her own movie, like Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing. Even if the song was not even going to last five minutes, He felt success when he saw the smile on her face.

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t so bad.” She chirped as the song trailed off and she leaned in to give him a kiss on the lips before he broke away from her.

“Glad one of us had fun.” He took the playful shove from Kimber as they headed back to the table so he could down the beer before it got stale and they had to get back home before too late. They worked together at the local radio station but on alternating days to keep with ‘company policy’ of there being no romantic relationships between employees. It was one thing Y/N would always be grateful for because of her.

Fresh out of high school after repeating a year, graduating at twenty one, he headed to the building of his local station. Wholeheartedly expecting to walk in and be pleading for an internship, probably working fast food part time to supplement the lack of income. When while waiting in the lobby for broadcasting to finish up, he saw Kimberly.

In actuality she saw him first as she came back in with coffee for the program director who she was the faithful secretary for. He preferred to keep her busy with small odd jobs opposed to having her sit and answer the phone all day. God, he reminded her of John Travolta in The Boy in the Plastic Bubble. His face looked perpetually sad, until she’d approached him and asked who he was waiting for. It just lit up when he heard that the director was her boss and she offered to take him up with her. She was smitten. And she got him started on that day, with pay.

It took some following around, the full on puppy love act, for her to fulfill her need for his attention. He had to have been the most oblivious man she’d ever met, but that was just another thing that attracted her to him. She had never pursued a boy she liked before, she had always grew up being taught that she should wait for the man to fall for her, and for him to court her, only after asking her father’s permission to do so.

Things had never even gotten that far for her, she was decently sought after in school but the boys her age preferred to go after the ‘easier’ girls. Not the ones who dressed modestly like her, who couldn’t relate to their tastes in music or plans for college. The day her father told her he couldn’t allow her to apply to universities, no matter how local they were, out of fear his perfect daughter might fall to temptation. The parties, the boys, college seemed to reek of sin to him. If mother had been alive she would have been able to be the voice of reason, but she wasn’t and hadn’t been for a long time. It was one of the things

Y/N and her had found they had in common.

“Doesn’t it feel good to be here though, almost bad.” Y/N said before he turned his head back and downed the beer, the carbonation filling him from the uncomfortable pace of intake. Just being with him made her feel bad and rebellious enough, but he was right, it did feel good.

“You seem in your element here, how many times have you been here before?” She asked as she held the canned drink between her hands, debating whether to sit back down or not, not knowing how much longer they’d be there.

“I think this is my third time.” You decided to be honest, if you had been there more than three times you didn’t remember. This bar was notoriously known to let minors drink and hang out there, probably one of the main reasons the band frequented it so often. He’d came in several when he was younger, shot some pool, drank and so on. It was another reason it was never packed, most adults didn’t want to be around potentially drunk teenagers. Some others did.

“Ready to go?” Kimberly smiled at you as she left the can on the table to wipe the condensation off of her hands onto her jeans, you nodded and also placed the empty glass bottle down to abandon it there. The two of you hadn’t even gotten five steps away from your table when you felt a hand lay atop your shoulder over your leather jacket, causing you to curse to yourself under your breath. Half expecting it to be someone you perhaps said the wrong thing to on some other visit to the bar.

“Y/N? Dude, it’s me! Eddie!” You slowly turned around as Kimberly held onto your arm, looking back at the long, curly haired man who had been the lead vocals for the band.

“I’m sorry, how do you know my name?” You knew several ‘Eddies’ ‘Edwards’ and so on, but none of them looked like he did. Doubled down in denim, rips and tears throughout. Patches hand sewn onto their vest, and what had to be the most worn out, dirty pair of white sneakers you’d ever seen.

“Buddy, Eddie Munson. We were neighbors? As kids?” Neighbors..

