#just tagging that in case cause some new readers may not know about all the colors yet

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea. 

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office. 

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters. 

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

~

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks. 

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself. 

“He should get here soon.” 

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea. 

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state. 

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?” 

Wake… up? 

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia- 

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more. 

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne. 

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme. 

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?” 

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course. 

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne? 

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing. 

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself. 

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this. 

And, god damn, did he miss it. 

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos. 

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed. 

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine. 

[railingsofsorrow]

death and all of its friends

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: you have an important witness admitted to Grey Sloan Hospital, but things get out of hand in the middle of your questioning. the unsub is on the loose and your team is still on their way. it's the worst that could happen, right? except that you end up stuck in an elevator with your ex. and that is worse. ( slight crossover between GA and CM ) 

pairing: s.reid x f!bau!reader; past!jackson avery x f!bau!reader 

w.c: 5.8K

warnings/content: heavy discussions about trauma regarding a mass shooting; PTSD; the word kill/murder is there a few times; kidnapping; break-ups; heartbreak; anxiety attack; hospitals; claustrophobia; mentions of surgery and blood and gunshot wound (not really graphic); minor character death (mentioned); there is so much drama in this you might call it unnecessary but I just had to unleash the devil in me; suggestive content (near the end); making out; long paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.

a/n: ok ok, like I promised (3000 years ago) here it is. enjoy it and please let me know if I forgot to tag anyone! 

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━ 

Five years ago you walked these same halls running from a mass shooter that entered Seattle Grace and caused havoc. Now, instead of Seattle Grace is Grey Sloan and apparently, not only the name of the hospital has changed. Amongst the Attendings, Residents and Interns there were all new faces, which only made sense since it's been five years and some of the people you knew had left and others died. 

Cristina Yang nicknamed the hospital Seattle Grace Mercy Death once and after all the stories you've been told by your ex-boyfriend's friends, it seemed fitting.  

You liked Cristina's dark humor. She was the funniest person you met in your time in Seattle. You were happy to hear she left to be a cardiothoracic surgeon in Switzerland, and she owned a hospital now, which was great.  

As you passed the cafeteria your head was flooded with memories of Lexi pulling you to have lunch with her after she finished a procedure, her excited rambles about every detail inside an OR — she wasn't Lexopedia for nothing — and the juicy gossip she provided you about the relationships inside this hospital (and her relationship with Mark Sloan). 

You might not have worked with these people but they felt like family once, the missing will always be there.  

Nostalgia had to be left aside for your job though, you had to find an important witness in a case involving the kidnapping of a six-year-old boy. He had been missing for three days, you were running against the clock at this point.  

“Miss Howard's room.” The nurse pointed you towards the room and you thanked her with a polite smile. “She's been sedated, so she may not be totally aware of her surroundings yet. She just got out of surgery.”  

“Alright, thank you.” 

Stab wound to the chest. An argument turned ugly in prison. You recalled Penelope telling you and the team that that was the reason she had been hospitalised. You observed the handcuffs locking her wrist against the bed before approaching.  

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you grabbed it to see a text from JJ.  

Is she awake? 

Yes.  

You pressed send and looked up at wiped-out blue eyes staring back at you with annoyance. You could hear what she was about to say already.  

“I answered all of y'all's questions already, can you people never leave me alone?” 

“Miss Howard, I'm with the FBI,” you started, introducing your name and then, proceeding to the hard part.  

The crease between her brows told you she was unaware of why you were there. “You people locked me up three years ago what is there to do now? Checking up if I'm killing any more disgusting men who deserved it?” 

“Martha, it's about your son, Ben Howard.” The way she immediately froze made your heart clench. Why did it have to be you to give her the news? JJ is way better at doing this, you have no idea of comforting people so you'd rather just not do it. “He's been kidnapped by your husband, Thomas Howard.”  

“Ex-husband.” She tried sitting up with difficulty while being handcuffed to the bed. You helped her. “What— No. Ben visited me with my sister three days ago, he's fine. He wouldn't dare touch my boy.” 

Ten minutes later into your questioning, your back pocket started to vibrate and you pulled it out to see who it was. 

Spencer calling. . .  

“Everything you said is very helpful, Miss Howard, we're going to try everything we can to find Ben.” 

“Please do.” Her voice cracked and you saw the mask of indifference crumble a little. “He's— he's all I got.” 

You nodded, then excused yourself to answer the call outside of the room.  

“Hey, I was just about to update you guys—” 

“He's in Grey Sloan.” Spencer blurted out the first second you answered. “Thomas Howard is in Grey Sloan. Where are you?”  

“What— What about the kid? Did you find him?” You quickly informed the two police officers outside the room to not let anyone else in. “You don't mean he's inside Grey Sloan, right?” 

Hotch's voice rang through the line and you knew you were on speaker. “He's going after Martha. We found Ben, he was unarmed but Thomas's endgame is Martha. And yes, he's inside the hospital at this moment. Do you know where Martha is?” 

“I just talked to her,” you turned your neck to glimpse at her room again subconsciously. “There are two officers outside her room, I already told them. But Hotch—” 

“He's armed, wait for backup.” 

“We profiled him as a psychopath, Hotch. He's impulsive and has no remorse or guilt, you know what he's capable of, especially if he let the boy go.” 

“Kid, don't be reckless yourself. We're almost there—” Rossi tried to intervene. 

“We're almost there.” You heard Spencer's voice and that made you hesitate for a second before hanging up. “Please don't—” 

Your heart was thumping hard and rapidly against your ribcage, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. As soon as you felt numbness in your fingers you clenched your hand into fists and let go, this was the way your body warned you you were about to have an anxiety attack. Thankfully, you were able to notice it before it got to the point where you passed out.  

Your name was called from afar and you halted, bumping into a nurse and mumbling a shaky sorry. The owner of the voice touched your elbow and you flinched, hand immediately searching for your gun. 

“Hey, whoa, it's me, Amelia. I didn't mean to scare you but when I saw it was you I just— it's been five years and you're here!” You withdrew your hand from the holster on your hip, inhaling and exhaling slowly to force your heart to calm the fuck down, you are not in imminent danger. 

“Amy,” you smiled and accepted the hug she was eager to give you. “Hi. How are you?” 

“I'm great, yeah. And you? For how long are you staying?” 

“I'm not. I, uh, I'm here on a case, with the FBI.” You cleared your throat. “Actually, I need your help with something.” 

Fifteen minutes later you had already warned most of the staff and Attendings in two floors to keep an eye out for Thomas Howard. You tried slowing your fast pulse by practicing the guided breathing you learned in therapy all those years ago. You did everything your therapist said, every single step from questioning your thoughts to counting everything blue you found in your way.  

You couldn't stop memories from revisiting your brain. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

You were waiting to have lunch with him.

It was almost one in the afternoon, Jackson was late because of a surgery that was taking longer than expected due to complications.  

It was your day off. One of the rare days you'd appear in Seattle Grace Mercy West before 6 p.m. when your classes at Washington University were over. You were a part of the Psychology department at WU, and a professor for the Undergraduate Program of B.S., Psychology.  

It wasn't usual for you to have a day off but given the amount of days you've been accumulating over the year, it was only fair.  

So you visited your boyfriend in the hospital, patiently waiting for his belated surgery to end so you could have your lunch date. That was until Lexi Gray pulled you into the hospital's cafeteria and you ended up having lunch with her.  

Lexi.  

You remember her terrified face when it happened. It had been a terrifying day, one that no one expected. It's funny how tragedies are never announced, isn't it? They just come barging in and you can't just ignore the door, tragedies do not need to knock.  

It was in that day, that you understood the gravity of that.  

Of course, it wasn't as nearly as bad for you as it was for those who worked at that place. They would have to come back every day and see the walls and that same floor which were smeared with their friends' blood.  

Jackson had lost two of his best friends. He spent two months having nightmares screaming their names during the night and getting mad at himself because you weren't able to sleep. That was the least of your concerns back then. You know something that would forever be etched into your brain was the barrel of a gun being pointed at you and the sound of the safety being taken off. You can't even recall the actual shot, only the pain that followed afterward and Jackson's horrified expression as he held your weak body on the floor.  

You thought you died. Jackson thought you died. Meredith, Lexi, Cristina and everyone else thought you died. In reality, you had just passed out from blood loss caused by a bullet wound to your chest area.  

That must have been terrifying to watch. You couldn't imagine being in his place, you probably would've been crying non-stop at the amount of blood, not saving his life, like he did to you.  

During the recovery process, you remember thinking about the absurdity of your dream of becoming an FBI Agent. If you weren't able to control your emotions on situations like that then what's even the point of anything? 

According to your therapist, what you suffered didn't determine the person you were, which, at first, you judged as complete bullshit. But you understood in later sessions what she meant by that.  

“Is it something you think you are not capable of doing?” 

You looked up from your hands, staring into the gray eyes of Isobel Houston. Jackson had made a compelling deal with you. He basically threw in your face that if he, who was threatened with a gun, was doing therapy, you, who had been shot and almost died in his arms, also had to talk about it.  

And here you were. 

“I'm not sure if I would know how.” You replied, brows twitching with your uncertainty. You were discussing about holding a gun and going out into the field, which was required in the training at the FBI Academy. You told her if you freaked out at the sight of blood then you shouldn't follow through with your decision to become an FBI Agent. 

“Well, that's what training is for, isn't it?” Isobel quirked a brow at you, earning a scoff. “You would learn certain abilities and improve the ones you already have in the academy. They wouldn't expect you to know everything.” 

“I'm not sure if I can.”  

Isobel nodded and wrote something down in the notepad you were planning to steal to see how she was making fun of you in there. 

“It is too soon still. But don't rule out your dream career quite yet. You are healing, it's a process that requires patience, both from you and from others around you. You don't have to think about that now. How about you take some time to yourself, focus on healing, getting better first?” 

A year later you would be forever thankful for those words. Because you didn't give up of your dream career, you made the decision to follow through with it and it worked.  

Partially, at least. 

“What do you mean you were accepted?” Jackson put his fork down as he chewed on his salad, tilting his head in confusion at you. “How can you be accepted somewhere if you didn't even apply to it?” The amusement in his tone instantly died as soon as he saw your serious face across from him. He connected the dots. “But you did apply... didn't you?” 

"Jack, I've always wanted this." 

He offers you a look of disbelief. 

"I know! But- You didn't even talk to me and-" 

"That's my decision." You cut him off.  

"Well, yes, but I'm your boyfriend. I think I deserved to know you were thinking about leaving for four months?" 

