#It looks like you're trying to kill a stick figure. Would you like help?

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.6k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 2

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

“You got lost, didn’t you?” 

Sticking your tongue out at Charles, you take a seat next to his broad figure as you start applying coconut sunscreen. “Would it kill you to not gloat?” You narrow your unusually soft eyes like weapons. 

He playfully shudders. “Ooooh. My blood ran cold.”

Throwing the bottle over at his lap, he chuckles before lathering his tan body with the white goo. You try to not make it obvious, the way you steal glances at him. Everything makes sense all of a sudden; his odd obsession with anything that could cover his handsome features, the mysterious Ferrari, how he could go from making you laugh to keeping his mouth shut and looking down whenever anyone was around. 

He had kept this from you for a reason, that much is clear, but you would still give him a chance to open up. Sliding on a pair of sunglasses, you twist your body to sit cross cross. You fold your hands over your lap. “Truth or dare?”

The brunette tilts his head with hesitance. “Y-you don’t want to take a dip?” 

“Let’s lay out for a bit.” You poke him with your toe. “C’mon. Play with me.”

He sighs, pushing his hat downwards. “Dare.”

“Hmm…I dare you to…read me your last text message.”

“Easy.” Pulling out his phone, he scrolls for a bit before showing it to you. 

You’re walking the opposite way. I said near the fruit stand. 

Burning up, you push it down. “I don’t count.”

“You never specified.”

He wasn’t going to play easy and part of you respected that. Clicking your tongue, you extend your shiny legs. He gulps. Truth or dare? “Dare.” 

“Call the last person you spoke to.”

Growing nauseous at his request, you shake your head. “I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?”

You stutter. “M-my boss called to check up on me. Wanted to make sure I was a-actually on my deathbed and not just faking it, I can’t do that.” The Monegasque squinted his eyes teasingly before leaning back against the gray rocks.

“Fine. You get a pass.” You let out a breath of relief. “But I get one of those as well.”

You felt as if you were making a deal with the devil with the way he was watching you, waiting for an answer. He might use it against your benefit, but you had no choice. “Deal.”

“Good.” Flickering his green eyes towards the crystal blue tides, he chews on the inside of his cheek. “It's your turn.”

Be smart, don’t blow it. Deep down, you wanted to ask about the simpler things. Your favorite color? What was your childhood like? Was it better than mine? But that couldn’t matter more than what information you actually needed. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You groan. How were you supposed to get all the juicy details out of him if he kept playing it safe? Nonchalantly, he waits. “I dare you to stop picking dares.” His face pales. You feel bad for putting him in that position, but he quickly snaps out of it.

“Truth or dare?”

Swallowing a thick layer or saliva, you purse your lips. “Truth.” 

“Why did you lie to your boss?”

You gape at his question as you think of a way to avoid it. All he knows is that you have a month off and chose Italy as your destination thanks to your amazing friends. He didn’t know anything about the sleepless nights of zero ideas that had you on the brink of being fired, the reason you needed this article to work. Not only would it set your career, but it would also give you the respect you so desperately looked for in everyone who looked down on you.

“She would never let me come to Italy if I told her I need a break from all the pressure, y’know?”

Waves crash noisily as he frowns. “Mhm.”

“My turn. What’s your occupation?”

“I already told you,” he laughs, brown curls flowing against the summer breeze. “I work with cars.” A gist of hope zaps your heart as you wait for the rest. “I’m a mechanic.”

He wasn’t going to tell you - he didn’t trust you. Melancholy register across your face as you rise up carefully. “I’m in the mood to swim now.”

-

Life for the Scuderia Ferrari driver moves at a  fast pace, always on the go and traveling all around the world. At just 26 years old, the Monegasque has collected 5 wins and an impressive number of podiums, all while maintaining the longest Scuderia contract in history. 

But do we really know Charles Leclerc in his everyday life? A man without any responsibilities? 

Fortunately for us, I was able to sit down and speak to Il Predestinato as he he walks us through his routine for when he’s not on track-

“What are you working on? Seeing you be so quiet is bone-chilling.”

Poking your tongue out like a slithering snake, you feverishly slam your computer shut as you flip him off. “Catching up with friends. What can I say? The people love me.” The 26 year old rolls his eyes before picking up on his scribbles. Tippy toeing closer to him, you try to inspect the messy writing. “What is that?”

“Fuck, you scared me, you little gnome.” Hiding his small journal, you immediately push out your bottom lip.

“Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Clumsily, he opens it. “Grocery list.” But it's more than that. His letter isn’t easy to read, but it'll get you there. Diary entries. Blinking up at your roommate, you wiggle your brows. What’s it say? “Nothing important.” You don’t press him on it, but that doesn’t stop the curiosity from stirring inside of you. He stiffens. “Let’s go before they close.”

Pebbles crunch underneath your ballet flats as you sing softly. He smiles, content with the serene atmosphere. What song is that? Your jaw drops, stopping dead in your tracks. It takes him a while to realize you're not skipping next to him anymore. “Tell me you’re joking…”

“I’m joking.”

“Charles!” you wail as you fling your arms. “Beyond the Sea? Bobby Darin?” His face doesn’t change as he bats his eyes blankly. You gasp. “We’ll meet, I know we’ll meet beyond the shore. We’ll kiss just as before-.” 

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Playfully, you shiver, clutching your heart. “It isn’t good to be uncultured, Charlie.” The way you spit out his new nickname has him grasping how much he loves it - so long it's coming from you. Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, you wave your finger like some principal. “I’ll play it for you.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “No, just sing it to me like you were.”

You sincerely don’t have a single clue where all this unknown courage comes from, but you oblige. All the way to the local farmers market, he’s grinning ear to ear. From your voice sounding angelic, to it cracking as you would try to intimidate Darin, he feels fortunate to see this side of you. 

Entering the sliding doors, you grab a basket as you drag him, shoes squeaking from the sudden pull. “We’re not here for snacks, we’re here for food. Y’know - vegetables, rice, chicken-”

“I need something sweet!” you complain as your doe eyes glimmer at the sight of the Italian desserts. “If I don’t get it in my system I will die. Do you want me to die?” 

“At this moment, it doesn’t sound half bad.” You gawk at his dark humor. Taking the tiny basket from you, he makes his way to the produce section. “Grab whatever you need. I’ll be right back.”

Once his back faces you, you feel your phone vibrating. “Amelia!” Your cheery friend waves excitedly. Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you for days! Wincing, you place your phone on top of a box of cookies. “I’ve been gone for five days, please relax. Plus, I’m fine. Enjoying my time off.”

Your friend snickers. “I still need updates to make sure you aren’t dead in a ditch.” Making an exaggerated face, you nod and the blonde giggles. “Don’t make me fly out there. Unlike you, I will demand a year off if needed.” 

“Oh, I believe you,” you murmur, hand reaching for a box of Baci Pergunia. “How are you guys surviving without your third wheel?”

“Stop it, you,” she hisses. “Instead, why don’t you fill me in - any cute tourists?” You freeze midair, already angling your body to grab bonelle jellys. 

“I’m not too focused on any of that..” 

“Of course not because you’re too busy daydreaming about Grayson,” she teases. “Honey! She’s missing him, I told you!” Bullshit, Roman yells back from the kitchen.

“Will you two stop it?” you grit. 

“Yes, darling,” Roman talks gingerly. “Will you please stop planning a wedding?” Your jaw drops while your friend nervously giggles. He’s joking. 

“Enough about me, what are you two doing? What’s on the menu?” 

The brunette’s eyes crinkle, showing off his blurry screen. “Sicilian meatball soup.” 

“Lucky!” you groan. “You’re messed up for cooking your grandma’s recipe while I’m not there.” He shrugs. 

“We miss you so we both decided to make an Italian dish.” She emphasizes her words as he smiles bitterly. “It’s like you’re here with us.”

“She cried for an hour or so. It was the only way I could calm her down.” Amelia bites the air at her boyfriend. He leaps back, returning to stirring the sauce. “I cook because I love you, stop that.”

You throw your head back with laughter. “Again, not dead, but I’m touched.” Hearing a bag crinkle, you look down the aisle and spot Charles making his way over. “Gotta go! Call you as soon as I can!”

“Wow, you’ve managed to grab all the snacks in the entire store,” Charles teases as he points to your stack. “Got you chips, too.”

“You’re not helping,” you grunt as you take it from him. He hands you your own basket for your treats. Cramming them all in, he examines you before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So, Grayson’s the boyfriend?” 

“Ha! I wish. He’s my boss’ son. Way out of my league.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Then, he walks away, leaving you to follow after him like a lost puppy. You’re wary around him after that encounter, so you make sure to stand a few steps behind, waiting for him to finish paying. “What are you doing?”

“Che cosa?”

Sauntering over, he reaches down to take your things. Your breath gets caught in your throat from the sudden proximity. “I got it.” 

Bewildered, you start retreating all the sweets. “You don’t need to do that, you’re already paying for the other things. This one’s on me.” He scrunches his nose.

“That’s endearing, but I can’t. I’m on a diet.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely confused, and can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. “You look perfectly fine to me.”

He smirks. “Really?”

“I m-mean I think so,” you stammer. “But how would I know, I’ve never been on a diet.” Charles' watercolor eyes trickle all the way down before dancing back up. Butterflies flutter inside of you. 

“You don’t need it, trust me.” A pause. “I’ll pay for your things, it’s really no problem. Though I do ask you not to blame me when your teeth rot.” 

“Jerk!” you quip when he walks away, laughing loudly. You smile at the sound.

-

“You need to stop gobbling up all that crap, if not you’re not going to eat any of what I’m cooking,” his voice warns you. Setting the bag of gummies down, you kick your bare feet against the cabinets. 

Has it been an hour? Two? You can’t remember but it sure did smell good. He had asked you to just sit still and fix up a playlist while he prepared dinner, so there really wasn’t much to do. Are you almost done? Focused on cutting up a piece of onion, he shakes his head. A minute passes by before asking again. Not done, wait. 

As soon as your stomach grumbles, he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. You chuck a carrot at him as he cackles. “Ta-da!” Inspecting the nicely done dish, you throw a thumbs up. Grabbing a spoon, you’re about to dive in before he slides the plate away. Your lips form a thin line. “Take your time. Really enjoy it - it’s flavor, it’s scent-”

“Jesus, fine. Give it before I bite your cheek off,” you growl. Glaring at him, you dip your utensil in slowly. He applauds before pulling out his phone and pressing record. “Is that really necessary?”

“You might not realize it, but this is a monumental moment.” Bowing his head, he urges you to try it. You shrug once, wrapping your lips around the spoon and let's just say - you’ve always had a killer poker face.

“Delicious, chef!” 

“Putain oui!” He puts his phone away. “What did you like about it? The pepper helped, didn't it?”

You grimace. “I want my two hours back.” His smile dies down. Seriously? Yanking the spoon from your grip, he tries the colorful soup and winces at the saltiness. 

“I followed step by step, why does this shit keep happening?” 

The Monegaque truly does seem bummed out as his shoulders sag, glasses sliding down his pointy nose. Scooting closer, you pat his shoulder awkwardly. “You need some serious help.” He shoots a deadpan look as you giggle. “I’m kidding! It’s not that bad.” Jumping off the counter, you tug the nearest apron. “Let me try.”

It takes another two hours, but you figure it out eventually. Standing tall, you place your hands behind your back. The Monegasque eyes the food. “Now, I want you to take your time. Really enjoy it, it’s flavor-”

“Stop it,” he grumbles before diving in. His eyes open wide as you wiggle against your heels excitedly. “You can’t be real.”

“Is it good?”

He nods enthusiastically, brown hair jumping up and down. “H-how did you…” Polishing your nails, you fake a bored expression. By praying. It’s looks as if he’s deeply considering your advice for a second but when you howl out, he flushes. 

“Don’t be so gullible, Charlie. Roman’s grandma taught me. I spent Christmas with him and Amelia.”

His face softens up. “What about your parents?” 

“We’re not close like that.” You confess so unbothered that it has him fluttering his eyes for a while. “Don’t feel bad - I do just fine. They call me on my birthday.” Metal clinks against the porcelain plate as he huffs, firm chest rising up before deflating.

“That’s the fucking standard.” You raise a brow. Why are you upset with me? “I’m not. It’s just that it’s not fair that they treat you like garbage just because you didn’t fulfill their wish. Or that you let others trample over you like a piece of shit.” You flinch. “Y-you know what I mean…”

“Sure,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the food, Charles.”

-

He feels guilty for making you feel bad, but he wasn’t lying. It bugged the crap out of him that you floated through life thinking everything was okay. He’s never met Amelia or Roman, but he felt a strong gratitude towards the couple for treating you with genuine care. But you had filled him in on the rest; they way others would look down on you - all while you wore a miserable smile. I’m used to it by now. Doesn’t even bother me. 

Charles was always in the limelight - always probably will be - but he also knows he signed up for it. He knew fake smiles like the back of his hand. Whether it was a pretty girl trying to get money out of him or sponsors trying to get close to him just for fame. If it weren’t for his friends back home, he definitely would have lost faith in humanity. 

And then there was you. Someone so kind, who puts others' needs before yourself. You didn’t have to check up on him that day at the beach, you didn’t have to help him or give him shelter but you did. He thought you would be some crazy fan but when you blinked up at him like a curious expression, he could tell you didn’t know who he was. 

The Monegasque felt relieved that you treated him without any special treatment, that you saw him for who he really was, not just some F1 driver. He owes it to you to make things right and apologize.

He finds you eating a pint of gelato as you stare blankly at the eggshell wall. “Did you save me some?” You jump at the sound of his deep voice. Halfway done, you respond red-faced. You can have the rest. Leaning against the table, he shakes his head. “Let’s just share.”

You’re sure you can hear Amelia and Roman bickering from how quiet it is, but don’t dare to utter a single word. It’s bad enough that he knows that his words got to you, how can you look him in the eye? 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Peeking over at the brunette, you admire his side profile before humming. He continues. “But at the same time I don’t regret it.”

You laugh dryly. “Wow, this is some apology.”

Clearing his throat, he cages your body against the wooden furniture. “I’m serious - I don’t.” Avoiding eye contact, you stare at the sides of your bare thighs where his large hands lay. Suddenly the room feels suffocating. “You do need to stop letting others decide what to think about yourself. You need to stop pleasing everyone around you. Your parents, Eleanor, shit, even me.”

The green eyed boy begins to get blurry as your eyes foolishly well up. “I don’t do th-”

“Yes, yes you do, do that.” His accent comes out stronger than intended. You let out a shaky breath, then beam up at him. Okay, I’ll stop. He grinds his teeth together. “No. Don’t agree just because I’m telling you - do it for yourself because you want to.”

“I want to,” you whisper meekly. 

His heart breaks at the sight of you answering untruthfully but does say anything else. Instead, he hauls you off the table, planting you onto your feet. “Grab a sweater and meet me by the door in five minutes.”

-

He’s for sure going to murder you, Amelia was right after all. Shit, you mutter underneath your breath as he pulls onto the hills. The view was great - for sure a nice way to go if that’s the last thing you’ll ever see. 

Following him out, you pinch down on your denim shorts. Was it too late to run away? He left the key in the engine, maybe you could leave him stranded? 

“I’m not going to kill you, you can relax.”

Blood rushes to the tip of your ears. “What are we doing here at…” You check your phone. “Two in the morning?”

“Yell.”

You quirk your head curiously. “I’m sorry, say that one more time.”

He extends his arms out, enjoying the cool breeze. “Just do it. No one’s going to hear you.”

“That sounds like something a killer would say. Can I get a ten minute head start?”

He rolls his green eyes. “Trust me, it helps a lot. My trainer has me do it all the time.” You raise your brows. “I- uh- box during my free time. My boxing trainer has me do it when I’m too stressed.”

Ignoring his slip up, you shake your head. “I can’t scream, that’s weird.” His pink lips turn downwards. “You’re going to judge me!”

“I won’t!” Covering his ears, he signals at you. “Not a thing.”

You bite down on your sweater before shaking your buzzing hands. Once and he’ll drop it. Ahh, you let out weakly before smiling brightly. “You’re right. That was great!” Turning on your heels, you begin to skip away before he tugs on your sweater, flinging you back. 

“Not even the crickets heard you. Try again.”

“I did do it, you just didn’t like it.” 

“I’m not letting you leave until you do it the right way.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he peacefully shuts his eyes, enjoying nature's lullaby. He seems to let his guard down because before he knows it, he hears the Ferrari engine loud and clear. “Don’t you dare leave,” he warns as he runs up to his car. 

“Get home safe, Charlie!” you squeal as you step on the gas. Chasing after you, he ends up standing in front of the car as you shriek. As quickly as you can, you step off the break but the tip still manages to hit the Monegasque. You scream at the brutal sight. 

Scurrying out of the car, you drop down next to him as you flip him onto his back. His pretty eyes remain closed as he lays still. Wake up Charles, I’m too young to go to jail! Do you know how hard it is to prove your innocence when you’re a foreigner? You delicately tap his cheek but his head only rolls back. You yell out in panic as you let go of his heavy body. 

“Oh God, oh God, holy shit, holy fuck,” you whimper as you pace back into the red car. Squeezing your eyes tightly, you place your hands over the steering wheel as you think about what just happened. Amelia was going to kill you. Eleanor would personally write a whole article about you. 

“You were seriously going to leave me for dead?” a voice interrupts your thoughts as you scream. You face Charles and he yells back at the sudden ring. 

