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zombiigrll · 4 months

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FOREVER GRATEFUL FOR YOU. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 3.7K (JESUS.) ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst + comfort (mostly angst), retelling of the walking dead 8x8 (so slight spoilers), use of y/n, reader death, blood, your regular zombie apocalypse warnings, cursing, kissing, mostly just sad stuff!! .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ i am SO SORRY for how INSANELY LONG this is. it took me like 3-4 hours to write oh my god. hope you guys enjoy anyhow though<3

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carl told you he was going on a run to find the man the two of you had spotted at the gas station. you begged to go, and eventually, he caved. the two of you had known each other since the start, being neighbors and all. you were in his house while you waited for lori to get ready to take the two of you to school, and thats when everything went down. with all of the things he saw you do, he knew you could take care of yourself.

...or he thought you could.

the two of you were lucky enough to find the man from the gas station and you found out his name was siddiq.

"i'm gonna ask you a few questions. i need you to answer honestly, okay?" carl told siddiq.

"..okay." siddiq nodded.

"how many walkers have you killed?" siddiq looks around, thinking. "i know it's hard to keep track-"

"237."

"really?" you raised an eyebrow, impressed, but skeptical.

"give or take a couple." siddiq shrugged.

carl nodded in response before continuing. "how many people have you killed?"

"one." the man averted his gaze to the ground.

"why?"

"the dead tried to kill him, but... they didn't." he explained, looking back up at the two of you.

"you've been making walker traps? is that how you've been killing all of them?" you asked, crossing your arms as you looked at the scenery of traps and the deceased walkers behind him.

"it's only part of it. my mom thought- or hoped- that killing them would free their souls. you know?" he clarified, seemingly upset but proud talking about his mother.

"doing that, doesn't that just make things harder for you while you're trying to survive?" carl inquired, furrowing his brows.

"i don't know.. i.. but you.. you gotta honor your parents, right?"

...

the three of you had been walking for a little while before you guys came across a couple walkers in the distance, crouching down near a tree.

"okay. for your mom." carl smiles and siddiq before facing you, signaling for you to join.

you grabbed your knife that was holstered across your waist, stepping forward alongside siddiq and carl. but shortly after, there was too many. at first it only seemed like a couple, enough for just the three of you to take care of quickly. but they began coming in from other sides of the forest, and you were cornered. you were stepping back to try and get more distance, but you twisted your ankle on a tree root, causing you to topple on top of the tree laying on the ground. the walkers began limping towards you as you looked frantically around for where your knife had went. but you were too late. two of the walkers were down on the ground, one on top of you and the other on your side. you tried your best to push the one over you with one of your hands while searching the ground for your knife with the other one.

*chomp!*

a pain rushed through your side, but you didn't think much of at that point due to feeling the handle of your knife, quickly picking it up and jamming it through the skull of the walker on your side, then into the one in front of you, pushing it off of you.

right as you did so, you were met with carl staring at you wide-eyed.

"oh my god, you're covered in blood." he ran over to you, crouching down next to you and grabbing your hand. "are- are you bit?"

he helped you up and you stared at the ground, then at your bloodied clothes. "...no. i'm okay."

you weren't okay. you knew what had happened to you, but.. you couldn't tell him. not now. you were lucky enough that your shirt had fallen over the bite when you stood up.

"are you sure? you don't feel anything at all?" he repeated his question, his hands on top of your shoulders while he looked at you with concern.

"i'm sure." you nodded, wiping your hands on your legs. "we should.. we should head back now."

carl sighs. "...okay."

you felt like shit.

...

the entire walk back, carl was extremely cautious of any walkers, hoping there wouldn't be another close call on the way.

"...i love you, carl. don't ever forget that." you said, you voice low and slightly shaken.

"i love you, too. are you okay?" he was surprised at your sudden comment, which proved to have made him a bit anxious.

"yeah, yeah. i just wanted to say i love you." you smiled quickly at him before looking back down at your feet as you continued walking. you could feel your ankle that you twisted earlier was pulsating, and you could feel the bite beginning to eat away at your body, but you tried your best to keep your composure. you wanted your final day with carl to be normal.

...

you guys got arrived at alexandria and you walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. you stared at yourself in the mirror, taking in everything that had just happened. you removed your jacket and lifted up your shirt to reveal the bite, which was still leaking with blood. you couldn't take your eyes off of it. you shook your head while tears began falling from your eyes, processing this whole situation.

"fuck." you let out a breathy laugh before taking your shirt completely off.

you grabbed some of the medical supplies from behind the mirror and put it over the bite so it wouldn't bleed through new clothes. you grabbed a clean shirt from the laundry basket behind you and put it on.

you wiped the tears from your eyes, cleaning up your appearance a bit more before exiting the bathroom.

"there you are. how're you doing?" carl sat up from the couch and walked over to you.

"oh, i'm doing fine." you smiled up at him, interlocking his hands with yours. "hey, do you know where that camera is?"

"camera?" his eyebrow raised as he tilted his head with curiosity.

"yeah, remember? the camera? i used to always use it to take photos of you and judith." you reminded him with a laugh.

"oh, the camera!" he joined the laugh. "it's in my room, i'll go get it." he began walking in the direction of his room swiftly, coming back with the camera in hand shortly after.

"thank you." you took the camera from his hands, quickly pointing it up and taking a photo of him.

"ah, hey!" he chuckled, covering part of his face.

you grabbed the photo from the camera before pulling him into a tight hug.

"hey.. wheres judith?" you inquired, your head buried in his neck.

"she's up in her room, why?"

"we should hangout with her." you broke from the hug with a smile, putting the camera into your bag before heading into the direction of her room, carl following shortly behind you.

you walked into her room and picked her up from her crib. "hey, jude." you spoke in a soft voice, holding her gently in your arms. carl smiled at your actions. he's always had a soft spot for you and judith.

you began walking outside with judith in your arms and carl following by your side. you sit down on the steps of the porch, setting judith down in between you and carl. you dig into your bag and pull the camera out again, holding it up and taking a picture of the three of you.

you take the photo from the camera, moving it down to judith so she can see. as carl looked down at the photo that was forming, he notices how shaky your hands are.

"hey, your hands are shaking.." he points out, putting his hand over yours.

"oh, hah.. i'm okay. i don't know why i'm shaking so bad." you shrugged it off nervously, setting the photo in your bag along with the camera.

"..okay." carl nervously responded, nodding his head slowly.

"hey, carl?"

"hm?"

"do you remember before all of this when you came over to help decorate my room and my mom let us dip our hands in paint and put it above my bed?" you reminisced on the moment.

"oh, yeah, i remember!" carls nervous expression turned into a smile. "i remember asking my mom when i got home if she would let me do that. we never got the chance to."

"...why don't we do it now?" you asked, smiling back at him.

"do we have paint?"

you looked around and spotted some blue paint on the side of the porch. "there!" you pointed to it before grabbing it, setting it right next to you. "we could put the handprints right here on the porch."

you dipped the palm of your hand in the paint, setting it down on the porch. carl did the same after, except on the opposite hand of yours.

"hey, isn't blue your favorite color?" you asked carl, noticing him getting more excited about the paint after you found the blue paint.

he nodded, lifting his now blue paint-stained hand off of the porch.

the two of you faced judith, then each other. you carefully grabbed both of judiths hands and dipped her palms in the paint, setting them to the side of yours and carls prints.

the three of you giggled happily, smiling at each other.

"now this porch is ours." you proudly stated, glancing at the handprints drying into the porch. "let's go get our hands washed."

you carefully picked judith up with your non-paint stained hand and brought her to the bathroom to wash her hands.

...

it was the next day. it felt fairly peaceful- well, besides your body weakening. you knew that you were getting closer to your limit. carl was in the other room resting. you found a pile of envelopes and paper, and proceeded to write. your first note, of course, was to carl. after that, you wrote to michonne, rick, daryl, maggie, then judith. sure, she couldn't read, but for when she's older. you had also found some jewelry beads and string. when you and carl were younger, the two of you had friendship bracelets. his was blue, which had always been his favorite color, and yours was purple. you decided to recreate it for him to remember you by.

once you were finished, you put them on your wrists, covering them with your sleeves.

...

it was now night, and negan had came to alexandria. a feedback was played on the intercom before negan spoke into it. we was speaking about apologies, and whoever gave the lamest one would be killed. you all were given three minutes to open the gate for them. you felt your fever begin coming in, your body temperature quickly rising.

"come on." carl whispered, nudging you in the shoulder to snap you out of your daze, doing the same with michonne. "y/n, michonne! come on!"

"you guys go. i'll deal with them, okay?" you told him, to which he instantly shook his head disapproving.

"no, you're coming with. it's not something we're discussing-"

"go." your voice turned stern. "i'll be fine. they won't get me. i'll distract them and give you more time to get everyone to the sewer. then come back to the watchtower."

carl looked like he was about to say something, but you cut him off with a kiss. as you pulled away, you smiled at him reassuringly. "trust me."

carl furrowed his brows before looking up at you and nodding, nudging michonne to lead her away.

you began walking up the ladder to the watch tower, hearing negan give final warnings to rick despite him not being there.

you stood up on the watch tower. "rick isn't here."

"oh, shit!" negan said in his annoyingly enthusiastic tone. "everyone, everyone, hold your fire... it's y/n. look at you. answering the door just for him. sucks that he's gonna come home to a big smoky surprise."

"there's families in there. theres kids, carls baby sister." you crossed your arms, looking down at him.

"well, that shit just breaks my heart." negan said pathetically. "there's kids at the sanctuary. even had a baby at one of the outposts. i wonder what happened to her."

you stayed silent, angrily glaring at him.

"none of this shit's fair, kid. carl knows that."

"don't." your voice turned stern.

"he had to kill his own mom. that is screwed up." negan bringing up lori and her death filled you with rage. god, you wanted to get rid of negan right then and there. but you were smarter than that.

you took a deep breath. "bad stuff happens, but we can figure this out. we... we can stop this."

"rick had it that i died, no matter what." he reminded angrily. "he gave my people a choice, not me. now we're gonna need a new understanding. apologies, punish-"

"kill me."

"...what?"

"if you have to kill anybody, if there has to be a punishment, kill me. just me. serious."

"you want to die, girl?" he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you.

"no... no, i don't. but i'll die if it means everyone here lives." you averted your eyes, looking down and noticing carl standing by the ladder waiting for you. "if.. if all of this ends, or makes things different because i die? it'll be worth it. i mean, was this your plan? is this really who you wanted to be?"

negan looks away, which gives you an opportunity to get down the watchtower and back to carl. you try and get down the ladder as quick as possible, but you trip at the last step.

luckily, carl was there to catch you. "shit, you're sweating bullets. are you okay-"

"nevermind that, we have to go!"

you and carl ran around alexandria, throwing the smoke bombs around as negan and the saviors begin launching their grenades into the homes.

as you guys are running around, you begin getting dizzy and your body heat is increasing.

you walk up onto the porch of one of the houses, laying the back of your head on the front door as you catch your breath. you wipe the sweat off of your head, breathing heavily.

carl walks up to you, throwing a smoke bomb behind him. "what's the matter with you?"

you shook your head. "nothing, nothing. i'm fine. just.."

you and carl come to a halt at the sound of a bomb hissing behind you. you turn around to face the house and just before the bomb blows, carl grabs you by your hand and tugs you towards him, stepping back away from the house.

as your body presses up against him, he notices your body temperature at a high. "jesus, you're burning up. here, the sewer is right here."

he lifts up the sewer cover and begins crawling down, signaling for you to follow after him. you walk over and step onto the ladder, pulling the sewer cover back over to cover you guys.

as you get to the bottom, you turn around and see everyone, safe. you start breaking down, covering your mouth as you sob.

“y/n? whats wrong? its done, were safe, everyone is safe.” carl says with confusion and panic in his tone as you stay silent. "...please, say something. you're scaring me."

“…im sorry carl. im so sorry.” carl raises an eyebrow.

you lift up the side of your shirt, revealing your bite to everyone.

carl stares at you, his eye becoming glossy and his brows furrowing together as his breaths deepen. he shakes his head. “no.. stop.” he turns around with his hands behind his head, shaking.

“it happened when i was trampled by the walkers.” you admitted.

“why… why didnt you tell me then..? you told me you were fine!” his voice was wobbly as he tried calming down.

“because i didnt want my last day to be spent with you worrying. i wanted your genuine happiness, not you masking your emotions because you knew it would be the… the final time.” your voice cracked as you spoke.

carl stayed silent, understanding, but still denying the whole situation. “i cant- no-“ he began to cry, running up to you and hugging you tightly. one of his hands laid behind your head and the other along your waist. “you can’t leave me. not- not like this, please.”

“i’m sorry. you’re gonna be okay, carl. you… you’re strong. stronger than anyone i’ve ever met before.”

you broke from the hug and began taking the bracelet off of your wrist, handing it to him. “here, take it.” carl wiped away the tears flowing from his eye before reaching his shaking hand out to the bracelet, taking it from your hands and putting it over his wrist.

"it's.. blue." he remembered the conversation you two had the previous day about his favorite color.

"yep. just for you." you chuckled, rolling your sleeve down and holding up your wrist to reveal the bracelet you made to match his. "we always wanted matching friendship bracelets, remember?"

you moved your hands up to the sides of his face, smiling widely at him with tears in your eyes. “you’re gonna be okay…you’re gonna be okay.”

before carl could say anything, you let out a loud wince as a pain shot through your side. carl quickly grabs you, stabilizing you.

"do.." he sniffles. "do you need to sit down?"

you nodded and carl helped you down on the ground. he held your hand tightly, pulling it up to his face.

"i can't..." he cried.

"i know, i know." you brought up your free hand to move his hair out of his face, moving his head to face you. "you're so sweet. i'm so.. so glad that i got to spend my whole life with you. i'm sorry you couldn't spend yours with me."

he shook his head in shock. the sewer cover opened, and rick and michonne stepped down, noticing carl resting his head on your hand and your beaten up and dying frame sitting on the ground.

"y/n?" michonne called out, her eyes widening at the sight of you.

you glanced over to her with a saddened smile. you brought your free hand to lift up your shirt again to re-reveal your infecting bite. rick walked over and put a hand on his sons back, staring at you somberly.

"...i got bit." you sighed, a tear falling from your eye. "me and carl, we were bringing someone back. his name is siddiq. he was the guy you saw at the gas station before."

rick shakes his head, covering his mouth. michonne steps closer to you with tears in her eyes. she had always been such a supportive person for you and carl, especially since lori had passed. "it wasn't the saviors, it wasn't anyone. i just.. i got bit."

...

"the saviors are gone. we can get everyone to the hilltop. we can get y/n to the hilltop!" carl argued, squeezing your hand tightly.

rick sighs. "she wont-"

"daryl can get one of the cars."

"y/n can't leave here." rick sternly says. "she doesn't have enough time."

"...i have to stay with her." carl shakes his head, looking down at you.

"carl.."

"if she can't go, then i'm staying with her." he repeats, a tear falling from his eye.

"..can you take judith?" rick asks daryl.

daryl nods, picking her up. "yeah. i'll get her there. i'll keep her safe."

"let me say goodbye." you weakly ask.

daryl sets her down near you, and she begins walking towards you.

you weakly smile at judith. "i already know you're gonna be incredible. you entered this world at a bad time, but that will only make you stronger. you're gonna grow up, make friends, find someone you love.. you'll live." you look down at the ground with a smile. "just like your mom said to carl, you're gonna beat this world. you and him."

judith begins whining, and thats when daryl picks her up again.

"goodbye, judith." you waved. "goodbye, daryl."

after stating your goodbyes to a couple people, you felt yourself beginning your end.

"i don't.. i don't know how much longer i have left." you held carls hand tighter. "i don't want to die in here."

"here." carl wraps your arm around his neck.

...

carl and rick helped you to the house across the way, setting you down carefully inside.

"th-thank you." you coughed. "i.. i have one more thing for you, carl."

"what? what is it?" he kneeled down next to you.

"it hurts to move, it's in my front pocket. please grab it."

he reaches in hand into your pocket and pulls out the envelop. "this?"

you nod. "open it."

he opens the envelop and reads whats inside.

'carl, you have always been there for me, ever since the beginning. after losing my family, you helped me. you, rick, and lori all helped me. i never thought that it would end this way, and i'm sorry i put you through this pain. i'm glad i met you. i'm glad you ended up being the one. i wouldn't have traded you for anyone else. thank you, and i love you. through life and death. - y/n.'

tears began flowing out of his eye yet again. he brought up a hand to cover his mouth.

"we grew up too fast. but we grew up together. i'm forever grateful for you, carl grimes." you laughed, holding his hand. "i love you."

"i- i love you, too." his voice cracked. "everything i did was for you, y/n. every single thing."

"that doesn't have to change. you have to be there for judith now, too. she needs her brother." you moved your hand up to his face. you felt your fever start to set in, and your brain felt like it was shaking alongside the rest of your body. "...it's time, carl."

"do you want me to.. to do it?" he put his hand to the gun that was holstered on his side.

"i can't do it myself. i can't move." you cried with a smile still laying across your face. "i'm sorry."

"it's okay." he took out his gun and moved his free hand to the side of your face.

"can i have one last kiss?" you chuckled. he nodded and leaned in, kissing you. you closed your eyes and felt the metal go to the side of your head.

and then all the pain went away.

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#🌙 — maxines fics #the walking dead #the walking dead angst #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead imagine #twd angst #carl grimes #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl x reader #carl x y/n #angst

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caius-hhhhhh · 3 months

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following up on this fanfic emoji ask game: I know this is not the general convention but i tend to like responding to an ask game all at once rather than waiting for prompts. so I’ve just answered every single one of the questions below the cut. Again, if you wanna play or use the game for your own purposes, please do! you don’t have to repeat my strategy, although you’re free to do so too.

i was about to say “this is a bunch of autofellating nonsense” but that’s the point. who cares. i wrote a lot about disability. if your mental illness also significantly impacts your ability to write, this might be triggering.

I’m still a baby ao3 user (@ is spitemonger) with only one published fic (it’s Zutara. It’s not that I’m not proud of it but I wrote it on a deadline and thus spent a lot of the creative process going “i don’t want to i don’t want to”). but a) I have generally been writing since I was a teenager, and b) I want to write more and publish more.

So I’ll be mostly referring to unpublished wips, with a primary focus on a long-form one-sided radiostatic fic covering Vox’s fall to Stayed Gone, and a minor focus on two shelved Magnus Chase (PJO spin-off) fics, one for Fierrochase and one for Blitzstone. [if you haven’t read Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgaard get the fuck on it, there’s a genderfluid character]

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

my entire trunk novel? If I’m embarrassed by a scene I delete it during edits. So the only thing I’m even minorly embarrassed by is the fandom-specific plot I wrote by the seat of my pants (Magnus goes to Camp Half-Blood) — I’ll get more into that in a later question

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

love that this emoji doesn’t fucking register on my computer. I’ve never thought about this before! It’s hard for my own writing to get me emotional, I tend to look at it so clinically and dispassionately I kind of get caught off-guard when people say an emotional moment hit them. I do get very easily fucked by other people’s writing about transness. No prizes for guessing why, characters exploring their own gender and other people telling them they see them as their proper gender always get me feeling some type of way. calam4r1’s comic about Alastor’s “what have you done to me” makes my heart EXPLODE

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

I am exceedingly proud of this Cave Johnson-ass line: “All projects, collaborations, products, and endorsements featuring or even vaguely mentioning that crimson ass’s likeness are to be liquidated. And burned. In fact, trap and seal the gases from the fire, freeze them back into liquid, and then burn them again.”

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Oh fuck yes. It is a major twist that I’d be stupid to spoil, but! There is a red herring at the start of my current fic that you don’t get resolution for until three-quarters of the way through. It involves Vox’s real name.

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

My close associate SpaceWall is a fan-fucking-tasting editor who understands my need for my writing to be completely eviscerated. She has the balls to tell me when I’ve got a shite idea, and I could not ask for a better editor. Go fucking read her fics and tell her she’s excellent. On the subject, I really like editing and am fully open to reading your work. I’ve a slightly longer post about it here but please reach out to me if you’d like me to look at anything you have.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Disability. It’s well and truly quite hard to find a story that doesn’t deal with disability — hell, it’s hard to find a human that doesn’t have a relationship with disability — but it’s something canon so frequently either tacitly ignores or doesn’t pick up on. If I’m going to do anything in a fic, it’s explicate the characters’ canon disabilities or headcanon new ones. This is my favourite part of Cold Bodies btw, and basically the only part I wrote without explicit prompting. It’s in the last subsection if you don’t want to read the 8k words of prep

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

idk man I’m really bad at pacing so even if the content is whack I go about it too slowly to really shock anyone

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

fuck off.