It caused a rift in your and Jackson's relationship. Back then, you didn't mind the fact that you were kind of doing things on your own, because your only goal was to leave and maybe, just maybe, forget what happened but the scar you had in your chest had to remind you of it. You never told him that, and you blamed him for not wanting you to leave for four months. Selfish; that was what you called him countless times after you broke up before you left. When, in reality, you had been the selfish one in the relationship.  

Truth be told, you wanted to forget that part of your life. Your completely foolish mistake and how wrong you were. Your healing had taken years and it still wasn't perfect, you weren't unflinching to the threat of an armed man. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to go back to Virginia and crawl into your blankets to feel some sort of safety.  

You had to bring safety to these people when you felt lost and cornered, how fun was that? You felt like such a failure. Years of experience and training going down the drain because of a stupid trauma.  

To add to that, you were currently stuck in an elevator. With a reckless man going after your witness. And your team was close to your location but not quite enough.  

Maybe they were already here since you had no reception and no way of knowing about their whereabouts.  

Maybe they already caught Thomas Howard and Hotch was thinking about his careful words as he fired you for your incompetency. 

“Why is it that when I find you you're always leaving?” 

Right. You got stuck in an elevator with your ex of all people. It was like everything you did not want to happen would materialize in front of you. 

“Jackson," you hissed, rubbing a hand across your face in pure frustration because of the useless phone in your hands. None of the messages were sent. Where were they? How was Martha? 

Hey, Spence. Where are you? 

I'm stuck in an elevator, fourth floor. I don't know what happened.  

You sent those fifteen minutes ago.

“It was just a comment,” Jackson said, shrugging in that infuriating way as if he knew he was right about something. You also knew Jackson Avery's way of deviating from his real problems was to seek anger. And usually, someone was the target. This time, it was you. "What are you doing here?" 

You looked down at your bulletproof vest and glanced up at him. Jackson's brows rose up to his hairline in understanding. God, he could be slow sometimes. 

"You're with the FBI." 

"I am the FBI." 

Jackson blinked, "right. Right. Uh, I- Sorry, I-" his apologetic wince made you relax your shoulders. "I'm sorry, I'm just... This is too familiar." Yeah, you could relate to that. 

"Jackson," your eyes softened but you tried to reassure him as much as you were able to. "This is not the same thing. His reasoning is completely different. What happened then- It won't happen again."  

His bright green eyes study you with a newfound curiosity but you could see some of the tension leave his body.  

"You sound sure." 

"I am," you said. "My team is close by and they're good. Besides, all of the local cops probably asked for backup already. And SWAT is right outside." 

He took a long minute staring you down to nod quietly. The silence that came afterward was uncomfortable. There was so much to say and nothing and the same time. This wasn't the time, but it was inevitable to not think about your last words to each other. You didn't hold a grudge against Jackson, you had no reason to, but he had plenty to do it and you wouldn't blame him. 

Fuck, why was this elevator so hot? Why were the walls so close to one another? 

"I saw you on TV once."  

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat closing up. Your attention drifted towards Jackson's whitecoat.  

"I didn't know being in the FBI made you famous." His attempt at joking had you scoffing despite your current state of mind. "I would've made a career exchange if I knew." 

"You were already rich, why do you need to be famous?" You mumbled with your eyes shut as you tried to calm your erratic breathing down. "Actually, you were already famous and rich, so anything you just said is..." your voice failed. "… complete bullshit." 

He said your name twice and you were obligated to open your eyes. He was much closer and concern tugged his lips downwards.  

"Put a hand on your chest and tell me what you can see." You stared at his lips moving slowly as your vision blurred slightly. He said your name more urgently this time. "Put a hand on your chest and tell me what you see." 

"Your stethoscope," you said as you stared at it, clearing your throat. "F-flyers," you croaked out, glancing briefly above his shoulders to the flyers splattered around. You couldn't see what they were about, but you knew they were there as they had been since the first time you stepped inside this elevator years ago. 

"What can you feel?" 

Your fingers drummed against your ribcage. Your breathing slowing down but not quite there yet. "My heartbeat. Mhm... The-my cold necklace." It was always two things. You thought about one and as you searched for another, you would calm down through the process.  

You could feel the warmth of his hands on your arms, helping grounding you back to earth.  

"Good. Two things you can hear." He was way relieved after your voice stopped shaking.  

"Your voice," you uttered, feeling your fingers moving and the sweat dripping down your back. The anxiety diminished little by little. When you were about to say the next thing you could hear, what you could only describe as two loud shots right outside the elevator doors made the both of you flinch and stare at the metal doors with widened eyes.  

You immediately got into action, thankfully prioritizing being numb over any other emotion at that moment, which was what you should have done from the start.  

"What are you doing?" Jackson asked you confusedly as you tried prying the doors open. "We might not be entirely on the floor-" 

"Help me open this, Jackson and I'll figure it out from there." 

Just then, your phone came back to life. Reception. At the same time, the doors opened without any human force. You didn't have time to see the caller ID before your gun was drawn in front of you and Jackson, ready to fire.  

"Hey, hey, it's me!" The voice you've been craving to hear for half an hour called out your name in front of you. Honey-brown, you thought, locking eyes with Spencer, I can see honey-brown eyes too. "I just got your text, I was looking for you- Hey." He breathed out in your ear as you threw your arms around his neck. His arms squeezed you in comfort. "Are you okay?" 

I am now. 

Your head bobbed up and down as you leaned back to get some distance. PDA wasn't your forte, but you had been triggered just a few minutes ago, and you needed some comfort from the only person who would effectively provide it to you.  

“They got him. He was hidden in one of the on-call rooms on the third floor.” Spencer filled you in before you could ask. He was assessing you thoroughly, looking for any strand of hair out of place, something that would tell him you had gotten hurt.  

You placed a hand on his chest, patting it gently. “I'm okay,” you tried reassuring him, eyes traveling through the room until you found some of your coworkers talking with the local police.  

“You should drink water.” Jackson's voice startled you a bit and Spencer looked behind you curiously. “And sit down.” 

And that comment immediately canceled out Spencer's certainty that you were okay. 

“Oh, I'm fine.”  

“Anxiety attack.” Jackson mouthed to Spencer out of your eyesight. He moved away to talk to some doctors while Spencer stared at his back, trying to pinpoint where exactly did he knew him from and why he was acting as if he knew you.  

But then it clicked.  

Jackson Avery. Harper Avery's grandson. Owner of a share of the Grey Sloan Memorial. Plastics surgeon. 

Right, of course. And your ex-boyfriend. 

“Is Martha okay?”  

Spencer looked down at you, blinking. “Uh-huh. Yeah, she's safe.”  

You gave him a look, “what?” 

“What?” His voice failed, which was a bit embarrassing, really.  

“Just spit it out, Spence.” 

So, he did. 

“Were you stuck in an elevator with Jackson Avery?”  

You almost choked up on your own saliva, earning a grimace from your boyfriend. Your concerned and caring boyfriend wasn't making that question because of pure jealousy, he genuinely wanted to know if you were okay after being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend in the same place you got shot by Gary Clark.  

“I'm sorry I wasn't here,” Spencer said with a sigh. “I should have come with you. I'm so sorry I wasn't here.” 

“Spencer, I'm fine,” you insisted, taking his hand on yours. Fuck it. “Hey, nothing happened in there.”  

He knows that but that's not what he meant. Not in that sense. 

“I'm not jealous.” He felt the need to clarify. He wasn't immune to jealousy but that was neither the right place nor moment for it. He just wanted to know if the reason for your anxiety attack was just being in a confined space or if the other person you were stuck with had something to do with it. “But you— Did he say something to you? To trigger it?” 

It took you a moment to get what he was saying, but once you did, you sighed and pulled him aside away from prying eyes.  

“No. I— It was the images. Memories. And the whole thing of being inside an elevator for more than one minute. He didn't do anything. He actually... helped me calm down.” 

Spencer brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “okay. Good. And do you feel better now?” 

A tender smile twitched the corner of your lips.  

“Yes, I do.”  

“Are you ready to go?” Hotch approached you and Spencer and you watched Emily, JJ, Derek and Rossi exit the hospital.  

“Yes.” But your eyes drifted to the side and you told both of them you'd meet them in the car. “I'll be right there. It won't take long.” 

Spencer kissed your temple on his way out.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

"Are you okay?" 

"Are you?"  

Both of you have been on opposite ends of the room for the past five minutes and none had the courage to break the deafening silence. It should have been you, though. You were the one to ask Jackson for a quick word.  

"Why wouldn't I be?" His brows furrowed as he stared at his hands. He seemed deep in thought. You wondered if he was thinking the same as you. It was a long time ago. It was a long time ago but it is somehow very fresh when he's standing in front of me.  

Because we never got closure. I didn't let that happen. 

"We never talked about it." You sat down in one of the bunk beds, knowing this wouldn't be as fast as both of you liked it to be. Years of a relationship couldn't be fixed in five minutes. You texted Spencer to let him know you'd meet all of them in the motel since the jet would only be available tomorrow anyway, and you didn't want anybody waiting for you.  

"We did."  

"Talking to our therapists is not the same as communicating to each other." You interjected. 

Jackson's gaze flashed with hurt and he looked away.  

“I couldn't stay," you said, biting your cheek because it was so hard to admit that out loud. 

He finally looked up, tilting his head to look at you. “You couldn't or you wouldn't?”  

You clenched your jaw, annoyance seeping through your demeanor. “I wouldn't. It was my dream, it had always been my dream to get into the FBI—into the BAU. I wouldn't give that up. And it's not fair for you to judge me when you know exactly how that feels. Yes, I could have stayed, but I didn't want to.” 

Jackson rolled his eyes, standing up to pace around the room. "Yeah, it was pretty clear you didn't want to stay." 

"Jackson-" 

“Look, I'm not judging. And yes, I do understand. I just think—" He halted and looked at you, green eyes burning into yours. "God, did you have to pack your bags without even talking to me? You made a life-changing decision and you just up and left.” 

Your breath hitched, and something in your chest churned painfully. Guilt, probably. Five years and you hadn't uttered the words he deserved once. 

"I'm sorry." You swallowed with difficulty. "Jackson, I- What I did was unfair and I'm so incredibly sorry for hurting you. You deserved more than that." 

"I've forgiven you a long time ago," Jackson confessed, uncrossing his arms and angling his body towards you. "It's been five years. Those words have been bottled up in my throat since the moment you walked out... but I don't hate you."  

You winced, "but you did hate me." 

Amusement travels through his face. "For a bit, yes."  

"Fair." 

"I'm sorry too."  

You gave him a sad smile. "You didn't leave me, Jackson." 

"No, but I said some pretty hurtful things to you. So, I'm sorry." 

"Mhm, okay." You nodded, shifting on your feet. “You're forgiven too, I guess.”