“What the shi- You’re alive!” Jumping over the console, you hug him, barely giving him room to breathe. Groaning in pain, he pushes you back. You hop off as you grab his left hand and raise up four fingers. “How many am I holding up?”

“Fingers? I have ten.”

Your heartbeat travels to your throat as you squirm. “I broke him.” Images of you behind bars enter your mind as you plead Charles to drop the charges. Amelia and Roman would travel to visit you in jail but only to demand their money back. You’d be in complete debt for the rest of your life and oh God what if the Italinas had a thing for the electric chair-

“I’m teasing,” he laughs as he rubs his head. “It hurts like a motherfucker, though, but hey, at least you let it all out.” Wacking his arm, you glare sternly.

“You did that on purpose?”

Grunting, he inches away. “I did not, are you crazy? But it helped you! How do you feel?”

You narrow your fiery eyes. “Angry…mad.” That's the same thing, he points out as you scowl. Nevermind. “I feel good.”

All smug, he leans against the passenger's seat. “I told you it would help.”

“Huh,” you let out in astonishment. 

-

It started out with a simple argument - pesto or tomato sauce. You were leaning more towards the green paste but he held onto his end stubbornly. Honeymoon phase is over? Spinning to face a little boy with whipped cream all over his cheeks, he quirks his head. My dad always likes to say - happy wife, happy life. Walking away, you’re both left with your mouths hung open as you put the ingredients down. 

“Did we just get scolded by a some little fucker?” 

Gasping at his words, you smack the side of his head. He yelps. “No Charles, he basically called us old! We’re ancient!”

“Nonsense. He’s just being dumb.”

Glaring, you put your hands on your hips as you pace the aisle. “What if he’s right? What if we are on the verge of death?” He laughs. All because he thought we were married? Closing in to his tall figure, you pinch your face up. “A married couple spend their life together - growing old. He called us old!” You walk fast down the supermarket as you run wild hands through your hectic hair.

Hurrying after you, he pants. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find him.” He comes to a sudden stop. And do what exactly? Tossing your head back, you groan in frustration. “I don’t know! Whoop him or something like that.”

The Monegasque lets out a snicker. Your face twists up. “Let’s just calm down.” I am calm, you grunt. He clicks his tongue. 

“We need to do something,” you declare. He sighs. Forgetting all about your errands, you drag him out of the store. Bright eyes flicker across the busy streets as you huff. Then you spot it. “We’re going.”

The brunette squints his eyes as he reads the small print. Amalfi Club. Theme: Halloween costumes. He scoffs. “But it isn’t even October.”

But your mind is set. “It’s perfect.” Bumping against his shoulder, you beam. “Looks like we can turn back time after all.”

-

Ballerina for me, you cheer. And Stormtrooper for you? You narrow your eyes in confusion. “I’m sorry, how do you even know Star Wars exists? Aren’t you French?”

“Monegasque,” he corrects you before frowning. “Stars Wars is a global success. Being from Monaco doesn’t mean we don’t know anything, thank you very much.” 

You shrug. “Be a tiny bit more grateful that I found our costumes on such short notice.” Yeah, yeah, he yawns. “I’m so excited!” you squeal as you finish tying your pink ribbon. You would for sure have a terrible headache by the end of the day. “Won’t you sweat with a helmet all night?”

“I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

It’s so crowded - packed - that your roommate has to practically shove you in as you yelp, arm swatting your tutu down. A cheap looking Tinkerbell gives you the death glare when you step on her foot. I can’t fucking breath! The Stroomtopper mask tilts as he brings his gloved hands to your shoulder. Do you want to leave?

“No!” A beat. “Let me just go get us a drink.”

Zipping past him, you can hear him calling after you but you choose to ignore since you knew he would drag you back to the shared Airbnb. Just water, you chime in as the bartender nods, eyeing your perky tits. Frowning, you pout somberly. “Ignore him,” a deep voice rips you away from your thoughts as you face them. 

Is everyone just okay with melting their face off? The towering man wears a red jumpsuit with the infamous Dali mask. “I like your costume. I binge watched all of Casa De Papel in a singular night.” Your cheeks flush when you realize you’re rambling. He chuckles richly.

“Thought I’d look cool.

There’s an award silence as you wait. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you scrunch your nose in disgust. “You must be sweaty beneath all that,” you ponder, fingers signals to the white mask. He sighs, wide shoulders rolling back. I’m thinking I might faint. A bright giggle slips past your lips and he grins from underneath, even if can’t see. “You remind me of my friend. He would rather die than take his helmet off. He’s a Strormtrooper,” you add. 

Large hands come up as he pushes the hoodie off, messy brown locks coming into view. Stubborn, aren’t we? You nod, thanking the man who comes back with your glass of water. “I should go find him…”

A heavy pant flows from the mysterious man. You’re leaving? He coughs to cover up his neediness. His accent makes your cheek burn up. “I sort of left him,” you respond sheepishly. He chuckles, finally taking his mask off, beads of thin sweat painingting his large nose. You breath hitches, waves of recognition hitting you all at once.

“Valid.” He extends his tan hand towards you. “I’m Carlos, by the way.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

[sporadicthingcollection]

La faccia infarina (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy swears at a child, draws on his face, and experiences a revelation. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~1.4k. Warnings: Pregnancy mention, childbirth mention, a lot of swearing.

A/N: i'm ovulating so please enjoy an episode of what i like to call Reproducing With Men Who Should Not Be Trusted With Children.

Doing his makeup is much easier when there's no distractions to occupy him. Unfortunately, he's got a big one today and, for once, it isn't you trying to get into his pants.

Though that exact scenario is definitely what resulted in this new distraction. It was either that or the time after the party.

"Don't even think about it," Buggy says firmly.

Keeda grabs a drawer and tries to yank it open. A disembodied foot gently nudges him away. The boy stares at him in indignation, then blows a raspberry. He reaches again, whining when the foot still bars his way.

Buggy raises a brow at him. "Getting fresh, huh?" Another raspberry. "Floor privileges revoked."

He picks the boy up by the collar and plops him in his lap. He squeaks and squeals, trying to squirm away, but Buggy holds him tight.

"Y'know, I liked you better when you were a prop," he says. He swipes his lipstick along his cheeks. "You'd just lay there and make noises and shit yourself. None of this 'trying to kill yourself when I'm not looking' shtick."

Keeda resigns himself to his prison and is now pouting, making little huffs. He glances up with big, pleading eyes, lower lip quivering.

Buggy scoffs. "Don't try that pathos crap on me. I know what you look like when you're about to cry."

A long, low whine makes Buggy falter. Uh oh. He glances down.

Keeda lunges upwards, trying to grab the lipstick. Buggy pops his hand off just out of reach -- this is the expensive stuff. Can't have a baby eating it. Again.

"What's gotten into you today?" Keeda lunges again. Buggy pops his second hand off to cap the lipstick and stick it back in the drawer. "Sheesh, kid. Cool it."

"Bappo," Keeda says with a glare. Baby for pay attention to me, asshole, I'm right here.

A lightbulb goes off. He pulls a bag of pigment sticks from the drawer and dumps them onto the table. "You want your face done like Daddy's?" He spins the boy around to face the vanity. "Pick your war paint."

Keeda scans the selection and, with short chubby fingers, he selects a blue pigment stick. He then tries to shove it in his mouth, but Buggy grabs it before he can chomp it.

Buggy smiles as he regards the color. He was wearing this when he met you -- diamonds over his eyes as he tried to kill you. From hating his guts to fucking him stupid to bearing his child. How times change.

He takes the boy's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. He can't believe he's still so damn small. A year in and he figured he'd be more... child-sized. Buggy's still afraid a strong breeze will shatter the kid like glass.

With gentle hands, he draws. Short strokes are best on soft, chubby skin with a lot of give. Keeda gazes at him all the while. He's got your eyes, warm and dark as charcoal.

Buggy licks his thumb and smooths out the edges. Keeda presses into his touch like a cat and gives him a smile, one that he can't help but return.

The idea of fatherhood terrified him. Horrified him. He thought about turning himself into the Marines right then and there. If his old captain couldn't do it, how could he be expected to do it? He's not half as competent as everyone seems to believe and you know he's a buffoon. Why would you want to have his kid?

Buggy finishes the diamonds and spins the boy to face the mirror. "Well?"

Keeda squints at himself. He touches his reflection. After a moment of contemplation, he speaks. "Fsshala."

He's been saying that a lot lately. You keep telling him that it's just nonsense babbling, but Buggy knows the truth.

"I agree," he says. "Let's make it flashy!"

He spins the boy back around, making him giggle. Truly the world's most remarkable sound.

He still doesn't have an answer for why you put yourself through nine months of pure terror. Was it your selfish desire for a family? Or did you see a truth hidden deep in his soul, so deep that he had no idea it existed until he held his son for the first time, still bright pink and howling?

Carefully, he traces two long lines up from the tips of the diamonds. He crosses them at the middle of his forehead, curls them into a heart, and adorns it with dots.

As is, Keeda looks more like you. Your dark hair, your dark eyes... and your nose, thank fucking god. He couldn't live with himself if his monstrosity was inheritable.

He was worried at first. How could he be sure that he's your son's father? He trusts you, but there was always that doubt gnawing at the back of his head until a few months in, when Keeda started getting expressive. In every giggle, in every glower, in every grin, there was Buggy the Clown.

Speaking of smiles, his mouth looks a little bare. A nice golden yellow would suit him.

Buggy picks up the pigment stick in one hand and smushes the boy's cheeks together with the other. "Pucker up, buttercup."

Keeda squirms a bit as he paints his mouth, swirling the corners up into cute little spirals. He licks his lips and sputters. "Pfeh!"

Buggy chuckles. "Weren't like that last week. You loved the stuff." He lifts the boy and spins him around to see his reflection. "Now you're lookin' more like your old man."

Keeda stares at himself. He tips his head one way, then the other. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow. He lets out a low, pensive whine.

Oh no. Does he not like it? Is he going to cry? Please don't cry. "Wait wait wait." He turns him around and lifts him to stand on his lap. "Don't get upset--"

A little spark flashes in the boy's eyes. The frown vanishes and he reaches up, tiny fingers grabbing for something.

Buggy's gotten enough hair ripped out to jerk away on impulse. "Something on my face?"

A tiny hand baps him on the nose. Buggy flinches. Fuckin' thing in the way again.

He angles his head, waiting for Keeda to tap what he was really aiming for. And again, he gets bapped right on the nose.

...no. There's no way.

Another bap, this time with an impatient glower. "Isso," Keeda says firmly. Baby talk for this.

Buggy's heart is in his throat as he picks up the red pigment stick. With shaky hands, he outlines the boy's nose -- a cute little button -- and draws a circle.

He swallows thickly. He clenches his jaw. He turns him around.

Keeda's eyes widen, then scrunch into crescents as he lets out a delighted squeal. "Papa!" he says, grinning up at Buggy. He flops backwards back into his lap, giggling and wiggling. "Papa!"

He's not sure how long he sits there at the vanity, listening to his baby chatter happily, but it must be awhile because you eventually come calling.

"Oh, there you guys are,” you say. "You chuckleheads having fun without me?"

"Amama!" Keeda stands in Buggy's lap and waves at you. He points at the mirror. "Issoooooo."

You appear at Buggy's shoulder, grinning brilliantly. "Aw, look at you," you croon. "Did Daddy do your makeup? Or did you get into his shit when he wasn't looking?"

Buggy's voice comes out in a tight croak. "I did it."

"Well, damn, it looks great! You never do my makeup that well--" Your gaze flickers to him in the mirror, and your smile vanishes. "...Are you crying?"

He sniffles. Loudly. "No."

You give him one of your do-you-need-a-psych-eval looks. "Bugs, your mascara's running."

Something hot and wet rolls down to his chin. "No, it's not."

You look at his reflection in the mirror, then back to him. "Either smile or cry. Doing both is freaking me out."

He wraps his arms around Keeda, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. "Fuckin' love you so much, you little shit," he murmurs into his hair.

Keeda squeals and giggles.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[withleeknow]

hi lovely!! first off congrats on 1k that's so so awesome and you deserve all that + more truly :( your writing is so tender and so lovey

i would to join in on your little drabble event!!! could you do something for hanji and the song compass by the neighbourhood? that song reminds me of him so so much so i hope you get the vision!! thank you angel and have a beautiful day!! ✮⋆˙

compass.

pairing: producer!jisung x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort?, fluff, swearing, arson jokes? lmao word count: 1.4k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

you're always there to help me when i'm down i'm lucky you've been keeping me around you're the star i look for every night when it's dark, you'll stick right by my side

compass - the neighbourhood

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the sound of jisung's verbalized frustration draws your attention to his desk and setup in the middle of room, where he's been sitting for the better part of two hours, hunched over the equipment like he often does when he's in the studio.

it's written all over his face just how upset he is that this particular piece he's working on isn't flowing right. the deep furrow between his eyebrows communicates utter displeasure. the clench of his jaw tells you he's angry, and that he's angry at himself for not being able to work through his block.

you abandon your comfortable spot on the couch in favor of pattering over to his side where he's all tensed up like an aggrieved hamster whose body can't contain the annoyance he feels. jisung can be short-tempered sometimes, but you know how to handle him in moments like this.

sliding a hand over his back, you say, "take a little break with me."

he huffs out a breath, eyes still focused on his laptop screen. "i can't afford a break. chan hyung expects this to be done in two days."

"so it's in two whole days. you can leave it for fifteen minutes, it won't kill you."

"but i still have to rework the first verse and figure out what in the fucking hell this second verse is-"

"han jisung," you scold him lightly, to which he instantly shuts up and peers up at you with his big eyes, immediately apologetic when he recognizes his harsh language.

"sorry," he mumbles, "i'm just stressed."

"which is why you need a break. you're not doing anyone any good just sitting here and trying to make your laptop explode with your eyes."

he lets out a pathetic-sounding mewl but he follows you to the couch regardless. jisung knows you're right because you always are. you're the more level headed between the two of you, whereas he's the one who lets his emotions get the better of him sometimes.

before, he would often succumb to his negative feelings. it's hard to keep his cool when nothing seems to go right and there's a deadline on his ass. he'd get so frustrated with his work that sometimes, he would delete whole tracks off his drive only to instantly regret it and spiral even more. he'd take it out on the people around him with his grumpy attitude and misplaced pettiness.

when jisung is overwhelmed, he tends to spin out in all directions. he splinters and drowns in a sea of his own making, constantly being pushed away further and further from shore because he doesn't know how to anchor himself, how to hold on so he wouldn't drift far away. his solution to soothe his anger has always been to give into it, to rip whole pages from notebooks and lock himself in his studio for hours on end until he could plow through the stubborn creative block. it'd often leave him exhausted - emotionally and physically so - and in no better state than he started out with.

jisung accepted this a long time ago - that his way of dealing with his emotions wasn't very healthy, but it was the only way he knew.

that is, until you popped into his world and taught him that people can be lifelines too. falling upon him like a wish that he never realized he was making his whole life.

"what's the matter, baby?" you ask, prompting him to air out his grievances as he lays his head on your chest while you card your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into you instantly, a long sigh escaping his pouty lips. jisung's got a lot of pride, and he would rather die before admitting to anyone that he loves to be babied by you behind closed doors.

he knows the question is just your way of getting him to verbalize all of his pent-up frustration, and not because you're eager to help him traipse through his mind palace and solve whatever dilemma he's having with the track. let's be honest, you never really have a clue what he's talking about, but it helps that you're keen on listening to him even though you can't offer him any valuable insight. more than you could ever know, it does wonders for jisung, just being able to untangle his thoughts and release the mess in his mind.

he could simply just talk to chan, sure, or any of his other friends who work in the industry. but again, his pride is an awful thing sometimes.

you never make him feel like he has prove himself to earn your love and attention, though. around you, jisung feels enough as he is. there's never been any need to toughen up in your presence.

"i just... i can't work with this track. nothing is flowing right. i hate everything i come up with." he rambles on about the things that plague his mind; topline this and beats that - they're really just words to you. you weren't blessed with the same genius in music that jisung was, so you just listen until he's done, until he concludes his tangent with a groan as he nuzzles further into the comfort of your warmth.

"you said that the last time, you know?"

"said what?"

"that everything sucks and you hate it."

"because everything sucks," he whines again, his eyebrows knitted together as he adorns a petulant pout. "and i hate it."

as you play with his fluffy hair, you feel him lean into your touch like it's the very thing that will bring him clarity. in a way, it does. your gentle touch may not give him the answer he needs, but it quiets the static in his mind, drowns out the continuous buzzing that muddles his brain.

"you're too hard on yourself," you say, to which jisung just huffs out a breath in disagreement. "i'm serious. you say this every time but it all still works out in the end. you're so smart, and talented. you shouldn't forget that."

his frown only deepens in response to your words. he knows you're right; things have always turned out fine before. trust the process and all that shit, but he's hot-headed and impatient sometimes, and he doesn't want to endure the stress that often comes with the process. he just wants to get to the finish line.

then, you continue, "remember 13?"

"what about 13?"

"you didn't like it at first either. you were so dramatic about it. but you sucked it up and finished it anyway. you made a hit and nobody could stop talking it. i believe in you. you just need to believe in yourself too."

in complete silence except for the sound of your steady heartbeat in his ears, jisung keeps laying on top of you like a weighted blanket, soaking up your words as a flower would in warm sunlight. of course he remembers 13 and the day he let you listen to the song for the first time. you'd nearly burst into tears in the middle of this studio, pressing kisses all over his face while you gushed over how proud you were of him.