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

Love the implication that I don’t fall asleep every night fantasising about a thousand different first kiss scenarios.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I’m very picky when it comes to listening to music while I write. I can’t think about words if the song I’m listening to also has words, nor if it has a really tangible melody that I want to follow along with. So I need really slow, atmospheric music without a real tune. Undertale genocide themes are actually fucking excellent for this, I’d highly recommend them. I’ve created a massive fuck-off OSRS playlist (on itunes, not spotify, so I can’t share it, sorry) basically comprised of the entire Portal 2 soundtrack (special fucking shoutout to The Friendly Faith Plate, which is SO VOX CODED YOU DON’T HAVE ANY IDEAAAA) and Sim Gretina’s electro swing (Enemy Like Me is my favourite), plus Kira’s Piece of Art and Dua Saleh’s mOth. The first because it’s giving Vox’s obsession with Alastor, and the second because, duh.

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I’m a google docs hoe. I know I shouldn’t be, but fuck man, I know how it works. It feels natural when my writing is on there. I’ve tried Scrivener and it made me angry. What the fuck ever And “tools”, that’s really funny — I’m the type of grad student that does all my citations manually because switching to Zotero is weird and scary. I know how to do it manually! Why would I ever accept help for something I know how to do?? (< ocpd symptom)

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

The world doesn’t fucking need any more Nico di Angelo fics. It really doesn’t. There’s plenty. He’s a skinny white boy, he’s got the entire internet in the palm of his hand. You wanna compete with Robin? Really? You wanna do that to yourself? I don’t even have catholic guilt, I’ve got nothing to add

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

SpaceWall and I are irl friends, but we hold each other’s secrets in equal regard. The secret is that she is a good writer and I’m a poet I wouldn’t actually mind if people I knew irl found and read my fics. It’s just writing. I don’t find anything to object in it, and in fact I’d like it if I could talk about Hazbin with other people irl. I would hate it if people I know irl found my tumblr, but that’s principally because I’m significantly more open about my ocpd here. I’m not a person on the internet, I’m just words and a drawing. You haven’t seen the kinds of fucked up shit I do in front of my peers that would suddenly Make A Lot Of Sense if they knew I had a FUCKING personality disorder.

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

The Blitzstone origin wip, which is mostly “ostracised gay dwarf learns ASL because he saved this dying elf’s life”. come to think of it the first chapter of that fic is technically perfect and there’s very little stopping me from putting it the fuck on ao3 and abandoning it for three years before coming back. huh. i might… just do that.

🍷 Do you drink and write?

Always. It turns the judgemental part of my brain off and I have a much easier time making things and getting ideas down. Such a shame I don’t smoke too! I’ve tried writing whilst high and it was not writing. It was in fact lying back and rereading 666

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

“the spicy stuffs” porn is the word you’re looking for. You can say it. It’s four letters. The internet police won’t get you. See look, porn porn sex penis tits ass fucking Writing erotica was a really instrumental part of unlearning the self-destructive writing habits that made me suicidal scrap my original work. My initial intention was that because it’s erotica, it’s not for other people: it’s for me. And having that barrier of “this is not for other people to see” was liberating and necessary — I turned it off eventually, because erotica is not something to be so ashamed of that no eyes but yours can look upon it — but I needed to force myself to write something that I couldn’t imagine being scrutinised and therefore needed to be Purposeful and Say Something.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

11pm–2am is when I get my best work done. Unfortunately, I write the most frequently between 1–3pm because I have the energy and motivation to, but those are Self Doubt Hours and I have a hard time getting into the swing of things I actually have the best writing luck when I get up early but that’s not gonna fucking happen

💖 What made you start writing?

In general, pathology, but I’ve kind of made that clear already. What made me want to write a Hazbin fic was seeing how exceptionally creative this fandom is and how much fun people seemed to be having sharing their ideas. I feel like in the circles I’m running in, there’s not a lot of pressure to make Good Art, and it’s… not really a big deal if your work gets a lot of attention or not. Everyone seems to be getting the same tone of feedback, all cheer and encouragement, and the vibe to me seems really casual and fun. I’m not thinking to myself “how will I compete with these other authors”, but “I wonder if the user I idolise will see and like my work”. And the answer is often yes. It’s not just that people are creating and playing so freely, it’s that it feels like a lot of us are here to support one another, and that’s been really reassuring. Because I feel like people will like anything I put out

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I was about to say “anything related to pregnancy, thinking about my uterus makes me nauseous” but I uh. Wrote about a miscarriage. So I guess writing about a wanted pregnancy is the real limit

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

This is a super interesting question I haven’t seen spoken about very widely: it is considered extremely normal to commission fanart, but whenever the subject comes up, people seem incredibly reticent to ever commission fanfiction. I’m not fully sure why — in principle, it seems like there should be no real distinction in paying for fanart versus paying for fanfic. They’re both derivative work, they’re both made by enthusiastic artists who deserve to be compensated for their thousands of hours of expertise. I’m not certain what causes the disconnect. I have seriously toyed with the idea of doing podfics for money. I am in fact a professionally trained actor, and I own a USB microphone; which puts me ahead of like 50% of all of AO3’s userbase. Not sure if I’d fully commit to the idea because it’s still rather contentious. Were I to read my entire fic out loud I would put it behind a patreon though. It is in fact a very labour-intensive process, and again, I do have professional training.

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Hoo boy.

this is my fic folder. For most fics I write, I have a draft document and a research document: I’ve colour-coded the related documents: so dark green and dark green are the draft and research, pink and pink are both parts of the same project, etc. Let’s compare the word count in each of these draft documents and research documents, shall we? The dark green draft is 8k; its research document is 16k. The pink document is Cold Bodies. Including the html coding and my author’s notes, it’s edging on 13k. Its research document is 8k. It’s the only fic I’ve completed. The light purple draft is 21.5k. Its research is 96k! The light green draft rather conspicuously titled “botw script” is in fact a script, not prose, so it’s only about 4k. Its research, which is in fact titled “I don’t like botw’s story”, is 25k. The dark purple draft is a rather tragic 6k. Its two research documents are a combined 104k!!! One of the documents is called, rather tellingly, “I think I like research more than I like writing.”

My research process involves a not insignificant amount of textual analysis. For Cold Bodies, it looked something like this:

I haven’t done a lot of that kind of work for Hazbin because most info is fanon or only vaguely canon-adjacent, but I have compiled a list of headcanons many of you have put out into the world.

that’s gabrielsbubblegumbitch’s post and soot-and-salt’s And Not From Head To Toe. The other significant form of research I do is scour books I think are interesting or relevant so I can take plot or thematic inspiration from them. Previously, I’ve combed through Creating A Champion (and cannot recommend the experience. it’s kind of racist 😬) and made a fic a loose parody of Emma so I could fall back on its plot when I needed inspiration. For this Vox fic I’m rereading David Sedaris’ When You Are Engulfed in Flames, Eden Robinson’s Traplines (the last short story has a Monkey Beach spoiler, read that first), Catcher in the Rye, The Chocolate War, and, for some reason, Cary Elwes’ As You Wish.

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

Only got one. Shoutout to grownupchangeling for fucking SPRINTING into my inbox to ask for the answer to this question, really admire their(?) tenacity and dedication to squatting in my notifs like a spider in the corner

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

Never really crossed my mind. I do like a good beach fic, and anything set in winter makes me happy, but I’m not a massive holiday story enjoyer.

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I spoke about this a bit in response to soot, but if your readers are able to accurately guess a plot point or twist it means you have done it successfully. It means you have given your readers the tools to reach the same conclusion you did: and those tools are foreshadowing, atmosphere, subtext, and tension. Those are how a twist or beat feel that they belong in the narrative, because they gel with everything that has come before it. It in fact should be the author’s goal for readers to be able to guess the twist! It’s not that it should be blindingly obvious, but more that a seed should exist somewhere that smart readers (which are all readers!) should be able to see it and notice when it takes root.

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

Who doesn’t like fan art? Who’s the fucking Anne Rice of AO3 that’s going to be like “you may read my fic but do Not make art inspired by mine” literally who does that

📈 How many fics do you have?

Guess.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

I outline wherever possible. How detailed the outline is depends on the scene rather than the fic: “Vox goes house hunting” is in fact a very very long scene and a scene that amounts to two pages might well be described beat-by-beat in the outline. Pants-writing gets me incredibly stressed out because I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I’m going, I have no direction in mind, and because of that panic impulse I cannot be open to serendipity. It’s also really hard for me to do complete rewrites, so as soon as I have something down on the page and it’s made it past the first, worst, round of excruciating edits it tends to remain as-is in the final draft. So I often need at least a vague idea of what’s going to happen before I can start my work. I don’t do drafts, inasmuch as I’ve used that word pretty consistently throughout this post. I think. I think, think, think, research, ruminate, think, tentatively write less than 100 words, think think think consider scrapping the whole thing and then I detonate like a firework and the vast majority of the ink that first splatters on the page in that initial explosion stays until I know it’s done. I write like a shotgun: with a very intensive buildup and lots of preparation with a very short but very powerful discharge. I’ve told this to people and received the kind of expression you typically only get were you to remove your shoes and begin licking the sole of your foot. So please do not compare your own writing process with mine. Okay? This is not normal. I don’t know how often I’ve mentioned this but I have a disorder. No one but me does this. You should not expect yourself to.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

No <3

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

I am literally the last person you should ask. Never pour water on a grease fire? Your face mask should completely cover your mouth and nose? Always make sure the base is larger than the widest point?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

I don’t actually find that there’s a single character who brings me comfort to write about. I write about someone if I have something to say about them. I do have a comfort trope, which is sleeping together.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

I think that Valentino used to be a porn actor before he became a director. During a shoot, he would wear an earpiece so his director could feed him lines, given that he couldn’t read the scripts.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Alastor! I also talk breezily and with an emphasis on slightly elevated language, so I find his dialogue to be incredibly natural to spit out. Plus, who doesn’t love dated exclamations and turns of phrase like “By Jove!” and “take a powder”?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

I well and truly don’t care. I don’t publish anything I’m ashamed of. I only publish things that I think showcase my skills, and that I think are worthwhile pieces of art. And if I had a friend who thought fanfiction or erotica was something to shame or scorn, well, they would not be my friend.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Finishing it.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Romantic partners becoming the main character’s therapists… I mean, that’s one of the great things about writing villain protagonists. They don’t fucking have to go to therapy.

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

Buckle up, cunt. I had a novel I was working on as a teenager. It was about toxic masculinity and MLM sexual assault. I said to myself, this will be a piece of art that defines a generation. It will say something that our (western) society desperately needs to hear, and one day a young gay kid just like myself will be tilting their head at a 90° angle to see the titles of the books lining the shelves of their local bookstore, see my novel, pick it up, and discover that it spoke to them: in the same way that I felt seen and heard by the books I loved. So as I wrote and worked on it, I often looked at my own writing with the harsh and uncaring eyes I knew it would be faced with when I inevitably contacted an editor. I wanted to make it flawless, bulletproof, do everything in my power to make this work perfect before an editor could see it, so that way I could wholeheartedly say that it was ready for other eyes. So nothing was perfect. Every part of it wasn’t good enough, fix it, FIX IT, I know you can do better so stop acting like THIS is the best you can accomplish. Come on, pick yourself up and do it right this time. And I tortured myself with that. To this day I cannot look at my draft without thinking of all the mistakes I made, what needed to be improved, what still needs to be improved, and after I’ve grown more and gotten diagnosed and met with people who have been published — met publishers — I know that I can’t trust myself enough to let this become a career. Do you know how hard writing this post has been? Did you know it’s taken me two days? Did you know how long I leave my posts in the drafts for, rereading, rereading, rereading, making sure there’s no chance this can be fucked up in any way, that it is totally within my control? I cannot become a professional writer. It’s my disability.

so, you know. rock make stick hit hard on head, cock make dick real hard in bed

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

A lustrum.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

B-plots! I kind of get regular plotting, in that I know how to build and resolve tension, but I am so bad at finding other things for the characters to DO in order to take a break from the main plot. I already worked so hard to make a main plot, you want me to do another one??? To say what? I did everything I wanted to, I tied it all in a neat bow, if the readers want a break from the main tension why can’t they just tab out

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I love trans Vox, but in order for him to be in character he has to hate being trans. I’m really used to writing about trans joy, for my own health and for everyone else’s, so writing a character that wishes they weren’t trans is really sad.

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

I actually love criticism. Your work can only get better through education, and one of the easiest ways to get education is by having another person read your work and tell you something about it you didn’t know. I need other perspectives because my own perception of my writing is exhaustive and exhausting: I feel like I’ve done everything I can to improve my work and I am so tired of looking at it that I need a fresh pair of eyes to show me something I’d not found. Getting better is always something to strive for; and even in mean comments it is entirely possible to find the thread of a lesson. More often than not it’s a threat of a lesson, but personally, I take what I can get. Criticism is something I find easy to receive because I can turn it into something productive, either “okay, this is something I need to improve upon, let’s do that” or “this is so clearly in bad faith it is costing me nothing to ignore it”. It’s something I can easily take control of. It’s positive comments that feel like apple-bobbing in a tub full of syringes.

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

#Psychological Horror immediately followed by #Eventual Smut. One of my favourite tag jokes I’ve written is #falling in love, #unrequited love, #friends to enemies, #on-again off-again relationship, #don’t date your coworkers holy shit don’t do it. And you really can’t go wrong with Cold Bodies’

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I suppose I’m kind of asking for it at this point.

I’ve left this one for last so it will have the best dramatic impact. Thank you, heartily, for sorting through that much shit!! I hope this is a worthwhile reward for your efforts.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

The shadows lengthen. The room is small, bereft of light; the darkness has plenty of recesses to establish itself within. His chest distends and recedes with a languid, heavy pulse: good. He will not wake. He dares not take a step. He contorts with the gloaming, letting it carry his weight like waves on the wine-dark sea. Ink creeping along the fractal contours of incautious skin, on paper pulp. The blanket is drawn too far up his shoulder, but his hands have wisely ventured away from its grasp. He has nestled them close to his face: the right palm faces the ceiling. His overgrown claws, weightless, curl around the soundless air. The cuffs of his shirt have drawn back to reveal the skin on his left wrist. He casts a faint but adequate illumination. Regrettably — he discovers — he has not flesh but casing. Whether it be titanium or catalin, it protects the veins underneath. What seams it must possess, he cannot access at present. He cannot smell his blood. Only the hot hiss of his breath, of bertholite and alkaloids. Experience has had the good grace to train him to anticipate the worst-case scenario. Thus, he suspects his knife would dent upon contact with his skin. This would likely require blunt force, something messy and more out of his weight class. Which is unideal: his own strength is formidable, naturally, but imprecise. And somewhat unsubtle. He sees the power buzzing underneath his grip. A live wire ready to snatch at the first hint of energy, snapping, sparking, antsy and unfulfilled. He likely isn’t trained enough to feel it himself, but again, the danger is too tangible to risk tripping over it. Were he more experienced, older, had experimented enough to test his limits, it would be a safer estimate; but as he is now, untapped and spring-loaded — fisticuffs would result in a significantly less assured victory. It is not a lack of confidence. It is simply a risky bet he does not want to get caught foolishly trusting himself with. That is smarts, not sheepishness. He does not hiss aloud. Nor does he retreat: he takes stock. The room offers little relevant information. His possessions are scarce, no letter drafts upon the writing desk, no bandages or weapons. His wallet is useless. He’s laid out nicotine patches and topical creams upon his toilet table: an invasome, it seems, may be a possibility. Unfortunately, he would have to synthesize it himself. He despises inconclusiveness. He returns his gaze to the picture box, his screen dim and vacuous. Loathed as he is to admit, this may be a somewhat longer project than he had initially envisioned. More’s the pity — what a spectacular send-off he would have been able to provide! Keep your chin up, now, old boy. This was hardly a trip for biscuits. It was, however, strike two.

#um jamma lamy #long post #like… really long #might make minor edits post publication but you’d probably have to be… me to notice #queuing because i don’t wanna be awake when it publishes #writing miasma

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lovelyisadora · 9 months

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OKAY OKAY 1 8 16 22. Sorry I'm on mobile so I can't copy these well and YES i technically know the answer to two of them but anywayyyy

this has taken me foreverrrr bc the universe decided to fuck with me but here we go:

1. What are you most excited about when you start to write it/publish it?

I’m most excited about y’all’s reactions. Like yes, I write all of my fic for me (which is part of why I struggle to finish it/publish it), but I also love my plot twists. I know some of y’all go feral over the little i have published or talk about, but I never mention my plot twists in my bullet fics or synopses. they’re heavily foreshadowed in my writing (or you know, will be when I finish my wips), but not once have I ever told a living soul about them. I am so, so excited for the day I actually finish and publish my wips. Y’all aren’t prepared for some of them.

8. Which character is going to have the biggest storyline?

Arguably, Septimus. In most of my long fics he tends to be the main POV character, which is funny because in all that I have published, I don’t think he’s the POV in any. But keep your eye on Marcia, some interesting things are usually happening to and around her in the background.

16. Is there any written scene you think about a lot?

Oh my god, yes. It’s been written and rewritten a hundred times, and it’s not just a plot twist, it is a Plot Twist. I have a wip I first drafted in 2013 (that we don’t talk about, it long stopped existing on ff.net of all places and never had more than a few chapters) and it never got far enough for me to publish this scene, but this scene is the only part of it to mostly remain the same. I’ve had ten years to perfect it, even as the rest of the fic continues to morph and change, and I’m so proud of it and the fact that I’ve told no one about this scene for ten years now. I want the reader to know exactly what the POV character knows leading up to it, which is fuck all. Even with the foreshadowing, it needs to hit the reader at the exact moment it hits the POV character.

22. Will this fic include more angst or more fluff?

You definitely know the answer to this one. I think I’m incapable of writing fluff, it rots my teeth. I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth.

#chaos-has-theories #I’ve been busy with school and work and medical fuckery but one day. one day I will finish my wips #at the very least my not so modern au the circus au and my rewrite bc those are the biggest three #sorry this took so long too btw

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moth--knight · 9 months

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HEY YOU!! DEAR FRIEND!! ANSWER ALL OF THOSE AO3 WRAP UP QUESTIONS!! (if you want... Lol)

HEY YOU!! I SHALL DEAR FRIEND!! THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! (under the cut tho cause this is long)

How many words have you written this year?

If my math is correct.....150k words. omg? last year it was 98.7k so I wrote more this year somehow. neat!

2. How many works did you publish this year?

Published 21, but worked on 24 since three of my fics were multichapters that I started last year :)

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Hmm....probably a three way tie between superstition, severed, and sunday best. superstition I am proud of for actually attempting to write, since it is a proper multichapter with a plot and everything (lolsies). severed was a delight to write and I am very proud of how well I captured the elden ring character relationships despite being nervous to try. sunday best I am proud of because it was a risk to write in a VERY different fandom than I was used to, and I think I did a pretty ok job!!

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

desert hearts, with 3,429 hits. it is a thousand hits ahead of any of my other works haha. people really liked it ^-^

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

severed and wolves without teeth. neither got a ton of feedback, but I expected them to get none hahaha. so the handful of comments from people were really nice!!! OH and my yellowjackets fic, the world's the same, but something's changing. it got a ton of kudos, way above my average in my main fandom.

6. Favorite title you used

superstition, from the song of the same name by the band The Birthday Massacre. the song fits the fic and its themes perfectly. I also liked but this island's run by sharks, children's bones stuck in their jaws, which is a song lyric from I Love You by Fontaines D.C.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I pull from a lot of random artists, but I think I pulled from Mannequin Pussy more than once this year. such an awesome band, everyone should check them out!!

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Bayonetta/Jeanne <3 same as last year!! it is funny to see my fic count for fandoms because Bayonetta definitely dominates. as she should. teehee.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Rosa/Jeanne, for my fic accelerate. it is such a unique dynamic, and writing a toxic and vindictive Rosa twisting the heart of a stubborn Jeanne was really exciting. Not a pairing I love or would write often haha, but it was the most interesting one I sunk my teeth into this year for sure.

honorary mention to Barbara/Melissa from Abbott Elementary. I always feel intimidated attempting to capture them faithfully in fics, but god I adore their dynamic. shoutout to the many very talented writers in the fandom!!

10. What work was the quickest to write?

I don't know, actually. almost all of my oneshots under 4k I wrote in one sitting over the course of an hour or two. I write pretty fast when I have an itch for a small idea. but I will say I wrote A LOT for superstition very quickly. the first five chapters were written before I started posting, and were all written within a month or two.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

definitely whistle lingers inside of your chest. it was a WIP from last year I finally finished after a long period of teeth grinding editing, and honestly I am still not 1000% happy with it. from start to finish it probably took me at least seven months. funny, since it is only 4k lmao.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

*shaky smile* well....................at least 15. ahahahahaha. superstition is obviously my "big project" with a planned 20 chs and might not even get finished next year. right now we are on ch 5, so we shall see. I have a lot of smaller oneshots planned and/or half written. mostly for bayonetta, but I have a few for abbott elementary, bloodborne, portal, and elden ring.