Jackson offered his hand for a handshake...? You glanced down at it, holding back a laugh because of how awkward he was being. You shook his hand, grinning with a shake of your head.  

Yeah, that could be closure.  

“I saw you on TV,” Jackson repeated what he said before but you weren't exactly alright to actually hear it. “Are you giving out autographs?” 

“I'm giving out this, does it work for you?” You flipped him off. A nurse passed by you and gave you an ugly look while Jackson just smirked.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

As soon as you walked through the doors of Grey Sloan Memorial, exiting the hospital, your eyes caught the back of a familiar lanky figure whose light brown curls waved wildly with the harsh wind of Seattle. 

When you got close enough, you heard an indignant edge to your boyfriend's tone. He was speaking on the phone. Your amusement grew when you realized was on the other line, pissing him off. 

“Yeah, you know what, Derek?” Spencer started but cut himself off upon seeing you arrive at his side. “You're back.” His annoyed tone switched to something softer.  

“What's he pissing you off about now?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Tell him I'll slap his bald shiny head if he doesn't stop.” 

Spencer snorted, covering his mouth. You could hear Derek's telling you to fuck off through the phone before Spencer hung up the call.  

You accepted the urge to pull him close to you by wrapping both of your arms around his middle and lowering your head to his chest. His immediate response was to bury his face in the croak of your neck, the cold tip of his nose grazing your skin made you squirm a little.  

“I thought I told you not to wait for me.”  

Spencer rubbed your back, leaning back slightly to look down at you. 

“I wasn't gonna let you drive back on your own.” 

You chuckled, “are you telling me I'm a terrible driver? 

He hummed, lips quirking up when he kissed the tip of your nose. “You're not as terrible as me.” 

“I'm not sure if that can be classified as a compliment, angel. But you're right, nobody is a worse driver than you.” 

A pinch in your hip made you whine. He started laughing as you gave him a playful shove before getting in the car. Driver's seat. You had to prove a point.  

“How are you?” Spencer asked after a long minute of being silent and you knew he'd be dying to ask that. 

“I'm okay.” You told him, giving his thigh a soft squeeze as you concentrated on leaving the parking lot.  

“How did it feel?”  

You stopped at a red light. The motel was about fifteen minutes from the hospital by car, and you wouldn't go back home today, the jet was only going to be available tomorrow.  

“Suffocating.” You laughed after you admitted it out loud. That was how you felt. “Yeah, that's about it. The moment I stepped inside Grey Sloan I felt cornered.” 

“That's understandable.” Spencer caressed the back of your hand before you had to pull it back to move the car gear. “You haven't been there for five years. You may have seen, smelled, felt, or touched something that triggered you to go back to that very moment. Even though triggers are usually harmless, they cause your body to react as if you're in danger.” He explained, causing your mouth to quirk upwards in amusement. “Which was why I wanted to be there with you.” 

“Hey, that wasn't your fault. And I'm not a little girl anymore, I can get a grip on myself, Spence. We were doing our jobs.” 

From the corner of your eye, you were able to see him lean back on the seat with a roll of his eyes. 

“Well, yes, I know but I wanted to be there with you. You know just... be there.”  

You parked in the motel's parking lot, turning the car off. You inhaled heavily before turning to Spencer, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. Your boyfriend hummed in satisfaction, pulling you closer by the back of your neck. 

“What was that for?” He blinked bleary, voice slightly dazed after your surprise kiss. Your insides turned to mush and fondness overtook your body.  

“I love you,” you said, thumb running across his cheek lovingly. “like... a lot.” 

His eyes sparkled at your statement and he started smiling like an idiot. An idiot head over heels for you. 

“Like a lot?” 

“Like a lot.” 

A harsh tap on your window made your body jerk and you hit your knee against the steering wheel, a loud curse slipping past your tongue. 

Spencer lowered the car window with a glare.  

“Alright, lovebirds. We're going out to the bar across the street to have a little fun. Are you coming or what?” Derek dipped his head as his eyes narrowed at the two of you. “Was I interrupting something?” 

“How are you so annoying—” 

“There is no scientific explanation for that, angel.” You pat Spencer's shoulder, who huffed while getting out of the car. He was immediately wrapped in a side hug by Derek as you locked your car and followed them both down the street, where the rest of your team waited.  

Emily snorted, nudging JJ with her arm. “Told you he was going to cockblock them.” 

“Emily,” Hotch said sternly, but his mouth betrayed him with a little smile.  

“C'mon, pretty boy.” Derek dragged Spencer to the bar as you followed them inside. “Let's drink the night away to make you forget about seeing your girl's ex, who has the greenest eyes I've ever seen—” 

Your lips parted in astonishment.  

“Hey!” JJ warned him. “Stop that. C'mon, leave him alone you've teased him enough with this.” 

Spencer looked at you, lips pulling into a smile at the scowl you were sending Derek as he walked away with JJ and Emily beside him.

“It's alright,” Spencer mumbled, nudging you to a corner as your team scattered around to find a table for eight. “He's just playing around and I'm not threatened by light-colored eyes, anyway. They're overrated.”  

You huffed out a laugh, surprised at his nonchalant claim.  

"Good." You were so close that your breaths mixed, his eyes falling to your lips and rising to your eyes again. You pulled him flush against your body by the belt loops of his pants, earning a shaky exhale from his parted soft lips. "Cause... You know," you pressed a kiss against his jaw. "There's nothing you should be threatened about. I'm pretty certain of that." 

"You are?" Spencer realized how pathetic he sounded and how needy he was starting to look.  

"I am, angel," you reaffirmed in his ear, leaning forward to kiss him. Before it got too heated, you smirked against his lips, pushing him away gently as he groaned in protest. "Okay, we can pick this up later tonight, now let's celebrate a bit with them, yeah?" 

Spencer sighed, burying his face into your neck for a second and drawing it back to glance at the table their friends chose. It was in a corner of the room, across from where they were currently... talking.  

"Okay."  

"Don't sound too excited." 

"Shut up," he grabbed one of your hands and pulled around his hip at the same time his arm lifted to wrap around your shoulders. "You know what I'm excited about-" he pretended to cough upon gaining a light slap on his back as a warning for him to shut up before any of your friends could hear the implication his words were carrying.  

As soon as you arrived at the table, Emily placed a shot before you, claiming you were late for the party. You smiled apologetically at the brunette, bringing the vodka shot to your lips and downing it in one go, gaze locked to your boyfriend's beside you. Oh, this was going to be a long night. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

taglist: @lvtilzs ; @inexplicableeee ; @fkapluto ; @nellxsies

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Tumblr WILL NOT let me post the fic and this ask at the same time and I've tried legit five times. So THANK YOU anon for the request and I'm sorry for the weirdness in uploading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this!

My Ghost.

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: You don't know what happened that night. Things were fine, life was good, then your partner is on the news for all sorts of shit you never would've thought him capable of the day prior. He was dead, he was evil, and you were trying to move on. But what's the proper etiquette when the dead show up on your door unannounced?

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/comfort, fake death, mentions of drinking, drug use/dealing, grieving, arguing, cursing, flashbacks, brief suggestive scenes, suicidal thoughts.

Other Works in This Series: 'Repentance' (Prequel to 'My Ghost') • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: The way I've been trying to upload this for two hours. Oh my fucking God. Anyways, everyone say thank you to anon for getting me to write something that doesn't make God cry.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

I'm not hard to please, but I'm not desperate despite what the rumors may say.

People enjoy gossip. People who don't know fuck all about you. And my standards are fine. Were fine. And I don't mean standards such as 'buys me flowers everyday' or 'doesn't deal coke.' I mean standards such as 'is a decent fucking person.'

"That's what I thought you were up until all of this fucking... disappearing for months!" I scream, anger fueling me. I don't let the other emotions win out, don't let them have a say. Because if I do, I'll be too conflicted and overwhelmed and then I'm gonna cry, and that's not fair.

People had warned me he was trouble. Terms such as 'wannabe cowboy,' 'rebel without a cause' were tossed around in warning. But to me, he was just Billy.

Then he was dead.

Now, he was here. He showed up at my door nine months after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon.

Then he was on the news. And a gas station blew up. Gangs, stolen vehicles. He was probably dead. Things would be easier if he was dead.

Fine. Maybe I initially ignored warning signs. Maybe I was distracted by his handsome side profile, too busy admiring his nose to notice the occasions it was dusted with the trace of a fine powder. Maybe his hands were too beautiful for me to realize they were slipping money to men in dark jackets when we went out to the rougher parts of town. But he was mine and I was his, and overall he was a good person.

He was alive. He was alive and I was mad because if he was dead then at least it would be valid that for nine months I have had to deal with the accusatory stares of our neighbors assuming I knew, the pity from my loved ones, and the betrayel that kept me awake at night. It would mean he hadn't left me to deal with his repercussions, that maybe there was a valid excuse. An undiagnosed brain tumor that finally gave way to insanity, a gun to his head. Something that was not the worst case scenario of just... being an awful person. I could let his things rest around the house undisturbed, hiding from the world and waiting to find the courage to join him one day and living in denial in the meantime. What the fuck was all of this?

"I couldn't tell you," he keeps saying. "It was better if you knew nothing until I was sure I could come get you."

"Why didn't you just take me with you from the start?" I ask. I've been pacing the floor for the past twenty minutes ever since he showed up. It was better than throwing every breakable object in the cheap, worn down shack of a house at him, which was my second instinct. My first was to pull him into my arms, draw the curtains shut and hide him away so that he'll never leave again. Like an idiot.

He laughs bitterly. "You would not be asking that if you knew what the fuck I went through," he says. His words sound like they should be angry, but there's this lightness to them like he can't let himself think too much about it. It just makes me angrier.

"Don't fucking laugh!" I snap. "Do you think any of this is funny?"

"I think you're funny when you're mad," he deflects, smiling. "You got this whole routine. Pacing, nose twitching. I like the Shirley Temple stomps, like you're a kid."

I groan loudly, the noise almost sounding like a low scream in my throat.

"You owed money to fucking- who?" I yell.

"The details don't matter-"

"When I have been grieving your death for nine months, they fucking matter!" I snap. His brows furrow, his hands mid air as if to say 'the fuck did I do?'

"You know me, okay? I don't get caught," he says as though it were obvious.

"I know fucking nothing!" I practically scream.

When we met he was just a guy at a bar, handsome, wearing that same ridiculous jacket that I couldn't help but stroke the white fluff on, tequila running through my veins.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smirking.

"Just wanted to see what it felt like," I said.

"Wanna feel something else?" He asked, his chin resting on his head.