"damn you," he mutters after a while. "why do you have to be so rational?"

"someone's gotta be. if i wasn't here, you probably would've ripped all your hair out, set your keyboard on fire and ran off into the woods."

he shoots up instantly, propping himself on two elbows as he glares at you even though you've got a valid point. it's not that far-fetched of a scenario.

"what?" you tilt your head with a coy smile. "am i wrong?"

jisung stares at you for a quick minute, and it's that very smile you're wearing that mitigates his frustrations and dulls his urge to sabotage his work out of self-inflicted anger. he says nothing at all, just leans down quickly to give you a kiss full of appreciation, despite the way there was a frown tugging on his eyebrows only seconds prior.

"you good now?" you ask, the words coming out a little muffled against his mouth.

if it's with you, then he is. you're the anchor that helps him part his stormy seas. you're the compass that always guides him home. he really doesn't know where he'd be without you, or how he'd manage in times like these if you're not by his side to ground him.

"always good with you around."

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.04.2024]

[yuri-is-online]

Random JadeYuu scenarios because I also have no self control:

Earth and Twst have completely different species of mushrooms and Yuu tells him about earth mushrooms and then they try to cross breed different types of mushrooms to get this One Really Cool Mushroom from Yuus world

Similarly, Yuu tells jade about the Himalayan mountains and Mt Everest (I know a weird amount if Mt Everst lore)

Jazz band! Maybe there's a style of jazz that only exists in twst or on earth and they just combine them to get a whole new jazz! Like cyber jazz or something (That's actually a newly invented genre irl)

Visiting the coral sea and Yuu just starts trying to find old ocean fossils like a fucking nerd

Visiting the coral sea and Yuus trying to figure out why Jade is glowing like the fish equivalent if a glow stick

They go to a rave. Idk they just do shrooms and go to a rave in scarabia. Ft high clingy Jade

Silently courting Jade and watching him flip out

Teaching him how to drive (he cannot)

I love jadeyuu, getting random jadeyuu brainrot increases my lifespan... probably... i think...

I think this is such a cute idea. Apparently our world has deep sea mushrooms so I think it would be very cute of JadeYuu to go diving looking for Twisted Wonderland's equivalent. I also really like the idea of them trying to research how to crossbreed mushrooms for completely wholesome and mundane reason but ending up with a bunch of information on how to grow psychedelics. This is fine by them too.

Jade would have such a silly painfully in love face while Yuu talks about the mountains of their world. He memorizes every word you say and kisses you painfully slowly afterwords, he really loves when you tell him things about your world that make him want to see it. (Mt. Everest makes me sad because all I really know about it is how tourism has been fucking things up for it.)

I really love jazz music ( ˘▾˘)~ and the idea of music evolving in a different way in different worlds is not something that I think is too far fetched, music is influenced by the culture around it and the Coral Sea is super different from anything in Yuu's world. Jade would really enjoy playing music with Yuu, I think he would feel like it would help him understand them better.

Floyd would find this so funny. He already makes fun of you on the log in screen for collecting random junk, and now you are grabbing random sea shit too? This is hilarious. Even funnier that Jade gets super defensive of you and tries to help you pick out the nicest things to bring back to the surface. Don't listen to him pearl there really is no accounting for taste these days.

( ` ꒳ ´ )✧ hehe Jade can control his facial expressions but he cannot control his body's mating signals. He's literally glowing with happiness at having you here, under the sea, all to himself, and so... soft looking. Vulnerable even, so why is he the one breathing heavy and feeling faint? You're unbearably close and so painfully gentle with him as you trace the light down from his shoulder to his chest... come on now, be a bit bolder and go deeper, won't you? (his smile is all teeth and he's literally shaking, which is only worrying Yuu more)

I'm just picturing Jade glued to Yuu's side, really touchy and so honed in on you he's forgotten that you are technically in public. He's saying absolutely filthy things... at least you think he is. He's kind of mumbling and the music is really loud, but you know where his hands are going... maybe you should get out of here before Jamil kills you.

You hand Jade a handmade bracelet and watch him have the most stressed out smile as he tries to determine if you want him or want him while he tries to not make it too obvious which one he wants. You know. You know which one he wants everyone does he is so not slick.

Yeah he refers to something as a "dilly of a pickle" his ass can't drive. I bet he gets horrible motion sickness when riding in cars, similar to how he is with roller coasters in the Playful Land event. He still wants to learn how so he can helpfully insist on driving Azul somewhere (he wants to watch him throw up.)

[h0nkch0c0late]

i will literally do anything for jordan li x fem reader

enemies to lovers

Oh my God anon you are setting me up for such a good plot....you have too much faith in me.

Top Five

Jordan Li x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Jordan had always fought about everything. Whether it was because of something you two disagreed on, or a simple topic, but it was always mainly due to your Top Five rankings. While Marie was put in #1, you stayed in place at #3. As they say: the enemy to your enemy is your friend :)

WARNINGS: swearing, slight Gen V spoilers, implications of sex (not specifically written)

You and Jordan had been enemies since you could remember. Both of your parents had been close friends, and thought that their children would be the same.

That had never been the case, though, as you two had been each other's sworn enemies since the day you had met.

Why? Neither of you really had a reason. It had nothing to do with your powers, and most times your arguments had no real...argument. just pointless yelling.

But then, as you grew up, and you both entered Godolkin, it became more than just pointless arguments.

You spent every day trying to prove who the better person was. Which one was liked best, which one performed the best, etc...

It didn't help your case that Jordan was all buddy-buddy with the headmaster, Professor Brink, which let them be in with the popular crowd.

That didn't prevent you from being #3 for the top five, of course, but you were still upset.

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

Its not like you weren't friends with the "popular" crowd either, being friends with Cate Dunlap and Andre Anderson had its perks.

The only downside was that you were constantly in the same room with Jordan when you all hung out together, and she INSISTED on glaring at you every time.

Your response to it was always sticking your tongue out at them like a child, to which they always rolled their eyes.

To you two, it was like a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you could figure out which was which.

To your friend group's eyes on the other hand, it was a game of "who will kiss who" first. They saw your constant fighting as blatant flirting that neither of you were willing to admit.

So, when Marie Moreau came to the school, and Luke had killed himself along with killing Brink, you two finally had someone to be genuinely enemies with.

After all, the enemy to your enemy is your friend, right?

So, while Jordan was thrown to #5, and Marie moved up to #1, you couldn't stop glaring at Marie every time you walked past her.

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

As you walked down the path towards the dorm rooms, you had noticed Jordan standing there, clearly upset.

Ever since their rating had gone down, it was like they were a ghost to the rest of the school. You could relate, however, as being #3 wasn't as nice when the top 2 were being practically worshipped for something they hadn't even done.

So, gathering up your courage, you walked over to him, lips casted into a frown, "you okay?"

Her upset expression turned into one of annoyance (defense mechanism due to the fact her enemy was talking to her), and she groaned, "why do you care?"

You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing less from the supe in front of you, "because ever since Marie got to #1 and you got pushed, you've become a ghost. And you seemed pretty upset so...I don't know."

"You're still #3. You shouldn't be caring about anybody who's below you." They scoffed, their eyes refusing to meet yours.

You sighed, "the enemy to my enemy is my friend, I guess? Look, Jordan," You paused for a moment, "I know we aren't the best of friends, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how close you and Brink were and what happened fucking sucks."

Jordan's eyes moved to look at you, her frown slightly disappearing as she noticed that you actually genuinely cared. "Yeah, I'm fine."

You tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows as you knew that they were lying, "there's no need to lie to me. We may hate each other but I do know you."

Jordan sighed, "can we not do this here?"

You gave them a look of confusion, "Okay...where do you wanna-"

You were cut off by Jordan taking your hand and dragging you off to their dorm room, and suddenly you found yourself sitting on their bed as they began to pace around. "Of course I'm not okay! Marie took all of the credit for something she didn't even do! She fucking took off! She ran! And it seems like I'm the only one pissed the fuck off about it because come ON! you did more than her! You actually tried to talk to him! You tried to talk him down and yeah it didn't work but you tried! And I fought him! Where the fuck is our credit, huh?!" Jordan ranted, getting angrier by the second.

Your frown deepened as you watched Jordan get heated, "Look, yeah, I'm angry I didn't get any credit, but at the end of the day, the rankings aren't that important to me. And yeah, I'm stuck at #3, but it's been like that for a while. I'm fine with not getting any credit because at the end of the day, it wouldn't have changed anything. You would have been #1, and Andre would have been #2. I care more about the fact that I lost a friend." You explained, standing up and walking over to Jordan, grabbing their hands in your own to stop their pacing.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes downcast at your interlocked hands, head low to hide the rising blush that began to cover her cheeks.

"But I thought you did care. Yknow, our constant fighting and all?" Jordan questioned.

You chuckled, "Jordan, I constantly fought with you because thats what we do. We're supposed to be enemies, remember? Enemies fight."

Jordan stared at your hands for a bit longer before gathering the courage and looking up, "what if...what if I don't wanna be enemies anymore?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "what do you-"

You were cut off by Jordan planting their lips on your own, and you didn't hesitate to kiss back as your hands let go of their's and cupped their face.

And soon enough, you were back on her bed.

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

It's a little rushed but fuck it we ball 😎

Also, how do we feel about me calling yall gentlebitches bc I find it kinda funny

[ssprayberrythings]

heyyy to help u w ur writers block:

spending a lazy day w danny, like either lazing around on the couch in the sun or maybs he’s sticking to his workout regimen and trying to convince us to join? just cutesy domestic shh xx

thank you anon for this, i hope you're still around to read the final product! i kept it short and sweet, wanting to get the simplicity of it all but im proud of it!

MOMENTS LIKE THESE | DR3

daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader

warnings: none at all just domestic moments with danny 🫶

masterlist | taglist

It was vacation time for the drivers and that meant you finally got to spend time with your boyfriend, except for when he went to the gym, which was one thing you didn’t do with him. 

“Where are you going?” You asked your boyfriend as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You had woken up a few moments earlier and heard the shower running. You debated joining him but the water was being turned off before you could make any further movement.

“To the gym” he smiled as he walked into the walk in closet you shared to get dressed 

“Can’t you skip the gym for one day” you asked already knowing the answer to the question but decided to ask any way 

“No, but I figured I’d go early enough so when I get back we still have the whole day to do whatever you want” Danny told you as he reentered the bedroom, to your disappointment fully clothed. 

“Or you could join me” he added as he made his way towards the bed sitting on your side

“No your workout is so intense I’d probably die” you exaggerated as you moved closer to him “Plus you’re so sexy, I’d just be distracted the entire time” you smirked at him 

He let out a laugh while putting one of his hands on the side of your face “I wouldn’t mind an audience” he told you as he leant in to kiss you. 

You smiled into the kiss, happily kissing him back before he pulled away “I have to go or else Michael won’t let me leave to make up for being late” he told you getting up from the bed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and heading out of the room to leave 

“I’ll be back before you know it. I love you” he gave you his famous Daniel Ricciardo smile before he was gone out of the room. 

You just decided to go back to sleep, figuring it’d be the fastest way to kill time before he was back home and your day would start then. 

-

You woke up a few hours after and it didn’t take long for you to realize Daniel still wasn’t home judging by the empty space next to you or at least that’s what you thought. 

When you eventually found the energy to get up and leave your bedroom, you were met with your boyfriend making breakfast. You smiled at the site and admired how at peace he looked. 

“Morning sleeping beauty” he joked with you once he caught you admiring him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked as you made your way to sit on the counter, his hands taking a break from fixing breakfast and helping you up smiling at how cute he thought you looked 

“It was okay. Would’ve been better with you next to me” you told him as you took a blueberry off one of the plates and ate it while Danny went back to making breakfast.

He had made pancakes, washed some fruit and then he was just finishing up the eggs right now. “How was the gym?” You asked him

“It was okay, would’ve been better with you” he answered you sending a smirk your way causing you to roll your eyes while laughing at him reiterating the same response you had given him.

Once the eggs were done and he plated them for the both of you, you jumped off the counter and grabbed them bringing them to the living room.

You had a routine that whenever you ate breakfast together you’d eat it in the living room, enjoying the calmness the morning brought and enjoying each other's company.

It was such a simple act but with Daniel’s busy racing schedule, you had come to appreciate the simpler moments you got to spend with each other and enjoyed just being able to be with each other. 

“What do you want to do today?” you asked your boyfriend taking a bite of your pancakes 

“Can we have a lazy day, maybe go for a walk later to watch the sunset” he suggested 

“Sounds perfect to me” you smiled at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

It wasn't like Daniel to suggest something like this as he always wanted to be doing something but every once and a while he would make this type of suggestion and you loved it because it meant getting to spend the day cuddled up which was something you never took for granted.

-

When you both finished breakfast and the dishes were cleaned. You made your way back to the living room where you spent a good chuck of your day, enjoying the comfort from each other.

You watched movie after movie, some funny, some scary, it didn't matter, the two of you loved any time you got to spend together.

When the time came, you got dressed in some warmer clothes, put your shoes on and made your way to watch the sunset.

Daniel had his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder while you enjoyed the peace and quiet watching the sun set.

It was moments like this that made you the happiest. Getting to spend precious time with the man of your dreams, nothing else compared to moments like these. 

-

Tags: @namgification

I know it's small but I hope you enjoyed it and this was the first f1 related fic that isn't smau style so I hope its okay. Feel free to send any ideas or requests. Look at this two Danny fics in a row, I must be in a Danny mood ☺️

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ FLOWER POWER — xavier thorpe

REQUESTED: anon

WARNINGS: 18+, aged up characters, fairy reader, sex pollen (dub-con), frottage, fingering (f), unprotected piv sex, requited-unrequited love, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, crying

A/N: anon you are speaking my language! this is my favourite trope omfg. some flower knowledge required if you wanna know exactly what the flower looks like tough it's not necessary

Your favourite place to be is the greenhouse, full of so much colour and life you could barely picture yourself anywhere but there. The love you had for plants and wildlife stems from your fairy genetics, able to control plants and compel animals to your will.

There were some days that you would spend your time in there way into the night, only noticing how much time has passed when a random couple would come by and disturb your fun with their giggling and less than pg noises. Then you'd have to sneak out without disturbing them and making an already awkward situation worse.

On others you would be accompanied by your friend and longtime crush Xavier, who would come to see how things were going and to make sure you got to meals on time. He'd always have to drag you out, forcing you to take a break from your plants and to instead take care of yourself. It was one of the many things you liked about him, they way he took care of you.

Most of the flowers wouldn't get past a seedling, withering up and dying the second the roots started to grow, the combination of flowers too different to grow despite you putting all your magic into it. Those days Xavier knew he'd have to bring food to you, listening in confusion as you rambled to yourself about what went wrong. But that day was not today. Today was a lucky day.

The flower you had created looks... funny. It's small with a few blooms, looking like a mix between a corpse flower and a tulip, but hanging upside down like a lily of the valley. The spadix sticking out from the flower is long and corkscrewed, a pinky purple colour that looks almost like jelly. The spathe goes from green to a deep black not typically seen in naturally occurring flowers. It's enticing to look at, with an odd smell that you can't quite place from where you're standing.

You walk around the flower, looking over it to see Xavier finally sitting down at one of the desks, drawing away. It's hard to stop yourself from watching him when he's in his element, face scrunched up cutely as he concentrates on every stroke of his pencil.

Xavier has been drawing every single flower you make, helping you fill out the journal you made with his art. You however have been staring at it for a few minutes, not knowing where to start in figuring out if it does anything. It's always hard to tell just what type of plant you've made from just a glance. Splicing together flowers is one thing, but infusing your very emotion based magic into the seedlings means that the end result is very... unpredictable.

You don't really remember the mood you were in when you created this, it had been a busy week of tests that had gone by in a study induced haze that you thankfully don't remember. The good news is that even if it's poisonous it won't kill you, it'll just make you violently ill for the next few days. You've only had that happen twice, thankfully, and when you're alone.

You've never had Xavier in the green house with you when you're trying to figure out if a new plant does anything, but you had been sick for a few days and hadn't been able to check on it, and he had missed hanging out with you. So you let him tag along. Now you're not so sure about your decision.

You carefully put yourself between the flower and Xavier, grabbing the bucket full of worms to start some tests. You use a stick to scoop one out, holding the wriggling worm up to one of the flowers to see if it reacts. After a few seconds of nothing happening, you gently nudge the worm against the petal. It starts to move, but not in the way your expecting a carnivorous plant to.

All of the hanging flowers lift up to face you, the inside of the flower a fleshy looking pink. The flowers start to shake just slightly, and you lean closer to try and get a closer look. That's when a haze of white pollen shoots out from the flower, hitting you right in the face. In your surprise you inhale sharply, sucking in a lungful of the mysterious pollen that stings your eyes and burns your throat. You drop the stick in a rush to wave away the plume of pollen, stumbling away from the plant.

Your name is called from behind you, but you're too busy rubbing your sleeve against your closed eyes, trying to get it off. You feel hands grip your shoulders and spin you around, pushing your sleeve away to dab gently around your face with his own sleeve. All you can smell is the familiar scent of sandalwood, weak but enticing and somehow able to overwhelm your senses until all you want is to get closer to wherever it's coming from.