You didn’t frequently try to delve into your childhood, your brain kept those memories under lock and key it seemed. It was one of the main reasons or should you say, excuses for why you lied about your past so often.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

Eddie felt like someone had thrown a brick at his chest for a moment before he laughed it off, taking his hands and pulling his sweaty hair out of his face on either side, holding it back with one. “Well what about now. Take away the long hair and maybe this face can jog your memory.”

He knew the name, the last name anyway, for sure. But his face just wasn’t familiar to him at all, maybe Eddie was putting too much faith in the idea that he didn’t look much different from when they were kids simply because Y/N looked so similar to how he had. He felt like he couldn’t possibly have been mistaken, but the confused expression you held as you raked your brain for any little bit of a memory you could find was making him begin to think twice.

“Your mom was friends with mine.”

Bingo. That was the key. Your mother had always been the key to remind you of the pleasant and not so pleasant times.

“Oh my god..” You pulled your arm away from your girlfriend and took a step forward as Eddie dropped his mess of hair back down, watching you slowly advance on him with a wide smile on your face. “No fuckin’ kidding, look at you.”

“Psh, look at YOU man.” Y/N clasped a hand on each of his shoulders and brought him in for a hug, taking him incredibly off guard. Him and Kimber both. Y/N had never been one for physical touch even now at this point in their relationship. They must’ve been super close back in the day she thought to herself as she watched her boyfriends face and how it had lit up. “Got you a girl and everything!”

“Oh damn yeah, sorry about that. This is Kimber.”

“So you knew Y/N when he was little? That’s so wild, you’ve just gotta tell me all the embarrassing stuff he probably did.” She smiled and outstretched her ringed hand towards the man who surprisingly wore a few more rings than she did. The settled back in at the table as Y/N left to commandeer a chair from another booth.

“Well I’m sorry to have to disappoint, he was actually really quiet. Shy n’ all that.” It was disappointing to hear. She was looking forward to hearing the verbalized version of baby photos, the kind where your parents have you posed naked in cherub wings or out on a picnic blanket. Or your first Halloween costume you decided on yourself. All the photographic core memories her boyfriend could never give her, or wouldn’t give her anyway.

“How’d you two like the set?”

Y/N slid into the seat and chimed in first before his girlfriend could give her biased opinion, telling him it just wasn’t her style. “Y’all can really play, did you come up with it all?”

“Some. It’s a group effort. Gareth, our drummer, is the only one who actually did band in school. So he can read and write music the best outta all of us.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever learn to play that guitar your uncle bought you. Guess your hands finally got big enough.” Y/N was referring to the old acoustic Wayne had bought him when he was still living with his parents for Christmas. It turned out it was from a pawn shop but Eddie never questioned where it was from, he loved it. He even got a case for it eventually so it could stay safe under his bed, buying himself his red and black warlock he played during other shows when they needed two guitar players for the set.

Eddie held up his hands and grinned. “I guess they did.” The two men were similarly contemplating the fact that the other was actually able to remember that far back. Y/N motioned to two shot glasses he had returned with while Kimber and him chatted away, not noticing he’d even had the time to stop by the bar after leaving the chair there.

“So, y’all bite the heads off any bats lately?” That was about the full extent of what she knew about metal music, having read an article in a magazine once about ‘Ozzy Osborn’ shocking the world with the display. The word ‘Satanic’ had quickly made her put the magazine back and even give a glance around, worried someone might have been watching her read such filth in the little gas station.

“God, please stop trying to be funny.” Y/N lifted the shot glass of liquor up to his mouth after making the dismissive response, until their girlfriend slapped their chest making a dribble of liquid trail down their chin to their neck unnoticed as they finished out taking the shot.

“What’s wrong with you, I was just trying to make a joke..” She was trying her best to relate to the two of them, feeling left out for the majority of the conversation. She also thought nothing of her physical reaction, it was commonplace for Kimber to give him a hit or a shove when he said something that irritated her. One wouldn’t ever think anything of it, he was a big guy, he could handle it.