"Oh, fucking gross. Fuck o-"

"I was talking about this," he said, whipping out his keys to show off an odd, weirdly shaped keychain with short, stiff fuzz. "Don't call me a pervert just cause you're one."

He was smiling. It was an easy smile. Careless, happy with life. I loved that smile. It meant things were always alright as long as he was smiling.

He was smiling on the photo they used for the manhunt.

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"They're a keepsake," he'd insist. "A living memory." He wore them everyday.

He's wearing sneakers, today.

At the end of the night, I stumbled out of the bar with a note in my coat pocket. It took two weeks for me to wear that coat again, and when I found the slip I'd almost thrown it away, assuming it was something dumb. But when I saw the worst handwriting in the world displaying a number belonging to someone named 'Keychain Guy,' I almost couldn't wait to call.

"Bullshit," Billy snaps. "You know me better than anyone."

"Don't say that," I say, putting a hand out protectively to keep him away. "That's exactly why everyone thinks I was just fine with that whole- fucked up thing!"

A gas station burned. A stolen vehicle. People were dead. People were dead.

Billy was presumed dead.

There was no funeral. He had no family, and none of mine wanted to put money into something that would be protested by the whole town anyways. No body to bury, nothing to do but gather up his things and smoke what remained in his stash until people came to nurse me back to life. By that point there wasn't even relief in drugs. The taste simply reminded me of better times cooking in the kitchen as we blew the smoke into each others faces, or worse. Better. Whatever.

I never questioned when Billy went out of town. I knew his work had details I didn't want nor need to know. Money was tight. But Billy always came home with little things whenever he went on unexpected trips. Knick knacks, snacks, some item I'd seen at the store and picked up to make a comment about. Had he been particularly forthcoming about his dealing when we started dating? No. He said he worked for a local small business, which technically isn't untrue. But about six months in, he was the one who approached me and sat me down at the small, rickty round table to tell me the truth. And that's what mattered to me. The economy is shit and it's not like it was meth, so who am I to judge?

About a year into it, I was begging for him to do something else.

"I don't like you disappearing," I told him. "I'm scared one day you're gonna piss someone off and that'll be the end. Then what am I gonna do?"

"Then you're gonna make sure they don't fuck up my face during the embalming process for the funeral," Billy said around his hand rolled cigarette. I whip the small dish towel at him, making him laugh and protect his small ashtray that I made him for Christmas the year prior. It was shitty, uneven, and I'm 99% sure a fire hazard. But he wouldn't use any other ones unless I was the one who bought them for him, and even then he favored this one. 'When this place goes up in flames,' I thought, 'I'll regret that gift.'

I'd kept it by the kitchen window every day since he'd died. "Died." It was his spot.

He moves to sit there now, looking in his pockets for the small box of prerolled cigarettes.

"People know you weren't involved," he says dismissively.

"Your friends know. What about the old ladies at church? The checkout clerks at the store? How about the fucking mailman?" I shout, convinced I'm still talking to the dead. "You think they know the ins and outs of the local psychos support group?" I ask, gesturing and stepping closer.

I was the local outcast now. Not to be trusted, not worth kindness. Shame was my title, and when Billy appeared on my doorstep at an hour where only I was awake I was sure I'd caught the same awful disease that must have been what sent him spiraling that winter day. It wasn't until he pushed the door open fully, taking me into his arms and pressing a warm kiss to my lips that I knew he was real. It was a feeling I was in the early stages of forgetting, blurry and cold. But here he was, the stubble on his chin a bit longer and his ears missing the small hoops that had glittered in the sunlight when he walked out the door.

Then I'd pushed him away. And the fight began.

"I'm not a fucking psycho," he argues. His hands pat around his outfit, searching. "You got a lighter?"

"Fuck off." I kept his favorite in my left pocket. I had to be careful what things of his I wore or kept on my person. People close to me knew I would have never condoned his actions, but even they had glared at me in the early wake of Billy's death when I dared to wear one of his shirts out of the house, or more commonly one of his thick leather jackets. But a lighter can be hidden, and unless you had borrowed it you wouldn't know it had specifically been his. So I kept it with me all the time, just feeling it next to my skin with the only barrier being the fabric of my pocket. Without a thought, I cover the small item as though he can see right through me. Picking up on the hint, he's rises from the table and begins walking over to me.

"Don't be a dick, just let me borrow it," he says, holding out his hand.

"Fuck off," I snap.

"You've said that. I just need it for two seconds," he says as his hands begin to gently grab at me, one on my shoulder and the other dipping into my pocket.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yell, slapping at him.

"Just let me have-"

He cuts himself off as he pulls out the lighter from my pocket, his thumb grazing over the printed picture. The Statue of David. He'd bought because it made us laugh. One side was the regular statue, the other a close up of its small genitals with cursive writing underneath spelling the art piece's name.

"Oh," Billy says quietly.

We stand for a moment, silent. He doesn't seem sure what to do. My lungs burn with unheaved sobs. I fucking hate this.

"You were gonna come back," I finally say quietly. I hate how my voice sounds when I'm upset. I hate that I'm wearing his dogtag, an item he'd bought at a World War II museum in middle school that he gave me for our first Christmas because we were both too broke to actually buy each other anything, hence the poorly made ashtray. I hate that when I sleep at night it's in his clothes that I rarely wash because the idea of losing his smell makes me want to scream. I hate that his scent is different from the bottle of cologne he kept next to my makeup, one time spilling all over the entire bathroom counter because we'd gotten too wrapped up in each other, dragging our nails down each others backs and watching ourselves in the mirror until one wrong move of my hand revealed he'd been a bit too careless about screwing the lid back on earlier in the day. I'd always warned him about that.

I'd been in the bathroom putting on my permanently scented blush when I got the text.

"I was going to," he said softly. "Then I couldn't."

"So what?" I say, not daring to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare at where the cheap, old wood paneling of the wall meets the shaggy, stained carpet that you have to wear shoes on due to the staples that have begun sticking out of it. "You just propose to someone and then pretend to die?"

Valentines Day was an awfully cheesy day to do it. So it's a good thing it was a technicality.

The day had been lovely. Billy had saved up a little to take me to a local hibachi place, telling me to wear my best outfit and jewelry. It was slightly overkill, but it's the small things in life, isn't it?

We'd come home with a bottle of wine, a low budget movie to ignore and hands searching desperately for each other.

"I love you," he'd said between pants. "You're mine."

"Buy a ring," I'd dared. Our minds were buzzed, the bottle half empty and our clothes thrown away without care. Took me weeks to find his both of his socks.

I hadn't meant for him to take it seriously. But I guess he decided it was time.

Two days later I thought it was odd when he walked into the house with my favorite lunch. It wasn't expensive really, we just usually got it for special occasions or days that had been mentally harder for me. And things were normal that day. I was getting ready for my shift, running around like I always do trying to make sure I've got everything.

"Your coffee's in the cup, will you just sit down?" He laughed, watching me. I quickly collected the take out box, sipping my coffee and wincing over its temperature.

"Fuck, that burns," I cursed. He wrapped his arms around me, trying to get me to sit at the table. "Baby, I can't," I protested softly, but I was laughing. He was peppering me in kisses, giving me those big puppy dog eyes everyone knew were my weakness. He wanted for nothing so long as he looked at me just like that.

"Just this once," he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help the blush and giggle that rose from me, but I also couldn't be late.

"I'll make up for it," I promised, slipping away and running into the bedroom to get my shoes. When I ran back in, pulling them on and coming to kiss him goodbye, I nearly fell over when I saw him on one knee, smiling and looking at me like 'I told you so.'

I don't like how itchy the ring feels on my middle finger as I twirl it in thought.

"You don't know what happened," he pleaded, his hands still on me. "If you would just listen to me-"

"The news gave a pretty good description, William. I don't think there's missing pieces in my head, unlike you," I say coldly, detaching from myself so to not have to deal with my emotions. This makes him stiffen, pulling away and resuming his place at the kitchen table, lighting his cigarette and placing the ashtray in front of him like nothing has changed when everything has.

It feels like I'm out of time. Like I've been shoved into a picture of what my life looked like before. Except the house was never this clean, clothes always scattered about. Not just in a fit of passion, we just had bad habits when it came to picking up. Billy would always say the chairs are more decorations then they are seats, anyways. "Why would you use those when you have such a nice seat here?" He'd ask, wiggling his hips and placing his hands behind his head, making me laugh.

Billy never looked so well put together in the house, usually in a wife beater and his hair framing his face. He'd always joked he looked like a dirty hippie around me, and I'd always show him how much I liked that. Not that he looked fantastic now. When we went out he was known for putting in effort. He always had more hair products than me, which I found funny. Though he refused makeup. Once I'd managed to talk him into eyeliner. 'Guyliner' I'd teased. He liked it, but said it should stay between us with a wink before asking where to get dinner. Now he sits before me in clothes obviously stolen to help him look unremarkable, his hair shaggy and uncut, so different from the man I loved.

"Who are you?" I asked him. That man didn't shrink away from accountability.

He sighed, smoke swirling around him as he wipes his face with his hand.

"I don't know. Can't tell if I'm better or worse, to be honest," he admits softly. His eyes look haunted, heavy bags underneath. It's the way his shoulders sag as though his will to go on is slowly draining from him in this very moment that makes me want to break now. Like whatever reason he had for still going was fruitless.

I didn't like the way we mirrored each other like this.

I slowly scuff my feet towards him, tapping my fingers against the back of the wooden chair before pulling it out to sit across from him. It's a start.

"So if you tell me," I say slowly. "Am I going to wish you were dead?"

He doesn't look at me. "I don't know."

Great.

The night is long. Morning comes without an invitation, the blue sky beginning to glow through the shitty blinders I always told Billy we should replace one day. I understand less than when we started, we've both cried more than once, and between our fingers is cigarette stubs and the feeling of each others skin, hands laced together as though another click of an old remote to an outdated TV with batteries you had to rub against your shirt to make work would reveal the smouldering remains of a gas station, displaying the estimated body count and deeming one of us as a devil of the worst kind, ripping us apart.

"Jesus," I say when it's over.

"Yeah," he says. "So, needless to say, my anxiety is shit now."

It isn't funny. It's a tragic statement. But when we both glance into the others eyes, it's his small little smirk that makes me laugh like I haven't since my mother sent me the local news report with his picture covering the front page. The same one that shows everything is still okay.

"I'm sorry," I say. Then the laughing turns into sobbing, and then I can't breathe. And I really am sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I'm sorry he went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money he shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. I'm sorry he couldn't come back for me. And I'm sorry for hating him when he showed up unannounced at my door.