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

superstition. right now it is sitting at 25k and I have plans to release another ch before the year is out (hopefully!!). longest not-multichapter was severed, at 13k. shoutout to skelebotanicals for typing up the 90 HANDWRITTEN PAGES of that fic's first draft. a true hero.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

acquired taste, a silly gift fic for skelly. it was a whopping 397 words.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

superstition !! *crying screaming throwing up* but quite a few of my oneshots will definitely be done in the first few months of the year since those are all in the editing stages already and aren't too long.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

hurt/no comfort, probably. sorry.

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

*in balder's voice* ROSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bayonetta Origins gave us some more crumbs about her, so it was a delight exploring various facets of who she is/who she could be. the most fun characters to write are ones that are technically in canon, but essentially become OCs since so little is known about them imho. lolsies.

I also really enjoyed writing Barbara Howard for Abbott Elementary!! she is SO specific and such a delight to crack open.

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Malenia and Miquella. huge thank you to Wilmaa for giving me some advice when I was shaping their interactions in severed. and to be honest, Bayonetta herself!! I always find her difficult to capture, despite her being my favorite character. Or maybe that is why she is my favorite....hmm......

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Chell/GLaDOS :D TOXIC ROBOT HUMAN YURI ! ! ! ! !

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

maybe king of silence? I just really enjoyed it. feel good with only a touch of angst.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

I am too lazy to count. A couple hundred, probably. I write for small fandoms, so any interaction is a gift and a joy :)

22. Which work has the most comments?

desert hearts, of course. but I reply to every comment, so my comment count on ao3 is always half of what it says, since the other half is just me haha.

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

till death do us part, with dubhgloinne >:) what does it say about me that my only collab work is a raunchy smut fic published three days into the new year?

24. Did you write any gifts this year?

ya!!!! I wrote gifts for dubhgloinne, XilianX, Wilmaa, and skelebotanicals. I think six in total? I really enjoy writing gift fics, but they always make me nervous. what if the recipient doesn't like it !?!?!?!?!?

25. Did you receive any gifts this year?

YA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I received three this year, from Wilmaa, Dikhotomia, and TheValaxy. I feel very very very blessed that all of them wrote such wonderful fics and were kind enough to gift them to me......Wilmaa and Dikhotomia enshrined the best parts of desert hearts from their own perspectives, and TheValaxy reawakened my love and need and desire for Knight!AU bayojeanne. THANK YOU MY FRIENDS <3 <3

26. What’s your most common category?

F/F easily (lesbian moment!) but I have enjoyed writing more Gen works this year :)

27. What do you listen to while writing?

whatever music is itching at my skull in the moment. some artists this year I really loved and found motivating include Mannequin Pussy, Florence + The Machine, Rina Sawayama, Atarashii Gakko!!, the Nova Twins, Fontaines D.C, and King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

that is like asking me to pic a favorite child.....guh. maybe accelerate. I really enjoy my weird fucked up AU fics. night, I stand walked to accelerate could run. the morgana/rosa fics were also fun tbh.

but honestly I really loved all of my branching out fics for other fandoms. sunday best + moon river for abbott elementary, severed for elden ring, wolves without teeth for bloodborne.....fond of them all.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

literally anything from severed. I was really proud of the descriptions in that piece.

also, this opening bit from sunday best:

Melissa watches with bright eyes as Ms. Barbara Howard makes her way across the parking lot, smiling politely and greeting every person who crosses her path. The day is overcast, and the ground is still wet from the previous night’s rain shower, but that’s fine, because Barbara herself is brighter and warmer than any sun. She’s radiant in a modest dress the color of fresh cut daffodils, her usual pearls laid carefully about her neck, lips painted in a muted plum. It’s September, and starting to get chilly, but Barbara looks like summer, so much so that Melissa thinks she’d be just fine without the protection of her trusty leather.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

that I can branch out and write for other fandoms!! I was shocked at how I was able to find the unique voices for a lot of different characters outside of the bayonetta fandom....happy I took risks cause they paid off :) I think I also am surprised as just how much I have written haha. I love writing so much, and it is hard to believe I went so many years NOT writing for pleasure.

#asks #ask game #moth writes #THANK YOU ABBY FOR ASKING THIS WAS FUN TO ANSWER AND REFLECT ON ! ! ! !#i need to write more...........my brain is sparking like a fork in a microwave with ideas #next year i'm going to aim for 200k perhaps.....haha jk......UNLESS-

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first-and-last-neocount · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 20

Two thirds of the way there, good grief. (Although I do still have two fics to catch up on... gonna be a busy weekend :P)

Here we have another piece of It Walks Among Us, again following directly on from the last one in that ‘verse. A bit of connective tissue, shedding a little light on how exactly we got from a Jenseny who jumped at her own shadow to a Jenseny who goes out hunting demons on their own turf. Of course it’s not an instant fix, but at least she’s got some idea of where she’s headed now.

Day 20 - Theme Chosen: Going Into Shock

Jenseny’s feet had barely touched the ground when Riven answered her call.

He materialised out of the darkness, his dark green eyes wild, her name bursting out of him in an exclamation that was equal parts dawning relief and fading terror. Jenseny shook her hands free of the alterivy vines that had let her scale the castle wall, turned, and let herself fall into Riven’s arms; he caught her, and for a moment they just clung to each other. She could feel him trembling, and not for the first time, she found herself marvelling all over again at how deeply his emotions could affect him - how human he truly was, at least for her.

She could have stayed in his arms forever, but the awareness of what still lurked inside the castle behind her was weighing on her mind, and after a moment she made herself pull away.

“We need to go now. Andrys won’t be a problem, but there’s more of those invisible rakh-creatures in the castle, and I don’t want to be anywhere near here when they realise I’m gone.”

Riven’s eyes widened. “Andrys is-”

“Dead.” Jenseny was surprised by how calm she felt, even as her words made the reality come into sharp focus - she had killed a man, again, but this time no tide of guilt rose to engulf her. Rather, the emotion welling up inside her was something closer to pride. “He had Warded an entire room free of fae, but he bound the Wards to himself. I strangled him with the chain of my necklace.”

For a heartbeat, Riven just stared at her - then his hands were cupping her face, and he was kissing her. It was brief, but dizzyingly passionate; Jenseny barely had time to bask in the unexpected surge of heat through her veins before Riven was pulling away, his expression set and green eyes very dark.

“I love you so much,” he breathed, his thumb lifting to smooth along her cheekbone, “And I am so proud of you. Now, let’s get the Hell out of here.”

As Riven led her into the forest that separated the castle from the city of Merentha itself, Jenseny found herself smiling. She reached out for Riven’s hand as they stepped into the sparse undergrowth, and he took it immediately, pulling her closer; in a matter of moments, the Iezu had led them to a game trail that wound through the woods, and they set out toward the city.

As they walked, Jenseny finally began to breathe a bit easier, and let herself think of the bigger picture again.

“I lost track because he kept me drugged in the beginning, how long did that bastard have me? And how much do Papa and Dad know?”

Riven snarled softly under his breath, though he didn’t take his eyes from the path.

“He took you four days ago.”

Jenseny stumbled a little, shocked - she had known that her perception of time was unreliable after having been drugged multiple times with dreamgrass, and God knows what else, but it was still disconcerting that she had missed so much. Riven continued, his voice tight.

“I realised you were in trouble early the next morning - I’d come back from hunting early, because I knew you would probably have had a bad night after the shock of running into Andrys at the fair. When I got there, though, you were gone.” He glanced over at Jenseny, a trace of bitterness twisting his expression. “I wanted to go straight to him, I really did, but… even if I did, I didn’t think he would listen. I wanted them looking for you, not wasting time and energy on me. I went to Clady, instead.”

Jenseny gasped, understanding in an instant. “Oh, Riven, that’s brilliant!”

His smile was thin and flat. “Was it? I had to tell her what was going on, then she had to get all the way out to your parents’ house, make up a convincing story about her being the one who had made plans to spend the morning with you but found your apartment empty when she arrived… if we hadn’t lost so much time in that exchange, we might have caught up to Andrys while he was still on the road.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jenseny said firmly, cutting him off before he could continue. She shifted closer, walking as near to him as she could without tripping them both, their hands still gripped tight and their arms brushing with each movement. “Do you think it would have made me happy to escape, only to find that Papa had found out the truth and attacked you? Or worse? You did the right thing. Though I’ll have to come up with something really nice that I can do for Clady, that’s above and beyond the call of duty, even for a best friend.”

Riven chuckled a little, some of the self-recrimination softening from his face. “If you say so. She also claimed that she was the one with you at the fair, and told your parents about Andrys, so they had some idea where to start the search - they started tracking him, and as soon as the trail turned south, they guessed where he was heading. They’re in Merentha right now, trying to terrify enough information out of the locals to know what they’d be dealing with if they attacked the castle.”

A chill ran down Jenseny’s spine, and she clung a little tighter to his hand.

“I’m glad I got out of there before they could try. I don’t think even Dad would know how to fight those things. Whatever happened to them, they don’t speak or act like rakh any more, but the fact that the castle was full of them… I think they must still have more of their sentience than I would have guessed, because it seems like Andrys had formed some kind of alliance with them.”

Riven’s hand flexed around hers.

“Did Andrys say why he took you?”

Jenseny frowned.

“No, actually… he didn’t.” She let her own gaze drift down the path, thinking hard. “It wasn’t because he somehow figured out who I was - he bought it completely when I said my name was Jenseny Kierstaad, and he looked absolutely shocked when I said my real name was Tarrant, right at the end. It’s strange, because it almost seemed like I was taken at random, but the room had obviously been prepared to hold an adept…”

Riven’s hand clenched tight around hers. Jenseny whipped her head up and stared at him, startled; Riven grimaced apologetically, but though his grip loosened again, he didn’t let her go.

“I… might have an idea about that.”

His voice was heavy with reluctance, and Jenseny frowned, foreboding curling thick and cold in her gut.

“What do you mean?”

“While your parents were pursuing one trail, I was following another,” Riven said quietly. “There have been other disappearances around Merentha lately - people taken in the night, who never returned. They’ve heard terrible cries coming from the castle, and the terror in the city is so pervasive that the citizens have taken to barricading themselves in their homes at night; they’re more afraid of their Neocount than they are of the demons that have been prowling the streets. I believe your parents have discerned as much from their interrogations. There’s a piece of the puzzle that I don’t think they’ve found, though, if only because your father cannot force the answers from his targets as quickly as I can pluck them from the minds of the unwary.”

Jenseny slowed in her stride, heartbeat quickening as a little of the old dread started to flicker through her.

“What did you find out?”

Riven’s green eyes were dark with something that looked almost like dread.

“There is a pattern to the disappearances. First, it was a wave of ordinary people, none of whom had any skill at Working. After a while, some Workers were being taken - those of only minor skill, amateur Healers and those who knew a few specific Workings to aid them in their daily life. Then, a rash of professional sorcerers, some stolen right out of their workshops in the dead of night.”

Jenseny stopped walking.

Her chest felt very, very tight suddenly, and the air seemed to have turned thin and weak; her lungs fluttered, unable to get enough oxygen. Unbidden, the long-gone voice of her birth father floated through her mind.

You will always be hunted, my dear, simply for what you are - an adept.

After all this time, it had come back to that.

Andrys hadn’t known who she was, but he hadn’t needed to. He’d known what she was, and that was all that mattered.

“Jen, you’re hyperventilating.” Riven had stopped when she did, and now he was standing in front of her, cupping her face between his hands again as he held her wild-eyed gaze. “I need you to breathe with me, alright, love? In and out, nice and slow, that’s it. I think you’re going into shock, and it’s not a surprise given what you’ve been through these last couple of days, but I need you to hang on just a bit longer. We’re only about twenty minutes from the city, and then I can lead you to your parents and they’ll look after you, alright?”

Jenseny fought to breathe around the constriction in her chest, and as she stared into her lover’s dark eyes, she thought of the unaccustomed calm that had enveloped her up until this point - the brief, tempting taste of control that she had experienced, for the first time she could remember. The words fell from her lips suddenly, spoken from her heart before she could think better of it.

“I want you to teach me to hunt.”

Riven stiffened, confusion flashing across his face.

“What?”

“This isn’t going to be the end of this, Riven,” she breathed, willing him to understand the certainty in her heart. “I can’t hide behind my parents forever, and whatever Andrys was planning, whatever brought these creatures here… it didn’t end tonight, even with Andrys gone.”

Riven’s expression softened. “Jen…”

She took a deep breath, and forged ahead.

“You know that I’ve killed men before. The Prince, and the burglar, years ago. But there’s something I never told you.” She saw Riven’s eyes widen, saw the understanding start to dawn, and forced herself to blurt it out.

“When I killed Andrys tonight, I had to finally admit it. Killing him didn’t feel wrong, or disgusting, or like something I should feel ashamed of. Riven, it - God, I felt so powerful.”

Riven’s breath slipped out of him on a sigh, and he tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against Jenseny’s. She shut her eyes, and let herself lean against him, feeling a weight lift from her chest with the knowledge that at last… he knew. For better or for worse, she had finally confessed the darkest secret she had carried, and now it was only left for him to decide what that would mean for them.

His voice, when he spoke, was low and gentle.

“I’ve never believed in your One God, or in any force that is truly beyond this world… but sometimes, I really can’t deny that it feels like a higher power intended us for each other.” His hands slid down to cup her shoulders, and he held her there for a moment, his touch soothing the tremors that had wracked her frame.

“I love you, Jen. More so with every day that passes. And if this is what brings you peace, if this is what you need to quiet the voices of your past - then I would be honoured to have you hunt at my side.”

Jenseny’s exhale was almost a sob, as she reached up to twine her hands with Riven’s.

“We’ll figure out a way to expose those creatures, to force them to reveal themselves,” she whispered, a kind of fierce, sharp hope surging through her. “We’ll learn what they want, how to predict where they’ll be - and then, we’ll make them fear us.”

“Indeed we will, my love.” Riven smiled at her, an edge of hunger in his grin.

“Indeed we will.”

#whumptober2022 #no.20 #Going Into Shock #coldfire trilogy #fic #panic attack #jenseny kierstaad #riven forrest #the neocount writes

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jcwriting · 3 years

Text

There’s A First Time For Everything

summary ↬ namjoon has never had a blowjob before. you’re about to change that.

pairing ↬ idol!namjoon x reader

genre ↬ smut, pwp (im not kidding there is zero plot to this), fluff, (new) established relationship

word count ↬ 2.8k

warnings ↬ swearing, oral (m receiving), face fucking, choking, reader has a painful thigh kink (don’t we all), overuse of the word thigh

authors note ↬ listen,,,,i saw that picture of namjoon in shorts (you know the one) and i just,,,lost it. also, this is my first time posting fic for bts and im shitting bricks about it so pls be nice to me!!!!! i hope you enjoy this quick (thirsty) little ode to namjoon’s thighs. pls let me know what you think!

also, the gif above haunts me. everyday. okay, enjoy.

“I want to give you a blowjob.”

Namjoon choked on the swig of water he had just taken. The two of you were watching TV. Actually, Namjoon was watching TV. You were sitting on the floor at the coffee table with your laptop out to answer some work emails. But, you were distracted. Specifically by Namjoon’s shorts. More specifically, Namjoon’s thighs in said shorts. The smooth golden skin was begging for your lips and your fingers itched to scratch your nails down to his knees. Then, your eyes naturally glided further up to the apex of his thighs. Where you knew his cock was resting. Again, just begging to be in your mouth. The thought of your jaw and throat aching while he lost it above you consumed your mind. All hope was lost then.

“You…um. Sorry. You want to do that?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Uh, yeah. Wait, did you want me to ask? I’ll ask. Can I give you a blowjob? Please?”

Namjoon chuckled. “No, no. You don’t have to ask. It’s just, y’know, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said slowly. What was he not getting? “Do you not want one?”

“No! No, oh my god. I want that. I definitely want that. That’s not the issue.”

“Then, what is?”

Namjoon blew out a breath that fluttered the hair that rested on his forehead. He cupped the back of his neck and rubbed awkwardly. “I’ve never had someone do that to me before. So-”

“What?” You would have been less shocked if he had told you that he was a closeted furry. The two of you had only been dating for about a month so the in-depth what things did your ex do in bed conversation hadn’t been fully fleshed out yet. You knew he had lost his virginity to his previous girlfriend and they had had a healthy sex life, so you had just assumed that him receiving oral was part of that. Yet…this man, this absolute Adonis of a man had never gotten his cock sucked? It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard in your life. “Hold on. You had a girlfriend before me, right? She didn’t go down on you? Ever?”

Namjoon looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him whole but you barely noticed. You were too busy experiencing the shock of your fucking life. “I did. But she - uh, no. She didn’t want to and I didn’t want to pressure her.”

Your heart melted a little before you shut your laptop. Healthy sex life your ass. You were sucking this mans dick and that was final. “I’m going to give you a blowjob, Namjoon. Right now.” You turned to him and began crawling forward. His eyes flew to your ass that swayed in the air and he audibly swallowed. “If you don’t want me to then you need to tell me within the next thirty seconds.”

“Oh God,” he whimpered and spread his legs a little wider. You were salivating. “Yes. As long as you’re sure-” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a heavy groan as your hands slid up his thighs. Finally, you smiled to yourself as you bent your fingers and allowed your nails to dig into the meat of his inner thigh.

“I have a thing for your thighs,” you murmured. “Never realized I had a thigh kink until I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to ride your thighs. Will you let me?”

“God, yes.” Namjoon went to reach for your arms but you batted his hands away. This wasn’t about you right now. This was about him. You reached for your hair and quickly pulled it into a sloppy bun. His eyes followed your movements and you didn’t miss how the bulge in his shorts twitched.

“I need you to tell me if I do something that you don’t like, okay? I want to make you feel good. Don’t be afraid to talk to me. If you like something, let me know. If not, then definitely let me know.” Namjoon nodded feverishly. His eyes were almost black and his chest was straining against his white top. You smirked to yourself. This was going to be fun.

Bending down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his thigh. Your mouth dragged along his skin and you relished in the way he quivered beneath you. Following the seam of his leg before doing the same on the other. Nails pressed little crescent moons into his flesh before your thumbs smoothed over the marks. Your nose lifted the loose material of his shorts up to his hips and skimmed the exposed areas as your tongue reached out to flick the little freckle that found a home on his hip before you set your sights on his dick that was straining for you. Lips that had previously kissed his skin now moved to the fabric that jailed his heavy cock. Sitting back, your thumb traced the underside of his dick softly before you barely brushed over the head. The cotton dragged against your finger and Namjoon huffed loudly before lifting his hips further into your touch.

“Don’t tease.” Namjoon’s voice had lowered a few octaves and the deep tone had you clenching your thighs. His hands fisted the pillows next to him and you could feel the restraint he was exacting on himself through the trembling of his muscles.

“I’m not,” you promised. “I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I am. Swear to God.”

Unable to keep the smile off your face, you nodded and reached for the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his hips and helped you shove the material to his ankles. That was when you realized two things.

One, he was right. His cock laid thick and proud on his stomach and was weeping for you. He was of average length but his girth let you know that were going to struggle to fit him in your mouth. The thought only made you shiver in delight. A phantom pain panged in your gut when you took in the slight curve of the head, knowing it was going to hit everything you needed.

Second, he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. You never thought dicks were pretty. In fact, you were pretty resolute on that thought. Most likely due to the disgusting amount of unsolicited dick pics you had received in your life. But, Namjoon’s? You wanted to take a picture, frame it and admire it whenever you wanted to. The skin that stretched around his width was a shade darker than the rest of him and his cock head, a pretty red color, made you want to see how far down you could get the flush to go.

You wrapped your hand around his length and twisted up. Namjoon’s back arched off the couch and a string of curses fell off of his lips. Your thumb collected the glistening pre-cum on his tip and used it to smooth your palm over him.

“I normally don’t say this,” you said as you became infatuated with the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, “but if you want to send me a dick pic, I definitely won’t complain. Like, ever.”

“B-baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Namjoon moaned, throwing his head back when your thumb pressed against the delicate skin that resided under the his mushroom tip.

You giggled lightly. “So sensitive. I’ve barely even started.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t give him a chance. You licked the vein that had caught your eye earlier and followed it to the top before enveloping the head of him into the heat of your mouth. You relished the broken groan that he let out. Several kitten licks were placed on his weeping slit before taking him deeper. You worked slowly, gauging his reaction as you took him further. He responded well, panting and moaning in encouragement, head still thrown back against the couch.