When Xavier stops cleaning your face you slowly open your eyes, finding your gaze hazy and your head fuzzy. Xavier takes a deep breath through his nose, sniffing at the pollen that transferred from your face and onto his sleeve.

"Whatever that shit was smells good," he says, going back in for another sniff. You find yourself leaning in towards him, wanting, no, needing to be closer to him. You move so fast you stumble over your feet, Xavier barely grabbing your upper arms in time to keep you upright, "Woah there, you alright?"

You nod your head lazily, taking the last step needed to press your face into his chest. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist as you rub your face against him. Xavier huffs out a laugh, wrapping his arms around you to rerun the impromptu hug.

"You could have just told me you wanted a hug you know," Xavier laughs, and you can feel it against your face from where your pressed into him.

You tighten you grip, turning your face just enough so that you can mumble out, "You smell really good."

"Thank you? It's the same cologne I always use," Xavier laughs, a hand absently rubbing up and down your back. It leaves a hot trail on your skin that instantly spreads, until it seems to burn. Your skin is tingling and you can feel the tell tale wetness of arousal in you panties and that's when you know you've fucked up letting Xavier come in here with you. You know what type of flower you made.

You open your mouth to warn him about what you know is going on, when he dips down to sniff at your neck, nose pressed to your skin, "you smell good too, like vanilla and lavender."

With him standing so close and nosing at your neck, you can't hold back to quiet moan at feeling that tiny bit of skin to skin contact. It makes the burning you feel under your skin start to feel good, thighs pressed tightly together for some sort of friction.

Tucking your arms in between you, you slide them up until you can cup his face, pulling him away from where he's been smelling at your neck so that he can face you.

"What's wrong—" you cut him off with a kiss, desperate and needy as you moan against his lips. He kisses back almost immediately, the hand that was rubbing up and down your back going up to cup the back of your neck. His big hands feel great against your skin, more contact to stop the seemingly insatiable burn.

His tongue swipes tentatively against you lip, and your eagerly licking your way into his mouth before you can even think about it. Xavier's hands tighten at the back of your neck, holding you in place as he forcefully slows the kiss down. You whine impatiently, but let him do as he wants as you let your hands drop from his face and to his chest.

The buttons of his white shirt are annoyingly small for your rushing fringes, roughly pulling at the fabric as you undo the buttons. You get about half way down before Xavier seems to realize what it is your doing, hand quickly gripping your wrists to keep you in place as he pulls away from the kiss.

"Wanna touch you," you whine before he can say anything, leaning foreword again. You've got his arms trapped between your bodies, making sure to press your chest up against his for good measure. He swallows roughly, and you watch the bob of his adams apple as he stares down at you, pupils blown wide, "Please, Xavier. Wanna get my hands all over you."

"Shit, yeah, okay." Xavier lets go of your hands, and the second you're free they're back to their previous task, pulling and tugging at his shirt until it's hanging open. His tie is yanked open and off, thrown to the side without a care in the world. You splay your hands out, running them up and down his chest as you watch them with awe. Every bit of skin you feel against you makes the burning go away, makes the haze of your brain laser focused to Xavier and his skin and getting it all over you as soon as possible.

You trail your hands up his chest to loop them around his neck, tugging him in for another kiss. This time it's Xavier's hands that are roaming, gliding up and down your sides, stopping to fiddle with the hem of your shirt before repeating the pattern over and over.

"Please," you whisper against his lips, going right back to kissing him with a burning need that rivals the burning of your skin. Instead of taking your shirt off like you thought he was, he lets his hands roam further down, giving your ass a quick squeeze as he goes by before he's hiking one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist. You quickly do the same with the other, moaning as he lifts you up against his body.

You're quickly turned around and deposited on a nearby empty table, Xavier leaning over you as he deepens the kiss. You keep your legs wrapped tight around his waist, using it for leverage to roll your hips up into his. You both moan, Xavier's hips stuttering against yours at the sensation.

When he pulls away you let out another needy whine, trying to pull him back to you. He does come back to press a quick peck to your lips, but then pulls away again. His hands go to the top of your blouse, fingering at the top button.

"Can I?" He asks, a flustered smile overtaking his face when you nod enthusiastically. Your tie is removed first, with a lot more care than his was, placing it on the table next to you guys. He takes his time undoing the buttons of your shirt, eyes roaming over each new inch of revealed skin like you're a work of art. It has your heart pounding, eyes wide as you watch him watch your body become more and more revealed.

When the last button is undone he slowly pushes your shirt open, exposing you to him. One hand braces him on the table while the other settles low on your stomach, slowly roaming up your body, over a bra covered breast and along your neck before he's cupping your cheek, leaning down to press a quick, searing kiss to your lips.

"God you look beautiful," he says, staring down at you in awe. You wriggle under him, holding your arms out for him. He laughs with a shake of his head, but leans down to meet you in a kiss. You roll your hips again, swallowing the moan Xavier let's out eagerly. When your hips keeps rolling up against his he meets you thrust for thrust, the constant pressure against you clit making you see stars.

Xavier's hand leaves you face to place roaming kisses down your body, stopping at you skirt to flip it up to reveal the grinding of your bodies. You know there must be wet spot on your panties from how soaked they feel, and by the way Xavier stares do at them with wide, hungry eyes.

"Wanna touch you, can I?" Xavier says, fingers running along the band of your panties. You nod eagerly, unwrapping your legs from around his waist so that he can take them of. He's not as slow about taking the panties off as he was with opening your shirt, wide eyes never leaving your exposed cunt as he drags them off and drops them on the floor, leaving you in just hiked up skirt.

His hands smooth up your legs and over plush thighs before he's using his hands to force your legs up and open, staring down at your glistening wetness. You place your feet up on the table as you let your legs fall open, like you're a fine art display for him to enjoy. He slowly runs a finger up through your folds, and it sends a heavenly shock of arousal through your body. He gently rubs his finger against your clit, making tiny, agonizingly slow circles.

"Xavier!" You whine, rolling your hips up against his hand, "please."

"So needy," he laughs, but does as you asks, sliding his finger down through your folds and slipping a finger into you. There's no resistance, walls soaked with arousal as your body greedily sucks his finger in. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he's adding a second, the satisfying stretch of his thick fingers making your eyes roll back.

You buck down against his fingers, urging him to go faster. The burning is easing up even more with his fingers inside you, and you're desperate to make it stop so you can think again instead of being controlled by your pussy and the pollen.

"More, need more," you whine, fucking yourself onto his fingers. You feel a third slip in with the others, and you let out a satisfied moan at the feeling of being filled.

Xavier doesn't even have to move his hand, keeping them still as you roll your hips, watching as you desperately chase your high. But it doesn't come, even though you can feel it constantly at the back of you head, lingering.

You lift your foot off of the table to toe at his jeans, pushing at them until he gets the hint to take them the hell off. He gives your cunt a few more thrusts before he's pulling his fingers out of you, undoing he belt before dropping his pants and boxers in on go, letting them pool around his ankles.

His cock is beautifully thick as it sits between his legs, tip flushed and shiny with pre. He wraps the hand still covered in your arousal around his cock, giving himself a few thrusts before he rubbing the tip up through your folds. That touch alone brought you close to the brink, a long moan escaping you as the head of his cock brushes up against your clit.

You're in limbo as he continues to tease you, tip just barely pushing into your waiting hole before he's pulling out and gliding it up to your clit again. Slowly you lay back on the table, the surface ice cold against your over heated skin.

"Xavier please fuck me. Please, please please." You beg, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you desperately roll up into him just as his tip teases at your hole again.

The little bit he slips in has you both moaning loud and long, Xavier resting both hands on the table as he lets his head hand between his shoulders. His cock continues to slowly slide into you in a way that makes you think it's never going to end, just filling and filling until you swear you can feel him in your stomach. But then he bottoms out, hips pressed flush against yours as he pants above you.

Your walls flutter around him, gripping and trying to pull him in deeper. Xavier groans above you, hips jerking slightly at the sensation. He stays there in you for a moment, still as a rock as he slowly starts to catch his breath. When his breathing is back to normal and he's no longer on the brink of spilling into you, he slowly pulls out, hands gripping the edge of the table by your head tightly.

His thrusts are slow and deep as he splits you open over and over. At first it's great, just being able to feel him in you to soothe the burn. But just like everything else, it's not enough, you want, no, you need more. You can't roll your hips with how close your bodies are pressed together and you choke back a sob of disappointment as you wrap your arms around him.

"More," you whimper, still trying and failing to roll your hips in the tight space between your bodies. You can feel your eyes watering again, staring up at Xavier as he pushes up from your body to stare down at your face, "Please Xavi, need more. Please please please—"

"Hey, shhhh. I'm gonna take care of you, okay pretty girl? Gonna make you feel me in you for days." Xavier whispers right in your ear, voice husky and deep from arousal. The table scrapes across the floor as his hips snap forewords, slamming into you hard enough to have you wailing, head thrown back in pleasure.

Xavier mouths at your exposed neck, hips jackhammering into you at a brutal pace. The wet sound of you dripping pussy fills the room, and through the slowly lifting haze of your arousal, you wonder if there's a student close enough to hear the obscene sounds coming from the greenhouse. But you don't care, mewling in pleasure as Xavier bites at your neck, soothing the abused spot over with his tongue.

Slipping your fingers into his hair, you hold him against your neck as he sucks hickey after hickey into your skin. The overwhelming sensations going on has your walls fluttering around him, choking on a moan as you come harder and quicker than you have in your whole life. Your legs are shaking, head thrown back as you feel the pollen induced haze finally start to lift, the burning heat dissipating.

Xavier gently slides out of you, ignoring your whine of disappointment as he takes himself in hand, furiously jerking himself off as he stares down at you with half lidded eyes. You slowly push yourself up on shaking arms, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a kiss. Your other hand drops down to wrap around the one still jerking himself off, and the brief touch against his sticky erection is all it takes before he's spilling between you, hot cum coating your stomach and breasts.

You're both panting, the sweat on your bodies rapidly cooling in the night air. You shiver, breaking the kiss to wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his chest, chasing the warmth of his body.

"Not that I'm complaining," Xavier says, out of breath as a hand soothes up and down your back, "but where did that come from?"

"Flower," you mumble sleepily, a small smile on your face as you tighten your arms around him. Xavier's entire body goes tense in your arms, and the hands that were soothing up and down your back are now gripping your wrists, forcing you to let go of him as he holds them between your bodies, taking a step back.

"Flower, what do you mean..?" He looks back over his shoulder, staring at the new plant you created before his head whips back around, staring at you with wide, horrified eyes, "The pollen. That's the only reason why you— why this happened?"

He lets go of your wrists as if they're burning, quickly pulling his pants and boxers up. His hands fumble with the belt, and you slowly push yourself off of the table and onto unsteady legs.

"Xavier," you call, but he just shakes his head, turning away from you as he buttons up his shirt. He's walking towards the door at the same time, abandoning his things so that he can just get out. Get away from you.

Your wings flutter out, flying you across the room and in front of him faster than your unsteady legs could. He ducks his head when you get in front of him, turning away from your half naked form, "Move."

"No, Xavier. Not until you listen to me," he doesn't try to move again, but he keeps his face stubbornly hidden behind his hair. When your sure he won't try to bolt you take a steadying breath, reaching out to hold his hand in two of yours. His hand stays limp in your grip, but he doesn't pull away.

"This is all I've ever wanted," Xavier scoffs, trying to pull his hand free so he can leave again, but you're quicker, holding onto him tightly so he can't leave, "It is! Not like this, with one of my weird experiments blowing up in my face, but like, after a few dates. I always pictured our first kiss to be after some cute date, on one of those late night walks you like to force me on. Or maybe in your shed where you always look the most comfortable, face all scrunched up when your concentrating and I just can't help but kiss you. I just— this doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to, but I'm not lying when I say that this was a dream come true."

Your left flying in front of him in silence, waiting desperately for the words to sink in. It takes so long you start to feel your throat close up, thinking the worst, but then he's slowly lifting his head to look up at you, and you can't help but gasp. His eyes are red and haunted, tears streaming down his face and dripping off his chin.

"I didn't..?" Xavier trails over, getting choked up as a fresh set of tears roll down his face, "I didn't take advantage— you actually want me?"

Your heart drops to your stomach, and you quickly let go of his hand to cup his face, wiping the tears away as gently as possible, "No, no no no. I love you, okay? So much. I might have been a bit out of it but I wanted you. Still want you, okay? You did nothing wrong."

He stares up at you, still crying, but instead of that fearful look in his eyes they're filled with hope, a small smile taking over his face. His hands are shaky as the land on your bare waist, barely even touching you at all, "You love me?"

"So much," you say without even a moments hesitation. Your thumbs are still gently rubbing over his cheeks, even as his tears have dried. The smile you get is blinding, his grip tightening on you as he pulls you closer for a kiss that makes your toes curl.

When he pulls back he looks happier than he's ever looked in a long time, hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You lean into it, a probably dopey smile on your face as you stare down at him.

"Love you too. Didn't think I could have this. Have you," Xavier confesses, pulling your flying body closer to his. He presses a quick kiss the the top of you breasts that your bra doesn't cover, right over your pounding heart.

"You have me, for as long as you want." You reply, carding your fingers through his hair. You stay like that for a while, his face pressed into your chest as he breathes you in while you soothe your hands over whatever part of him you can reach.

"Want you forever," he mumbles into you skin, and you can't help the wide grin that takes over your face. You cup his cheeks, tilting his head up so he can face you. You press kisses all over his face, smothering him with all your love before you give in to his huffing and press your lips together.

"Forever sounds perfect."

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[d10nyx]

sneaking out of heaven pt.2

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

part one, part two

cw: parental abuse, religious themes, slight guilt, some fluff n some mean dad stuff :(( leon's a sweetheart, tho <3

a/n: omg a sfw drop from me that's... crazy... um... i'm not sure fluff is my strong suit ngl... was trying something new w this series but uh... yeah there's a reason i'm a smut writer i think lol... smut next chap tho maybe depends on if i make this three or four parts!!

word count: 1.4k words

You've always hated Sundays. It's not God's fault. It wasn't the praying or devotion. It all came from one thing, and one thing alone - your father. The wooden pews made your back ache, and your thighs go numb, but he'd never let you miss a day. Broken limb, head cold… it didn't matter. Appearances were everything, so unless you were dead, you had to be there, and you had to be working hard to make the family look good.

You've never felt like you belonged in the Church, not really. Being the Pastor's daughter meant you were constantly under a watchful eye. Everyone knew your every move, and you couldn't afford to mess up. Your mistakes reflected poorly on your father, and your father didn't take kindly to being made to look a fool.

You haven't really felt like you belonged anywhere, not even in your own home.

But you found somewhere to belong now. You feel like you can fully relax and be yourself when you're with Leon. Growing up, you'd always been alone… but now? You spent more time in Leon's bedroom than you spent in your own house.

That's where you find yourself now, sitting cross-legged on his bed as you struggle to figure out how to work an Xbox. He's doing his best to teach you, trying not to laugh at the confusion gracing your features.

“Come on, princess. You can't be serious.” He says with a laugh as you send the camera spinning midway through another gunfight in COD. “Dude - just… just nudge the right stick. If you hold it, of course it's gonna do that.”

“I'm just… ugh, I don't get how you play this.” You huff, your head thumping lightly against the wall as you let it drop backwards. You don't realise Leon is moving until you can feel his warmth, his breath brushing your ear as he leans in.

“Look, lemme help you. I'll aim, and you shoot. Easy.” He whispers in your ear, tilting his head and resting his chin on your shoulder. His hand rests over one of yours on the controller, his thumb guiding the right stick.

You're not even paying attention to the screen anymore - you just hold down the right trigger and hope for the best as your eyes are locked onto Leon's pretty blue ones.

“See, princess? Your first kill.” He says with a grin, and you quickly snap out of your little staring session, your breaths coming out a little heavier than usual.

“Oh… oh, yeah! Cool, um… thank you.” You manage to force out, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

“What's got you all flustered, huh?” He says with a teasing grin - why is he still so close to you? His hand reaches out to touch your cheek and tilt your head gently to face him when you attempt to look away, his thumb brushing your cheekbone lightly. “Is it me?”

You let out a short, nervous laugh, your eyes flickering to the side for a moment. All you can focus on is the heat of his palm, the way his calluses feel against your smooth skin. “You? No, come on. Don't be ridiculous.”

He blinks a few times as he looks at you, and then his grin widens. His eyes practically sparkle with excitement, his gaze flicking over your features. “Aww, it totally is me!”

You open your mouth to deny it, but then he's brushing his lips against your cheek, and you're sure your heart is about to burst. Looks like you'd be meeting God a lot earlier than you thought. Always thought dad would be the one to send you to Heaven.

“You're real pretty, you know that?” He breathes out, then he's leaning forward to kiss you. It's just a peck, but a whine builds up in your throat as he tries to pull away from you. Your lips chase his, and he's laughing again before he leans down to give you another kiss.

Your lips are clumsy as they move with his. Inexperienced. It's not your first kiss(only because the peck was), but your inexperience is clear. Your hands twitch, wanting to explore his body, but you're too scared to touch him. Too much, too fast.

So you settle for kissing him, but you are 90% sure you're about to go into cardiac arrest when his tongue brushes your lower lip. It feels dirty. Brings the same feelings of guilt to the surface that touching yourself does, and the same kind of feeling, too, because slick is building up in your panties, making them stick to your pussy.