"Hey," he says gently, standing and crossing to me, removing his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders to comfort me. It's unfamiliar, evidence of a life he wouldn't have led if he had just stayed by me and it upsets me, but his lips against my wet cheeks ground me, familiar and soothing me, coaxing me into wrapping my arms around him, clawing my trembling fingers through his hair. Still soft. Still combed.

"You can't stay here," I choke out.

"I know," he says quietly. There's nothing for a long time, our bodies shaking as we cling to each other. In our arms are the unspoken months of grief. Of his longing for our home, of my insanity. Death looms over the furniture, light hidden away lest it take away my sacred treasures I'd used to keep his spirit close to me.

"I can't lose you again," I say.

"I know," he says, smelling my hair and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. "But I can't promise stability if you follow me."

My brows furrow, my mind racing in confusion, my hopes rising. Follow?

"I know a guy," he says quickly, his arms tighter as if scared I'll turn away. "Says he can get me a new identity and a one way ticket to somewhere. I don't know where yet, but it's worth a try."

My fingers trace his back, swirling invisible patterns over his shirt. He'd always liked that after a rough day. I can feel the tension begin to slowly fall away from him at the contact, his breathing growing deeper and more steady. "And you want me to come?"

"Need," he corrects. "I don't regret leaving you, but I can't stay away. Even if it's more kind to let you mourn and find a better life."

A new life. A new identity. New name, new everything.

Maybe I am insane. Maybe this exactly the kind of mental break Billy had that day. Maybe I was doomed to follow his spirit no matter what. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe God had granted me a mercy I'll never be able to repay, no matter how many night I spend in worship at a church or between this man's legs. Maybe I'd spend every day looking over my shoulder, paranoid and eventually turning cruel to strangers so to keep this one person everyone told me to let go of from the very beginning.

But the same Billy.

"Can he do a marriage license?" I ask after a long silence. I can hear him laugh, pulling away to look at me.

"That eager?" He asks softly, his eyes gentle, thumb stroking my cheek. I lean into his touch, softly placing a kiss on his palm.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

"Well," I say, "I already have the ring."

Masterlist

As cute as this was, please have better standards than the Reader I wrote in this fic. No man is worth that. I am DEADASS. Anyways, love y'all <3

[glazesunflower]

may i ask for some dating headcannons with focalors the hydro archon? :3

Dating Furina/Focalors Headcanons

Characters: Furina/Focalors x GN!Reader.

Warnings: None that apply!

Notes: I was waiting to play the first Fontaine Archon Quest to get a grasp of her character before writing this. I have to say, I absolutely love this gremlin and bratty Archon. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. (The last ones are my favorite <3)

Furina is flamboyant, imprudent and she lives for the thrill of the drama and the validation of those around her, so you’ll have to be very understanding and patient with her and the fair amount of mishaps that she will surely cause. So be prepared!

.

She doesn’t really voice it, she’s too proud for that, but she absolutely loves the way you’ve become her anchor, helping to balance out her impulsive nature with your calm and understanding demeanor. When she's on the brink of making a hasty decision, you're there to gently guide her, reminding her to consider all perspectives and consequences before acting. And she takes your advice to heart, be proud of that!

.

She struggles internally a lot with the pressure of her public image. Of course, she doesn’t say this directly to you, but you can see how it affects her, and so you write for her heartfelt letters whenever she's facing a tough situation. She doesn’t really make much of a fuss about them, but internally your words of encouragement and reminders of her strengths become her source of comfort, and she rereads them many more times than she’s willing to admit. She even has a special box where she keeps them all. But don’t ask her about it!

.

But it’s not all sappy stuff, your relationship with her is very adventurous and fun! Furina absolutely loves a good thrill and an outstanding performance in everything she does, so you’re of course expected to tag along in all of her endeavors. Whether it's exploring a new case that’s just taken place, trying out quirky local restaurants, or taking impromptu road trips through Fontaine, you both find joy in the thrill of the new things you try together!

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Furina absolutely thrives on positive attention and affirmation. She is always very touched by your heartfelt compliments and words of encouragement (she probably won’t say it, mind you, but she would engrave your words in her mind to always come back to them). Express your admiration for her skills, charisma, and unique qualities and Furina will glow, feeling appreciated and loved. Keep them coming, she can’t get enough!

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After some time of her being with you, Furina will slowly (and I mean, very slowly) feel comfortable enough with letting her guard down around you. And that is no easy feat! She’s constantly thinking that she will be judged by whatever she says wrong, so you should feel immensely lucky that she’s willing to trust you with her innermost turmoils! (Her words.) In time, you create a safe space where she can express her insecurities without fear of judgment, because you’re kind like that and you love her. You encourage Furina to have a ton of heartfelt conversations, and slowly you help her understand that she doesn't have to be perfect to be loved. It’s still a work in progress, but she’ll get there.

.

Furina is a sucker for gifts. After all, what better way for others to express their admiration for her, right? But the ones she loves the most are yours, of course. The gifts and tokens of your affection hold special meanings, since you picked them out knowing she’d like them. Like a charm to remind her of her resilience or a piece of art that reflects her flamboyant personality and you thought, “Oh, this reminds me of her!”. Keep doing that. She can’t get enough of it.

.

Knowing how much she loves and treasures positive attention, you organize surprise events or gatherings to celebrate Furina’s accomplishments, no matter how small they are. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it (She deserves all the praise and attention, after all!), but you see the brightest smile dancing on her lips the whole day, and that’s how you see how much she values these moments. These thoughtful gestures show Furina that you genuinely appreciate her efforts and want to support her in all aspects of her life. She will try even harder this time, if only for you to praise her more.

.

Your relationship with her is also full of laughter. You tease each other constantly, at all times, sharing inside jokes, and find humor in the quirks of everyday life together. Furina knows you have an ability to make her smile even in challenging times and she silently appreciates you so much for her. Still, you tease her too much. And she is the embodiment of the divine, she can’t have you teasing her in public!

.

With the passing of the time by your side (and I mean, at a very slow pace!), Furina starts to overcome her need for constant validation from others. She slowly becomes more confident in her abilities in the court and outside of it, and she learns to embrace her imperfections (her impulsivity, childlike temper, the constant bravado and drama, the list goes on!), understanding that you love her for who she truly is. Really, how could you not? She’s impressive and heavenly! It’s only natural you’re head over heels and completely in love with her! (She’s working on her arrogance, too).

.

Furina loves the spotlight more than anything else in the world (well, she only likes you more, and that’s saying something!), so sometimes you plan extravagant date nights that cater to her love for the spotlight. Whether it's a private outdoor performance under the stars or a playful evening of reenacting dramatic scenes from her favorite plays, you keep the excitement alive for her. And she thrives in every minute of it.

.

When it comes to physical touch, Furina is by far not used to it at the very beginning, so she’s fairly unsure when it comes to it. But she’s quick to realize that your gentle pats on her back, walking around with linked arms, or even a reassuring touch on her shoulder during moments of stress in the courtroom make her feel so much better instantly! Is this some kind of heavenly magic? 

.

Furina quickly starts to associate your touch with positive emotions. Holding hands with you during a thrilling adventure or wrapping an arm around your waist while watching a dramatic play becomes something she really, really likes doing. 

.

And when you introduce cuddling to her, Furina finds a whole new world to explore and enjoy. Whether it's lounging on your couch or stargazing, Furina wants to be in your arms at all times, if she has any say in the matter! Let her nuzzle into your neck and stay there for a while, she feels the safest she’s ever felt.

.

Furina enjoys your touch very much. She does not enjoy, however, how you playfully tease her with light touches, tickles, and gentle bumps! She’s the embodiment of justice, you can’t just have her wiggling and choking on laughter beneath you, how unsightly! (She absolutely loves it).

.

Furina has associated your touch with comfort and safety, so don’t be surprised when she comes to you after an especially hard day. Yes, she messed up in the courtroom today, but you’ll let her rest against you, won’t you? Your hugs and embraces become her safe haven. Sometimes she will open up and admit what happened that day. Others, she simply wants to enjoy your arms holding her tight in silence. In either case, she deeply appreciates you being there for her. She won’t voice it, of course, but you’ll know in the way she presses her forehead closer to you and the angle of your neck.

.

She also finds that physical touch is very useful! She starts using her own touch on you as a way to express her emotions. A soft kiss on your cheek in the morning, a warm hug after a long day, or even a surprise tackle or an affectionate nudge as you tease each other becomes her way of saying "I care about you" without needing dramatic and flamboyant words. How practical! She will keep showering you with her divine affection for many more years to come!

.

Having Furina as a significant other is no easy feat, it takes a lot of courage, determination, and most of all, a big amount of patience and understanding. Still, she is the most vibrant and colorful part of your life, so you wouldn’t have it any other way. With her, you become her partner in both the thrilling moments and the challenges of her life. Your love and support help her navigate her insecurities and embrace her true self, helping to nurture a romance that's passionate and tender and all the beautiful things in between.

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking or reblogging it <3!

You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!

[randomperson3736]

It's all my fault

Paring(s): Lo'ak x twin! Reader, Neteyam x sister! Reader, Neytiri x daughter! Reader, Jake sully x daughter! Reader, Tuk x sister! Reader, Kiri x sister! Reader, the sully's x reader

Genre: angst, kinda fluff

Warning(s): Character death, wounds, blood, crying, sad, fighting, get punched, swearing

Word bank: Y/N- your name, Ewya- great Mother

Notes: I am so sorry that this has taken so long for me to write/post and the reason for it is because I've been having some trouble finding ideas on how this part 2 is gonna go but thankfully I found some and I really hope u enjoy. Also I put a link to part 1 if Ur new to this mini series. P.S it was kinda rushed so it may suck.

(Listen to this while reading)👇👇👇

Part 1

TAG LIST: @sully-stick-together , @users09, @bobojojoba69 ---- I am so sorry I couldn't add some of the people who asked to be added 🙏

Y/N ran for what felt like forever, even though in reality it was just a few minutes. Tears stained her face but she didn't care about that since more kept rolling down from her yellow eyes. Her heart was pumping in chest, shallow breaths could be heard. She tripped on a fallen tree branch, her body trembling to the floor. Y/N didn't bother getting up, so she just curled up into a ball and sobbed. She thought back to the earlier event with Lo'ak. Never in her whole life had she seen him so angry, and never has he ever snapped at her once not even when she was annoying.

She felt like she had pushed too hard on him but deep deep down she knew it wasn't his fault, it was his. Soon her red, puffy eyes started to close as sleep took very quickly. Y/N could hear the soft breeze flowing though the trees and brushes, it also tickled her skin as her neck hairs stood up. But little did the young girl knew a massive Strom was coming and it wasn't just any ordinary Strom, this Strom started long before any one of her siblings were born this Strom has been going on for a long time. And it was ready for its revenge.