“You can look at me, you know,” you reminded him as he popped out of your mouth. Kisses were mouthed over the soft skin that was wrapped around the steel of his erection. Your hand used your spit as lube to tug him harder.

“Can’t,” Namjoon gasped. “Gonna blow my load if I watch you.”

“That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Not yet,” he whined. “I don’t want this to be over.”

You pinched his hip until he met your gaze, offering him a sweet smile. “This isn’t going to be the last time I get on my knees for you, baby.” You held his wide-eyed stare as you took him back into your mouth. Ignoring how his hands seemed to flutter around you, unsure of what to touch, you focused on sliding him further into your mouth. Then, you sucked hard, using your tongue to lave at the warm skin.

Namjoon lost it above you. He released a strangled moan that caused your core to absolutely gush. One hand finally tangled into your hair and the other gripped your shoulder with warning, which you ignored. You merely sucked and pulled harder. Namjoon’s hips flexed, causing the tip of him to slam into the back of your throat. Not expecting it, you couldn’t help but cough around him as your eyes watered.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry.” Namjoon used the hand on your shoulder to yank you off. His thumbs wiped at the tears that trickled down your cheeks, the concern etched across his face made you feel warm inside. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I am, promise,” you assured him. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nodded while pushing back some of your hair that had escaped your sloppy up-do. You gently removed his hands before looking down at his length that was still clutched in yours. As much as he had shocked you, the thought of him fucking your face was not something you shied away from. Really, it was exactly what you wanted. But you needed to prep a bit first.

When you took him back in your mouth, you focused on relaxing the muscles in your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you slowly worked yourself further down until your nose was pressed into the base of him. Spit trickled out of your mouth and over his balls as you pulled back. You did this a few more times, working past your gag reflex and allowing your throat to get used to the intrusion.

Namjoon was anything but quiet as you deep throated him. It was honestly the sexiest thing you had ever heard. While your past lovers hadn’t necessarily been quiet, the praises Namjoon kept raining on you and the beautiful noises he made were music to your ears. Your body certainly agreed. Your cunt ached to be filled and the fabric of your panties was soaked through. But, you ignored your needs and focused on the panting man before you.

“Okay,” you nodded as you popped him out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

It took Namjoon’s brain a few seconds to process what you said. He shifted restlessly on the couch cushions as you ran your hands over his thighs. “Huh? W-what did you say?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck my face.”

His pupils were blown wide as he stared at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” You stared at him while purring the words that was his undoing. Namjoon’s eyes got impossibly darker as his chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath. He spread his legs wider and gently held the back of your head as he guided you down his shaft. You held eye contact with him as he cautiously raised his hips to meet your lips. Once he saw no signs of distress from you, he began thrusting more consistently as you bobbed your head to match his rhythm.

His steady movements didn’t last long but it didn’t bother you. You were more than happy to take over for him. Like you said, this wasn’t going to be the last time you worshipped his cock. The two of you had plenty of time to figure things out. Plus, knowing how much you clearly affected him gave you all the motivation you needed.

Your throat began to tense up again so you focused your attentions on his sensitive head and let your hands twist up to your mouth and back down. The sounds of your palm gliding along his slick skin and your lips sucking tightly filled the spacious living room. They were nearly drowned out by Namjoon, though.

“Baby, oh f-fuck…shit,” he keened loud and hard when your other hand moved to brush over his swollen balls. You cupped them gently and rolled them between your fingers. Even as he was practically thrashing against you, hips thrusting in an aimless rhythm, the hand he had originally placed on the back of your head remained there. He applied no pressure, allowing you to set the pace, but it also seemed to ground him. To remind him that this wasn’t a dream.

“M’gonna cum. Baby…baby, I’m gonna cum. Soon, oh God,” he babbled. You appreciated the warning but you didn’t need it. He was twitching wildly in your mouth and your tongue was coated with the salty essence of his pre-cum. In response, you ran your index finger on that sensitive spot behind his balls and that’s when Namjoon exploded.

Thick ropes of white shot down your throat, causing you to almost gag. Instead, you swallowed past the reflex and took as much as you could. By the fourth stream, a bit had managed to slip past the suction of your mouth and dribble down his cock. You were quick to clean up, licking at the mess the both of you had made before returning to his tip. You suckled the sensitive head until Namjoon practically shoved you away from him.

When you looked up you were met with a glorious sight. Namjoon was completely fucked out, twitching against the couch and his broad chest heaving for air. Sweat beaded his sharp jaw line and trickled down the column of his throat. His face was tilted towards the ceiling and his hair was haphazardly pushed off of his forehead. He looked completely ruined and entirely yours.

“Was that good?” You asked softly as you rose to your feet, ignoring the sharp ache in your knees. Namjoon made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat that you took as a resounding yes. He cracked his eyes open and looked at you with such adoration you couldn’t help but blush.

“Really?” He murmured. “Don’t get shy on me now. You can’t just suck the life out of me one second and then start blushing like a school girl immediately after.”

“It’s called duality,” you muttered as your cheeks flushed darker. Namjoon snorted and reached for you, pulling you onto his lap. His spent cock nestled between your thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head when he felt the simmering heat through the fabric of your shorts.

“I need five minutes. Then, I swear to God, I’m going to eat you out like you deserve.”

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t a quid pro quo situation. I gave you a blowjob because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“It’s either you give me five minutes so that I can eat you out or ten minutes so I can fuck you into next week. You decide.”

His determination brought a smile to your face until you took in the purple bags under his eyes and how his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. “How about a nap first, hm? I’ll decide after you get some sleep.”

Namjoon looked like he wanted to protest but you kissed him instead. His argument clearly wasn’t that strong because when you pulled away he was nodding in resignation. You helped him pull up his shorts and squealed when he lifted you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him carry you into the bedroom and wrap the both of you up in the comforter. You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, wanting to get more work done while he slept. But the faint scent of his aftershave and the soft way he caressed your spine could lull an insomniac to sleep. Who were you to refuse?

“Wake me up when you decide,” Namjoon whispered into your hair. You nodded against his chest, and within minutes the two of you slipped into a deep slumber. Happy and content.

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

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nemeseos-noctua · 4 years

Note

God I love your work so much?? You guys are amazing .

Can I request how Albedo, Xiao and Diluc react to their s/o pushing them away in attempt to keep them safe from danger? (Eg they may be the traveller who is connected with the fatui and the abyss aand therefore fears for their s/o's safety.

Tysm!! I love your guys' writing style. requesting this specifically bc it's not fair Xiao gets to be to edgy one all the time in the fics🙄 how does it feel to get pushes away now loverboy? (/j!! I love him just thought this prompt would be a neat inversion).

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: albedo, xiao, diluc (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, blood, mentions albedos story (spoilers), xiao story spoilers, reader is not traveler

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: hehe tysm!! ALSO 100% haha i LOVEEE xiao but yk he be a lil stingy when it comes to safety! i want to tuck him in and tell him it’ll be alright 😔😔

during your travels across teyvat, you have encountered far more fatui and abyss mages than you’d care to count

and some of which— had some, err, not so kind grudges against you

these grudges were so serious that you began to worry for albedo’s safety. you personally did not care for blood staining your hands nor soul—but if that blood was albedo’s... oh boy

so, coming to a conclusion... you decided on the inevitable: keep albedo at arm’s length—for your heart and his

and, it worked. for a month, it worked. your visits to his camp in dragonspine lessened, your chaste kisses and morning voice left his life like... regrettably, his master

Staring up at the whirling winds of Dragonspine, Albedo’s teal eyes trailed over the ice, wishing to see a familiar silhouette among its blizzard.

He had been counting. It has been five days, two minutes, and 54 seconds since you last visited him—

Hah, just kidding. He didn’t count—but it has been five days.

Where were you? Maybe you were busy—the alchemist knew you had a life outside of—well, him.

It was unfair of him to be impatient, for you had been nothing short of patient towards him. But still, his heart longs and yearns for your touches, his head feels cold without your fingers twisting through his silky blonde hair.

Dragonspine was cold, but without you, it was colder.

he’d eventually head back down to mondstadt, solely for the purpose of finding you

his mind got the best of him as he spiraled into a brief insanity. maybe he did something to make you mad? maybe you were injured, recovering without his aid? so many questions spinning around his head he almost missed the sight of your [e/c] eyes

“[Y/N]—“ Albedo’s voice cut through the crowds of Mondstadt as the alchemist rushed forward. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, desperation taking over him as he reached a hand out for you.

“Albedo...?” You stopped in your tracks, taking in the sight of your boyfriend’s unruly hair and tired eyes. His lips were still purple—as if he had come back down from Dragonspine recently.

“Where were you?” The alchemist asked, his gloved hand wrapped around your wrist delicately, his eyes scanning all over you as to check whether you were injured or not.

“Ah... I was—adventuring,” You sweatdropped, the coldness of his gloves stinging your wrist, your eyes wide at how cold he was.

he doesn’t believe you—hah. of course he doesn’t, albedo is a genius in fields he wishes to study

he knows you too well to fall for your mindless responses or excuses, he knows your eyes too well to succumb to the smile on your lips or kindness in your touch

he knows, he knows he knows he knows—so why? what are you hiding? why are you hiding? from him of all people?

everyone has secrets—albedo is aware, for he has his own share. but please, can’t you spare his heart? just this once?

“Tell me the truth, [Y/N],” Albedo asked—no, begged. He wanted to know what kept you so far from his reach, what stopped you from visiting him or loving him or just being with him. Was he the problem? Was this the end of your love?

“I...” You looked away, tugging the alchemist against the current of the crowds, seeking an area for just the two of you.

And once you found it, you pulled the blonde into a hug. The coldness of his coat didn’t faze you, nor did the way his eyes widened or the way his arms hesitantly wrapped back around you.

“I don’t want someone like you to get involved with me, Albedo. You’re...” You looked away, your face still buried into the alchemist’s shoulder.

“... A weakness. You’re a weakness that’ll be used against me.”

albedo is in utter disbelief

he—you—what?!

he’s... your weakness?

albedo doesn’t know whether to be flattered or hurt. he knows you have a dangerous job, he knows about the amount of letters you receive threatening him or you, he knows what you’re doing is for the better...

but—he cannot allow it. he wants to hold you without regrets, he wants to kiss you and eat lunch with you at good hunter...

“[Y/N],” Albedo breathed, cupping your cheeks in the palm of his hands as he stared violently into your eyes. Gaze softening, he couldn’t bring it in himself to scold you for all the worries you brought him to.

“I promise you—that even if Fatui and Abyss Mages disrupt my alchemy, I promise that I want to get involved with you—I, I want to be with you.”

His heart, it wants so much, it wants to have you, it wants to love you.

So please—won’t you let him do that?

xiao also has many people out for his throat

well, i suppose... the difference between those ‘people’ and your ‘people’ is the fact that xiao’s debts are owed to the dead

the whispers, the screams, the agony. it plagues every part of his mind, like a melody with no beat, like an endless tune that he will hear for the rest of time

and you—you’re like, the charm. the ward and sigil that scares away all of those demons. you’re the sunshine that seeps through the cracks of caves

and now... you’re drifting. like a ship at sea, he wonders... will you be back?

regrettably—you think—maybe, maybe... you won’t return

What is this? The third week Xiao has sat atop the roof of Wangshu Inn? Hoping mindlessly to hear your steps up the staircase?

Hah. Is this who he has become? An adeptus who waits for a mortal like you to come, an adeptus who should be defending Liyue, and yet, here he is.

he’s a bit... put off

like. who are you to make him feel this way, mortal? (derogatory)

he doesn’t want to admit it... but... he misses you. there! he said it. he misses you. now can you come back, please?

he knows, he knows he is not the best lover... that he is blunt, enigmatic, and sometimes... rude. but— but you, you accept him for that

and he ponders atop the roof of wangshu inn—perhaps, was this ignoring scheme long overdue? have you finally grown tired of him and all of his karma? have you found someone better—someone you can love you, hold you, and care for you like you deserve?

he hopes—the answer is no

but he knows... the answer is probably yes

“Oh, [Y/N]! You’re back!” Verr Goldet’s hushed voice ran through the adeptus mind as his form shot up almost instantly. Staring down from his position on the roof, his yellow eyes stared over at your familiar form, your [e/c] eyes and vision that dangled from your hip.

“Haha, sorry about that.”

You smiled, but Xiao didn’t miss the way you winced upon doing so. Your arms and legs were wrapped with bandages, dried splotches of red and clothing as messy as could be.

“Your room is upstairs, sleep well,” Verr Goldet nodded knowingly, a bittersweet grin on her face as her mind flickered to the thought of Xiao and his shortening temper.

once you step out onto the balcony, you do not need to look to see who has appeared beside you

“Hello, Xiao!” You say openly, arms outstretched for a hug as the adeptus merely stared at you. Three weeks. Three weeks without you, three weeks too many—and here you were, opening your arms like you had just returned back from an hour long trip.

“ . . . “ Staying silent, Xiao could only cross his arms, glaring at you with mixed emotions. He was relieved to see you back and ‘happy’, but still, he was frustrated and irritated at the way you behaved so recklessly.

“You owe me an expla—“

“—nation,” You finished for the male, an exasperated smile gracing your features as you turned over to the balcony, the setting moon and proud stars soaring like the birds of Mondstadt.

“I was... dealing with some encounters,” Your tone was laced with a malice even he wasn’t expecting, the number of bandages scouring your skin finally making sense as his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Fatui? Tell me where they are, I wi—“

“No.”

Turning over to him fully, Xiao’s breath hitched. Ugh, again—you and your pretty smile and charming features. The simplest things you do made him go insane like the karmic debts that flourished through his mind.

“You can’t get involved, Xiao. They will only go after you. I returned here today to tell you that I’ll be going off for three month—“

“What?” The Yaksha breathed in disbelief. Did he hear right? Were you seriously leaving again?!

“I said, I am leaving again... Xiao. It’s not you—Celestia no... it’d never be you. It’s just...” You looked around, to anywhere, anyone but him. If you glanced at him now, chances are you’d succumb to his sunny eyes and stay back at Wangshu Inn.

“... The Fatui. I got on their wanted list and—I don’t want them to use you against me. So I’ll go out and get rid of them, and I’ll be ba—“

“No.”

It was his turn to decline, for he didn’t want to hear anything you had to say. You got on the Fatui’s wanted list?! What?! He...

He was going to kill them.

“Do you think I am weak, [Y/N]? Eons of slaughter and—“

“Xiao!” You facepalmed, raising your voice slightly at the male as he blinked, taken aback that you, a mortal would ever thing of committing such a heinous crime towards a divine being like him.

“You’re not weak! It’s just... I’m weak. And if they find you, they could just threaten me with everything they’d do to you! Even if nothing happened at all...” Your voice died down, your heart hammering against your chest as Xiao’s eyes softened.

Xiao was—speechless. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Nobody had ever thought of him so kindly before, neither have they ever treated him as something other than a weapon of war.

So, he vowed. Like the night Rex Lapis found him all those millennia ago, like the night he broke free from the chains of manipulation—he vowed, time and time again—

“I will protect you, [Y/N]. For there is no need to protect me.”

[internal screaming]

diluc, of all people, no longer is afraid of ‘grudges’ or ‘debts’ owed to the fatui or abyss order. he dances with evil, masquerading each night for his life

and now, the only light in his world full of darkness, the only fire in the cold icy winds...

left

you left. you left with a little note saying you’d be back in what—five months?

a part of him was... shocked. it was surprised at how abrupt it was. one moment, the two of you were laying in bed, cradling each others’ forms. and the next? you were gone

the other part of him was... worried. did you want to leave him? what was this about? did you owe debt to the fatui? you could’ve told him, he would’ve payed for it all in a heartbeat

but diluc of mondstadt—hah, he was not known for stepping down so easily. so until he figures out why you left so suddenly, he is not stopping his search for the truth

and once he so happens to run into lumine and asks the traveler where you’ve been—he’s shocked

at first, he thinks lumine must me mistaken. what? what do you mean “[y/n] is heading out to fight the abyss herald”, you’re kidding... haha...

(lumine swore she saw her life flash before her eyes when diluc wrapped his head around the news)

diluc feels a bit... guilty. he feels guilty that he didn’t know sooner, he feels guilty that the abyss order is bothering you like how it bothers him, he feels guilty for everything

Wiping some blood that spilled from the corner of your mouth, you grimaced at the metallic taste.

What was it? Err... day five? This was the first Abyss Herald you have encountered so far, and you could only assume it was the first of many.

Standing up, you sheathed your weapon. Your vision glowed brightly in the darkness of the ruins, the moon illuminating the way out as you sighed, pulling yourself across the stone cold floor.

As you trudged outside and into the moonlight, a twig cracked under a foot that wasn’t yours, prompting you to reach out and materialize your weapon, charging it with power from your vision.

“Who?”

Stepping out from the trees, your eyes widened at a sight you hadn’t expected to see—at least, expected to see this soon.

“Diluc?” You breathed, heaving a sigh of relief as the male took no notice to your words, instead, his vermilion eyes traced over your battered form, his eyes worrying even more with each glance he spared.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, rushing up to you as he pulled out some bandages, wrapping them around your wounds so he could get you back to the winery.

pushing yourself away from his grasp, diluc watched in hurt as you kept him away from your figure

“i couldn’t—i didn’t want you to get involved,” you mumbled guiltily, looking away from the male as his eyes seemed to berate you silently

“me involved? what do you mean?” diluc asks in disbelief. he of all people should be the one telling you that

“the abyss. i got in a tumble with them and now they’re after my blood,” you murmured, only causing diluc’s heart to pound even louder in his chest, his brain flickering to unpleasant memories as he rushed up to you, securely placing his hands on your shoulders

He’s... speechless. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He’s usually the one keeping people at arms-length—yet here you were, stealing his lines and his worries.

“I...” Diluc paused, trying to form words, and yet, nothing came to mind.

“...”

Silence. It filled the ambience and your hearts, yet, it was not the same silence in the abyss, nor was it the same silence before a nightmare.

It was a silence of awe, a silence that you’d hear before a firework would shoot up in the sky—it was calming, a relaxing wave like a seashell pressed against your ear.

A silent love—like the one you and Diluc shared. An unsung melody that played in the beat of your hearts, the breaths of the wind...

A silent promise, like a marriage or a confession, a promise to—

“I will be by your side, [Y/N]. No matter what.”

Through thick and thin, cold and warm, there is nothing but you two, two lovers against the darkness, dancing with ghosts and evil.

— constellations! 💫

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin xiao #genshin diluc #genshin albedo #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #albedo x reader #constellarations

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Text

Mortal of Gold - Part 3

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Anyone want my list of the characters as gods? There were a few characters that I couldn't think of like Ponk, so I just left them out. ANYWAY. Hi, how's it going? ALSO I CANT EDIT THIS DAMN POST AND THE SPELLING ERRORS ARE SO IRRITATING

Part 1 Part 2 TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please. ------- “They weren’t born… A mortal?”