Not that you have the courage to do anything about that though. You just shift awkwardly, uncrossing your legs and squeezing your thighs together as his hands slip down to your waist, tugging your body closer to his. His tongue brushes yours, and you try to meet it halfway, only to be a little too eager.

“Feels like you're trying to eat me.” He says with a chuckle as he pulls away, pressing his lips to your jawline. “Slower. A little less tongue. Otherwise, you're doing great.”

His lips are on you again a second later, and his tongue makes another appearance. You try to follow his instructions, your hands finally finding the strength to reach out and touch his arms. Wow. You didn't realise muscles like that were real. He's hard to the touch, making you shudder. Your hands wrap around his biceps almost curiously as you kiss him.

You lose track of time as you make out with him. Neither of you seem to want to pull away, and it's only the sound of his mom's footsteps coming up the stairs that has you both hastily scrambling to the opposite sides of his bed - especially considering she makes him leave his door open when you're there.

She offers to let you stay for dinner, and you really can't refuse. Not if it means more time with her son.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When you come home from the Kennedy's house, the kitchen light is on. But it's past 6pm, so the light shouldn't be on. You've always had dinner at the same time every night for your entire life. You feel a sense of unease as you attempt to sneak past the doorway.

“Where do you think you're going?” A harsh voice calls out. Your father. You turn to walk into the kitchen, your head hanging in shame. A strong grip settles on your jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise.

He's smarter than marking you where it's visible.

“Where have you been?” He growls, dragging your face up to meet his eyes. Your mom is upstairs. You know she's awake, because you heard the creaky floorboard in her bedroom as you shut the front door. You also know she won't come downstairs, because she likes to pretend your dad is nice to you.

“The Kennedy's, sir. I didn't mean to come home so late, I… Mrs. Kennedy offered me dinner, and I just… I didn't think it would hurt. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

“Yeah, you're damn right, it won't. Don't you think you're a bit close to that boy?”

Your mind goes to the kiss, and you quickly avert eye contact. “Who? Leon? We're just friends, sir… I…”

“I don't believe that for a second.” He interrupts, his grip dropping from your jaw before he smacks you hard across the face, sending your head jolting to the side as tears spring to your eyes. “Proverbs 19:9.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, speaking up with a shaky voice. “A false witness will not go unpunished, and whoever pours out lies will perish.”

“Good. The boy hasn't knocked all sense out of you. Go to your room. I'm dealing with you tomorrow.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his threat, and you slowly climb the steps that lead to your room. You don't even bother changing out of your clothes before flopping into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

Your cheek still stings, and you take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from crying. Your father hadn't stopped you from seeing Leon again, but it seemed he wasn't far from it. You'd have to tread carefully. You could sense another one of your father's blow ups building, and you didn't want to be on the receiving end.

Despite everything, as Leon's kiss comes to mind, your lips tug up into a small smile.

[xan-izme]

Across the Spidervers x Venom!femReader {Bad ending}

(Reader is Māori)

Summary: Reader was one of the Spidey's that helped Miles save his city from disaster. She returns home, a little while later, Gwen comes to recruit Reader. But this don't go very well.

TW: character death, mental health, trust issues, betrayal, cursing, held captive, traps, mentions of killing

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—––—–—–

You were Spider woman. Yes, you knew that. Your uncle knew that and your friends from other dimensions knew that too! Friends who you missed dearly.

The life as Spider-woman would be tiring at times, but the felling of knowing that the city where your family and many other families live are safe; Was something you needed to know an able to sleep.

But you felt so alone. Missing your friends, missing swinging through a city with them and defeat evil. Joking around and the small meal breaks. You haven't been able to connect with others that much after becoming Spider-woman, it seemed like crime happened everywhere every day.

One day, when you were going against another villain, who was actually a very new one to you.

"So uh, what are you supposed to be? --" You swung up in the air, dodging the attack.

"Some, Super . . .goo?" You watched as dark gooey liquid drip off from it's deformed body.

'Ew'

"You . . . die!" The monster shouted. The thing picked up a large bolder from the wrek and threw it twards you.

You shot your webs at the bolder and jumped up, throwing it right back at it.

"That's not a really nice thing to say man." You continue with your witty comments when trying your best to take down the monster. Then suddenly, the thing begins to glitch. This gave you a little heart attack, knowing the feeling all too well.

"I see, you're from another dimension." You mumbled as the monster's glitching was a little long.

Suddenly, the gooey thing shot itself at you. Luckily you got out the way. But the goo stuck onto you, making your foot and hand stick to the ground and wall.

"Mother--nature!" You shout in frustration.

"Spider-Woman!" You hear a familiar voice shout. You quickly turn your head to see your father, captain of the Brooklyn police force. You clear your voice before speaking in a deep voice.

"uh- Stand back! no need for assistance Captain l/n!" You shout back at your dad who had other officers behind him, ready to engage. You used all of your strength to get your foot out of the goo that had harden instantly. After breaking your foot free. You kicked at whatever the gooey monster threw at you.

Suddenly, some portal opened up. Thats when a figure quickly shot out of it. It didn't take you long to realize who it was.

"Gwen!" right when you and Gwen were away from the civilians, you couldn't help your excitement to hug the living hell out of the blond. Gwen laughed.

"It's nice to see you too." Gwen laughed out as she hugged you back. Gwen began to tell you about the Spider Society and how she wanted to recruit you. She told you the higher up wanted to meet with you about a serious situation that was to happen in your universe.

You got concerned for a moment. You cared about your city and everyone in it. So, if your wold is in trouble, then you would of course get involved.

Gwen gave you a day pass bracelet so you wouldn't glitch like crazy. Before entering the portal, you looked back, wondering what your other family members were doing at the moment. Hoping they would be safe.

The Spider society was honestly amazing. You met and had some fun with people who were like you. You felt so happy, smiling non-stop. Gwen laughed as you acted like a child in a candy store.

Then you both stopped big doors. "Miguel said he wanted to meet with you alone. Y-you alright with that?"

You smiled, a little nervous to meet the big boss of this whole thing. But you reassured her and walked in alone. Before the doors closed, your turned around and gave her a thumbs up and said, "Wish me luck."

The doors closed. It was a little dim, but you were able to see good enough. You breathed in and calmed yourself down, pulling your mask down and walking to where you see more light coming from a specific spot in the big room.

"Uh- H-hello? Mr. O'Hara?" You see a man in a dark blue and red suite. The aura around the man made you nervous, his built just added on to your little fears. You cleared your throat and straightened up.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I was told you wanted to see me . . . sir?" Miguel got closer to you with a stoic look on his face.

"We know who you are kid." Miguel spoke. You frown at the word 'we' and search the room and see a woman who was. . . pregnant. You were a little confused, and worried.

"Um. . . don't y'all get like, paternity leave or something?" You pointed out at the woman. Miguel ignored your comment.

"Where's Gwen?" His words sounded like a question, but not at the same time. "She said you wanted to see me alone. Hey, I kind of need to be back soon. No disrespect sir, but I got school and stuff. . . " You cringed at how dumb you sounded.

Miguel and the woman in the room gave each other a look.

Miguel began to explain the problem.

Apparently, ever since your time in earth 1016, your experience there had changed your mindset on a lot of things, including certain things that were a part of your 'canon' as Miguel called it.

"What . . . what's wrong with that?" You were generally confused, what part of your canon did you accidentally prevented.

Lyla then showed multiple canon events, all the same, all that had happened in different universes.

"Every Spidey loses someone, most of them fall in love and most of them lose that lover. For you, your canon involves family members."

"What?"

"Now we don't know which of your family members would die--"

"The hell, if that supposed to make me feel better!?" You were getting upset, rightfully so.

"Look kid, we know this is hard for you to take in." The woman known as Jessica spoke up. ''But you are your own anomaly, the more you stay with your family the way you are doing at the moment, the more damage you'll inflect on your world."

"Wha- . . . You can't just tell me one of my family members are going to die and tell me not to fucking interfere. My mother is pregnant! my siblings are literally toddlers, my dad- he just got his new position as captain." Your mind was going into a panic, you can't lose any of them. Your family was your whole world, you already lost someone you can't afford to lose again. You know deep inside if you lose anyone else, you'll brake.

And there is nothing you are more afraid of then braking.

Miguel sighed. "I'm sorry kid, but let's be honest. If it weren't for Miles Morals, you wouldn.t be in this situation." Miguel spoke as multiple other Spider people surrounded you. You frown and look around to see all of them.

"What . . . what's going on? . . . Where's Gwen!" Suddenly a gadget was tossed to your feet. And before you could react, a forcefield was put up around you.

And that, that is when you freaked out.

"Once this timer goes off, that is when we set you free. Just a few days kiddo."

Your eyes shifted to the timer. 2 days.

You shouted, banged on the forcefield, used as much strength as you could to try and get out.

"LET ME OUT! GWEN! GWEN HELP ME!" You shouted for your friend. You shouted for help. But alas, no aid came to you.

"Please Y/n. The more you struggle the harder it will be for us." You hear someone say, but you ignore and keep slamming your body against the transparent walls.

Then suddenly your Spidey senses tingled. You look around the room, then you noticed a familiar white and black suit. "Gwen! Gwen help me! Please help!"

Gwen walked up to you. She stared you in the eyes, your face expression dropped when you noticed the look of pain in her eyes. Gwen held herself and turned away from you. "Gwen . . .?"

"You did good Gwen." Jessica began to pat Gwen on the back. Your eyes widen in utter disbelief. "Gwen? Gwen!" You began to bang on the forcefield, tears already threatening to fall. Your face was covered by your mask, but everyone can hear your voice cracks.

Betrayal was all you felt as you continued to try and claw out of the forcefield, for a moment you were almost successful. Then Miguel was able to put on hologram like chains to chain you on the ground to prevent you from clawing at the barrier.

The timer went off. You watched the multiple zeros blinking. Your body felt limp, weak as the forcefield and chains disappeared. Miguel had opened a portal. You ignored him and Jessica as you chanted the names of each family member, slowly going through the portal.

The moment you stepped through, it was chaos. Your families' names repeating in your head praying to all the Gods you knew of to please spare your family.

Finally, you found a familiar body, laying limp under some ruble. Swinging down quickly, you used your strength to get the man free.

Taking your mask off, you lifted the upper half of your father's body.

"Papa" You whisper out. Moving away his hair that was in the way of his face. His eyes slowly opened to see you, his beautiful strong daughter.

"Y/n . . . ko Koe." His voice was small, but firm. You smiled through your tears.

"Yes, it's me." Your vision would get blurry here and there, but the tears would immediately fall the moment you blinked.

"You are in trouble. You were late for dinner." Your father reached up to cup your face. Just for him to pinch your cheek. Even when close to death, he still scolds you.

It didn't take long for him to lose consciousness. You cried and held his body close. Rocking back and forth as you prayed and prayed. Begging for any god to help you.

You didn't notice Gwen slowly approaching you. She mends down and watches as you cradled your father's body in your arms. Gwen reached her arm out and held your shoulder.

"We have to go, before the police get here--"

"Tuku- Tukua--"

"We need to go Y/n--"

"Tukua ahau!" You smacked her hand away and stood up. Hot tears running down your face.

"I whakarerea ahau e koe!" You began to shout in your native tongue. Frustrated, hurt, betrayed.

And the feeling of dishonor you had brought onto yourself was the worse feeling overpowering everything else.

"You are no friend of mine.''

Those words shattered Gwen.

"Leave. GO! Never return." Gwen stumbled back as you returned back to your father. Holding him back in your arms, half expecting him to hold you back.

Overtaken by grief and betrayal, you refused to let the Spider society to help with the anomalies, only you deal with them and send them in a portal back to HQ.

You gained a new power, discarding your tittle as 'Spider-woman', and taking on the tittle 'Venom'.

Venom was, well-- Venom was a handful at first. But Venom helped you become stronger. Helped you defend your city and your family.

Your family took a big hit by the loss of your father.

Sighing as you sat down on the clock tower. Looking over the city, wondering how Miles was doing. Hoping the boy didn't get caught up with Gwen and Peter B.

Miles was probably the only one you still saw as a friend.

'Hungry'

You groan "We already ate Venom."

'You call that food? That was nothing but a maar snack. I want something more! something fresh~"

"Okay one, ew. Two, I'm on a diet."

You hear Venom scoffed. 'Your diet is ew' Venom spoke in a mocking tone. Causing you to roll your eyes.

Out of nowhere, a portal opened up. You were fast on your feet. The portal was a little different from the others, making you stay on guard even more. That's when Multiple Spider people came out.

One specifically that came out angered you in multiple ways. You stayed in place, staying silent.

"Y/n! we need your help!" Gwen came running to you. You silenced out her words and focused on the panic and desperation on her face.

You wonder, if you could just reject her, shun her out and watch the look of despair take over her. That sounded very satisfying.

"Please, say something. Anything! I know what I did was unforgivable, but--" You stayed silent as Gwen was practically begging.

You look up to see some old friends, and new people. You stared at Peni for a moment.

You passed Gwen and walked towards the young teen who was in a new model of her robot.

". . .Nice ride."

Peni's eyes widen at the familiar words that brought back a nice memory. Peni chuckled "Thanks. . . nice suit."

The two of you shared a few seconds of silence. Peni jumped out of the robot and hugged you. You were quick to hold her tight.

You're not blind, it's clear all of you have suffered one way or another.

You set Peni down.

You turned your head to Gwen.

"I have told you to never return." You spoke, your back still faced to the blond. "I know! But Miles-" Gwen was cut off by your hand that rose up to silence her.

"I know of Miles and his situation. But I have my universe to protect. A family I need to keep alive." You walked further away from the group. Venom forming in and taking over at the last word.

"My answer will be the same answer you gave me when I begged you for help."

You will not forgive the ones who hurt you, betray you or your family. Right now, you don't care about anyone else but the ones you have now. You refuse to risk it. Refuse to gamble the lives of your siblings and mother.

And never, will you ever risk your honor, and the honor of your father.

Okay, before ya'll bash me about the Māori part, I know adding on a culture is a little off for many. I just wanted to add on a Māori reader because I don't see many representations of them. So, if any of my Māori readers dislike this, I will gladly change it.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (5) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcoholism bc haymitch is there, brief drinking, allusions to death and violence, rebellion planning, allusions of trafficking/sexual trauma, wanting children, mentions of birth control and class divide, terms of endearment, mental illness, manipulation of someone's feelings, self-hatred, mentions of nausea and allusions to puking, reader being utterly enamored by Finnick, unedited, no use of Y/N

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Harsh wind made your body shake and Finnick immediately wrapped his arms around you. How he always felt like a furnace was something you'd accepted you'd never have the answer to and you gratefully relaxed into him.

“Oh look, I just happened to run into you two on the roof, a happy couple just relaxing while they still can." Haymitch's voice pierced the air billowing around you.

“What a coincidence.” Finnick took a step closer to where Haymitch was approaching.

"Gives us a perfect chance to talk about allies though.” Your voice was loud enough that if anyone was listening they would be sure to hear your completely pure intentions with a mentor right before everyone's voices conveniently took the octave and pitch down.

“After this there's not opting out, so I need to know that you're 100% on board. You could be killed if this gets found out." Haymitch fiddled with his flask.

“We're already going to be killed, at least this way there's a chance we can stay together and end all of this." He stood close enough now that your soft voice could only be heard within the earshot. Finnick squeezed your hand softly.

Haymitch nodded, “Beetee is in on it too, so is Wiress, but who knows how much of a help she'll be. Plutarch can give us insight into small things before the Games start, but the main point will be finding away for enough chaos to happen that we can get Katniss out of there.”

“So our job is to get her to trust us, protect her and Peeta so she sticks to the plan that will get her out." Subconsciously Finnick began tapping his fingers on your waist and you rubbed your thumb in circles across his hand to try and soothe whatever it was his mind was running on about.

“Yes and we might need to find a way to force that because you weren't doing a great job on that, darling. I can't blame you though, she can be quite difficult.” Haymitch took a swig from the flask, you could only imagine how burning cold the metal must have been. Then he was pointing at you, "The princess here might actually have more luck since in an ever so contradictory way she's less gaudy.” Finnick scoffed. "She'll just have to get over preconceived notions first which isn't usually easy. Going over tributes though the problem would be you as a package deal, so we might have to find a way to force her to ally with everyone anyways.”

Slowly, Finnick nodded, “We should tell Johanna, she'll definitely be determined even if she doesn't get Katniss’ trust right away."

Haymitch laughed slightly, “Oh I think she's already left quite the impression." You could only imagine what Johanna had done and you smiled, her blunt attitude had immediately drawn you to her and it helped that her strategy was slightly similar to yours as far as the tears went.

“You go, it'll look like you're trying to figure out alliances and not be as suspicious, if they are watching." You kissed Finnick's cheek and reluctantly pushed away from his comforting arms.

"Okay, I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too bad.” He began stepping away so slowly as if he wanted to stay too, which you couldn't imagine why you had to have made his internal heater freeze with every touch.

“Oh I already do." He smirked and you walked over the cement bench, patting on it as Haymitch sat down by you. He held his arm out, offering the flask he was holding. You thought about it for a second, but accepted the offer. Earlier assumptions were correct, the metal was so cold it burned the lips right before the alcohol did. “What is that?" You scrunched your nose, handing it back to him.

Haymitch chuckled, shaking his head. “One of their wild, Capitol creations." He shrugged slightly, the idea of carrying a drink around that you couldn't even name just to numb the pain made your head ache for the victor. “So you tied the knot away from all the pomp and pageantry?"