~timeskip~

Lo'ak didn't know where his twin was, no one did. His mother and Neteyam had been looking for her for atleast 2 hours and there has been no sign of her anywhere. Worry and guilt started to fill his stomach as his mind conjured up the worst case scenario. Her dead. Non-breathing Unmoving. Her blood everywhere. He tried to shake that thought off but it was still there lingering around the back of his mind.

In the background, he could hear Tuk crying as Kiri tried to comfort her but he knew she needed to be comfort juts as much. He knew it was his fault. He knew what he did was wrong and that he shouldn't have done it. He knew he needed to find her cause somewhere deep down in his stomach he knew where he was. So he slipped away making sure no one saw him as he ran off into the forest to find his twin.

~back to Y/N~

When she woke up again, she hadn't realised how long she had been asleep. Y/N didn't even know where she was. Suddenly large hands grabbed her, pulling her roughly up on her feet. She tried to scream but before she could cold metal touched her skin.

"You so much as scream or yell out for help... I'll blow your brains out" his voice was deep, sounded like he had no soul. Y/N just nodded not wanting to provoking him and possibly getting killed. She looked up to see atleast a glimpse of her so called kidnapper. She noticed the human like clothing he was wearing. He was an avatar. Probably from her father's past. She just hoped her father and mother or someone would find her before it becomes too late. But she knew that if someone didn't find her in time the worse will happen. So, she did the most stupid thing she has ever done. She bit down on his arm, hard. Very hard. The guy yelled out in pain before he turned around to face her. "You fucking bitch!"

The next thing she knew a loud bang could be heard and then everything went black.

~back to Lo'ak~

He could hear someone yelling in the distance, sounded human? He been in contact with fake Na'vi before and he definitely didn't like them. Lo'ak pulled at his knife, grip tight around it. He prayed to Ewya that Y/N was okay, she had to be, she needed to be. He couldn't lose her. She was the only one who understood him and never thought of him as a fake.

*BANG*

His head moved towards the direction of the loud bang, his briads covering his eye. His heart was beating so fast and so hard against his chest he thought it was going to pop out. He started to run towards the danger not caring about the out come he just needed to know that his twin, his ride or die wasn't at the end of that bullet.

A body soon came in view, it seemed to be covered in blood. As he got closer he finally saw who that body belong to. It was Y/N. His twin. His best friend. Tears started to form in his eyes as he pushed his legs faster. Faster to get to her. Faster to make sure she's live and not dead.

"Y/N!" Lo'ak's voice was shaking, fear feeling his stomach. He dropped om to his knees hard. Probably gonna leave a couple cuts on it but he didn't care all he cared about is her. "L-lo'ak?" Her was so quite, also like a whisper. He carefully moved her head onto his lap, making sure to put pressure on the gun shot wound on her lower abdomen. She let out a pained sob as more pain shot through her body. "Sorry, sorry. I know it hurts but I have to put pressure on it"

Y/N just started up at him still trying to process what happened just a few minutes ago. Her eyes slowly started to feel heavy but she tried to fight it just for a little longer. "Keep your eyes open" he spoke sternly, panting as he desperately spoke to her. Fixing his hand on her bleeding wound to try and stop the blood from leaving her body. Not once had she seen him look so vulnerable, so desperate. "Stay with me, don't-don't close your eyes" his voice was laced with something unfamiliar, a tone which Y/N had never from him before. Desperation was it? No, it was something more, something more painful.

"Y/N damn it" he cursed under his breath, holding her limp body now on his lap. His voice now filled with panic, "Please" that one word. That very word seemed to be so much more painful than the wound on her stomach, was it his tone? Was it the way he said it? Or was it the way his eyes looked, the way his eyes stained with tears.

Y/N could barely think, but everything looked clear despite the tears that clouded her eyes. The pain in her heart was greater than the pain from her stomach. Y/N wasn't ready, she wasn't ready to leave him, not ready to leave her family, not when she still had so much to live for. "Lo'ak" her weak voice called out for him. Perhaps his mind was playing a trick on him but he saw that same old smile om her face, a weak smile but it was still the same. "No" he cuts Y/N off, he couldn't hear what she was about to say, he refused to. Lo'ak knew exactly what she was planning in saying and he's far from accepting it. "Save your energy, don't-"

"I'm sorry, L-lo'ak"

"Y/N you can't, I can't" tears started to fall faster down his face now. "I'm the one who should be sorry, you have nothing-" Y/N cut him off by placing her hand on his cheek, wiping the tears that slipped away. "No. You don't have to apologise, Lo'ak" he cried quietly, but he felt everything all at once at that moment. Nuzzling his face into her now cold hand, weeping uncontrollably, no caring about who saw. "I can't do this without you. I-i'm so sorry about yelling at you, I d-didn't mean too just please don't leave me"

"Y/N please" he pleads, but he knew she was growing more weak by the clock. "Lo'ak. Y-you have to let me go" her hand slipped from his face as her eyes relaxed as her pupils widened, the blood stopped gushing out from the wound on her stomach and her heart stopped just as her chest went flat with her very last breath. "Y/N?" He looked down at her now limp body. "Y/N?! NO, NO, NO! PLEASE!" Lo'ak let out a pained scream, a scream that could be heard from the village. That scream got the attention of his family, making them run off into a sprint trying to find the source of the pained scream.

Neteyam and Jake were the first ones on scene and the site in front of them made their whole worlds come crashing down in one blow. Jake's body went numb, his expressen was emotionless, but his eyes told another story as tears rolled down his face. He started at his daughter, he couldn't except the fact that his babygirl was gone for good. He could hear his family's sobs from beside him, as he watched Lo'ak pulled his twin closer to his chest begging for some sort of sign that she was still alive but he knew that she was with Ewya now. "Y/N NO PELASE! OH, GREAT MOTHER PLEASE!" Lo'ak's voice was scratchy, shouting Y/N's name over and over again. His sobs were loud and controllable, he cried out for their great Mother begging her to bring his twin back. But deep down he knew she was never coming back. Neytiri moved closer to their son and fallen daughter, taking her limp hand into her own trying to find that familiar warmth that was always there but it cold.

Neteyam moved to sit next to Lo'ak with Y/N's unmoving body still in his lap. Neteyam knew that he and thier father had to move her body but he was frozen in place. He couldn't process it, no one could. He watched his father moved slowly towards Lo'ak to try and get their sister out of his grip. But surprisingly Lo'ak let go without trying to fight it. He looked so empty, almost like a shell you find at beach. It broke Neteyam's heart to see his brother like it but he knew he couldn't do anything to help with the pain Lo'ak was feeling m.

Neteyam watches as his mother sobs and screams over their loss as his tears fall onto his little sister's thigh. He places his hand on lo'ak's shoulder trying to comfort him in some way, but he knew that even himself couldn't stop the feeling of emptiness in his heart cause he too had that exact same hole in his. Lo'ak started at his shaking hands that were covered in his twin's blood. His head tilts back as he realised he just lost his twin sister, the one person who was always there for him when he had a nightmare or when their father would yell at him. She was the one soul that never thought of him as a freak or as an outcast and now she was gone. All beacuse of him. She was died because of his stupid mistake.

~sad bonus~

(Set four weeks after Y/N's death)

Lo'ak barely slept or ate, and even if he did he would just wake up screaming or throw up the food he actully ate. Neteyam and Kiri had tried over and over again to try and get him to atleast sleep for a few hours or eat something even if it was small. But everything they tried didn't work. Lo'ak just stayed in the same stop, staring out at the ocean, not moving an inch. This concerned the whole family but they knew in time that he would heal.

After everyone had left Lo'ak tried to get some sleep knowing that Y/N wouldn't want him to do this. He smiled for the first time in weeks at the thought first her yelling at him about this is unhealthy and that he could die too young. His eyes soon fall as sleep took over his mind. When he woke up he was in a dark room with only one bit of light and under that light was a young women just around his age or maybe Neteyam's.

"Hello?" He called out to the mysterious lady but only to get ignored. Until she turned around. Lo'ak's eyes widened in shock as tears started to form. His legs started to move on their own as they walked towards her. Y/N. His beloved twin.

"Y/N"

"Don't"

"It's not your fault, Lo'ak"

"..." lo'ak looked down at his feet and stared to play with his finger, a trent he had picked up from her when she died. "You have to let me go"

"I can't- I won't hear you out"

"Lo'ak, please"

"Just- just a little bit longer. Let me hold onto you for just for little bit longer. Please" the tears he had been holding onto finally fall, rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to let her go cause if he let her go he wouldn't be able to see her smile or hear a laugh again. "Lo'ak I'm dead. Let me go"

"No, no, no please- please don't let me leave. I need to be here with you" his voice held so much pain as his spoke. Y/N just turned her body to the face the other way and started to walk away. "Wait-" before he could get the words out a strong wing started to blow him away, pulling him back into reality once again.

Neteyam had just came back from the beach to check on Lo'ak and see if he had moved from his spot. He was just about to walk in when he heard a loud sob from inside. Without thinking Neteyam ran inside to find lo'ak gripping his chest, his breath heavy, tears rolling down his face. Neteyam felt his heart break even more from the site infront of him. He couldn't stand to see his little brother like this. None of them could.

Without thinking he moved towards Lo'ak and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tight. He shushed his brother and whispered sweet things in his ear trying to calm him down. Lo'ak just held onto his brother as he cried out for his twin to come back. But he knew she was never coming back.

[v3nusxsky]

Hello! I love your writing, and I have a request;

Larissa x teacher,fem!reader and they’ve been together for a few years and then Wednesday arrives to Nevermore and things start going downhill, the murders start and all that, so just about Larissa being overly overprotective over reader when those things happen, not letting reader out of her sight and constantly having to know where reader is because she doesn’t want reader in danger/to lose her. Reader is a bit stubborn and too independent and sometimes (for example) goes for a walk in the woods where the hyde is even though larissa told her not to bc its dangerous.

Basically fluff, larissa being overprotective, and possibly angst too!

You don’t have to write this if you don’t like the idea, also take your time!

Thank you <3

Temptations and Confessions

*Authors note~ the first instalment of my you are my world (YAMW) series and I must say I adore my Larissa Weems. Some themes may be a bit tricky so always read the warnings and check the rating love yall. Sorry to the anon for changing a few details to fit in with the series I hope that’s okay*

Trigger warnings~ Nevermore supernatural usual drama overprotective Larissa due to past trauma

Prompt~ see ask^^^

Tag list

Empathy. Often as children, we get told to have more empathy for others. But for you that’s not the case. No. You were labelled the overly sensitive child. The one who seemed to be nicknamed the cry baby. It wasn’t your fault really. Being born into two Normie parents who didn’t understand you wasn’t going to help your situation. I’m fact your ability became a curse rather quickly. It became a weakness. Others could now use this against you and it resulted in you curling in on yourself, speaking less and less, isolating yourself completely and building walls so high that they would rival the Eiffel Tower. All until you stumbled into Nevermore. Literally.