A light wind brushed over your features, causing you to give a small sigh and roll over onto your side in an attempt to block the light from hitting your lidded eyes. It was nice and quiet for once… “(Y/n)?” A distorted voice echoed softly, causing you to flinch a bit. You opened your eyes slightly to see a silky blackbird sitting on the sheets beside you, a few golden trinkets laying beside it. Upon seeing your eyes slide open, the creature hopped up onto its legs and began making soft cooing noises, “(Y/n)! (Y/n), you’re awake!” Glancing around at the surroundings you had been placed in, racking your mind for any sort of familiarity but failing to come up with anything at all, even who you were. You sat up, slowly brushing your fingers along your ombre silk clothing before putting your hands on the sheets below your body, frowning as you didn��t recognize the bed as yours. “Hello…” You murmured softly, reaching your hand out to the crow who eagerly jumped forward to nuzzle your hand. The feathers of the bird felt… Odd. They felt more like grabbing at misty fog, but with a light staticky cotton texture that caused a buzzing sensation on your fingertips, “I’m sorry, my memory… Seems to be a tad faulty… Could you tell me your name?” “I’m Chat, Dadza- er… Philza’s familiar! I was a gift from Mumza, oops... Kristen, the Goddess of Void and Death.” It chirped, its voice having multiple layers in your head, causing you to shake your head a slight bit, “No, they’re not married, only parental figures to the souls that pass on to the afterlife or those they saved sometime before they passed on… I believe they have more of a co-worker relationship.” You nodded slightly, pursing your lips at how the creature’s voice sounded in your mind. It was unsettling and caused shivers to crawl up and down your back, but at the same time, it was incredibly calming and had a soothing aura. How that worked, you had no clue whatsoever. Brushing off the unsettling voice of the bird, you decided to focus on the name that caused a light to go off in your head, “Alright… Philza… I think I remember that name…” “Yeah! Dadza- Eck… Sorry. Phil, he’s the God of Survival and Crows! He controls not only every crow in the mortal land, but he also controls whether or not someone will survive a situation. If there is no way that the mortal can survive, he will send a crow down and have them guide the soul of the mortal to him! Then he escorts them to Kristen! He has gained the name Angel of Death because he works for Mumza!” You decided not to question why the crow called Philza and Kristen Mumza and Dadza, knowing that you’d probably find out later, but by the sound of it Chat seemed to be multiple children, “Okay… Makes sense…” You mumbled slowly, nodding your head up and down. With a sigh you slowly brought your legs over to the side of the bed, only now becoming aware of how large the soft mattress was. Lowlands! (Hell) You could probably fit six people who were ten feet tall in it with room to roam! Pushing yourself off the bed, you also realized how high the beautiful bed was off the floor, Gods, whoever lived here was tall! Behind you, you heard a small chirp, and you saw Chat watching you curiously. With a small shrug, you decided to pick the familiar up and hold it in your cupped hands as you walked out the door, “Oooh! Dadza never carries us like this, and Technoblade does only when he’s about to yeet us out a window!” “Yeet?” You scowled in confusion as you walked through the arched doorway, your bare feet padding silently on the quartz flooring, “I'm scared to ask. Technoblade? Is he also a god of some things? He sounds familiar as well…” “That’s its word for throwing something. Well, it yells the word when they throw something or get thrown, so I assume it’s yelling in excitement,” A deep voice spoke from in front of you, causing you to gasp and lift your head from the crow. The telepathic chirping and squeaks from Chat in your mind quickly formed the name Technoblade, so… You had a feeling that your answer was on its way past his

lips, “I’m Technoblade, or Techno, the God of Blood and War. It’s… nice to see you finally awake…” He shifted awkwardly on his feet as you curiously studied him. His appearance could certainly be described as godly if anyone asked you. His long pink hair was mostly twisted and tied into a braid with bits of golden chain and a polished golden crown adorned with rubies, garnets and diamonds. Upon his pale skin, dozens of scars of varying sizes decorated his skin in different areas, but they were displayed in an almost proud manner. Almost. When he spoke, his dark pink eyes hidden behind cracked glasses searched your form for any sort of injury, “I’m… (Y/n)... I think. I don’t know if this bird is exactly trustworthy in its information… Do you know where I am?” Techno snorted as Chat gave an offended squawk at your statement, “That’s very fair, to be honest. You’re in the Tundra of the Upperlands, and this is my palace. No there is no snow, I believe the person who named this place has never looked into the name or word Tundra, but it’s been like this for too long to change it-” He paused for a moment as he noticed you looking extremely confused, “Ah. Right. Desert. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh… Okay…” You frowned at the tusked male for a moment before shaking your head, deciding not to question it much, “Now, uh… How did I get here, and why don’t I remember anything about myself? Or, about you and this Philza guy, I was told about.” You lifted Chat slightly toward Techno as a silent indication that Chat was the one who told you about Phil. “That’s uh… Phil’s field of expertise.” He rubbed the back of his head with his black-tipped fingers before adjusting his crown, “I don’t understand much of what happened, and Phil will tell you what you need to know that will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he held his free hand out towards you making you realize that he was easily over seven and a half feet tall, “C’mon, I’ll take you to him and get you the answers you need.” His hand was extremely steady, you noticed as you stared down at it cautiously. Once you noticed that he didn’t seem to want to do you harm, you slowly shifted Chat into one hand and used your free hand to take the one extended to you, which you couldn’t help but notice, made Technoblade very happy, “Okay. Thank you.” The god held your hand in his calloused one for a few moments before beginning to lead you down the tan and white hallways that were turned a light golden hue from the rising sun. It was quite a long walk filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence, but you distracted yourself by looking around the palace curiously. It was obvious he was the God of War by how many swords hanging on walls and sets of armour he had placed on armour stands in the hallways. Eventually, he walked you through an archway that led into a wide-open room with multiple windows that had many crows perched on the windowsills, some chirping and singing some little tune in perfect unison while others shuffled around, seeming to do a little dance. You were quick to realize the whistling of one of the birds didn’t match up and noticed that it was coming from the man with the large white and green striped hat as well as massive black feathered wings dangling on his back, fluffing themselves up every so often. When you and Techno stepped in, the blackbirds started chirping loudly, losing the rhythm of the tune the winged man was whistling as Chat started telepathically squealing about… 2/4? Two out of four what? “Ah!” The hat-wearing male turned around and clasped his hands together upon seeing you standing up, “(Y/n), you’re awake. I was worried the injuries you sustained were enough to keep you out cold for a few more weeks. I’m glad to see I was wrong. I’m Philza, God of Survival and Crows, and I see you’ve met Chat and Techno. Pesky bird, I told it not to wake you...” You pursed your lips for a moment, analyzing the shorter god as the bird squealed out its protests. While he was shorter than Techno, he was certainly tall, standing roughly around six feet tall, his wingspan

probably double that for each wing! His blonde hair was long around his face but was pulled into a loose braid like Techno’s was, although instead of gold intertwined into his hair, it was silver. His outfit was made up of a loose green shirt and black pants, with a red heart-shaped pendant dangling off of a chain into the center of his chest. Why did that pendant… Look familiar? You slowly rose your hand up and clasped at the pendant around your neck, noticing how Philza smiled softly, “Technoblade… Said you could tell me why I can’t remember anything?” “You’re still wearing my gift, I see,” Philza gave a soft hum as Chat jumped from your hand and onto his shoulder, before gesturing for you and Techno to take a seat where he already had drinks and some form of cakes set out, but they certainly weren’t there when you came in. Upon seeing your confused blinking, he gave a soft laugh, “I’m a god, mate, magic is no difficult task for me, let alone creating some measly tea and desserts. Now, sit down and I will tell you everything…” - General - None Mortal of Gold -@generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #techno x reader #yandere philza x reader #yandere technoblade x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt #dream smp #dream smp x reader #technoblade dream smp #philza dream smp #technoblade dreamsmp #philza dreamsmp #phil dream smp #phil dreamsmp #mcyt au #dsmp #mcyt god au

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saintmurd0ck · 2 years

Note

Rhi! Congratulations on 200! That’s so exciting! You deserve all the love! ❤️

🗽normally I’d ask for Matt buuuuut I’m feelin Mikey right now and reader and him having a date night in and he’s trying to make it extra special, please and thank you 🙏 🥰

thank you so much ericca <3 you are so lovely and thank you for sending in an ask, i'm sorry it took so long!!

mikey would absolutely go out of his way to make your date night extra special, and i hope you enjoy!

(note, after i finished writing: i am actually crying. wow.)

tonight is a big night. oh yeah, every single kinsella's in on it, without your knowledge

it's yours and michael's first anniversary, and he's pulled out all the stops. it's more lowkey than your usual dates out, but he's made sure that this will blow your mind

he's fixing his dark button-up shirt in the mirror by the couch, checking his hair, combing his beard, making sure he looks put together for you

the doorbell rings, and a shy smile spreads across his face. he can feel the butterflies in his stomach twisting and turning, nervous to see you, even though it feels like you've known each other your whole life

he walks into the kitchen to grab the flowers he's gotten for you, your favourite flowers, the same ones you pointed at excitedly when you last saw them at the florist

the tips of his ears turn pink as he opens the door, flowers in hand, seeing you there

and by god,

you look incredible.

michael's lost for words almost, as he pecks your cheek and ushers you inside. 'you're... you're beautiful, love'

you feel dizzy as his words shoot straight to your heart, penetrating through your clothing, and your skin, making its way home in the very centre

you have to bite back a moan as you enter the kitchen, the smell of food simmering away on the stove absolutely divine

michael smiles, putting the flowers in water for you, and rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly. 'i uh... made your favourite. hope 'ya like it, pet'

and your face heats up. 'i know i will, mikey' you say with a grin, one that makes michael's eyes twinkle

aside from your quips about how good the food is, and the clinking of cutlery on the plates, the dinner starts off in silence, at first. you glance over at michael, who’s a bundle of nervousness

'mikey, are you alright?' you ask, putting your hand on his. 'is somethin' wrong?'

'birdy made dinner' he blurts, his hand flying up to his mouth to hide his reddening cheeks

you can't help but laugh, setting your fork down and smoothing the napkin over your lap. 'oh mikey' you start, pinching his cheek 's'that what you were nervous about?'

he throws his head back in laughter, the sound so pure and crystalline you want to bask in it forever

he locks eyes with you, pursing his lips. clearly, something else is up

he looks down at his plate, chewing on his lip, a muscle twitching in his jaw,

then back up to you, eyes twinkling once again, with a fervour he rarely lets shine

'i just wanted t'say t'ya how great the past year's been, love. thanks, for everythin'

your heart is a mess at his words, and bursts open as his voice cracks, his eyes becoming red-rimmed

'i didn't think things could be normal again for me, but 'ya make me feel like m'on the right track. like m'doin' the right thing.'

'you are, mikey' you smile, taking his hand, feeling his calluses in yours. 'and m'so proud of 'ya'

michael looks down, but you can see the lines by his eyes crinkling, as they do when he is genuinely, genuinely happy

he reaches into his pocket, and you gasp as he pulls out a dark blue box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring

'been wantin’ t'ask 'ya since i kissed 'ya for the first time' he chuckles, sucking in his breath, nervous

'will 'ya do me the honour, love? marry me?'

and the tears flow now, nothing stopping them, between the both of you. 'yes' you say with a toothy grin, letting him slide the ring on your finger, and he's overjoyed at your answer

you gaze at him, your fiancé, dreamily, as he has a look on his face you could only describe as lovesick

and then the rest of the family bursts in through the door, music playing, streamers being thrown, whiskey being poured

but amidst the noise and celebration, there he is, your lovesick, beautiful, broken man

slowly healing, in your presence

now, with you by his side

forever.

#michael kinsella #kin amc #charlie cox #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella imagine #rhi responds 💌#rhi's mutuals 💗#saintmurd0ck 200 milestone celebration #rhi writes 💻#x reader

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Text

three times you interrupt george

warnings: none! my first fic with no language are you proud of me ;)

tags: georgenotfound x gn!reader

words: 1355

A/N: pretty much every fic i’ve posted has been written a minimum of an hour before i post it— my b. anyways george is soft and he makes me soft enjoy

requests/inbox status: open

The first time you barge in on George’s stream is about four months into your relationship. He is starting to get comfortable being his online persona around you, and suggests rather than get on your train at 1 am, you stay over. “Like a sleepover?” you ask and watch his cheeks start glowing pink.

Yes, exactly like a sleepover.

The sound of the bedroom door opening makes him pick up his water bottle and immediately turn off his camera and microphone, indistinguishable from the unannounced bathroom breaks he usually takes. Turning towards you slightly in his chair, an amused expression grows on his face. You’re barely awake, hovering in his doorway with a crinkled t-shirt and basketball shorts pulled on haphazardly in the dark on your way out of the bedroom. (You don’t sleep in pants. That’s for heathens.)

“Water,” you croak, arms stiff at your side and blinking wildly in the fluorescent lighting of his flat. He tries to hide his smirk and pads over to you, passing you his water bottle with a huff of a laugh. His hand drops to yours, grabbing and rubbing his thumb into your blanket-creased skin. You’re cold.

“I have extra blankets in the cupboard.” He doesn’t let go of your hand. You nod robotically, draining the nearingly lukewarm water through that straw and— he can almost see life return to your face. When you hand the empty bottle back to him, you’re licking your lips and squinting like you’re having a staring contest with the sun.

“I’m gonna go back to bed.” Your voice is thick with sleep, nasally like it always is in the morning. You lift to scratch a hand at your stomach and lean your head forward, bowing to George at an awkward angle. In a second he knows what you’re doing and grants you one (1) forehead kiss before you’re trundling off to the bedroom on legs that function like stilts.

“Sorry guys,” he sighs heavily when he’s back in his chair. “Took a minute long nap and I feel so refreshed.”

The second instance of interruption comes on a day when he’s too entranced in some bizarre Minecraft challenge (with his camera off, for focus reasons) to notice you.

You walk up the stairs, hand on the railing, and expect to find your boyfriend zonked out on the couch with six pillows behind his head and an eye mask. Instead, he’s at his desk, eye bags a lovely shade of violet, with rimrod posture, clicking furiously at his mouse. He’s silent when you pass him to drop your things off in the kitchen. Silent the whole time you go to the bathroom, and silent the whole time you’re making breakfast.

The distance between his flat and your own isn’t monumental, but it is enough to make you exhausted on the train ride over. (It doesn't take much, truthfully.) That’s why you book the tickets hilariously early in the morning and have a perfectly-timed nap. Still, you wake up from it ravenous. And George has a horrible habit of ordering take-away for every meal, so you grab a couple ingredients for breakfast at the mart you pass every couple of days you’re here.

Today it’s omelets and bruschetta toast. George jokes you’re related to Gordon Ramsey distantly for the amount of posh foods you cook; you say you just have taste. Half a dozen eggs, a few veggies, a bulb of garlic, and a loaf of bread is barely £15 at the mart down the road. The rest of the ingredients lie barely touched in his cabinets. You work quickly and have two plates filled with warm and delicious smelling food in the period it takes him to die one more time in Minecraft.

Wobbling two plates and a glass of orange juice on one arm, you approach the backside of his desk on careful and slow feet. When you set his plate and drink down next to him he catches you by the wrist and brings your forearm to his mouth, pressing a kiss there and looking up at you with those brown eyes.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against the sweetness of your skin and presses two more kisses to your wrist. He pulls away and takes a large sip from the orange juice before spam-clicking the shift button at a familiar green character. You leave his station with a smile, feeling warm.

“Y/N!” he calls, leaning back in his chair with a hand on his stomach. “C’mere. Please.”

“Bossy,” you mutter, but get up from your place on the couch and trot over to him with a huff.

“Tell Sapnap what you put in the omelet,” is all he says before passing you his headset and snaking an arm around your waist. You stumble towards him but manage to get the headphones on before Sapnap starts spewing about a breakfast burrito he ate last week that had jalapeños and onions in it. One thing you never thought you’d get to discuss with the man was your culinary prowess, but it seems today is the day of surprises— George helps you bake a batch of salted caramel brownies after finishing up work, too.

He doesn’t even catch anything on fire.

The third time you catch George working is right at the end of a Gang Beasts stream with Karl, Tina, and Corpse. He’s just finishing his last wave goodbye and ending the stream when you shudder through his front door with a small bag in your hand.

“Good news,” you announce through a grin. “My GNF candle came in.”

“Your what?” He laughs, closing the browser with a click and sleeping his monitor. You dig the item out and place it ceremoniously on the glass of his desk. His jaw drops.

“Isn’t that cool?” You ask excitedly, nearly bouncing on your feet.

“Oh my God.” He picks up the squat candle, lifting it to his nose to catch a sniff. Hm. Pine. “I wish I smelled like that.”

You just shrug and take it from him, darting into the kitchen to produce a lighter and light the wick quickly. You take a deep inhale when the flame sparks and stills.

“Yeah, that smells nothing like you. You smell more…” You trail off, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn in thought.

“Manly?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. You ponder that and just take another smell.

“More sweet. Much sweeter.”

“That’s cute,” he admits, getting up and disappearing into his bedroom.

“Are you gonna take a nap?” You set the candle down onto the countertop, making your way into his room like you own it. He’s at his closet, tugging off his sweatshirt.

“Yeah,” he answers, muffled by fabric, and finally gets the collar of the hoodie past his neck. “Care to join?” The hoodie goes into his laundry basket and he tugs the covers of his bed back, flashing you a look. You nod, flinging your shoes off and into the emptiness of his closet before crawling into the center of his bed and flopping down halfway onto him. He makes an unsatisfied noise and shuffles onto his stomach. Giggling, you roll into a sitting position and get yourself under the covers.

“Warm in here,” you mutter and get situated. His accompanying pillow is soft on your cheek when you twist onto your stomach and shove an arm underneath it. He just hums in agreement and stares at you. “Hold on.” You plant an elbow on the space between you two and manage to press a firm kiss on his cheek. Okay, perhaps two. If it’s three then George is colorblind.

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Anytime, darling,” is all you say before your eyes are closing and you’re breathing a sigh that deflates your chest.

A hand grapples up your arm, scrambling for your own. You just smile to yourself and offer your palm to him. He takes it wordlessly and squeezes twice before letting your tangle of fingers drop to the sheets.

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

#georgenotfound #gnf #mcyt #georgenotfound x reader #gnf x reader #gnf x gn!reader #georgenotfound x gn!reader #gnf imagine #gnf fluff #gnf one shot #georgenotfound drabble #gnf x you #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #bubblyhoneyfics

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sukirichi · 4 years

Text

jujutsu kaisen characters as students in high school: (non-canon AU)

featuring: itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, getou suguru, & ryoumen sukuna notes: some parts include you as their friend, or even their high school love! (this is unedited/ not proofread)

masterlist ! requests are open

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

he’s not the brightest bulb, but he makes up for it through hardwork and enthusiasm

yuuji is literally that classmate everyone is just friends with

the type who waves with a smile, saying “good morning!” the moment he walks through that door

with that being said, since he’s everyone’s friend, i headcannon that yuuji doesn’t really have a best friend because he’s so open and available to everyone it’s hard to have just a one on one conversation with him

not to say he’s always surrounded by a crowd that you can’t get near him, but everyone likes talking to yuuji

he just fits in so well and understands people

kind of like how he easily clicked with junpei (please, i miss him, i still can’t believe that he’s...you know...)

whether it’s the guys raving to him about sports

or girls shyly talking about their crush on class or about that new shojo manga

yuuji is open to anything and everyone. this boy wears his heart on his sleeve and he’s honestly such a precious boy, please be kind to him <3

the type of student that gets called to answer in class but isn’t shy to admit he doesn’t know the answer while rubbing the back of his neck

he does pay attention tho

i think it’s canon that yuuji is a dedicated man, like from that time he just watched movies straight and kept his cursed energy controlled so the cursed corpse would stop hitting him

overall, yuuji is a very hard working student!

he wouldn’t get over the top grades, but he’s really proud of himself (and he should be!)

also that one kid in class that is surprisingly good in sports despite his lanky figure and laid back persona, because all the other sports-craved people are always flexing or challenging other captains

but plot twist, this boy is ripped and very, beautifully kept in trim

yeah he’s not really into club activities that much

not because he hates them, but he’s just not that into it. he’s more than glad to join in whatever activities though and enjoys them, but if asked what he’d like to do, it wouldn’t be that first thing that came to mind

in conclusion: itadori yuuji is the class sunflower that lights up everyone’s day 🌻

yuuji’s role: the hard worker!