"They can't have all of me.” Even if they have most of me, went unsaid into the crisp night air. Your body, your tears, what you could give, the raw, violent parts of you forever memorialized for eternity. Now parts of the private ceremony would be exploited, but the moment could never, only the parts you chose to reveal. It was yours.

“Good for you." He took another drink. “They can only take so much from us, they have to know this was bound to happen." You hummed a yes and reached your hand out which he filled with the cold flask, you took another drink that stung your throat before returning it.

“I don't know how people can have kids when the world is like this." You muttered, looking out at the city below. So badly you wanted a family, Finnick would be a great father, but it seemed impossible to fathom when at any second, for years on end they could be ripped away to be publicly executed for entertainment. If they even managed to survive, horrors lay beyond that, you would never wish for your children to live in a world where they went through what you did.

He shook his head, “Desperation, extra hands, not everyone has fancy Capitol provided ways to prevent pregnancy, Princess."

"Yeah.” You were all too familiar with that. Rich men rarely wanted the possibility of a kid running around with a second-class being even if she was a victor and you took every precaution possible as the fear ate you up inside. They could steal away your body, your intimacy, how you felt with yourself, but if you did escape all of this the only kids you would be having would be yours and Finnick. You wouldn't let them own you in that aspect too. “She's lucky she and Peeta came off as such a strong case of star crossed lovers, it's saved her in and out of the arena. Saved both of them.” Blankly staring at the stars, too beautiful to shine on such a cruel world.

“That she is. My so-called defiance lost me everything, everyone and she managed to be so popular that they couldn't do that. It's why we stand a chance, princess.”

You stood up, "I'd wish you a goodnight, but that rarely happens.” You smiled, sadness tainting your eyes.

Haymitch shook the flask, "If it works right, I won't remember a thing.” He said it so sardonically it weighed down your very being. This is what the Capitol did to its child winners, fractured them into being blackout drunk to dodge the nights full of horror.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You sat on the hallway floor, it's carpet itching your skin as you sat there, head on Conway’s shoulder.

“The outfits were so ridiculous, dressing us like prize pigs." He seethed, “Not you I mean though, you didn't look like a pig, the blue looked nice on you-" Conway started rambling to make up for his initial words and you pressed a finger to his soft lips.

"I know what you mean.” You smiled, so softly it looked enamored with his stumbling. It was cute, but not like your Finnick's sureness in all he said. No, not your Finnick, not anymore he was just Finnick, the mentor, the guy from the past. Oh, how you craved his touch, the smell of his salty skin, the sound of his honey like voice. You scolded yourself, now wasn't the time, it couldn't be. You couldn't risk Conway being able to tell if you were thinking about the other man, as if he could somehow read your mind, nevertheless it was too risky.

“Thank you for always understanding me, you've always been so sweet since we were children, it's what made me want to be your friend in the first place and then-" He paused, then your lover is what he was holding back. You knew this, his sister had told you once back when you were with Finnick, how jealousy was eating Conway’s sweet soul alive. “Then made my family love you too."

It was like an arrow in your heart, you weren't sweet, it was more harrowing that he thought so. Your brain encouraged you to persist even though the echoes muttered back how much you should loathe yourself. “No, you're the sweet one. Always covering for me." You shook your head, keeping the smile glued on your face. His hand was suddenly on your chin, trying to guide you in. His fingers were slightly calloused but there were no sparks, like when Finnick even brushed his atoms into the same vicinity as yours. You leaned in slightly, eyes searching him as if you wanted to know if he really wanted this, of course you knew the answer though. His lips pressed themselves to yours, he tasted just as he sounded, like strawberries and you did like strawberries of course, but not as much as a raw honeycomb.

Just as quickly he pulled away, “I'm sorry." Conway’s voice spilled out, “I don't know what I was thinking, I know you still have him and all, I just I don't know." He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands, combing them through his hair anxiously.

“He's a jerk." He was, but in the best and worst way. “I don't know what I saw in him." You shook your head, sadly staring at the carpet. Urging the tears to present themselves to help cover your lies because you knew exactly what you still saw in him, his humor, his protection, the warmth, and the absolute love and care he exuded with each look, each graze of his fingertips. “Especially when-" You acted like you were getting choked up on your confession, you disgusted yourself.

Conway’s fingertips were tilting your head back up to him once again, “Really?" His eyes were eager, so innocent. You had to stop your resilience from breaking, from halting the whole operation. “Do you really mean that because I have for so long and please be honest?"

You were nauseous. Trying not to start gagging on nothing as you nodded. "Of course I do, I just didn't see what's been right in front of me.” He kissed you again and it was overwhelming your senses. Not in the way Finnick did which made you buzz, in a way that made you want to run. When he finally pulled away you forced yourself to let out a sly smile as you began standing. "I'll see you in the morning, we should sleep before all the training tomorrow, making impressions with the other tributes.”

His smile was shy and his eyes were basically begging you to stay with him another night, to hold you. It would certainly help your plan, but you couldn't. It was already too much and you needed senses knocked back into you before you broke. "Goodnight, sleep well." Conway whispered, slowly letting his fingers part from yours as he turned down the hallway. You'd been just outside of your room so you walked to it and opened it right before closing it to make it sound like you'd gone in before making a beeline in the opposite direction for Finnick's. Vainly trying to hold back the dry heaving.

Ever so softly your fists knocked on the door and almost instantly it was open, like he was waiting, like he knew you would be coming. Before another second could pass you'd thrown yourself into the protection of his arms and were weeping.

“I'm a terrible person." You choked out as he carefully shut the door with his foot, wrapping his arms around you even tighter like a blanket.

“No you're not an angel, it's survival of the fittest." He kissed the top of your forehead burying himself in it.

"Oh God, I'm gonna be sick.” He instantly led you to the bathroom where you were in fact. He didn't leave you though, he pulled out some medicine to soothe your stomach and head. Handing you a glass of water as he soothingly had his hand on the top of your head, stroking your hair. Once you've finished he was brushing your teeth for you.

It should be pathetic to have someone doing that for you, but not when it was him just trying to keep you secure. “Gotta open wider, angel." He was diligent and precise before helping pull you up from the edge of the tub to the sink. “Okay now spit. Let's get you into bed, sweet girl."

“Thank you, I'm sorry." You muttered out, voice raspy.

“Don't ever be." His warm hands tilted your chin up in a way that melted you into his touch like sugar in tea. “Look at me. You're doing what it takes to survive, which you deserve to do, I'm just doing what you deserve." Your Finnick could make you fall into tears every time, healing the patches of the broken heart you had from the way you were using Conway. “Let's get you to bed." He began to walk out of the bathroom and you softly put your hand on the one trailing away.

"Finnick.” Your voice was tender but the air was so stagnant it felt booming to your ears. He turned to look at you, worry evident. "Can I stay? Please?” Finnick smiled so sympathetically it made your head feel better, like it would float away instead.

"Of course, my love, you can always stay with me, I'll always stay with you.” As you crawled into the sheets that he'd of course emanated his soothing heat onto you knew it was true. Just as you knew you'd always stay with him.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading! literally y'all's comments make my heart so happy and my passion for continuing to write this skyrockets, you are all so incredibly kind and supportive 💕 as always if you enjoyed feedback, likes, reblogs, comments are all so appreciated and my asks are open bc I think about this series all the time. I love you guys and thank you again sm 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery

[desertfangs]

Since you write a lot do you have tips for people who want to write more?

Hi, anon! I can sure try and tell you some of what works for me!

Ignore advice that you don’t find helpful (that includes these tips!)

Writing is a process, but your writing process is always going to be unique to you, so if something doesn’t work for you, trying to implement it is only going to make you miserable. Like some people will tell you to write every day, but sometimes the pressure of that is going to be too much. Basically anything that doesn’t work for you, chuck it in the bin. You don’t need it.

Put your word processor in full screen

I write in Scrivener, which has a “composition mode” but you can also just put your document on full screen to minimize distractions. That way it’s harder to flip over to check Discord or Tumblr or whatever. Of course, I still exit out of full screen every time I need to look something up in the thesaurus and then I end up spending 15 minutes screwing around on the internet so you know, it's not a perfect system.

Work on several things at once and don’t be afraid to step away if a story isn’t working

Granted, my writing method is like throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks, so I tend to start a lot of stuff that fizzles out after a few paragraphs (or a few thousand words 😭😭) and I know juggling multiple things does not work for everyone.

I personally usually need at least 2 current WIPs, so I can switch to the second when I get stuck on the first. This means even while I’m ruminating on one fic, I’m writing another. But I have friends who literally can’t write on more than one project at a time or their brains will explode, so again, it’s just about what works best for you.

[BRACKETS]

If you’re stuck on something like a detail or a fact you need to look up or a piece of dialogue (“How the fuck would Lestat respond to THAT?” is my constant refrain, my cats are tired of hearing it), just put something in brackets like [Lestat replies with something flirty or witty] or [Fact check if X] or whatever it is, and then you can move on and keep going and not lose your momentum.

Set a Timer

If you're struggling to make yourself focus and write, set a timer for 10, 15, 25 minutes (whatever increment of time works for you!) and write until it goes off. You can keep going after if you're on a roll, or your can stop for a while, but it will get you into the mindset of writing. And even if that's all you do that day, hey, you wrote for 10 minutes!

Kill your need for perfection and that critic in your brain

I am still working on this but it’s true! You can make your WIP more perfect in editing. The old adage that you can’t fix a blank page is correct. And honestly, a lot of times I will write something and think ‘ugh this is no good’ and then go back and read it weeks later and really dig it. Or I figure out what it needs to make it better. (Or sometimes it still sucks and we just pretend it never happened.) But no one else has to see your first drafts! So don’t stress about making the first draft super good or agonize too much over word choice. Just get words on the page and worry about making it better later.

I hope you find some of that helpful, Anon!

[burst-of-iridescent]

Your response to that anon makes it pretty clear they're right lol. Katara did support Aang unconditionally, especially with his trauma as she could empathise as someone who is ALSO a survivor of genocide and the last of their people (water bender and air nomad). But Aang also was supportive of her- when she wanted to free the earthbenders, him and sokka helped, he wanted to refuse to continue teaching from Pakku because he wouldn't teach Katara, he helped her with the Painted Lady, and the Southern Raiders comment is not as condescending as you think. Yes, it was shitty, but you really think they would've turned their back on Katara? They shouldn't have said that to her but him and Sokka know if she kills Yon Rha, it will not bring her closure. And as for her doing all the labour, that's blatantly untrue. In Bitter Work the whole argument between Toph and Katara is that Katara is (rightfully) mad that Toph only wants to do her share, arguing that everyone around camp does their part.There’s multiple episodes in which the gaang help pitch the tent and perform campsite duties. There’s a whole episode dedicated to how katara and sokka are both sick, resulting in aang having to run across the world to retrieve them medicine, and he continued trying to get the frogs for his friends even when captured. There’s an entire episode dedicated to how the gaang cannot get anything done without sokka, who usually manages their schedules and itineraries and helps ensure that they’re on track. There’s plenty of moments in which aang and katara are goofing off, and sokka gets mad at them for not sticking to his carefully curated and meticulous schedule and for putting a wedge in their plans to save communities (see: imprisoned and the painted lady). There’s moments when toph assumes responsibility; there’s moments when aang assumes responsibility. and then there’s moments when none of them have any clue on what to do, when they literally act like children navigating a world that’s constantly trying to kill them. Because they are children, which in episode 1 we see Aang telling Katara she is still a kid. Whether you ship it or not, a big part of their relationship is that they are children. They're a team, they all support each other. Saying she shoulders everything and that Aang is just selfish and callous is a blatant lie. They have helped each other throughout the series a lot. There are moments when they both say and do things that aren't good to eachother, but that doesn't make their relationship instantly toxic. Aang kissing Katara w/o consent was wrong, it's why I don't ship it, but saying Katara was reduced Aangs mother figure, especially when he played a large role in her acting like a kid again, and also grew up communally so the concept of a mother isn't something he would even think about. The constant adultification you insist on of Katara is just weird, there's a reason black and brown women hate it so much, especially when katara has stated she dislikes being seen as motherly

wow that is a whole lot of words you're trying to shove into my mouth, huh? don't worry though; unlike you, i know how to make a good argument, so let's go through this flaming pile of garbage you've dumped in my asks to see exactly what that looks like!

i don't know where you got this idea that i think katara does everything for team avatar while the rest of them sit by and twiddle their thumbs; i have never said that, and i never will. my argument isn't about katara's relationship with the gaang (though for all that she says they divide the chores equally in the chase episode, you will notice that much of the time it is always katara you see in the background cooking, training aang, or doing work around camp - make of that what you will), it is about katara's relationship with aang, and the severe imbalance of emotional labour in that relationship.

let's look at how many times katara supports aang in the show when he's in need of it:

S1:E3, The Southern Air Temple: katara pulls aang out of the avatar state when he's grieving over the loss of his people, then holds and comforts him afterwards.

S1:E12, The Storm: katara listens to aang's regrets over running away, assauges his guilt, encourages him, and ultimately inspires him to move on from his past and start anew.

S2:E3, Return to Omashu: katara listens to aang's worries about bumi and tries to reassure him.

S2:E9, Bitter Work: katara coddles aang when he's sad about not being able to master earthbending, motivating him to keep going and trying to convince toph to give him an easier time.

S2:E10, The Library: katara pulls aang out of the avatar state again, this time actually putting herself in danger (the only one to do so, you might notice) by walking into the middle of a sandstorm while aang is in an highly volatile state of extreme power. keep in mind that katara knows exactly what can happen when aang isn't able to control himself, because of that lovely incident back in book 1 where she was burned thanks to his recklessness, and yet the duty of calming aang down falls to her yet again.

S2:E11, The Desert: aang snaps at katara and then leaves her to take care of herself and the rest of the gaang all on her own in a highly dangerous environment. don't worry though, she'll still find the time to sympathize with him and comfort him, though he certainly isn't going to apologize and will, in fact, have this lovely exchange with her instead:

"What's anyone else doing?! [Pointing his staff at Katara.] What are��you doing‌?!"

oh nothing aang, just keeping everyone alive and together, and being the entire reason they survive the desert at all. thanks for the support, though!

S2:E12, Journey to Ba Sing Se Part 1: katara reaches out to aang multiple times in this episode, offering her love and support, and ultimately helping him to snap out of his depression over appa's loss (he still hasn't apologized for his behaviour in the previous episode, in case you were wondering).

S3:E1, The Awakening: katara tries to help aang deal with his feelings of guilt over Ba Sing Se, heals him, brings him food, and even stays behind to look after him (funny you don't see either sokka or toph doing that)... all while dealing with her own sadness and anger over her father. aang does notice this, by the way! though naturally, he does nothing about it.

S3:E9, Nightmares and Daydreams: i'll cut this one a little slack, because sokka and toph do try to help out with aang's anxieties too. note, however, that katara checks on aang five separate times in this episode alone - far more than either of the other two by a clear margin.

S3:E17, The Ember Island Players: katara is the only one to notice aang is upset after the play, goes to see if he's okay and... well, you know how this one ends.

let's do a little tally and... that clocks in at a whopping 10 times that katara offers aang her love, support and comfort, including almost all of his lowest moments.

now let's look at the number of times aang supports katara when she is in need of it:

S1:E9, The Waterbending Scroll: aang encourages katara to waterbend, pushing her to have faith and be confident in herself, allowing her to waterbend successfully and defeat the pirates.

S1:E18, The Waterbending Master: aang defends katara against pakku and cheers for her during her fight; he does also, however, undercut her very real anger at pakku and tries to dissuade her from fighting at all under the impression that it's for him instead of the injustice that's been done to her so... we'll consider this a wash.

S2:E17, Lake Laogai: aang rests a hand on katara's shoulder in wordless support after jet dies.

S3:E8, The Puppetmaster: aang pulls the hand-on-shoulder move again while katara cries after defeating hama... except this time, sokka's on her other side doing the exact same thing so it can't even be counted as an emotional support moment exclusive to aang, the way all of aang's are to katara.

final calculation: 2, 4 if i'm being generous. four against ten, and even if you combined all of them together, aang still doesn't provide even half the depth of support and care that katara does for him in just a single incident.

see how that might be what we call an imbalanced relationship?