Feeling your own emotions deeply was manageable but feeling others on top of your own made everything ten times harder than it should’ve been. Your own nerves bubbled in your lower stomach uncontrollably as you made your way to the gates of Nevermore. That’s why you didn’t see it. Overwhelmed with not only your emotions but those of the whole school as well made your head spin, eyes blurring round the corners causing you to trip over a obnoxiously large stone and fall face first down to the ground. What a great impression that is.

That day led you to the current moment in time, you’ve been teaching at Nevermore for a year now, dating Larissa for a few months. Larissa’s aura immediately drew you in, a stunning mixture of gold, pink, green and light blue and slight speckles of red all swirling together in a pattern that is so uniquely hers. You adore how each colour simply is woven into each other yet still remaining visible to your eye. It is nothing short of gorgeous and even now you know you’ll never stop being stunned by the woman.

Over the past two weeks your girlfriend has had exhaustion and irritation rolling off her aura in brutal waves due to the newest student of Nevermore. In fact, you felt like you’d hardly seen her since Wednesday had arrived at Nevermore. And whenever you did, she was drained. Wherever an Addams goes, trouble and darkness will always follow, a rumour you’d heard but not had evidence of till now. The young Addams radiates black and indigo in her aura, it’s practically dripping like blood as her emotions of disinterest and annoyance seeped through. Despite not seeing the principal, you’d received many texts apologising for her lack of presence these days, reminding you she cares for you and to stay safe. Things would settle down soon. You both hoped for that. But a niggly feeling deep in your soul told you that that was simply wishful thinking.

Emotions constantly consumed you, the fear of the students impact your ability to remain neutral, to the point you were having near consistent headaches. New rules being implemented for staff and students due to what some believe is bears. Bears in the woods were believable but perhaps it was paranoia of the students effecting you or Wednesdays constant insistence over there being a monster In the woods killing people. Whatever the reason was you couldn’t do the constant headaches, anxiety hitting you like tidal waves every time you left your room, even altering your dreams now. This couldn’t go on much longer, it’s draining everyone, especially the poor Principal. Truthfully you weren’t sure what emotions were your own these day.

Shooting a quick text off to Larissa you found your shoes and jacket and got ready to leave the grounds in search of a break. Only to be stopped by a frantic round of knocks on the door of your private chambers spooked you. Instantly tapping into your ability, you knew your girlfriend was stood on the other side of the door riddled with panic causing you to make quick work of letting the woman in.

“Isa?” You puzzled, stepping back away from her slightly as the full force of her emotions hit you. “Darling! You shouldn’t leave the grounds. I can’t protect you there my love! Please don’t risk your health. I can’t imagine what would happen if-“ her own sobs choked the final words of her pleas. Tears forming in her cyan blue eyes, “I don’t like this darling girl” you couldn’t help but mumbled sadly “I need a break Isa. It’s too painful. Maybe if I can prove there’s nothing abnormal the students won’t be so paranoid. I have to try Larissa! Please for my sake let me go” you stated with the stubbornness she knew you held. Especially when it involved someone you care for. “I- I don’t like it” she whispered as her emotions clouded every word. As much as she didn’t like this, she doesn’t want you in pain either.

Warm slender fingers came to cradle your cheek as she attempted to persuade you otherwise. The blondes heart clenching with fear as you squared your jaw and pushed calming emotions into her. “I’ll be fine Isa. I promise. Just need fifteen minutes to myself away from all the madness. Larissa you must know I respect you but I need this. I’ll be back soon love” you stated before slipping under the shifters form that was blocking the doorway. You didn’t dare look back, knowing your heart would shatter into millions of tiny pieces at the hurt and anguish she was being drowned in.

One thing about Larissa Weems is she protects those within Nevermore and those who she holds dear with every fibre of her being. To see you go into the unknown alone most definitely shouldn’t be happening on her watch. But, she’d the let fear of losing you paralyse her, moments trapped in her own mind as it drew up the worst case scenarios.

The ticking sound escaping the grandfather clock seemed to be only adding to the blondes fears. You’d said fifteen minutes, by minute three she had moved back to her office and began rapidly passing the floor. A desperate attempt to calm herself was failing as she glanced again at the clock for at least the hundredth time. By minute eight, every emotion was clawing its way through the shifter inhibiting her from forming a plan. To save you from the unknown.

By minute fifteen, tears caressed pale cheeks as her chest heaved in attempt of getting enough air to fill them. You’d left. And she’d let you. Failing you in the first few months of your blossoming relationship wouldn’t booded well with her desire to love and protect you till her last breath. A lapse in her judgment that wouldn’t happen again.

As you made your way back to the grounds, shaken and sore you were immediately hit with your lovers emotions. Self hatred, solitude, love, panic, confusion and an overwhelming sadness were swirling inside of her like a mini tornado. So much so it practically made you feel more nauseous than you previously did. As you crawled into Nevermore the only thought you had was that she was right. If only you’d listened to her.

Not even bothering to knock you let yourself into the office panting slightly through the pain which caught her attention. “Are you hurt? Darling? Let me see. Are you okay? Gods don’t ever do that again! I could’ve lost you. Do you know how incredibly dangerous that is. Is that blood?” She rambled as her eyes frantically ran over your from. She immediately noted that you seemed to hold your right heel off the floor and a deep crimson stained your cheeks and left arm. Almost as if you’d been scratched by something.

“Isa” you groaned, “yes. I’m sorry. You were right” you mumbled as you tried to focus on anything but the swirling emotions that were brewing inside of you. “Stay” was all she offered as she let her long beautiful legs carry her to fetch what could only be a medical kit. Sure enough that’s exactly what she was clinging to as she moved to kneel by your saw body. “I’m sorry darling. I need to clean this up love” she murmured softly to you as she set to work on her task. A peace offering of painkillers and some bottled water to help with the physical pain. Praise flowing as she carfully cleaned and patch up the deep cuts before wrapping your ankle to help with the pain.

“Feel sick” you whimpered as she cleaned off the blood staining your cheeks. “I’ll just” she trailed off as you cut her off with a desperate plea to stay. “Please! Isa I need you here! Don’t leave me! I’m sorry, don’t go” only to be hushed and gently scooped into her arms and carried to her private quarters. From there she joined you on the bed, extra cautious of your sore body. “Okay.”

Okay. You were okay. But hurt. Alive. She reminded her self as you clung to her. She had no clue what had happened and it wasn’t her right to pry, you’d speak when you felt ready. In an effort to help with your nausea she tried to pour all her love and calming energy into you as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. You could’ve died. Left. Gone. She wouldn’t have been able to tell you she loved you. Although you knew that, she wanted the first time admitting it out loud to be perfect.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you again” she mumbled dropping a sweet kiss to your head. You’d been silent for a while, chest rising and falling slowly with your eyes screwed shut as you hid yourself into her. Only natural she thought you’d been asleep. “I’m sorry I’ve let you down my darling. I can’t lose you. From here and now I’m going to make sure that you are safe. Better protection for you from emotions. Anything to keep you safe and happy. I- i- oh heavens how will I tell you when you are awake if i can’t say it now?’ I love you sweet girl. Always will.” She managed to stumble out before dropping another round of sweet kisses to the crown of your head. No verbal answer was given, but the onslaught of love forcing its way into her body was all that she needed to know.

You’d get through this together. She hadn’t lost you. And wouldn’t ever again. Stubbornly, you mumbled telling her she was protective of you. Only to be reminded that to Larissa Weems you are her whole world. Nothing is more important than your safety and happiness. Nothing. She’d deal with your stubbornness if you accepted her need to protect someone as precious as yourself from such a cruel world. Her love. Her life. Hopefully her wife. One day.

Word count ~ 2005

[mysadcorner]

DC Characters x IcePowers!Reader Apocalypse Headcanons

- Credit to the gifs owners - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests -

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Tag list: @simligul

Jason Todd

• Jason would be quite a good person to be stuck in an apocalypse with, although if it’s just the two of you it may be a bit hard to get along sometimes. The two of you clash heads quite often - but in a situation like this it’s pretty understandable.

• He’s an incredible fighter, so no matter who or what you’re going to be up against he’s going to be able to handle them much better than the average person. Plus, the equipment and places he knows comes to be a great upper hand when it comes to finding and keeping safety.

• Jason is well aware of how to survive, as he was taught what to do in case there was ever an extreme circumstance and because of his childhood, he he knows that you’re going to have to locate a heat source as soon as possibly. Because of this, your powers may not come to be useful for a short while, but they definitely are eventually.

• Jason finds your powers incredibly helpful when the two of you are up against something, especially as the world is in full chaos so ammunition and weapons are in limited supply after a while. Since you’re able to make use of your abilities whenever you want he’s able to be protected and attack as much as he wants to while knowing you’re always there to help and have his back (just as he has yours).

• With your help Jason is able to form proper plans and have a second opinion, which is especially helpful as he sometimes takes the reckless routes through things and isn’t too bothered about getting hurt. This is a huge help as he knows it can’t just be the two of you forever, so your shared plans and abilities are just what you both need to find some other potential survivors in the new world you’ve been thrown into.

Damian Wayne

• Just like Jason, Damian would cope very well in comparison to others in an apocalypse mainly because of all the training and survival techniques he’s learned during his life. Straight away this puts you at an advantage and gives you both a head start as to how to find appropriate shelter and food for the time being.

• Damian’s tactical and physical fighting abilities compliment yours well, and as the two of you have knows each other a long time this means that you already have a strong bond and understanding of each other established. This is crucial to how the both of you work, and this probably also makes you the best combo to have been stuck together.

• Damian used your powers and abilities as a way to find the best way to survive. Rather than trying to find things that would help the both of you from a standard persons point of view Damian wants to ensure that the two of you have the least amount of clutter and can use things most effectively. And he’s quite good at this, so the majority of his plans are successful.

• Damian doesn’t mind being alone with you most of the time. Of course he likes to have his privacy still (which is pretty much almost non existent in these circumstances due to safety) but he already lived keeping your company so the two of you already have a good relationship. Plus, there are less people around to bother him and to stress over - if there were more people or if your were in a large group things would be much harder to control.

• Damian doesn’t want you do tire yourself out too much or cause yourself to get hurt when you’re up against things constantly, so he’d prefer that you fight normally and only save your powers for when things are extremely serious. This way you’re both able to minimise recovery time needed for the both of you and you’re able to move onto the next problem much quicker.