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

hands down, megumi is THAT student

if you’re volunteering in the library, you can sure as hell guarantee you’ll see megumi there

he doesn’t like studying in class because it’s too noisy, so if he’s in school, you’ll always see his name in the library logs

he’s that kid that aces all exams

the type to scowl when he sees a 96% mark because he’s expecting a perfect mark

okay before you come at me, i’m not saying megumi is that annoying smart kid in class that goes, “Oh, I’m so dumb, just a 96?”

no he’s more frustrated at himself because he knows he studied hard and lost sleep over it. he’s just wondering where he went wrong. he has literal note cards and customize flash cards on an app on his phone, waking up every four am and probably taking supplement classes after regular school hours

i headcannon that megumi is someone who always wants to do his best and actually goes through lengths to prove his worth

maybe it stems from having the need to show who he really is and what he’s capable of

but yeah i can totally see him doing that

also that cute student that keeps visiting the cafe every saturday morning, wearing a black hoodie and headphones tucked in, his pretty hands nestling over a book

he looks like a gamer but honestly i don’t think he’s got time for that lmao

would also be that guy people find hard to approach because of his quiet and reserved self

he’s pretty intimidating too

definitely sits beside the window at the back of the class. you can’t fight me on that

just because he’s smart and loves studying, it doesn’t mean he’ll sit on the front row and raise his hand every damn second

the teachers will encourage him to participate in class a little bit more, especially after seeing he’s awkward during group activities, but megumi just really prefers to do things by himself

i also headcannon him eating in the cafeteria like everyone else instead of having his alone time during a rooftop? like idk i can’t picture megumi completely isolating himself like that

he blends in well in a way that you know he’s just like everyone else; a human

but he also stands out in the manner that he’s a lot more introverted and reserved compared to everyone else

surprisingly good during sports and relay games

100% reliable

the type to stay up at midnight to finish a group project, sighing because his groupmates doesn’t care as much as he does, but turns it in anyway the next day

he’d be annoyed at them, but he doesn’t really like confrontation so he doesn’t out them to the teacher like that

but he’s also not someone who lets people walk over him, so he’ll simply say something about his groupmates becoming more responsible and to be serious for once as a “warning”

and yeah, he may be closed off, but once you get really close with him (even better if you have similar interests) you’ll find there’s a lot more to him than what you’ve originally seen and he’s actually a pretty great friend and supportive classmate

would teach you instead of just letting you copy his work or snap pictures of his notes

ugh he’s so responsible and morally right and that’s so attractive help

in conclusion: fushiguro megumi is the hidden gem 💎

megumi’s role: the intellectual outsider!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

man...i don’t know how to start this

i’ve said this about megumi, but gojo is also that student

no, in fact, he’s THE student

everyone loves him. literally everyone

the teachers? smitten

his classmates? in love

the school guard? calls him by his first name

the cleaning lady? turns into a star with the way she lightens up when he’s there

the cafeteria staff? yeah free food because he’s gojo satoru

gojo is what i like to call the “one who has it all” because....well, he kind of does

he’s really smart and talented, which comes as a surprise to everyone in the first day of school when he nearly gets kicked out for falling asleep in class

only for everyone to be shocked that he knows the answer already and the teacher is only discussing chapter 1 lmao

yeah he’d be that kid who always sleeps in class

or is playing games on his phone behind an open textbook

he literally doesn’t listen to what the teacher is saying at all - or at least that’s what he wants you to think

man is a god at multitasking and his seatmate would snicker because he’s crushing his enemies at a phone game, but then gojo coolly corrects the teacher about history or something

he’s pretty laid back tbh

but when he’s got everyone’s attention on him? ofc he’d show off

basketball meats are wild. even students from neighbouring schools would visit just to see gojo play - and he’s not even an official member! the coach just asked him to replace a sick player but boy won that champion shot

omg BASKETBALL PLAYER GOJO I CAN’T

but he pretty much excels at everything

except cooking class, gosh, don’t ever bring this man anywhere near a fire. that’s probably the only thing that really got him to detention this time because he always somehow talks himself out of getting that red card with his words and charm

also that kid that would receive lots of confession letters, chocolates, and random gifts in his shoe lockers

he knows he’s handsome and he’s not shy about it. in fact, he’s shameless when it comes to his allure on people

but he also doesn’t really date anyone (it’s canon this man won’t stay loyal to a single woman lmao)

if he and megumi were classmates, they’d be sort of rivals

megumi would always come on top of class, but gojo is just a breath away from the former’s perfect marks. if it only weren’t for megumi’s squeaky clean record and reputation - whereas satoru’s is TAINTED as heck - and the fact that gojo doesn’t really study as much as gumi, then yeah he’d also be top of the class if he wanted to

on a much more serious note,,,gojo acts like nothing really bothers him and he’s simply that effortless

but i feel like he grew up with tutors from a very young age and that’s how his natural intelligence was just further improved and increased with that type of environment in his childhood

and unlike megumi, i don’t think gojo would really have a set goal in mind on who he wants to be or what he wants to do in the future

he’d just be enjoying the moment <3

in conclusion: gojo satoru is the effortless god!

satoru’s role: the lazy king everyone is envious of

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

the playboy

you can’t argue with me on this one

he just is, i feel it deep in my SOUL he just is

moment he walks in, all classy and suave aura and all, you can honestly smell and taste the amount of confidence that drips from him

probably came from a well-off family

probably the mayor’s kid lmao and he’s been used to the attention ever since he was young

much like megumi, he’s not really the type to show off his intelligence

and similar to gojo, people are surprised he’s actually got them brain cells just because everyone is more focused on his appearance first

like who would expect this tall hunk beautiful beast of a man with long hair and piercings actually liked classic novels and could effortlessly recite sonatas and poems in different languages

yeah i headcannon that getou is an intellectual, cultured man

ofc having long hair and piercings isn’t allowed in his school, but because he’s geto and the school knows about his family’s influence, they just let it slide

probably comes late to school too

he eats in the cafeteria, but you don’t really see him indulge much. some days, he’ll have his own fancy bento box prepared by a family chef, but geto is actually pretty simple and humble that he also buys packed bread or canned coffee

takes the library volunteer by surprise when he drops by one friday after class to borrow an old classic novel that even your professors had a hard time analysing

but geto’s like, “oh this? yeah i last read it when i was thirteen, thought i’d read it again”

IDK WHY but I can see him as sort of breaking the rules when it comes to the school uniform

top three buttons of his shirt open when he’s feeling hot or something

doesn’t really keep his tie that tight too

but overall, geto is a composed and well-put together guy

i just can’t picture him slacking when it comes to his appearance, he’s too fancy and pretty for that

he’s also similar to megumi in a way people find it hard to approach them, but most definitely, geto also receives confessions often

i can see him dating someone after being interested in someone in school and actually being serious with them unlike gojo

then they would be “that” couple that’re just so couple goals

not the type that goes overboard with pda and pulls off the angry face emoji when they hear someone talking about them and they’re like, “NO HE’S MINE”

okay that’s cringe but i legit witnessed that way too many times in high school yall cant blame me lmao

but they’d be more like the chill laid back couple that supports each other in everything and you can just tell they have a happy, healthy relationship

(oh to be getou’s girlfriend in high school and his first love and all his firsts)

in conclusion: getou suguru is the unpredictable!

getou’s role is: that one classmate you really admire but he’s so far out your league but he’s genuinely a good guy anyway so you’re happy for him no matter what <3

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

okay okay hear me out but...the stoner

i really can’t see him any other way guyssss

and if you’re his classmate, you most likely wouldn’t see him that much either

dude is like 2-3 years older than everyone in class and he doesn’t give a shit about it

he’ll come like...once a week, if he’s in the mood enough

teachers don’t even bother scolding him for his tattoos anymore because there’s rumours going around he’s the son of a yakuza leader or that he’s a gangster who sells organs or some creepy dark stuff

ofc he doesn’t do that

he just does drugs and gets drunk at most

sukuna doesn’t really have that much friends either. yeah he parties with people and often gets high with some older kids, but he doesn’t genuinely enjoy their companies either

would totally come to school with his uniform unironed

red-eyed from his high and naps at the back of the class, making the teacher soften their voice in fear of waking him up

also doesn’t have a pen or paper

i mean...he doesn’t even bring a bag

fails the exams all the time, making him repeat year by year, and he’s even known for beating his senpai up for something stupid and sending the guy to a hospital where he stays for two weeks

but on the other hand

he’s also freakishly attractive and surprisingly easy to talk to

you probably bumped into him one time and you profusely apologize, but then he notices something about, something odd like, “did you just cut your hair?”

“uhm yes...you noticed?”

sukuna shrugs lazily, “noticed something was different, but whatever. it looks good on you though.”

he’s just soooo nonchalant most of the time, it’s hard to believe he’s actually pretty violent

but yeah this man has anger issues i’m sorry

but with that speaking, i actually don’t see sukuna as a bully with like a gang of his “followers” or that type of jazz

he’s more like the kid that hides under the bleachers or gets high in a storage room while everyone else is occupied with school festivals

it’s a shock he even came, but sukuna just says “free food is always a gift” but ofc it’s not free food...he just steals from the stalls

now here comes the fun part

so now that we know sukuna pretty much is a hopeless case...suddenly, he isn’t? maybe he meets you, the class volunteer who goes out of their way to visit his shabby apartment just to hand him his class work that he’s missed out on

he obviously disses you at first and ignores you, telling you to get lost

but somehow your kindness and persistence has him breaking

now he starts coming to school often, carrying a pack of gum or mint pops because he smells like weed and he’s slightly conscious of himself

this is supposed to be just them being students in high school, but i could honestly sukuna changing colors once he just gets a better grasp of what would be good for him

or maybe something finally interests him and gives answers to his silent questions

i feel like he’s such a troubled kid and just lacks proper care and attention, but once you become his friend and show him you don’t have bad intentions, he’s actually a loyal and decent guy

and when you two finally get close, you eventually gain enough courage to tutor him. sukuna is actually pretty smart too, he just doesn’t like studying, but when you compliment him, oh man, he melts

“yeah, you actually got that right! i told you you could do this!”

tsk,” he scoffs, “that’s all kindergarten shit.”

“if it is, then why haven’t you graduated?”

“shut the fuck up.”

although he sneers, you and sukuna have gotten close enough that you know both of you don’t mean anything bad behind those words and it’s all light hearted teasing

oh and when you ask him to take a picture with you for “high school memories?”

sukuna is disgusted

“get that thing away from my face - did you just take my photo?”

“yeah, you look pretty cute here! i’m so printing this and putting this in my album.”

sukuna is about to scold you even more, but the thought of you putting your photo together - even when he’s frowning in the picture - in something as sentimental as a photo book really has him softening up

would even try - keyword is try - to study more just so you’d stop frowning when you see his paper covered in red marks all over again

and he’d even try cutting down on his weed for the sake of his “health”

ofc he won’t suddenly - or ever, even - become the amazing student megumi is

he’ll still get into trouble because he’s impulsive and has poor coping skills, also he’s not good with words or dealing with his emotions

but on his good days, he’s a pretty funny guy

it just takes a lot to see that side of him, but it’s worth the time and patience

also i was expecting to write funny scenarios or imagines of stoner! sukuna because he’s too high to even hold a proper conversation sometimes but all i got is him saying weird words like “snail trap” or something when you ask him how his day is

would also have that garbled little laugh when he’s so out of it

sukuna will try to be better though, you just need to be patient him

but my GOSH when he finally graduates

he’s going to hide that little smile because deep down, he’s also pretty proud of himself and how far he’s come <3

lol now this makes me want to writer a high school au lololol

in conclusion: yeah he’s the stoner with a good heart

which is so not canon...this shouldn’t even be a headcanon we know ryoumen sukuna is PURE EVIL but oh well maybe when I’m down from my sukuna high I’ll write him a lot more canonically

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peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

red; tom's version|one.

chapter one: sad, beautiful tragic. “Long handwritten note deep in your pocket”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (tom's not famous here) story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship months after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: you haven't seen him since he ditched you, after months of wearing plaid you go out and realize he's back in new york warnings: angsty, I mean it's a breakup, swearing. word count: 7.3k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: Hi, I couldn't wait to share it so I said, screw it, I'm posting this. You don't know how excited I am to write this and share it with you. As you know, this is inspired by Red by Taylor Swift and will hurt. So I expect us all to be crumpled up pieces of paper wearing scarves by the end of this. (perennial is still coming, I'm just waiting on a few people who're reading it). SPECIAL THANKS TO @erodasghosts for reading it and hyping me up and helping me figure this all out. I hope you guys all like it as much as I did. The story is set in New York. Please give feedback!

One month after the breakup.

Strong whiskey, on the rocks. That was his drink of choice that night. The night before had been a beer. You knew you could imagine the taste of his lips by only looking at him. You wondered if he’d gone there for a second night for the same reason you had.

When you had seen him across the place the night before, you had tried to decide how to feel. We always think we will react one way or another when we see our official heartbreak walking through. Victorious as he is perfectly dressed, with his hair flowing.

He hadn’t brought her. Which you didn’t know how to feel about.

The day before you had not been alone, Jules, Matty, and Lula were there.

“Shit, the axolotl at 10 o'clock, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Lourdes, Lula, had whispered before sipping her drink, a Long Island Tea. “We are celebrating she’s doing better, can’t fucking believe this,” she hissed at Jules who only lifted her chin slightly to see who she was referring to. “What the fuck is he doing here? Ay, es que, con qué huevos se atreve a venir aquí? Que no mame.” [with what balls did he dare to come here? He shouldn’t fuck with us. ]

You loved hanging out with Lula and listening to her very refined Spanish cursing.

“It’s not him,” Julia said.

You tried looking back to see who they were referring to. “Who is—?”

“Y/N, wait I just noticed the haircut!” Matt pointed out, reaching over, getting your attention back to them and not at whatever they were referring to. “It looks great. It’s like a new you!”

This new you. The one that had been screwed over twice. Men really have the nerve when it comes to breaking hearts. They recklessly go in and let you believe love comes in all shades of colors, passionate red like the roses they send, and tender pinks like your sweet innocence that they end up stealing. But they never tell you it’ll be you all alone in a dark room with shades of grey under a flickering light that barely warms you.

The new you, which was still a bit lost. Your old self was a stranger to you now. You had no idea who this new you was, she was quiet now. Didn’t have a heart because someone had stolen it and broken it and left it behind a dumpster. Still trying to find it. The new you wasn't.. you.

Your friends were glad, however, they finally got you to go out again. After weeks of wearing plaid and watching Fleabag, and even considering watching Greys Anatomy, a low point, you had finally decided to come back to see if there was any sunshine left for you.

It’s important to point out that you had been broken-hearted and almost crazy when the breakup had happened. Very… delusional. You were not proud of the way you’d reacted. Although you wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

The city had been quiet, the red lights seemed to last longer, and the crowds would often swallow you. The city you once loved was now an open book of a relationship that seemed real, should’ve known it was all fiction.

In your dreams they’d be bright, colorful. The village is aglow. Cold days with warm hearts. Like his.

You’d been cold ever since.

“Ah, yeah, the haircut. Got it today. Lula’s idea” The haircut had come as the solution to a problem that would never be solved. As if cutting your hair meant there was something you had the power on. You didn’t.

How stupid was it? You couldn’t control your life.

“It suits her well, doesn’t it?” Lula admitted proudly.

You still had his picture engraved in your heart. You still dreamed he would come back and say it was all a nightmare.

“It’s nice, I’m glad to have you back,” Jules commented. Julia had probably been the most surprised with the news of the breakup, she had almost gone and killed Tom when he had….unimportant. She hadn’t, though, and she had yet to tell you the reason why. Julia had been mysterious since.

“I’m glad to be back,” you confirmed. You’d ordered a beer, and maybe you shouldn’t have. Stella Artois, his one favorite. You pocketed the beer cap. “Though I was not gone.”

Matt watched you, him and Julia had recently started dating. Best friends since kids who just recently confessed their feelings for each other, took them long enough. “How back are you, though?”

“Meaning?” You asked, taking a sip.

Matt shrugged, “I could introduce you to some friends from work, there’s this hot guy—“

“No,” you interrupted him, leaving the bottle down as you had almost choked. “No, no. Not in the dating area yet. Won’t be in a long time. Still healing.”

Lula still had her eyes glued elsewhere. “Healing from a bullet hole, y/n, whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and band aids won’t fix it—Jules it is, I swear to god it’s him.”

“It’s not him,” Julia rolled her eyes.

“Ay, que sí!” [he is]

“Who?” You asked.

Julia took your hands, “you know Lula,” she rolled her eyes. “I love that you ordered a beer.”

“Yeah,” you gulped. “Beer is universal language for men as in: ‘don’t get close to me.’” A lesson someone dear had taught you once.

Matt tilted his head in agreement, “Yeah.”

“Really?” Lula frowned, “should’ve ordered one. Next time I’ll ask for my drink but instead of a glass I’ll ask them to put it in a beer bottle.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to order a beer?” Matt suggested.

“But then I’d break our tradition.”

Matt watched her, “you really are something.”

You chuckled.

“Why is beer seen as not—feminine?” Matt questioned.

Julia shrugged. “It’s beyond me, really. It’s a drink.”

“Like does my drink make me less of a man?” Matt watched his glass, another Long Island Tea. A stupid inside joke you all had.

“No,” you admitted. “But you know how society is. Since it’s sweet, it’s got to be—“

“Oh, no, no, I love you, y/n, but tonight I don’t want you lecturing us on it, no, tonight we are having fun, ok?” Lula reminded you. “We will not talk about femininity or lack of a beer—or whatever your agenda is up to these days, which, hey! Why does y/n get to break the rule?” Lula questioned. “No Long Island Tea?

Julia glared at her, “Because she can do whatever she wants tonight,” she hissed and then turned to you. “But how are you feeling? It’s your first time going out in months, is it as fun?” Julia was the one to try to cheer you up the most.

No, it wasn’t fun.

“I—feel good!” You lied. Although you were not. But you guessed that’s the response they wanted after seeing you laying down on the ground and crying yourself to sleep. Staring at windows and walking down in the rain. They wanted you to feel better.

Your body was covered in scars.Though, they were from adventures.

“Bullshit,” Lula intruded. “You seem sad. Maybe I’ll get some shots,” she announced before going to get some.

“Well,” you chuckled. “My first time going out and you bring me back to the place where it all started?” You answered cynically but then shrugged. “I’m—I…no. I just—It’s weird. I still see him everywhere, and as I’m here it’s like watching a movie of our greatest moments,” you admitted. “Like hey, look over there, it’s Tom and Y/N’s greatest moments,” you stated, Lula got back. “Let’s start memory lane…”and you sighed and continued with the best presenter voice you had. “Here you’ll wonder how the hell did it go so wrong since they were so perfect, what the hell went wrong, when did it turn into some sad stupid love affair. You’ll be asking yourself hey, they seemed in love, over there, they danced! Over there… they sang a song together! See over there? There was a fucking jukebox in which they have memories! Oh they have memories there too! And you’ll ask yourself, he made it seem real, what the hell happened?” You sighed exhaustedly. “What happened? What the fuck happened? How was I so stupid?” You ran your hands through your face.

Your friends only watched you, with pity, sadness. Even Lula had turned her gaze guilty.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lula sighed, “it’s our fault for bringing you here. We’re fucking idiots. Besides he is—Julia I swear to god, he is there.” Lula raised her hand and Julia quickly pulled it down.

Julia bit her lip, “I—hadn’t realized how much Tom there is here.”

“Yeah.”

“He called me—“Matt had started.

“No, no, we can’t talk about him, baby,” Julia reminded him. Matt widened his eyes and nodded.

You blinked, “no, it’s—He called you? Tom?” Why had Tom called Matty? What for?

“Yeah, had a missed call,” Matt explained, ignoring his girlfriend. “I—it was this morning.”

You felt your chest twist. “Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”

Perhaps he wanted to talk to you and thought Matty was dumb enough to give you the phone.

Julia glared at Matt. “We promised not to—“

“No, hey,” you stopped her. “I—sorry, I brought him up.”

“But we shouldn’t talk about him,” Julia insisted. “Tonight is all about having fun,” she stated as she handed everyone their shots.

“No, it’s alright,” you said. “I’m fine talking about it.”

Lula turned her gaze to you. “Shouldn’t you hate him?”

Were you supposed to hate someone who gave you something so beautiful? Just because it’s over doesn’t mean you have to look back and hate it.

“No,” you answered simply.

Matt watched you. “Wait, really?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m—I decided I’m thankful for everything. He really… I… I mean I knew from the start he was trouble. But he got me to get rid of Will. So I’m thankful for Tom. He showed me some beautiful things about him, about myself and… I’m thankful. Even the part when he broke my heart.”

It was a lie. Partly. You had been so full of doubts that you only tried wondering why it had gone so wrong. Or course, the lie was there. His lies. But how could any of it be a lie?

Julia smiled gently, “You’re really a grown up.”

“Or very stupid.” Lula commented.

“Thanks, Lula, I appreciate it,” you rolled your eyes. “I… well, I’ve gotta admit I was pretty stupid.”

Lula shrugged, “Hey, I don’t blame you, boy came in with an accent, he had a cute smile, he was hot, I must admit, and he wasn’t one of those Brooklyn fuckboys that take you to the rooftop and offer you a whiteclaw to watch the sunrise together,” Lula gave in.

“Oh, and they take candid pictures, and they say that their phone camera isn’t as good as their polaroid,” Julia laughed, “But hey, you’re lucky they took you to the rooftop, they never take anyone there, they took you there just because you’re…”

“Different,” Julia, Lula and you chanted.

Matt laughed, “You guys are the worst.”

“Anyway,” Lula said. “We should drink these,” she pointed at the shot glasses as she raised her own. “I came here to get drunk. So, to Y/N being thankful Tom was a piece of shit even when the boy had a dreamy accent?”

You closed your eyes, and let out a defeated dry chuckle. “Yes, to that.”

“To the piece of shit, then!” Lula grinned as the shots clinked and were downed. You instantly regretted drinking it.

Lula scowled as she had her eyes glued back at the bar, “It’s him, Julia, it’s him! What is he doing here? Pendejo, I swear to god I’ll go kill him.” She was furious, and you tried once again following her gaze.

The bar was crowded, red lights crossed around the place, with girls walking with tall heels, trying to smile and nod at guys who were talking to them but clearly were not of interest to them. Friends laughing, people flirting. You didn’t know who your friends were watching.

But the bar seemed to be enough of a reminder of him. How he had made you feel like crowds were never there, and how whenever you had been with him everything disappeared just to be with him.

“Who are we killing?” You questioned.

“Is new y/n a murderer?” Asked Matt. Matt and Julia were your oldest friends. The three of you grew up in Staten Island, and now moved to the crowded places.

Lula coughed. “Hope she is.” Lula, on the other hand, you’ve met in college, she was a very defined addition to the friend group. With more personality. A strong one. Lula, Julia and you shared a small apartment.

Julia cleared her throat.

“The fucking scarf,” Lula scowled.