They shouldn't have said that to her but him and Sokka know if she kills Yon Rha, it will not bring her closure

except who brought up killing yon rha? aang. who immediately conflated justice with revenge? aang. who pushed his own culture's values of pacifism onto katara? aang. and who was ultimately wrong about blanket forgiveness and inaction being the path to closure for katara? aang.

you don't need to take my word on it. katara corrects aang herself when he inaccurately assumes she did what he wanted her to: "But i didn't forgive him. I'll never forgive him."

if aang had his way, if katara had never confronted yon rha, her rage and grief and resentment would've simply continued to fester inside her. katara made peace with her trauma on her own terms, by finally getting to see yon rha for what he really was: not a nightmarish bogeyman who left her powerless and afraid, but a weak, pathetic, human man who didn't even deserve the mercy of death, and whom she was able to reclaim her power over.

aang doesn't extend to katara even a fraction of the empathy, understanding and faith she always offers him; rather, he instantly jumps to the worst judgements about her intentions, preaches to her about how she should heal from her trauma, and only deepens her stress and anger while she's reliving the worst moment of her life.

that is not support. that is not friendship. that is aang making katara's struggle about himself, just as everything else in their relationship already is.

saying Katara was reduced Aangs mother figure, especially when he played a large role in her acting like a kid again, and also grew up communally so the concept of a mother isn't something he would even think about

buddy, i assure you i'm not the one making katara aang's mother. you can take that up with the writers who made a self-referential joke about katara acting motherly to aang (unless you think "stop rubbing your eye and sit up straight when you talk!" is somehow a romantic thing to say to your future husband), who have katara coddle aang multiple times, who framed katara holding aang's dead body like the virgin mary holding jesus, and who literally had her dress up and pretend to be his mother.

and for your information, katara is a motherly figure - not just to aang, but to every member of team avatar besides zuko (and suki, if you count her). that's not my opinion btw, as you seem to believe. that's canon, confirmed by both sokka and toph in S3:E7, The Runaway:

Sokka: When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara? She had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helped fill the void that was left by our mom. It really seems like my whole life, Katara's been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there. And now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara's is the only face I can picture. Toph: The truth is sometimes Katara does act motherly, but that's not always a bad thing. She's compassionate and kind, and she actually cares about me. [Wipes away tears from her left eye.] You know, the real me. That's more than my own mom.

so no, anon, i'm not the one "insisting" on katara's adultification. she was adultified the moment her mother died, because she was forced to step into her mother's shoes - and she did it so well that she became a surrogate parent to her own older brother. she is a child who was forced to sacrifice her childhood, and who will never be able to find it again. that is the fundamental tragedy at the heart of katara's character, and an integral part of what makes her who she is.

there's a reason black and brown women hate it so much, especially when katara has stated she dislikes being seen as motherly

really? women of colour hate being pushed into motherly roles, and seeing female characters like themselves being forced to do so? damn, i wonder if there's any way that i, a south asian woman living in southeast asia, would know that?

i don't need you to tell me what brown women think and feel. i understand first-fucking-hand what we go through, because i've seen it in my own female relatives, in my friends, in their families, in every aspect of my society. i've felt the expectations of my culture on my gender since i was a child, and that is just one of the many reasons why i ship zutara: so that at least in a fictional world, some fictional brown girl is able to have an equal relationship with a partner who respects her, admires her, supports her, cares for her, and loves her just as much as she does him.

i'm glad we can both agree that katara hates being seen as motherly. i hate it too, which is why i despise kat.aang, because the last thing that katara needed after losing her childhood being a mother was to lose the rest of her life to it too, stripped of her agency and legacy, forever stuck looking after a man who will always make her do too much labour without once recognizing it, let alone returning it.

now kindly get out of my inbox with your faux progressive concern, and take your subpar media literacy skills with you while you're at it.

[fuctacles]

Making moves the nerd way

"Halloween" for @steddieholidaydrabbles Part II of the previous warm-up but can be read alone

G | 1k | no cw | almost getting together, slightly oblivious Eddie

next up

Eddie was sitting on the kitchen floor, painting empty pizza boxes while Steve was trying to focus on making dinner. Despite the newspapers spread around him, he managed to stain his surroundings with grey paint. 

“How much do you have left?”

"I'm making a graveyard, Steve, not a random burial site with three corpses. It would go faster if you helped me, you know?” 

“Well, do you want to eat? Because I can’t cook pasta and paint tombstones at the same time.”

Eddie grumbles something under his breath.��

“Point taken.”

So they resume their activities, a weird mixtape of Metallica, Queen and Tears for Fears playing in the background. 

“Okay, little Picasso, time to eat," Steve announces eventually.

"Don't call me like I'm a toddler," Eddie scolds him, but the fact that he's peeking over the table while on his knees, eyeing the plate put there, does nothing to help his statement.

Steve smirks at him, at the half-tied mop of hair surrounding his eyes over the counter.

"Wash your hands before eating. Kiddo."

"I'm older than you!" he protests but hops up anyway to do as he was told. It's good Steve reminded him though, he'd probably just throw himself at the spaghetti like a savage, paint stains or not.

They eat and discuss the acceptable damage to Harrington's lawn to prop up the gravestones. Eddie's devastated to hear he can't just put holes in the ground.

"We can prop them up with sticks. Or weigh them down with rocks. We'll figure something out," Steve shrugs and that placates him for the time being. He helps with the dishes but is quickly shooed back to his art station. Steve joins him later, with a hand in his hair.

"How is it going, baby?"

Eddie grumbles, not looking up.

"I know you mean it in like, a kid way, but maybe don't call me that?" he says, double-focusing on the cardboard in front of him.

"Okay, kid, sorry," Steve amends, petting his hair, and scratching his scalp gently. Pretends not to see Eddie fold under the treatment. "Does my little artist need help?"

"Your little artist has been asking for help for the past two days."

Steve snorts, detangling his fingers from the long hair.

"That's fair, sorry. I guess you wore me down," he says, sitting down. "What do I do?"

Eddie finally turns away from his work, considering him.

"You can paint them over," he decides, handing him the grave he's been working on. "I'll cut them up." He grabs a new pizza box for himself, the needed shape already drawn on it with a Sharpie. His scissors follow the outline slowly and jaggedly, struggling with the thick cardboard.

“How many do we need?” Steve asks, dipping the brush in paint. 

“At least ten. I don’t have stuff for more anyway, figures I can just make extra later when I have time and supplies.”

Steve looks around.

“We have like, three,” he observes.

“Well, chop chop then, my little helper.”

Steve sighs and gets to work. 

While he’s happy to indulge Eddie and help him out, he’s been imagining their evening together differently. Getting one-on-one time in their little traumatized family was a rare thing unless you're already an established couple. Or him and Robin, but that's because they work together. Needless to say, it was hard to make a move on someone. Even with something already brewing between them. 

“So, are we putting our enemies’ names on them?” he settles on learning more about Eddie instead. Hopes he doesn’t mind treating his graveyard project like a shared effort, that Steve says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’.

“Oh, I’m totally absolutely putting Vecna on one. Other than that I think I’ll keep them fantasy-themed. Maybe use all the NPCs my Party killed throughout the campaign. I think we’ve seen enough of that in real life.”

“You said it.” Steve mentally kicks himself in the ass. Just his luck to start a topic that goes straight into the trauma of their Upside Down past. How is he supposed to make a move now?

He shuts up and starts painting the cardboard more angrily while Freddie Mercury screams his lungs out in the background. He doesn’t notice when the cardboard cutting ceases. 

Not until their hands brush when they both reach for the paint. He looks up to see most of the boxes cut up and shaped, waiting for paint.

“My hand started to cramp from the scissors. And you looked so peaceful, I wanted to join you,” Eddie explains. Steve watches him bite at his bottom lip, mulling something over. “I’ve always liked working with someone on projects like that. Help out with school play scenography, make Halloween costumes with Wayne…” He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, but the soft, genuine smile tells Steve otherwise. “So uh, thank you, for letting me do this here. For joining me, too.”

And Steve realizes this could be a date, too. He could make a move like this, on his kitchen floor, fingers stained with paint. 

“Of course. I have this weekend off, we could work together some more,” he offers. Then frowns at Eddie’s stunned expression. “What?”

“You want to spend your time off with me, playing with paint?”

“Well, I was hoping you have something more planned. We could work on our costumes, maybe?”

He’s alarmed when Eddie makes a pained noise.

“You’ll take Aragorn from me!”

“What?”

“We’ve been fighting over Lord of the Rings characters for Halloween costumes and if you join us there’s no way Henderson will let me keep him.”

“I don’t need to join in, I’d rather just help you with your costume.”

To this, Eddie turns suspicious.

“Why?” he squints.

“Eddie,” he sighs, staring fondly into his eyes, and grabs his wrist for good measure.

Eddie’s eyes go big like saucers when it hits him.

"Holy shit. Do you want to have a nerd date with me?”

Steve chuckles. 

“I guess I do.”

[peachymilkandcream]

Movie!William Afton x Wife!Reader Scrapped Part 2

(A/N: Someone asked in the comments of the last one for a Part 2 and here we are! Part 2 of Scrapped babyyyy! In which Vanessa is reunitted with her mother. I also may or may not have been watching Markiplier's FNAF playthroughs while writing this but hey. Hope you enjoy and please read the warnings!)

WARNINGS: Implied and mentions of noncon, dubcon, violence, domestice violence, age difference, power dynamic, murder, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, descriptions of gore

=============================================

William had been recovering well, his deep wounds had become little more than dark red dents in his skin as he healed. Husband and wife had been silent since that night, aside from simple requests and small talk they hadn't talked about what they saw, what they knew. She knew about the murders, she knew what he was, each of the children, stuffed into the suits of the place where they had brought their own children so many times. And yet she said nothing.

"So are we going to pretend nothing happened?" He asked all of a sudden while she changed his bandages.

"What do you mean?"

"The murders. You know. What got me into that suit, surely you figured it out by now, you're not that stupid."

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to convey her true feelings. "Yes I know."

Annoyed she doesn't continue he presses further. "And? You can't just say nothing."

"What is there to say William? You killed children, you almost died. What more can I say? You think I'd leave you now? Report you to the police?"

"That's how most normal people would react."

His wife sighs, trying to find the words. "Look. You're my husband. I have no life outside of our marriage. No education, nowhere to go, I don't know where Micheal or Vanessa are because you told me they left without a trace so how could I get rid of you? You're my support, my rock."

William lets a half smile come to his face, this was the woman of his dreams. Sticking by him through thick and thin. He almost regrets not telling her years ago about what he did, maybe then he could have someone to help clean up his messes. "You're really are special, you know that?"

She blushes and he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, settling his hand on her chin and pulling her closer and in for a kiss. All his schemes and plans had led up to this, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

===========================================

Every once and a while Vanessa liked to visit the old place, despite everything her father had done she had some fond memories as a child here. It was the one place where her mother was happy, all the other memories she had of her were crying or blindly agreeing with whatever her dad said. The times she'd venture to the back office just to witness her father forcing her mother down. Vanessa shivered, sure this place had a few good moments, but most were overcast by the dark shadow of her father's madness.

But memories wasn't why she was there that night, she was searching for William. Ever since that night she couldn't get him out of her head, he was most likely dead from his wounds, but the thought didn't comfort her. She had never actually seen him die, and knowing him, it was like he had nine lives. Worry brought her out tonight, she had to see the body to feel safe in her own home again, content that he really was never going to come for her again.

It didn't help that she couldn't find it now, from what Mike had told her the children had dragged him away in that damn suit, but to where was anyone's guess. The place had always been too big, and now she was scouring it just for a peace of mind.

Lights other than her own flashlight in the main dining room caught her attention. She hoped Mike hadn't brought Abby back to visit, she could kill him for that if William was somehow still alive. But her flashlight slid from her hand when she saw the woman she thought she'd never see again.

"...Mom?"

Her mother looked up, surprised to hear the voice, but tearing up when she saw her sweet daughter. "Vanessa? Is that you my dear? Oh my what are you doing here?"

She holds out her arms for a hug, which Vanessa rushes into. How long had it been since she'd talked to her? Every time she had phoned William answered and demanded that she never call back. The one time the call went through all her mother did was defend William with every breath she had even as Vanessa told her about the crimes he had committed.

"I missed you mom-" Vanessa gives her one final squeeze before letting go. "I should ask what you're doing here."

"Well these things were your father's pride and joy, it hurts me to see them rot like this. Plus I feel like I have more of an understanding of them now."

Vanessa perked up. "Now? Why now?"

Her mother met her gaze. "I know about it Vanessa, what William did, I know about it all."

She sighs with relief, finally her mother believed all the rumours, now with dad gone she could be free of him, free to live her life. "I'm glad you don't have to live with the lies anymore Mom, he kept so much from you."

"I'm sure he had his reasons, your father is a headstrong man."

Frustration flowed through Vanessa, she always did this, her mother never had a backbone on anything except when it came to Dad. People regularly walked all over her and she just accepted whatever anyone said except if it was against that man. "Mom he kept me and Micheal from you."

"But honey you never called, how could he keep me from you."

Tears spring into her eyes. "I called Mom...I called...so many times, he answers and then doesn't tell you I've phoned-"

"Now why would your father do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath Mom, I've been telling you this for years. He hurt you, he neglected us, he murdered children! How can you defend him?!"

"Don't raise your tone at me young lady."

Vanessa sighs and tries to calm her nerves. "Why didn't you leave him Mom?"

She crosses her arms. "And go where Vanessa? You and Micheal left and without an education or a means to support myself where could I go? Your father has given me everything I could ask for. And on top of that I love him to death."

"He hurt you Mom-"

"And I needed a bit of discipline when I was young and reckless, I've changed for the better."

Vanessa sighs. "Whatever, I won't argue." She shifts feet awkwardly. "How have you been holding up though? With him gone."

What she didn't expect was her mother to seem confused. "What are you talking about? Your father hasn't gone anywhere."

Her eyebrows furrow, and dread fills her as she hears footsteps. The same dread that filled her dreams, praying that she wouldn't see her father come through those doors like he did now. "There are you are my love. And who's this? You found dear Vanessa, coming to find me and fix me up, don't worry sweetheart, your mother already did that."

Vanessa stares at her mother with wide eyes. "You helped him!? Why!? Why didn't you just let this bastard rot!?"

"He's your father Vanessa, be respectful, and besides, I couldn't just leave him here to die could I?"

"Yes! You could have avenged those poor children!"

William smirked. "As you can see your mother hasn't forgotten her loyalties like you have. She fixed me up good as new, she was worried about me unlike you. I knew you'd come back, I knew you wouldn't have let that wound kill you so easily. Now you prey on your mother, filling her head with doubts and ideas to fit your selfish narrative. No more. You will never speak to her again or else I'll finish what I started."

"I can't do that Dad, I can't let you continue hurting her."

William sighed. "That's such a shame. We could have been a family again but you insist on breaking your mother's heart." He runs a hand through his wife's hair. "Sweetheart? Go wait in the car while I take care of this with our daughter."

She simply nods, leaving the two alone and not questioning the murderous look in his eye.

"Now Vanessa, shall we finish this?"

============================================

A long time had passed, and finally William joined her in the car.

"Is everything okay honey?" She asked.

"Yes dear, Vanessa and I had a good heart to heart, she won't be bothering us again."

She accepted it, as always, although deep down she questioned why a heart to heart covered him in so much blood.

[i-wanna-write]

Never Again - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Prompt: Reader was at work when the outbreak happened, leaving them separated from their spouse. But, through luck and survival, they find eachother

Takes place during season 1

Warnings: some cuss words. Probably some inaccurate timelines cause I haven’t watched season 1 in ages. Awkward Glenn. Crying Daryl.

All the Flufffff

Word: 2170

————————————————————————

You stare at the flames in front of you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders while you fiddle with your knife in your hands. The group you joined only hours ago talk quietly among themselves, wise to keep their voices low to not attract the dead. Rick, the small town sheriff you met a week ago, sits next to his wife with his son in his lap, whom he was finally reunited with, details of his time away from them.

Just a day ago you were fighting for your life in Atlanta, killing the already dead with the small town sheriff by your side. You’re grateful for your past and your knowledge of weaponry as that is a needed skill for survival now. The hunting knives and guns you found now act as an extension of your body, allowing you to protect yourself and stay alive.

You never thought a day would come when those who die would not stay dead. That you would have to stick a knife in your coworkers or patient's skulls to put them down. That you’d hear the crack of their skull as you punctured it to reach their brain so they’d stay down. That you’d be separated from your family, separated from your person.

Yet here you are.

“New girl,” a voice sounds from your right. You turn your gaze from the flames to meet Glenn’s eyes, they Asian kid you owe your life to. “Tell us a little about yourself. I feel like we only know your name.”

‘That’s cause that’s all I shared.’ You think to yourself.

His statement causes the whole group to look at you and you feel a little anxious at all their eyes. You were never one to be the center of attention. You always enjoyed talking one on one and were never a fan of groups. You’ve always been closed off and hesitant to open up to others, yet now everyone seems to want to know more about you.

“Um,” you begin. “Well, you all know my name is Y/N and I found Rick a week ago. Before than I was just on my own trying to survive I guess.”

You’re not really sure what to say, not knowing what information these people want. You just met them today. Sure, you trust Rick and Glenn, but feel so out of place compared to them. Glenn seems to know and get along with everyone and Rick has his family and best friend with him. You don’t have anyone.

“What’d you do before all this?” Shane asks. Ricks best friend, small town deputy, and appointed leader of this group.

You sigh, figuring that the sooner you answer their questions, the sooner the attention is off you.

“I was a Physician's Assistant in the ER at a hospital.” You reveal.

Shane whistles. “Damn, so you're a doctor then?”

Everyone seems to get excited at the idea of having a doctor in the group.

You shrug. “Not formally but I guess. I would treat those that came into the ER and had past rotations in the OR, assisting with surgeries. But I always liked the front line and helping people get to the surgery. Not during or after.”

Everyone seems to nod at that answer, seeing the sense

It’s quiet for a moment and you’re glad, hoping the conversation is over and a new one will be picked up.

“What about your family?” A blonde asks.

You look over at her and think it’s Andrea who asked it, or Amy. You’re not quite sure but know they're both blondes and sisters.

“I’m an only child and both my parents have been dead awhile.” You state, not getting into the details.

“What about a boyfriend? Fiance? Husband?” The other blonde asks. Now you think this one is Amy, the younger of the sisters. “I mean, you’re so pretty. Were you single before all this?”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you even more, if that is possible. You begin to feel your heartbeat increase and your throat begins to feel as if it’s going to close. This is the question you didn’t want to be asked.