“It’s fine it’s fine. It was funny.” Eddie sheepishly pushed his sweaty hair out of his face a bit before picking up the shot glass and throwing it back himself. It did feel awkward trying to drag up memories and reminisce about their past with her around, but rightfully so. He didn’t know much of anything about her. She seemed close enough to their age, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

Just from the relatively short amount of time Eddie gathered that their dynamic was a little strange, to say the least. He couldn’t tell who was the one who seemed to be in charge between the two of them, but it was like Y/N tended to let her lead things.

“Eddie! The van is locked! Do you really think we’re just going to load everything up while you get free drinks?” The fluffy haired boy in a red plaid long sleeve on top of a white shirt that has a red demon face plastered on it reading ‘Hellfire Club’ in bold black lettering. Eddie’s head dropped as he gave an irritated half smile, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket as Gareth made his way up to the table, holding his hand out.

“Kids these days am I right? They sure know how to make a first impression. Like I mentioned earlier, this is our drummer Gareth.” He slapped the keys into the younger man’s hand as he gave him a fucked up expression at Eddie referring to him as a kid.

“Yeah, first impressions. Get up and come help us, that amp is heavy as fuck and—“ Eddie shot him a wide eyed look that shut him up before speaking to him through gritted teeth. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I’m catching up with an old friend.”

Gareth was taken aback a bit by how aggressive he’d reacted and held his hands as if to say he’d given up, retreating with the keys at least. Eddie wasn’t used to treating his band mates like that either, he was just so hung up on the fact he’d actually been able to gather the courage to ask the man he’d seen several times before, believing he recognized him but he hadn’t wanted to be wrong.

“Actually we really did have to be getting back home if you’re needed.” Kimber exchanged a glance with her boyfriend before turning back to the metalhead who sighed before patting the front pocket of his jacket and then retrieving a pen from it. He grabbed the napkin the woman had been using to sit her drink down on and clicked the bottom of the pen before scribbling the number to the house his uncle and him shared.

“I hope you give me a ring some time, we have so much more catching up to do.” Eddie slid it over to Y/N before standing up. “It was nice meeting you too, Kimber.”

“Of course! It was nice meeting you too.” She had already forgotten his name. Y/N watched him walk away, back to the stage to start helping the others break down their set up, the bassist saying something before getting into position to lift up and carry out their personal amp as a team while someone else held open the back door.

“Okay, now we can go right? I’m sure you two and talk again real soon.” Kimberly raised up out of her seat and waited for him to pocket the napkin and then do the same. Tonight had been so much more eventful than he could have anticipated, he felt so wired that the idea of going home and getting any sleep seemed impossible. He’d much rather pick his own brain, digging for more memories of Eddie and himself all those years ago.

_______________________________________________

Y/N looked at the napkin he had pinned to the fridge with a magnet as he tromped into the kitchen, stopping to stare at it before opening up the fridge and taking out the carton of orange juice and drinking from it.

‘Should I call him? Would that be weird to do it so soon?’ He thought to himself as he stood there in his boxers.

If he didn’t, hypothetically, what else could he spend his day off doing? Go to the gym? He shuddered at the thought. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to torture himself with visuals of sweaty, robust men. He could just as easily get back in bed and do that.

The lack of restful sleep last night coupled with the urge to talk to him more made him desperate for a coffee and a cigarette. Kimber was vehemently against smoking but thankfully she never seemed to recognize the smell of smoke on him, he was pretty good at removing the nicotine stains on his fingers and he always made sure to leave his pack in his glove box to avoid her finding them while doing laundry.

Y/N had to have chuckle with himself as he thought it over, he really had to go through all of that just for a little cigarette. It was painful. Like he was constantly on a mission to stay undercover and not let ‘x’ ‘y’ ‘z’ be found out.

Shackled. He felt trapped there. No amount of nights out and away from Kimber and the apartment they shared seemed to help him feel comfortable there. It had never been a safe space for him, even on the nights he’d work until late in hopes of proving himself to their boss. Or that he stayed out getting drunk at a bar just waiting for the right man to take an interest and give him a reason to rent a motel room.