“What scarf?” Matt asked. And you had the same question.

Julia whispered to her boyfriend’s ear who had turned cold. He lifted his head.

“But it’s not.”

“It is him,” Matt confirmed to Lula. “Jules, it is.”

And now your three friends were acting strange. Usually they did but this was strang-er. They all shared looks, Julia struggled with her hands.

They were watching you with pity but you’d gotten used to that. After the breakup they had been extra careful around you, kinder, you guessed.

Fools they were to believe that by not mentioning him you wouldn’t think of him. He was a memory that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“So, y/n,” Julia was clearly hiding whatever Lula was seeing.

“Wasn’t he in London? What in this fucking world is he doing here?” Lula continued.

“Shut up!” Julia ordered.

“London?” You asked and you lifted your head, and any noise that was bustling before had stopped.

Tom.

Tom was there.

Thomas.

Tom who had broken your heart. In every possible way that he could’ve. Like he had planned it. Like he was aware.

He was there, on a stool with a beer in his hand and wearing a red scarf. The red scarf. As if he was mocking you.

Tom.

Did he pride on hurting you?

He had always said you were invincible. That you were unrivaled in matters of the heart. Was he proud he had beaten the unbeaten?

You’d always thought he would.

When we love deeply, getting hurt comes as a given. But when we love deeply, we are never expecting it to come. And when it does come the skies cannot turn grayer. Funny thing, you were a fan of the rain but when the rain doesn’t cease, the hope doesn’t perdure.

But he was back in your life. Or at least he had been in the same room as you after months.

What was he doing back in New York with your scarf?

You turned back to your own table, breathing in quickly, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You saw your friends speaking but you couldn’t make a word of what they’re saying. Your heart was rushing. Thomas was there. Tom. Your Tom. And there was a part of you that had completely forgotten over the heartbreak and wanted to run to him.

Kiss him, try to fix it. Try to bring back the beautiful thing you both had. Because it was. And it hurt looking back.

You were having trouble breathing now, the heartbreak had come.

That’s the worst thing about heartbreak. You never saw it coming, though you should’ve. Though it was beautiful you’d known from the start you’d end up hurt. But when a lie is crafted so beautifully, how could you?

“It’s him.” The words had come in whispers.

You barely remembered what had happened next. You had only stood up, decisive to leave, you’d seen him try to walk his way to you. You’d heard him call your name, but you hadn’t turned back, you had seen Matty stop him from running to you.

It was blurry. You didn’t know how you got home. Desperately trying to understand why he was there and how the night had turned too badly.

Lula and Matt had come back later to find Julia trying to comfort you, hugging a pillow that you were sure he had slept on. Breathless.

But it was in the past now, you were there again. Same bar, both in stools far away.

You were almost sure he’d gone to that bar in hopes of finding you again.

Just like you’d gone again.

His eyes the night before were guilty. You only took a deep breath, you remembered trying to avoid his glance at any chance as you had walked out.

Why were you there again?

That feeling in your chest growing, like there was something heavy expanding. Yet your stomach falling smaller. The pain was but a shield, as if it was creating a special protection around your heart, and though it hurt it was enough for it to make your heart strong to leave the place.

You didn’t want to see Tom. You hadn’t talked to him since. Even when he’d tried to call. Even when you’d tried calling.

Not when you had replayed the breakup over and over and over again since he was gone.

Everyone deals with breakups in different ways. Yours, specifically, was avoiding it. Everything and everyone. Especially Tom.

It was hard when he was everywhere. In that tattoo he’d convinced you to get, in that ring he’d left, in that cereal box that you still hadn’t finished. Whenever you listened to a song he’d recommended. Whenever you’d open Netflix and that series you had started watching together was still recommended to you even when you’d deleted it.

Everywhere.

You couldn’t use your favorite colors because you could hear it, in the back of your head “I love how it looks on you.” “You should wear more blue, it suits you.”

Even your stupid laugh remind you of him. “Your laugh is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard, even if it’s so ugly.”

You missed the person you were when he was with you. How everything was happy. Who was that y/n? Who didn’t mind if she was slightly late to a place because he’d come with you? Who didn’t feel alone at parties when she knew nobody because you knew him?

A y/n that existed only for a short period of time when he’d been around and that he’d shattered like glass when he had the chance.

You missed that y/n.

The y/n that would sometimes lose her breath and catch it back when he walked into the room. A y/n that sang along to her favorite songs all day. The one that would give her heart in a rush to him. The one that watched movies no matter if they were good or not.

Life had colors back then.

Now you were full of regrets and of doubts. Wondering what you had done wrong? Where did it lead you?

You looked up at him then. He was staring down at his glass.

There was a slight trace of him still there, the Tom you once loved. The one with the silly smile and the gentle chuckle, the one with the jokes about everything.

You wondered how much of that y/n he saw too.

You were the same two people, in essence. But how different you were now.

The Tom you knew before finding out it was a lie.

There was still a hint. You knew. But there was so much of him in you that it was hard to see if you still were there. Or the Tom you thought you knew. Not the one with the lie. Or maybe this was the truest Tom he could ever be.

He had to move on, rather quickly, you recalled. If he ever did.

There was a stupid reminder of you in his hand, that red scarf from the very first day.

You still remembered how it all started, a stupid red scarf. He kept it, then, and he wore it.

You had ordered a beer, too. You pocketed the cap again.

But there was an image in your mind, maybe he had gone back and probably had his arm around her and he laughed at a joke she made. Maybe she was funnier than you. Definitely prettier, with her hair falling down all the way to her waist, her clothing accentuating everything you didn’t have.

You recalled having to leave the room when you found out. You had been a mess.

Leaning against a wall as you caught your breath before the tears came down, as if he had pierced right through it. A pain chest that had expanded all the way on your body, not sure how you were able to keep walking back to your place. Falling down to your knees when you did.

Pain. Words failed to describe such a deep sentiment.

But it was gone now. Not entirely but at least you could hold your breath fine when he was just across the room.

What went wrong?

You could ask him. He was right there.

Maybe even tell him how you had lost sight. He hadn’t walked up to you. He was nervous, but he seemed calm enough to see you were there. You were still unsure why you had gone there.

Maybe all the good things were enough to bring you there, maybe the fact that you still didn’t believe it was a lie brought you there. Maybe the fact that one of those pictures from that photobooth was still in a locket. So stupid.

He fiddled with the glass.

You waited and waited but he didn’t approach you. He took out a paper out of his pocket as he stared at it.

You wouldn’t approach him. No matter how happy he had made you once, you wouldn’t walk to him. No matter how beautiful it was. No matter if you were lonely and that when you dared to sleep he’d be haunting your dreams.

It was a tragedy now. What you both were, and not even worth enough to try and save it. You knew you were haunting him too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

He was shakin, as he stared at you, nervous. He downed his drink, you guessed it was for some liquid courage and stood up, with the note in one hand and your red scarf in the other.

Your own courage for coming here was gone, as you saw his intentions, the urge to run you had the night before was becoming you. But he couldn’t walk. He had to sit down again, rubbing his face.

The courage that had come when choosing what Lula called the ‘revenge black dress’ was nowhere in sight. You were cold and regretting putting it on.

“I can’t do this,” you said to yourself and quickly let out some dollars to pay for your drink before picking up your stuff to leave.

You saw he panicked when he saw you leaving, he quickly called the bartender to pay for his drink.

You closed your coat as you were shaking yourself, punishing yourself for going there. Why had you gone there? The man had broken your heart? Were you really there to see him?

Was your heart foolish enough to ignore the warnings in your mind once again?

You walked your way to get to the subway station, how irrelevant you were through the crowds. You hadn’t felt this way for a while, caring for the crowds. But you had to get through them. There was a part of you that wished Tom was following you after. But the crowds didn’t let you see if he was.

Besides, you shouldn’t want that.

You finally managed to get to the station, you clung to your purse as you stared at the tracks, waiting for the next train to come. Peaceful it seemed, the station. As peaceful as New York could be. You guessed if you cried nobody would care.

“y/n!” You heard your name in the distance and you couldn’t handle it.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, angrily. Why had you gone? You could’ve easily kept ignoring his calls. You could’ve stayed in your apartment, crying as you watched SNL videos on youtube, or rewatching a cartoon for the hundredth time, letting your own sadness and self pity swallow you.

But you had gone to him. This was your fault. You should’ve taken a cab, instead, he would know you’d get at this station and he for sure would know what train you’d take.

“y/n, y/n!” He kept calling as he finally arrived next to you. “Sorry I would’ve gotten here faster but the damn MetroCard-”

“I’m not doing this, Tom,” you stated before he could go on rambling like the idiot he was. You couldn’t do it. “Not here, not anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“I…” His face was kind, and he seemed to be nervous. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping, probably the jet lag.

You took a moment to look at him, he didn’t look as victorious as you had thought he was. His hair was messy, and his cheeks flushed, the buttons on his shirt were not buttoned right.

Seeing him again, with that signature look he had made you want to go down to your knees.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back in London?” You snapped. “With that pretty girl-”

“No, no, I’m-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I was an idiot.”

You stared into his eyes, you were not ready for this. You were not ready to look into his stupid eyes. You looked away. “That’s all you have to say?” You tried walking away from him..

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I… No, I actually… I had this… I wrote down my apology,” Tom confessed. He showed you a sad, handwritten paper, now slightly teared up with the ink running. “I… I had….”

You looked down at it, his messy handwriting, crinkled with words scratched down. “You wrote it down?”

You didn’t know why you felt your heart warm. This kind of stuff was why you couldn’t understand what had happened. Someone like him, who writes his apologies down. Someone who stutters when he’s speaking.

“Yeah, I… but I spilled my drink on it after seeing you fled,” He explained, swallowing hard. “I… I… I had written it down so I wouldn’t forget it but now I realize how stupid that is… I’m… I’m really sorry, y/n.” .

You could hear the train coming. You were seeing him again. It hit you right there. And this was not the reaction you thought. You had said you would be delusional, crying and fighting and questioning him why the fuck he had done that.

Yet you weren’t. You were only watching him, eyes full of tears wanting to slide down but unable to. But there was that pain still in your chest.

How could he ever dare to hurt you that way? “I don’t want to talk to you,” you said. And meant it. “Please leave me alone.” You said before walking into the train.

“Y/N, please, no, please, please, listen to me,” He followed you in, the scarf still in his hand.

You tried sitting as far away as you could. Arms and legs crossed as you tried breathing in.

He sat beside you and you changed seats. He sighed but followed you again. “Please, I need to talk to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” you snapped. “You did, and now you come here a month later with a handwritten note apology thinking I will be fine with it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had to solve-Please, would you listen?” Tom asked, knowing damn well he had to ask, and not just straight up blurt it out.

“Why would I, Tom?” You turned to him, with a tear traveling down your cheek. You were incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? I… You… You think that just because you show up with that stupid face of yours and my scarf I’ll want to listen to you? You’re an idiot.”

He sighed and reached to give you the scarf. You ignored it.You were furious now.

The other people on the train were certainly getting a show. A guy with a backpack was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening but his reactions were giving it away. Another woman pretended to keep reading her book but she hadn’t turned any pages.

Tom took the scarf back staring at it. “I need to explain everything to you.”

“What if I don’t want an explanation?” You snapped. Though you did. You had been waiting for one, you wanted one. You would beg for it. But your pride was taking the wheel of the conversation. “Don’t you think it’s fucking late for it?”

“Is it?” Tom turned back to you.

“Yes!” You couldn’t believe him. But this seemed a bit too familiar of a conversation. “And beside no explanation would make me forgive you!” You stated, whispering, not wanting any of the attention you were receiving.

“I’m not… I… If you just listen to me,” Tom said.

You glared, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why did you come to the bar?” He asked.

He fucking asked.

Your eyes widened. He had gone there. He knew. He fucking knew you’d gone back because you wanted an explanation. Or so he thought. No, you’d gone back because… Yes, because you wanted an explanation. Because everything he’d done had been beautiful. Until the heartbreak. He had crafted and vexed his way into your cold stupid heart and then he had gone and pierced right through it, crushed it.

You wanted to ask why. Why did he do it so vehemently?

You didn’t answer, instead you moved one seat away. He kept his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t want an explanation,” he said. “Or to see me, at least. I know I did, I needed to see you.”

You saw the guy with the backpack purse his lips, knowing that Tom had got you. There was little context for them. The girl with the book directed a glance to you, trying to read your emotions.

If they knew, they’d be on your side and yelling at him as well.

He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

“I didn’t, it was a coincidence,” you answered coldly.

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” Tom scoffed and then sat up. “No, I’m… No, but you know, you went to the bar for a reason.”

“And I left for a million more,” you frowned.

Tom pursed his lips and took out the paper again, trying to make out whatever he’d written before. “I’m really sorry.” His eyes traced through the note.

“Are you genuinely trying to read it? Don’t you know what you’re supposed to apologize for?”

Tom looked up, “So you do want me to apologize?”

The guy with the backpack squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Tom had fucked up.

“You’re kidding, right? Yes, you have to apologize, what you did is really, really shitty!” You pointed out.

“But you won’t forgive me, then?” Tom watched you.

“I don’t know,” you said and he looked up, a beaming gaze. “No, I won’t.”

He wrinkled his eyes, “I… I know I’m supposed to apologize, not to expect you to forgive. I'm just…”

He gulped, and then sat back, staring at the dirty walls and lights. He had dressed up. Badly, but he had tried looking good, you could tell. You could smell his lotion, too.

He was fiddling with the paper, crumpling up and then it fell to the floor. You looked at it and somehow related to it, not sure how.

You took a deep breath so you wouldn’t kill him and turned to him. “I have questions for you, if you answer them I might consider listening to you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, yes, anything.”

You eyed him up and down as he watched you with begging eyes. You avoided his gaze. Tom followed your gaze as you tried to figure out what was the first thing you could ask him. Why had he hurt you?

Why did he not stop and think before making you fall in love with him?

Why did he not stop and tell you the truth?

“Where are you staying?” You asked,

Tom blinked. “Is that… is that the question?”

“No, but I know you don’t know how to fucking get anywhere,” you said.

Tom gulped, “I… uh, again with Harrison,” he explained.

You sighed. You remembered Harrison alright. And though there was a petty part inside you, you would help him out. Knowing he’d always get lost in the city. Though you could let him get lost, so you’d have to go after him and spend a bit more time. With an excuse, because you didn’t seem to have any excuse to be with him.

It hurt. What hurt the most was trying not to look back at the incredible moments you had because none of them were true.

You sighed. “Okay, when we get down you’ll take the F train—“

Tom stopped you, taking your hand. “No, wait, I don’t care if I get lost, okay, I… I just.”

You snatched your hand away from his cold hands he had. You darkened your gaze at him.

“Please, Y/n, I just need a chance. If you don’t want to listen… maybe I’ll just…” He handed you the note.

You crossed your arms, and tapped your foot, trying to decide whether or not to give it to him. “Fine,” you took the note.

You've gotten to your stop. So you stood up.

The girl with the book and the guy with the backpack watched you both as you walked out, pitying they couldn’t follow the drama.

Tom followed after you, he licked his lips. “You… you had questions, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, taking yet another heavy breath. You turned on your feet to look at him “One, did you lie to me?”

Tom was taken back by this, his eyes, consternated, only watched you. He gulped. “What?”

“Did you lie to me?

“I… well.”

You were getting desperate. “Did you ?”

“I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. You knew he wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have ever lied about how he felt because you knew he had felt it too, a bit, at least,

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I mean it, I…” Tom gulped. “I really liked you.”

“Yeah, I know, you liked me yadda, yadda,” you started. Liked not loved. “Cut the bullshit for once, did you or did you not lie to me?”

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes. But I had feelings for you.”

You bit your inner cheeks. “Uh-huh, yes, okay, good, yes, you acknowledge it. So, we have two statements here, Tom. You say you had feelings yet you lied to me,” you squinted. “Sounds-”

Tom gulped and avoided your gaze. “I know yes,” he looked down. “But, if you give me-”

“Ah, buh-buh, nope, I’m just gathering my thoughts here,” you coughed. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you felt.”

Tom shook his head in confusion. “I—I’m”

“Go on,” you motioned your hand.

“Y/N,” he said. And the way he dared to say your name was like having a knife right through you. “I had—I have feelings for you,” he said looking right into your eyes.

He didn’t say what feelings.

You were not sure where you wanted to go with this. “Fine, my next question…” you really didn’t know where this was going. “So, alright, you…” You couldn’t even phrase it. “You… made me fall in love with you knowing….Well, we both know what you did. What you hid from me. You’re a liar who made me—“

Tom took a deep breath. “Yes, but I didn’t… plan that.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, so it’s my fault?” You stepped back. “Sorry for developing feelings for you. Sorry for ruining your life—“

Tom closed his eyes, “No, no, look, I… wasn’t. I didn’t come here expecting to meet you, I didn’t want… It just happened, okay, I never thought—You're making it sound like it’s some big master plan. I—I never planned—I never would’ve ever planned on hurting you.”

You watched him, incredulous. “Thomas you do realize what you did to me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t! You’re trying to make me seem like I’m crazy for not even wanting to talk to you!” You called him out.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if you’re here—you must miss it too, you know it was too real, and you want it back, possibly—M-maybe not, but if you came to the bar tonight it was in hopes of finding me again because you knew I’d be there, and you want to feel how you felt before, and i just… you know I miss it and that you knew I didn’t lie—“

You glared at him. “You did lie!”

“Okay—yes, yes I did—But not entirely, I just happened to omit one truth—“

“One very important truth,” you snarked.

“Fine but—please listen,” he tried to convince you. “and I’m sorry, okay? I—I didn’t want to hurt you. But I never planned this. It just happened. I didn’t come here expecting to fall in love with anyone, I didn’t come here trying to date, and I never expected it to be someone as complex—“

“Complex?”

“Yes, I never came to New York trying to find the most mental relationship I’ve ever had—“

“Mental?” You snapped.

“Yes! I love you but you’re fucking crazy! And I am too! I’m fucking crazy and mental but I—I—I loved being crazy and mental with you! We are fucking mental! Driving to nowhere? Breaking into places? Getting a jukebox on the subway? That’s mental! But—but I love that about you, alright? Don’t you get it? I could’ve stayed in London, I could've been the asshole who just ditched you and lied to you—“

You scoffed. “Well that’s comforting!”

“But I’m—I’m here, ain’t I? And I know I fucked up, I know, I accept that, I’m the asshole here, and I know you’ll never—I hid it from you because I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even get it myself. I’m here to give you my version of it. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you…I am…,I am in love with you, and I never planned that, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. I may have thought it was just—Some fling, initially.”

You laughed cynically. “A fling.”

He gulped. “And the moment I realized what was really going on—”

“You left, that’s what you fucking did, when you realized it was way too real for you, you destroyed the one real thing you’ve ever known,” you barked, he stepped back. “I fell in love with you, I—I—and then you ditched me, and I thought that was the worst thing you could ever do to me but then I realized that it wasn’t real! I—you were never mine, Tom! I simply was—a break you needed or—a fling.”

“It wasn’t that—“

You watched him. Looking so innocent, kind eyes and tender lips. You would’ve believed him had he come before.

“You used me!” You snapped, the words that had wanted to come for a while just blurted out. “I just can’t believe you,” you said. “You don’t feel sorry.” You shook your head, your voice was cracking. “You're not sorry because you don’t understand. You don’t know what I went through, and if you had come earlier, if you hadn’t left me, I probably would have believed you. But—No! No!” You stepped back. “No!”

“I did call! You never picked up the phone! I tried—“Tom started.

“Was I really expected to pick it up? Let’s get back to it. Shall we? The facts. Did you or did you not date me? And made me fall in love with you?”

Tom sighed. “I—yes.”

“Did you lie?”

“…yes.”

You nodded. “Was I the other one?”

Tom squinted his eyes. “No… yes, no.”

You took a deep breath. “Did you leave me without an explanation?”

Tom looked down. “I did.”

“Did you ditch me?”

Tom looked everywhere and nowhere. “Yes,” he answered, defeated.

“Now, do you think I can ever forgive you?”

Tom didn’t answer.

You reached for your purse, for the locket that dug deep inside. “I don’t know you,” you stated giving him the locket, the stupid locket you’d bought as a joke when making fun of other couples and now laughed in your face. “Whatever happened means nothing. Because that’s the thing Tom. Everything we lived was a lie, those two people in the locket are not us, because you weren’t who you said you were, no matter how much I loved it, it’s not true and though it was too many emotions all at once I’m—It’s not real, not for you. I spent this whole time thinking I wanted you to apologize but I don’t want it. That charming guy wasn’t truly you because you omitted one very important thing. You—What were you thinking? Were you planning to never say it? Or did you plan it like that? Just ditching me, hoping I wouldn’t find out—“

Tom took a deep breath. “No—No, I didn’t. I just—-I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you and I should’ve fixed it before—-“

“No, no you didn’t because it wasn’t enough for you.”