“Yeah, you mentioned you were looking for someone.” Rick chimes into the conversation.

Your hand automatically flies to your necklace, fiddling what’s around the chain. So many memories come back to you at once and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

“I-“ you clear your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay before taking a breath to calm yourself. “Yes. I mean no, I wasn’t single before all this. I’m married.” You reveal.

“What?” and “You’re married?” and “I’m so sorry.” are heard all at once.

You close your eyes to take another calming breath, opening them to only stare back at the flames.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I’m married.”

You can't stand it. You know that if you look away from the fire you’ll see it - the pitying glances. Their looks of sympathy. Rick just reunited with his wife and son and you can’t help but feel jealous, wishing it was you and your husband who were cuddled around the fire instead.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You say, rising to your feet and walking away, needing to get away from the group.

You walk towards some tents, not quite knowing where to go but knowing where you currently don’t want to be. You feel so jealous of Rick and shame fills you because of this. Rick risked his life to help you and vice versa. He’s not only a husband but a father. He deserved to find his family again. He was a sheriff before all this and was shot for Christ sake. He deserves to have found them.

But you still wish you found him.

“Hey.” A voice says.

You turn and see Glenn.

“You probably don’t wanna talk, but I’m here if you wanna…” he trails off.

You smile gratefully, now know what to say.

“You can crash in my tent tonight - not with me of course! I’ll sleep in the RV. Cause, you know, you’re married. Well obviously you know your married but I just mean-“

You cut the rambling kid off, smiling again but this time in amusement.

“Thank you Glenn.” you say, raising your hand. “I appreciate it.”

The kid smiles back and guides you to his tent where you step in and lay down, sleep immediately taking you.

————————————————————————

You wake up to raised voices and immediately grab your knife from under your pillow. You open your eyes and see blue, the past day coming back to you. Atlanta. Wearing a dead man to blend in. The group in the woods. The conversation by the fire.

You sigh, bringing a hand to your face and wiping the sleep from your eyes. You don’t think you should stay with this group. While everyone is nice and open, you feel - you know - that your husband is still out there. You know you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him. Whether walking alive or walking dead.

“Hey.” A voice sounds, causing you to quickly turn, knife raised. “Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You’re face to face with Glenn, his head pooping into the opening of the tent, his eyes wide and arms raised. You lower the knife quickly and swallow, glad you didn’t almost kill the poor guy.

“We let you sleep through breakfast since we figured you’d be so tired.” He begins to explain. “I figured the fighting may have woke you up, guess I was right.”

“What’s going on out there?” You question, pulling the blanket off of you and beginning to rise, your back popping from the night of sleeping on the ground.

“I forgot you weren’t with us yet when we were on the roof.” Glenn begins to explain, motioning for you to follow.

You stand up and exit the tent with him. You’re both standing away from the main clearing where all the action is and you’re glad, never being a fan of drama.

“We were on a roof to escape the dead and handcuffed one of our group to it. He was a real ass. And racist.” Glenn starts. “His brother was out hunting and just got back so we had to tell him we left him behind.”

“You saying you left a racist asshole cuffed to a roof surround by the walking dead,” you question, eyebrows raised and hands on your hip

You have no idea how these people were still alive. Their survival levels are next to non existence.

Glenn’s face turns pink and he ducks his head. “He was high out of his mind!” He starts to defend. “You never met Merle but he -“

“Wait who?” You ask, your heart beginning to pound so loud you hear it in your ears.

Merle. Racist asshole. High. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.

“Merle.” Glenn says cautiously as he notices your reaction and starts to get nervous. You can’t possibly know this guy, right? No way this guy is the husband you’re looking for, right? That’d be bad. Not only would they have an angry Daryl to deal with but and angry you as well.

“And his brothers name is…” you trial off.

“Daryl.” Glenn says, motioning for you to follow him towards the fight.

Daryl. Daryl. Daryl.

Merle, racist asshole high out of his mind with a brother named Daryl who was hunting. Hunter. Your Daryl is a hunter with a brother named Merle who also happens to be a racist asshole that's always high.

This is just one large, almost comical, coincidence right? There’s no way this groups Daryl could be your -

“Daryl?” You whisper to yourself as you reach the clearing.

There, in the middle of the commotion, is your husband. Looking just as he did when you saw him weeks ago, only dirtier. Wearing a green tank top and jeans, his hair is still just as short, reaching just long enough to curl near his ears.

‘Hes here.” You think to yourself. ‘He’s alive.’

…And he’s being held in a chokehold.

“Chokehold’s illegal!” He yells and you can’t help the sob that escapes you at the sound of his voice.

“Best file a complaint.” Shane growls back at him.

You don't care what they’re fighting about as you start running towards them. Your legs move the fastest you ever think you’ve ran, so happy and oh so grateful he’s here. He’s alive.

“Daryl!” You yell as you run towards as Shane lets him go.

His head moves faster than you think humanly possible as his eyes lock on you.

“Y/N?” He questions, as if he’s hallucinating and this is just a nightmare. His brother left behind for dead and his wife finally here and safe.

But he soon realized it is real as your body collides with his.

“Daryl!” You sob, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck and jumping into him so your legs can wrap around his waist.

You burry your face in his neck as sobs now escape you freely. Weeks of not seeing him, not knowing if he was dead, walking dead, or alive have finally led to this moment. You finally have your husband back in your arms.

You take a deep breath in and breathe only Daryl. Gasoline mixed with vanilla and spice. You can feel his skin stick to yours due to the heat but you don’t care and just squeeze tighter. Arms wrap tightly around your waist and you feel every inch of Daryl’s body against your own, so happy he’s in your arms again.

The onlookers watch in confusion, happiness, and shock as Daryl Dixon - who was just screaming at everyone in anger - drops to his knees with a women in his arms. They watch as the usually grumpy man appears to cry tears of joy as he buries his head into the neck of the women in his arms.

“Y/N.” Daryl whispers as he squeezes tighter before pulling away to look at you.

Your eyes meet light blue, more gorgeous than the sky during a sunset and you see the tears running down his face, knowing you match his expression. His hands reach up to cup your cheeks before one of his thumbs moves down to stroke your lips.

“You’re here.” He breathes

“You’re here.” You repeat, a bright smile on your face.

“I looked for ya. I did. I wanted to stay at the house for ya but Merle-“

You cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. Cause you’re here. And I’m here. And we’re here. And I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

Daryl leans in, his lips crushing against yours in a kiss that makes your toes curl. You don’t care that everyone is watching. You finally found the person you were looking for. The person that's been there with you through good times and bad. Your person.

Daryl pulls away, his eyes staring into yours as he whispers with your lips so close you can feel his breath upon yours.

“Never again.”

•••

Please lmk how it was!!!

💜 Kenzie

[starlightsearches]

requesting reader asking bf eddie to do his eyeliner n he says yes but only if they will sit on his lap while doing it!! if it gets spicy i absolutely dont mind!! also no rush!!!

AO3 Request: What about one where the reader is painting Eddie’s nails black for him after watching him struggle and somehow in between them drying they start making out and it turns a little NSFW and something about “Don’t, you’ll fuck the paint up.”

Looks That Kill

Thanks for the request, friends, and even more thanks for your patience!! Hope you enjoy 😚

Eddie Munson x F! Reader

Warnings: very very horny but not really smutty (18+ only please), language, Eddie is a SIMP always and forever, hints at sub! eddie, finger sucking, I know licking nail polish to smooth is out is gross but sometimes it's just what you do, okay??, mentions of impact play, some unfortunate cockblocking, and i think that's it! If I missed anything let me know uwu

"Jesus- fuck."

The eyeliner pencil slips from Eddie's fingers, again, clattering against the basin of the sink and leaving little black smudges around the porcelain before it slowly comes to a stop. He rubs the matching smudge off the corner of his eye with his thumb, smearing black down his cheek.

Normally, this is the point where he'd give up. If this were a gig at The Hideout, he wouldn't have even bothered to try with the makeup— would have rolled out of bed an hour before, still half high for another fucking show of watered-down covers.

But this is not just some show.

"You good, Eds?"

Your head pops into the shitty motel bathroom, drying your nails with pursed lips painted dark, perfectly-lined eyes meeting his own. Eddie shivers like you’ve got your hands on him, even though it's just the slow up and down trace of your eyes.

He knows what the look you give him means. You're trying to figure out what his problem is.

There's an immediate reminder of the secret he's been trying to keep from himself—that he's got more to be nervous about than this show and maybe a record deal and trying to put a little, black crayon by his eyeball.

"How do you even do this shit?" Eddie asks, holding the eyeliner in a tight fist like he's trying to choke it.

"It just takes practice."

You lean up against the door frame, unphased, because nothing ever gets to you. Not nerves, not shitty guys at shows, not late nights spent driving or hours in the van with nothing to look at but corn fields.

With Eddie, it's the opposite. Everything gets to him. Especially you.

He knew it was a bad idea, letting you take Grant’s spot when he went off for college. The guys were a second family to him, and the idea of replacing any of them always felt weird, like finding out your dad has a new girlfriend, and he wants you to call her mom.

But Corroded Coffin needed a bassist. And you could play—could play so good he’s pretty sure he’s been in love with you since that first note hit him in the chest.

It doesn't help that you're so fucking pretty, with your over the knee boots and those short, short skirts and fishnet tights that have him biting into the meat of his palm when you're not looking.

It doesn't help that Jeff and Gareth know way too much about his little problem, and still took the other room, leaving him high and dry.

"I don't have time for practice," he grumbles, mostly to himself, capping the eyeliner again and planting his hands against the counter.

It's not like anybody in the crowd would care if he had eyeliner on or not. Openers never got that much attention anyways. The record studio guy might be too high to even notice the name of the band, let alone what any of you looked like.

But Eddie cares. When he steps out on that stage, he wants to feel like he belongs there.

He catches you staring at him in the mirror, chewing pensively on your bottom lip, brushing a few hairs back behind your ear. You've got it just barely secured—like you always do before a show—knowing by the end of it you'll have all the loose strands sticking to your sweaty skin, making sure that everybody in the audience (and at least one of the guys on stage) can't think about anything else but fucking you.

There's a moment of prolonged eye contact between you that has Eddie glad the shirt he's wearing is black, so you won't see him sweat.

You push off the wall behind you, sliding up beside him at the counter. "Scoot over."

Eddie does, watching you take a little hop up onto the counter, shimmying the hem of your dress back down over your thighs, the fabric tight enough when you spread your legs he wonders if it'll pop at the seams.

Jesus.

"C'mere."

And Eddie gets what's going on—or he thinks he does—but it's like he can't get his legs to listen, stumbling toward you like a baby deer until his legs are just brushing your knees.

You roll your eyes at him. "Closer."

He lets out a little yelp when you tug at his wrist, pulling him in, widening your legs until there's enough room for his hips. There's a quiet sound, like fabric tearing, but maybe that's just leftover brain-rot from all the porn he watched in high school.

Your thighs close around his hips, and they're so fucking pillowy, molding against him. One of your ankles curls around the back of his knee. Eddie wonders if you can feel how close he is to buckling.

You're so fucking chill about it all, though, taking the eyeliner in one hand, gripping his chin in the other until you're almost nose to nose. It's just clouds of your shampoo and the smell of cherry-scented lip gloss Eddie'd snatched from the counter the second you stepped out of the room. Spread over the back of his hand, watched it shine in the light before immediately licking off. He needed to know what it tasted like.

You've got the pad of your thumb pressed into the soft skin under his eye, swiping away the evidence from one of his hundred other attempts.

"Look up," you tell him, catching his lashes gently under your finger when he obeys, "and stay still."

He's got no other choice. Eddie knows if he makes the slightest move, he'll feel your body move against his, and that'll have him popping a boner so fast he might lose consciousness.

One eye, and then the other—you swipe the pencil around his lash line so fast it would make him dizzy if he dared to look. The cap snaps back over the top of the eyeliner, and you drop it back into the bag.

"All done, rockstar," you tell him with a tap on the cheek, "check yourself out."

Eddie leans around you, trying to get a good look in the mirror, but his balance is all off. He's gonna fall on his ass, a thought almost too embarrassing to name, and he catches himself on the closest thing he can grab at.

Your thigh dents too pretty underneath his fingers, the backs of his rings snagging against one of the strings on your fishnets.

Fuck. Eddie's gotta play it off or he'll look like a tool—fucking about to faint because a girl is touching him—which means he's gotta keep his hand there, even if his vision is going dark at the edges. He can hardly see his own reflection.

"What d'you think?" he asks instead.

You're smiling, but in that way that has Eddie questioning everything you say, like it's all some fucked up riddle designed to torture him.

"It's sexy, Eds. You look great."

He just rolls his eyes. It's sexy, Eds. You're so fucking sexy, Eddie, and I need you to take me on this motel bathroom sink and fuck me for hours or I'm gonna claw my eyes out.

Yeah right. In his dreams, maybe.

But you didn't push his hand away, either. Let him cop a feel and you didn't even shrink away from him, or hurl. So maybe he's just being a mean little bitch to himself for the fun of it.

"Anything else?"

Yeah, Eddie thinks, slap me hard across the face then kiss it better.

But that's not really in the cards for tonight, so his eyes flash around the bathroom, landing on the black bottle of polish you brought in with you. Eddie raises his free hand, the one not on your thigh—which will stay there until he dies if he gets his way—spreading his fingers wide. "How 'bout a manicure?"

Your fingers grip at Eddie's hand, coating each of his nails with one clean swipe of the polish, breathing in deep and slow while the room floods with the scent of acetone.

"Blow," you command, placing his nails in front of his lips before you grab the other hand. Eddie's more than happy to do what he's told.

He watches you, watches the way your brows knit together, totally focused on perfection.

"You know," —your breath puffs against his knuckles, voice all quiet, "you don't need any of this shit, right? You're gonna blow it out of the fucking water, like you always do."

Eddie hopes his nails are dry already, because he's got no more breath in his lungs, just barely managing to gasp out a word.

"Oh."

You glance up at him through your lashes, and past your cool exterior and the twenty layers of apathetic irony bassists always seem to have, he knows you mean it.

Eddie flinches, hand slipping against yours. When you pull back, there's a big black smear across your thumb.

"Oh, damn, sorry."

He's left a dent in the polish on his middle finger, pushed some of the already-dry paint around until a sliver of his real nail was visible beneath.

"Don't worry about it."

If Eddie had a thousand years and unlimited guesses, he still wouldn't have come up with what you do next—taking his middle finger in your hand, pulling it toward your lips.

Your mouth is wet, and warm around his finger, and maybe Eddie moans when you suck at his skin but the roaring in his ears is too loud for him to be sure. All he knows is that he'll never need another dirty magazine or porno for the rest of his life. He's gonna be jerking off to this exact feeling forever.

Your tongue drags flat across his nail, and when you pull the digit from your mouth—all wet and shiny with your spit and stained purple with lipstick—the polish looks good as new.

"Tastes like shit, but it works," you tell him, leaning over to spit in the sink.

There's a smirk on your lips when you turn back to face him. Eddie feels like such an idiot.

All those times you'd bent over in those short skirts, gripped at his thigh while you reached for a pencil, or one of those discarded pages of lyrics on his bedroom floor and he'd sit there, staring at the ceiling and trying to name all the state's capitals so he wouldn't be sporting a boner hard enough you could see it through his jeans.

You were fucking with him this entire time.

He could have been fucking you this entire time.

"Jesus," he says, "you're a fucking tease."

You smile wider, tightening the grip of your thighs. "Maybe I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to get the fucking hint."

Eddie braces himself against the counter with both hands when he leans forward, nudging your mouth towards his with the tip of his nose and just diving in, no backup plan, no parachute. He's all in, crushing his body against yours until his hips ache against the sharp edge of the counter.

You're kissing him back, cupping your palms around his jaw, smearing that cherry lip gloss all around his mouth with the way you get into it. Breathing heavy against his cheek, slipping your tongue past his lips and tapping it against the edge of his teeth.

He grabs at your thighs—desperate and totally indifferent if you know it—pulling at you until your hips bump against his, skirt riding up again until it's sitting in the dip between your stomach and the tops of your thighs.

He slides a hand up the lattice of your tights, climbing higher and higher, so close to your cunt he can feel the heat caught up in the space between your legs.

You drop a hand from his face, press against his wrist, gasping out the words between the harsh crush of his mouth.

"Don't. You'll fuck up the paint."

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't care."

You pull back, scrunching your nose at him indignantly.

"I do."

There's a knock on the door, timing so perfect it's like you summoned it. Gareth's voice calls out through the thin walls, saying something along the lines of, "showtime, motherfuckers."

"Fuck that," Eddie lets out a hard sigh through his nose as you slide off the counter, but he makes space for you to slip out from between his arms. He watches you, leaning back against the counter while you wipe off the smeared lipstick with a washcloth, moving in close to reapply.

He couldn't give two shits about the show now.

You snap the cap back on the tube, hand him the stained rag so he can clean himself up. It turns his skin red where he rubs at the sticky stain, but he gets his first real glance at the eyeliner. It looks pretty metal.

You catch Eddie by the collar just before he's about to step out of the bathroom, two fingers sliding against his skin, pulling him close.

"Listen," —and Eddie is, feeling your lipstick brushing over the shell of his ear— "you get us this record deal, and you can do whatever you want to me tonight."