At least there he would be able to actually breathe without that tightness in his chest, sleep without the worry that he’d roll over to see her face smiling back at him. It made him feel evil to have come to think of this apartment as a prison and Kimber, the warden.

“Okay Y/N, do it. Just fucking do it.” He spoke to himself as he paced the length of the kitchen, giving the phone on the wall the occasional glance. He rubbed his face anxiously before walking out of the kitchen, thinking perhaps if he got ready first he would be able to force himself to make the decision. But he quickly made his way back.

It’s now or..maybe not never but it would definitely become even harder for him if he pushed it off. “Just call him you pussy!”…

“God, look at you…get up you pussy.” No. Not him.

“Do you really think I wanted to spend all that money on that uniform, the cleats, your bat— just for you stand in the outfield fuckin’ day dreaming?” You looked at your hands laying against the dark grey tile floor as you felt the stinging of your face radiating heat, the tears streaming down your face as your dad paced back and forth.

“You know everyone there hates you? Those kids put their all into that game and you just blow it, God it’s so fucking embarrassing having the other parents know you’re mine..”

“I’m sorry..”

“What was that?” He stopped as leaned down as if trying to hear you better.

“I-I’m sorry Dad!” You flinched when he did so and as he crouched down to tell you one last thing it was as if someone was slowly turning down the volume of a television set.

“Don’t call me that ever again.”

Y/N held a hand against his pounding chest as he looked around the kitchen of his apartment frantically. He wasn’t there. It was his mind fucking with him again. Perhaps this was the price he had to pay for unlocking those memories, was it worth it?

Pulling himself up off of the floor he went, taking the napkin off the fridge and then the phone off of the wall. Leaning against the doorway to the kitchen as he dialed the phone number. Taking deep breaths as it rang over and over again.

‘Please pick up..please pick up..’

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x m!reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x male!reader #stranger things #stranger things one shot #stranger things x male reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #angst fic #eddie munson concept

[hannah-the-small]

~* HAZBIN VERSE *~

Name: { Clementine } Age: { 23 }

{History}: Clementine was originally born in Lust. Abandoned by her mother at 4 years old in Imp City, Clementine was raised by a hellhound named Vinn, and two demons Butch and Tinker. They ran a drug den for a strange Hellborn creature named Toby, a powerful and dangerous being. When she hit 16 she began to work closely with Toby and became his right hand, his powers having a heavy influence on her mind, as it did every imp around him. Killing, stealing, blackmailing, heavy drinking and drugs. This was her life. She earned the name ‘The Firecracker of Imp City’. However when a job crossed the line, Clementine chose to leave without Toby’s permission, and was on the run for some time. During this time she briefly dated ‘Gritt’, an imp of difficult upbringing. When this didn’t work out she began to find and make friends elsewhere, though the relationship with Gritt became more platonic over time. Unfortunately, Toby found her. And after taking Gritt, Clementine had to face her past and end him once and for all. Still working through the things she had done, she now takes up odd jobs in Hell and tries to avoid her past. 

{Personality}: Clementine is cautious but bold, she knows she can handle herself and has boundless confidence with her skills. Clem can also be generous at times, opting to help where she can. The little imp is sometimes irritated when people accept the hand that is dealt to them.

{Skills} A talented dancer is the first thing people will notice, acrobatics from her time weaving and climbing through imp city in her childhood. However she is skilled with knives, firearms and hand to hand. She will bite.

#ClemtheImp #hazbin!verse #reference #tw: neglect #tw: abuse

[leavingsunsets]

hi, I saw you were taking requests and so, how about senku, gen, hyoga and ryusui (dr. stone) with a reader who's usually on her own world, gets distracted easily and is really helpful and nice to everyone, one day they're talking and suddenly the conversation moves to how the human brain works and reader starts talking about chemical components and processes of the brain (turns out she's into neuroscience), how would the boys would react to it?

it can be platonic or romantic, it doesn't have to be all of them, you could make it separate reactions or all of them reacting as a group, however you like best ^^

omg thank you for requesting! ill admit, i really cant imagine Hyoga of all people participating in casual group discussions, so ill just do them separately instead !

"𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀."

(𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙠𝙪 𝙄𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙞

Pleasantly surprised. Who knew someone as usually airheaded as you was actually quite well versed in a field of science? You've peaked his interest.

Would enthuse with you about it. Maybe even be willing to pipe in now and then with his own knowledge.

Likes to listen to you ramble while he works. Not just because you absentmindedly work faster while talking (you usually can't even do a long task without your attention getting grabbed elsewhere).

Actually even learns from you a little.

Finds it a little funny considering how you're always off, either out assisting or daydreaming. You're all whimsy and chill until the moment someone mentions anything about nerves or the brain.

Likes the fact that you're similar to him in a way that you both are willing to part your knowledge to others. Whenever someone asks, or doesn't understand, you happily break it down for them. This gives you a raise in his eyes.

At least now, he knows where to go if at some point the power of neuroscience is needed.

𝙂𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙞

Surprised, and sweating. He just mentioned that Kaseki has some really good hand-eye coordination. Suddenly, you were talking about how signals travel through spine.

It's an interesting fact. Like a nice trivia. Little miss daydreamer has hidden stock knowledge about the nervous system enough to make her a definite neurologist in this primitive era. Luckily, there was no need to test that statement. And hopefully never any.

He does learn bits and facts from you. Although that's only sometimes because most of the time he's just wondering what the hell is a Broca's area.

But, as it's so rare to see this passionate side of you, he humors it.

Kind of observes you, you know. Nods along while you ramble, even taking advantage of it. Just hands you whatever work he was doing and you take it, too immersed in explaining to him how impulses travel through synapse.

"Is that so? That's pretty complex." he makes a thoughtful expression, putting the golden wire he was twisting into your hands. This spurs you to expound on the topic, not noticing how he's not even doing anything anymore aside from clasping his hands together and sitting back.

𝙃𝙮𝙤𝙜𝙖 𝘼𝙠𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞

"..."

Just stands there silently. He's a good listener, yes, but when it comes to topics he doesn't know ass about, expect no feedback.

Most likely if you catch him at his free time, nothing on his mind, maybe he might? But it would be moreso comments about you.

"You're surprisingly knowledgeable about this."

Hyoga is a man all about efficiency. Quick trips, and doesn't really sit down a lot. So, he didn't really notice you that much at first.

This is one way to at least catch his attention though. Though you are now dubbed 'brain girl' in his mind.

𝙍𝙮𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙞 𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞

Would be the most willing out of all the boys in this list to actually sit down and discuss it with you.

He has time, plus, he sees how passionate you are about it. Why not?! Let him hear whatever you've got in that noggin!

Scene of both you round a table. You're chatting away while he leans back and sips on his mug. That kind of vibe.

Encourages this, as he doesn't see you this enthusiastic very often.

It doesn't mean he doesn't like your usual personality, but it's just that you seem brighter every time you talk about anything related to that topic!

Overall, he finds your love for neuroscience an interesting trait. He used to assume you as the kind airhead aboard, but now he knows a little more than that.

Aside from that, he also genuinely goes "Hmm." and strokes his chin, like whenever you tell him a fun trivia. Like, wow, he did not know that. Very interesting.

└─────────────────── ⋆☆⋆ ───────────────────┘

#FINISHED !!! #f!reader #female reader #dcst fanfic #dr stone fanfic #sen writes ! #sunset prints ! #dr stone #dcst #ryusui nanami #nanami ryusui #dr stone ryusui #hyoga akatsuki #dr stone hyoga #gen dr stone #dr stone gen #gen asagiri #asagiri gen #ishigami senku #dcst senku #dr stone senku #senku #senku ishigami #sen accepts ! #sen answers !