Tom gulped, “It was, it was—-the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“And you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How little words mean when you’re a little too late, huh?” And that was the cue you needed to walk away. He silently watched you as you tried not to cry.

“I’m really sorry.” He said.

Was he?

“What if I try to prove it to you?” He asked as you were steps away from him.

You didn’t stop.

“If we go over this, you’ll see I never lied about it.” He continued.

“I already went over it, I remember everything, Tom, and maybe that’s why I don't want to talk to you.”

Tom walked behind, slowly. “I just happened to be very unlucky when it came to my own circumstances,” he reached over. “And I wish the timing had been better. But you’re right, it’s the one real thing I’ve ever had and I lost it because I hid something in fear of losing you. I lied because it was too good to be true. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me but I think you deserve to know why. But you went to the bar for a reason, and you had the locket for another.”

You stopped this time. Looking down at the floor and then at his hand, holding your stupid scarf. You shook your head, you really didn’t want to go through it all over again.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” he stated. “But I can’t let you go. You’re everywhere. And I miss the person I was when you were around, and I won’t stop fighting because you’re everywhere. Dreams, nightmares.”

Funny. You were his demons too.

“Am I haunting your nightmares?” You asked. Tom only watched you.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just need—I really need you to listen to my version.”

“Fine then, let’s go down this sad, beautiful tragic love affair.”

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it.

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went?

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him.

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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feralthoughtdump · 3 years

Text

The Kind of Love I’ve Been Dreaming Of

Based on the music video for Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

CW: smut, a little bit of playing with fire, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (remember, always wear protection, Loki being a little bit manipulative???

Word Count: 2.3k

It was common knowledge that cats enjoyed playing with their food before they eat and right now, it was clear that Loki was the cat, and she… well, she was the food.

To an outsider, maybe someone who knew little about Loki and the girl seated across from him, the scene was set like a fancy dinner date.

And in a way, it was. The tables were set with an array of dishes. Gold goblets filled with wine, and candles illuminated the room in a warm glow.

She looks regal in the emerald green gown. The elaborate gold embroidery glitters under the candlelight and the long bell sleeves drape elegantly against her forearms.

Loki’s quite proud of himself for choosing that gown. It was exquisite, truly a stunning piece.

It was a picture-perfect romantic dinner.

But of course, because Loki was well… Loki, he wanted to have some fun beforehand. He wanted to play a little game.

The rules were simple. If the match hits him, she wins.

And so far, she was far from winning.

So needless to say, a grin was stretched wide across his face as he stares at her brows furrow in frustration.

“This is impossible.” She huffs, flicking the match against the box.

The little flame flickers and disappears as the match lands a foot away from him.

“No,” He chuckles. “You just aren’t doing it right.”

She crosses her arms and stares daggers into him.

“Then why don’t you give me a hint?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

She scoffs.

“Why not?”

He raises his arms.

“Well, that’ll take the fun out of it!”

There’s a pang of slight annoyance in her tone.

“It’ll take the fun out of it for you. As of this moment, I’m not having any fun.”

It was such a simple game yet it was difficult. And the long, heavy sleeves of her gown do little to help.

She sets the box of matches on the table.

“You said if I hit you with the match, I’ll win. What exactly am I winning?”

He leans forward, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That’s for you to find out. After you win.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs.

“How am I supposed to claim my prize if I’m playing a game I can’t win? You know what? I’m not playing anymore. I don’t care about the prize.”

As she gets up, she feels invisible hands tug her back into the chair.

“Now, now, pet,” his voice is silvery, “don’t go running off now.”

“Loki,” her eyes widen as her fingers dance along the edge of the table “stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He chuckles, sitting still in his seat.

It was like she was a puppet. Twisting and contorting her body into some strange dance.

“Yes, you are!”

Her back arches against the table and her eyes meet Loki’s. He stares down at her with mischief in his eyes.

For a brief moment, his gaze and the low timbre of his voice ignited a fire within her abdomen. But it’s quickly dashed with a flick of his hand.

She’s sent back into her chair, head nearly slamming into the wood.

“Gods,” She groans. “I hate it when you do that.”

Loki laughs.

“Then stay seated and keep playing.”

“I told you, I’m done playing.”

“Oh, pet, you give up so easily, even when you’re playing a simple game.”

She scowls. The whole “game” was bordering on pure irritation for her.

“It’s not that simple when it’s near impossible to flick-“

She’s been playing it all wrong.

Loki had said that as long as the match hits him, she wins. However, he never said how the match had to hit him. Flicking the match was never a requirement.

She had simply assumed that she was supposed to flick the match at him.

So with a quick hand, she ignites the match and simply tosses it at him.

Her skin glows gold as the figure burns in front of her, engulfed in flames.

“Congratulations.” His voice rings from behind her. “You’ve won.”

The figure dissolves, revealing that his seat was empty the whole time.

Sneaky bastard.

Her head whips around, eyes landing on the god.

“So I wasn’t even playing with the real Loki?”

His long legs stride towards her, footsteps echoing through the room.

“Do you think I would sit there and let you throw matches at me?” He places a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look at him.

“I guess not.”

He walks around the table and sits in the empty chair. He beckons her with a crook of his finger.

She’s about to stand when Loki shakes his head.

“There’s a space between us. Crawl.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Are you being serious?”

“I am. Now, crawl.”

She slowly shifts, placing a knee on the table. Before she can say anything else, she feels her limbs move. His invisible strings manipulate her body and pull her towards him.

She doesn’t fight it. Sure, it scared her, him taking control over her body, but at the same time, it excited her.

When she reaches him, he places a firm hand on her back, helping her into his lap, thighs straddling his.

“Now, it’s time for you to claim your prize.”

His fingers move the dark silk around her thighs, letting the fabric bunch around her hips and exposing her bare cunt to the cool air.

She noses at his jaw, placing a kiss next to his ear. Her lips trail kisses down his cheekbone and to his lips.

“But we haven’t eaten yet.” She murmurs. “And those strawberries look really fresh.”

He captures her lips with fervor.

“You’re right, but there’s something else I want to-“

She places her arms on his shoulders and pushes back. “I want to eat at least something.” She bats her eyelashes at him. “Please?”

Loki gives her a sugary grin. “Alright, my love.”

The strawberry he brings to her lips is sweet. As the juice dribbles past her lower lip, he gently wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

She parts her lips and uses her tongue to draw his thumb into her mouth.

“You are insatiable,” He chuckles, pushing his thumb deeper into her mouth.

She sucks on the digit, lapping at the last of the juice. A burning desire swims through her veins, replacing her appetite for food with something more lustful.

His thumb is pulled from her lips with a pop and she can feel Loki stiffen underneath her.

She slowly grinds herself down on his clothed erection. The leather of his pants feels good against her cunt, making her wetter than she already is.

A needy gasp leaves her lips when he bites her neck, sucking a dark mark right above her collarbone.

It was a sign of ownership. A sign that she was his.

“Now,” he skims his teeth against the sensitive skin, making her yelp. “All of Asgard will know you’re mine.”

There’s a gentle tug on her hair and she tilts her head back. Loki takes this as an opportunity to let his saliva fall into her open mouth. She swallows it with blissed-out eyes and a grin on her face.

“Look at you.” He moves his hand to caress the length of her neck. “So pretty. So perfect.”

She hums, head thrown back, reveling in his soft touch.

“You flatter me.”

He playfully nips at her collarbone, smiling at her sweet giggle.

“It’s not flattery if what I’m saying is true.”

She pulls herself closer to him and presses her lips to his.

It’s ravenous, hungry, and fiery with clashing teeth and bitten lips.

“Loki” she pants, “I need you. I need you now.”

With desperate hands, they work in tandem to pull his leather pants past his hips.

She reaches down to wrap her fingers around his cock, feeling it stiffen in her hand.

He hisses when she runs her finger over the tip.

Loki runs his palm up her thigh, fingers ghosting over her core.

She squirms in his lap as he pushes a finger past her folds.

“Stay still.” He murmurs. “Keep stroking my cock.”

She gulps and pumps her hand up and down, drawing groans from his mouth.

Loki pushes another finger inside of her, releasing a whimper from her.

He pauses, eyes widening slightly with concern.

“Did I hurt you?” He gently asks.

“No.” She gasps. “It feels good. Keep going.”

Loki grins and crooks his fingers upward.

“Look at that.” His other hand reaches behind her head, forcing her to look down at his fingers. “So wet already.”

He removes his fingers from inside of her and places a firm hold on her hips, her pussy hovering over his hard cock.

A whine slips past her lips as she lowers herself onto him.

The stretch burns and tears prick at her eyes.

“Come on, love.” He rubs his thumb against her jugular. “I know you can take it.”

A loud gasp leaves her lips as he pulls her down, spearing her onto his cock.

She grabs onto the golden horns of his helmet so she doesn’t fall, knuckles slowly turning white.

Slowly, she lifts herself using his helmet for support and lowers herself back down.

“You like the horns, don’t you, pet?” He teases.

She gives him a desperate whine and is met with a tightened grip on her throat.

“I want a verbal answer, darling.” He seethes.

“Yes.” She whines. “I like the horns.”

He releases his hold on her neck and sits back, watching her pull herself up and sink back down.

Every thrust of his hips sends shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through her body, and she can feel herself wanting more. More of him. She wanted to be closer.

A hand releases its grip from the helmet, grabbing onto the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. They pant into each other’s mouths through bitten lips and needy whines and gasps.

His grip on her tightens as he cums, throwing his head back and groaning. It brings her closer to the edge, but the feeling of his warm cum painting her walls wasn’t enough to bring her to an orgasm.

But Loki is far from finished. He pulls out and she whines, desperation coursing through her veins.

She’s left shaking, face flushed, and chest heaving as his cum trickles down her thighs.

His eyes light up in a way that only means one thing: he has an idea.

Excitement and dread fill her mind. What sick and twisted idea did he have in mind? To edge her to the point of tears, or to make her cum over and over again until her brain was mush?

She watches with bitten lips and wide eyes as he stands, leaving her in the chair.

“Loki, what-“

“Hush, my love.” He slowly takes his helmet off and places it atop her head. “Beautiful.”

He sinks to his knees, large hands spreading her thighs. A groan leaves his lips at the sight.

“Loki-“

Her words are cut off when he licks a stripe up her folds. He grabs her thighs, the pads of his fingers digging into her skin, and pulls her towards him. Her knees are placed on his shoulders, allowing him to dive deeper.

From the view between her thighs, Loki thinks she’s beautiful, especially with his helmet. He’ll have to find one for her afterward.

She’s divine, someone meant to sit on a throne. Someone meant to be queen. His queen.

He’s always discussed the day of his coronation to her, picturing how people will kneel before him. But for her, he’d kneel for her any day of the week.

“Gods,” he murmurs against her thigh, “you’d look good on a throne.”

“Uh-huh.” she gasps, ignoring his words. “please, just shut up and stop teasing.”

Loki hums against her pussy.

“Of course, your majesty.”

A loud moan reverberates through the room as he continues licking into her, soaking his face with her wetness and his cum.

“Fuck!” She gasps, threading her fingers through his hair.

At this very moment, as he is drawing desperate sobs from her throat, he decides that he will make her queen.

When he ascends to the throne, he’ll make sure there is one for her, all grand and gold.

One of her hands grips onto one of the armrests and the other works its way into his hair, pulling his face closer to her. He deepens his ministrations and she lets out a strangled moan, pleasure coursing through her body.

The intricate beading on her sleeves scratches at his face but he pays no mind to that. All he can focus on is how sweet she tasted against his tongue. Like the bowl of strawberries left abandoned on the dining table.

She throws her head back, the heavy headpiece sliding down her forehead, obscuring her vision. Her hand quickly adjusts it so she can continue to admire the view from above.

The prince has his eyes closed, cheeks, still flushed from his orgasm, pressed against her soft thighs.

The sight sends her falling over the edge. She cums with gaspy breaths and loud moans. It’s music to his ears.

As he stands from his position between her legs, she looks up at him with lust-glazed eyes.

He bends over to grab her chin, pulling her in for another kiss, the taste of her orgasm fresh on her tongue.

“Bless that silver tongue of yours.” She grins.

“You are the one who blessed it.” He gives her a cheeky smile, swooping her into his arms.

“Don’t be vulgar.” She wraps her arms around his neck as he sits back in his chair. “Plus, I believe we still have to eat dinner.”

He laughs and presses a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Oh, darling, I’ve already eaten.”

#loki #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

Thank you for brightening my day with your stories. I always look forward to checking out your blog. Here's a prompt for you: S10 and 11, but Fiona is there and never left Chicago. How does the story change? Does she calm things down or cause more chaos? How does she get along with newer characters Tami (who she only knew a little) and Sandy? How does she react to Frank's dementia and death? Does she use her landlord skills and make Lip sign a damn lease before renting on a handshake deal?!

There's so much potential with this, but I just picked a few short scenes from season 11 to try and get a vibe!

“He can’t just kick you guys out,” Fiona insisted, following Lip through the house. He skirted the edge of the sofa on his way to the kitchen, and she almost ran into it. Only years of muscle memory and navigating her home in the dark—unpaid electric bills, drunken stupors, trying not to wake up the kids—kept her from banging her hip against the arm.

“He can,” Lip argued, passing through to the next room, “and he did.” He opened the fridge, looked at the beer cans inside. Closed it again, and got a glass of water from the tap instead.

“Sold it right out from under us,” he said bitterly into the glass. “New owners want us out before they close.

Fiona watched him take a sip, make a face and swallow it. Then she slapped the back of his head, hard, and grabbed the water before he could drop it.

“Listen to me,” she ordered as he scowled, rubbing the injury. She leaned down to get on the same level, face to disgruntled face. “I was a landlord, remember?”

“Not a very good one,” Lip muttered, and flinched back when she raised her hand again. She lowered it when he put his own up in surrender.

“I was a landlord,” she repeated, then paused, lips twisting. “And one of the reasons I’m not anymore is cause of a family of squatters I couldn’t get rid of.”

“And?” Lip asked, eyebrows raised. “The fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” she said dryly, then, “If it was that easy to kick somebody out, don’t you think I would’ve done it?”

Lip frowned.

“I mean, sure,” he said slowly, working through the thought. “But we don’t even have a lease.”

“Neither did they, that’s for damn sure,” Fiona grumbled. She turned to lean back against the counter next to him, shoulder to broad shoulder. Both had held enough wait for a lifetime.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him. “That you don’t have a lease, I mean.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“The eviction process isn’t as quick as people think.”

Lip’s brow furrowed as he glanced up at her.

“Are you…” Lip trailed off, started again. “Are you telling me to make him take us to court?”

Fiona smiled.

I’m telling you you might as well fight for it,” she said. “You’re broke anyway; what have you got to lose?”

---

“Can you believe her?” Debbie spit out, slamming the cabinet door shut. She stood, holding a box of cake mix, and set it down so hard on the counter that Fiona’s drink almost tipped over.

“Believe what?” Fiona asked, scooting back just in case. “That she left?”

Debbie glared.

“No, not that,” she said. “I told her to leave, remember?”

“What then?” Fiona took a sip of her beer, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter once she deemed it safe again.

“That she just abandoned her kid,” Debbie said. “Left him all alone, no mother, no nothing, just so she could go live a little.”

Oh. Fiona frowned.

“Debs…” she stared, swirling the dregs of beer left in the bottom of the bottle. She looked back up at her sister, down again to shield herself from the heat Debbie let off.

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“How can you say that?” Debbie asked, loud, angry. “You of all people know what it’s like to be…to be abandoned!”

Debbie bent down to grab a heavy metal bowl, slammed that down, too. The sound echoed, ringing through the quiet room. By the time it faded, she had too.

“It’s not the same, is it?” Debbie asked quietly, and Fiona shook her head.

“No,” she answered, just as soft. “No, it’s not.”

“Guess I should talk to her,” Debbie whispered, flat. Defeated.

“Probably,” Fiona agreed, then stood.

“Spend some time with Franny, first,” she suggested on her way toward the stairs, looking back in time to meet Debbie’s eyes as she lifted them.

“You’ve done a good job with her, you know,” Fiona said, and smiled. “I’m really proud of you”

And then she walked up the steps, and left Debbie to her thoughts.

---

“What—Mickey?” Fiona asked, passing her brother’s husband in the doorway. He was scowling, shoulders squared, stomping through the door and outside.

“You’re brother’s an asshole,” he answered shortly, and then he was gone.

Fiona watched him go. Then she went straight through the house, and out the back door, to where she knew Ian waited.

Sure enough, the door opened onto his stiff back, and she slipped out without a word. Sat down next to him, there on the stairs, and stole the cigarette from his hand.

“Thought you were trying to be healthier,” she asked, taking a long drag.

He reached for it, and she passed it back, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, well,” he said, just staring at the glowing end of the stick. “Not much point in that if I can’t even afford to pay the bills next month.”

That again. Fiona sighed.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” she tried, but Ian waved her off before she could finish.

“We’d be better if he’d get a damn job.”

Fiona nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “we might be.” The filter of the cigarette was burning low, close to Ian’s fingers, so she took it again and threw it under her shoe.

“But are you willing to give everything up on a maybe?”

Ian looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaned into him. He was as tall as her, now, and her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder.

“You’ve got the closest thing to happiness any of us have ever seen,” she said, looking out over the yard. She picked absently at the step she sat on, prying up thin splinters and smoothing them back down again.

“Maybe you should just let yourself have it, for a while.”

Ian was silent. But he reached an arm up around her back, let her in closer. Rested his chin on her head.

“You think so?” he finally asked, so quiet she barely heard it.

She rested a hand on his knee, squeezed it. Breathed out.

“I really do.”

---

“Oh my god, Liam, where have you been?”

Fiona was on him the moment he got through the door, long arms scooping him into a hug so tight she grunted with the effort.

“I was so worried,” she said, pulling back, hands gently but firm as they found his face. “You can’t just disappear like that, Liam, I sent everyone out to look for you hours ago!”

“You noticed?” Liam asked, his young face scrunched, and Fiona shook him, then folded him back into her arms.

“Of course I noticed, you little asshole,” she muttered into his hair, pressing her cheek against springy strands. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Liam shrugged, his shoulders barely moving in her tight embrace.

“Everybody is so busy,” he said. “Trying to figure stuff out.”

“So?” Fiona asked, still holding him, hands smoothing down the back of his hand-me-down shirt. “Why does that mean you get to wander off without telling me?”

“Gotta figure out my stuff too, don’t I?” he answered, quiet, sad, and Fiona let go of him to crouch down. She looked him in the eyes, brushing a hand over his soft hair, and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You’re a kid,” she said firmly. “What do you need to figure out that you can’t come to me for?”

“Where to live, for one,” Liam said, looking away, and Fiona frowned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’ll come live with me.”

His eyes widened, and she hesitated.

“Do you…” She paused, swallowed. “Do you not want that?”

Liam just blinked. Then smiled, bright and relieved, and buried his head down on her shoulder in all the answer she needed.

---

“Hey, You okay?” Fiona asked, coming up behind Carl where he stood staring at Frank’s ashes on the mantel. She put a hand up on his shoulder, rubbed once, twice.

“Course I am,” Carl answered, all swagger and false confidence. “Frank was an asshole.”

Fiona hummed.

“He was,” she agreed. “But he was our asshole. And I know you two used to be close.”

“Nobody was close to Frank,” Carl muttered bitterly. “They just thought they were.”

A beat passed, tense, quiet. Then Carl’s shoulders sagged.

“Not like he was the same Frank anymore, anyway,” he said softly.

Fiona stepped closer, a warm presence at his side.

“Does that make it easier?” she asked. “Or harder?”

Carl shrugged.

“Neither, I don’t think,” he answered, then his face scrunched, the way it used to when his brothers made him think to hard. “Just feel like it’s wrong to still be mad at him, you know? He didn’t even remember all the shit he did, at the end.”

Fiona looked at him, and smiled sadly.

“That’s okay,” she said simply. “I’m still mad, too.”

After another moment, she leaned in, kissed the side of his head.

“Time to get to work though,” she said, “we can be as maudlin as you like when you get back.”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked, following her into the kitchen, and she laughed as she dug his packed lunch out from the back of the fridge.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, “but right now, work mister!”

Carl accepted the answer, and his lunch. Then, as Fiona grabbed her keys off the counter, the ones to her new SUV, he said, “I’m thinking of quitting, you know.”

Fiona didn’t hesitate, shoving him toward the door.

“That’s fine,” she said, slamming it shut behind them. “But until them, no brother of mine is going to be late!”

#daily speedwrite #shameless #fanfic #fiona gallagher #lip gallagher #debbie gallagher #ian gallagher #liam gallagher #gallagher family dynamics #background gallavich

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