Conner Kent

• Conner would struggle a lot during an apocalypse, as the only understanding of true survival techniques and end of the world scenarios would be from movies and other kinds of pop culture. Because of this it’s difficult for him to get a grip of things when everything first starts, but eventually he gets the hang of things.

• Before he truly is able to navigate the new world around him, Conner makes rash decisions and is reckless as the the safety of himself and potentially you. He often forgets that you aren’t as durable as him, regardless of your abilities, so he isn’t as careful as he should be.

• Both of your abilities and powers combined are a great way for the both of you to get by. Not only are you both able to fight off whatever comes your way, but you’re also able to survive together and find food and shelter without too much of a problem.

• Conner would definitely be in a rush to try to find others who have made it through all the chaos and to team up again. The worry he has for others is always at the back of his mind and it’s just something he can’t help, just like how he constantly worries for you too.

• Your ice powers are a wonderful form of protection in the form of barriers and attack power, and Conner has abilities of his own which work well in the world you’re both now in. You’ll both annoy each other quite a bit, but you’re always working together for the best solution and outcome so it’s only very rare that things go wrong.

Rachel Roth

• Raven would feel over whelmed when everything has finally gone wrong and may even be slightly emotional about it for a while. This causes her to make rash decisions and ones that may not be useful or cause some issues, but she doesn’t mean to it’s just her trying to get a grip of the world around her.

• Her powers would be slightly out of control at first, as no matter how much she trains they still get the upper hand over her every now and then and this is just something she’s come to accept. Because of this, it’s up to you to help her take control of her abilities and you would definitely have to use powers of your own to protect yourself during this process.

• Both of your powers would be getting used quite often as you’re always looking out for each other, and it can sometimes be hard to go up against something if the abilities aren’t balanced which means both of you just put all of your effort in. Her powers mixed with yours create a harsh mixture of attack power so there isn’t much that stops you.

• As the two of you are alone together in this situation, you both know that it would be best to have strength in numbers. So, it would only make sense to find those you were close to and anyone else who may able to help fix things - plus, relationships get strained easily if you’re both alone for a very long time.

• Your ice powers may not be the most useful for basic survival techniques, but in times of chaos and anarchy in the world where there are constant threats of danger it definitely becomes useful. This means that although you may need to look for shelter and food the same as everyone else, protection from danger wouldn’t be a problem in the long run.

Garfield Logan

• Garfield would be an incredible person to be stuck in an apocalypse with because of how diverse and tactile he is. Because of his different forms he’s able to master a variety of obstacles and he’s always concerned about the safety of those around him.

• Garfield is always worrying about you even though he knows you can handle yourself, it’s just that in dangerous situations his mind always goes to those around him. He’s the first to step in to protect someone and would happily take a blow of it meant you would be okay afterwards.

• As he can turn into different animals, Garfield is able to figure out the dangers in the surrounding area of where you both are. This also means he’s able to get from different places much easier and undetected in comparison to a person which is a huge boost to safety.

• Garfield tries to use your combined powers to an advantage by not only making a plan but also making back ups in the case of anything going wrong. He always has an a escape route in his head for if either of you are injured as a way to minimise the hurt or injuries you both end up suffering.

• Since you’re both alone together and Garfield is always having things in the back of his mind, he’s still quite worried about those he was close to and no longer has contact with. It may make him snappy at times or emotional but in the end he’d try his best to get through the situation you’re both in and have the ability to find them eventually.

[authenticaussie]

tagged by @suzukiblu and @cer-rata (wtf y'all, you're taking away from my "people I can tag" pool---)

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Y'all of course like. Know me as a person (and probably remember the LAST time I did something like this and ended up with 200-odd fics) so 'cause I was tagged by two DC moots I shall only do DC fics:

tfw you give yourself amnesia because your parents make friends with a mind-reader and you don’t want to give up the secrets of your pseudo-family

Blogging (and other dangerous activities likely to get you adopted by the Batman)

growing up feels like (free-falling)

eight legs hit the wall

Stray!dami

The future starts tomorrow

Jumanji (what the fuck)

our past deed's punishments (our future's reward)

Illogical Fallacy

Acrobot, (but I didn't start that one so it may die a tumblr post death eventually)

It's just a matter of time (before we learn how to fly)

keep yourself in Check (but I'll be real this title WILL change because every time I read it I go oooo TT hockey au? and i CAN'T KEEP DOING THAT TO MYSELF-)

buy a date

To-do-it List

Palatable (but i need a cooler poet title and I am FAILING)

take our ages, take our failures, rescind

put me in your Pocket

Not in love with you (shit!)

Autism and the body-bat-swap

Tim sticks his foot in his mouth and threatens to jump out a window

by any other name

There are many benefits to being a marine biologist

I'm not tagging 22 people. that's just. that's not happening. But also I will tag some artists! In case they also have wip aus they wanna talk about. <3

@midnightluck @touchmycoat @rockingthegraveyard @12freddofrogs @2014federalbudget @lollesss @litnerdhood @justm3h @leviathiane @emygrl99 @trickstermelon @potat-o-piece @xamaxenta @merryfortune @saltfics @minister-of-silly-walks

and I think it was REALLY STRONG of me to tag 15 people and pretend that this isn't out of the blue <3333 don't look at me 😔😔

[free-for-all-fics]

More random Marvel prompts and ideas, feat. Bucky, Zemo, and Loki. Pls tag me if any of these inspire you to write something! I’d love to read it! 💜

1. Bucky is reader’s father and she was kidnapped and used by Hydra alongside him. While he was the Winter Soldier, she was used to keep him in line and may or may not have had her memories erased like he did. So while in captivity, she and Bucky may feel a sense of familiarity, but have no idea why or that they’re related. But what Hydra never knew is that while she and Bucky both were taught Russian, she secretly implanted safe words into his head to snap him out of Winter Soldier mode, just in case they ever made it out alive and needed a fail safe. Now, after Zemo (or another character) used the words to trigger him back into the Winter Soldier, she has to use the safe words she taught him to get him back to normal, even if it’s during mid-combat and she risks her life/safety in the process. Even if she hates having to go inside her dad’s mind. She just wants to stop him from hurting others or himself. She just wants her dad back.

2. Zemo as a cult leader AU. I’ve seen some Bucky fics with this scenario and they’re so dark and sensual, what about Zemo’s turn?

3. Zemo or Bucky Spy/Crime AU inspired by Nancy Drew and the Silent Spy. Reader was a top performing spy/agent for many years before she met Bucky/Helmut. Following their marriage, reader left the spy world to raise their child, a promise made to her husband. As such, they decided to keep Reader’s past a secret. Until Reader gets a call from an old friend and fellow spy that would put her back in the game, leading to Bucky/Zemo losing trust in that friend (Could be Natasha, Steve, Sharon, whoever). And despite the success of the mission, Reader seemingly died in a car accident while undercover. For many years, Helmut/Bucky believed reader was betrayed and killed, and this causes him to go onto a life of crime - to seek revenge for his wife’s murder. For many years, the death remained a painful subject for Bucky/Helmut, who was aggravated by her leaving and fought with her before she left.

Now his plane has just landed in the very country/city Reader had supposedly died in, and he’s here to unravel the conspiracy behind her death, hoping to find any clues and remnants of her final days here. This high-risk mission could prove fatal, with danger around every corner, down every street, inside every room. Bucky/Helmut might encounter enemies and friends alike, some of whom closer than he may think. As they say, you may never know whom to trust, so best to keep your friends close and enemies closer. Perhaps the person he’s looking for most will be right under his nose, and he won’t even know it. Maybe some secrets should stay buried, like his wife was. Or was she?

4. Bucky either gets turned into a cat (either a normal cat who has to use those push to talk word buttons for pets to communicate, or a talking cat like Salem Saberhagen) OR he develops the ability to talk to animals through a magic mishap. (Could be from Strange, Loki, or another source) But he can now understand everything Alpine says and communicate with her perfectly, so he really enjoys this new development instead of wanting to be changed back to normal right away. He and his favorite girl in the world (aside from you, of course) are bonding and causing catastrophe *ba dum tss* and this will only solidify their lifelong friendship. Feline friends for life! Bucky’s just like, “Babe, guys, I know you’re all working really hard to fix this and get me back to normal but hear me out: What if we…don’t and say we did?”

5. You know those pictures of a Tomcat walking over thorns/barbs to reach the white cat and it looks like a romantic forbidden love? A fic with that scenario, where Alpine has a handsome Tomcat admirer who keeps coming by Bucky’s apartment to visit her and paws at/yowls by the window and/or brings “gifts” for her (buttons, rocks, whatever sparkly and colorful things he can get his paws on). Bucky is like, “No!! Absolutely not!! She’s my baby, my princess and no man is good enough for her! Get out of here, you punk! >:(“

but reader is like, “Awwwww it’s so romantic!! He’s singing for her! He’s brought gifts! Bucky, they’re in love! Look at them, it’s like Lady and the Tramp! Bucky, c’mon, I want grandkittens.”

Bucky is straight faced when he says, “Thanks for reminding me to schedule her vet appointment to get her spayed, doll.”

6. Narnia/Beauty and the Beast inspired: Imagine you fall through a portal in your closet and accidentally end up in Jotunheim, ruled by king Loki. At first, he tries to manipulate you with promises you will be his queen if you bring your family there. You go back to your world and come back a few days later, with your family, but end up going separate ways. When you return to the ice palace where Loki is, He’s disappointed that you came alone and locks you up in his dungeon. But you befriend Fenrir, his son and one of his loyal wolves. And as cliche as it is, perhaps you’ll melt the ice king’s heart. (It’s been a hot minute since I saw the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so sorry if things are wrong).

7. Loki fic where reader is his daughter and is similar to Hel from Norse mythology, ruler of the land of the dead, half of her body that of a beautiful woman and the other half skeletal like a corpse. She and Loki have a visit and she’s feeling self conscious and asks, “Am I ugly? Am I undesirable?” because she’s read the tales and myths of Midgard, yet hasn’t found her “Persephone” yet. She’s feeling lonely and jealous since the dead aren’t the best conversationalists, nor are her brothers, and she’s stuck down below while other gods get to explore the world above. Loki tries to be the best father he can be to his favorite child and only daughter.

8. Merman/Siren Zemo and human reader AU: Reader is the daughter of a pirate or noble on a ship headed for home, until Zemo summons a Kraken to destroy the ship reader is on so he can kidnap her without witnesses. Maybe it’s dark where reader was sold to him but then reader’s father tries to back out of the deal, or he takes her as retribution after his family is killed. Maybe he walks on land as a human for a few days to gain the reader’s trust.

9. Merman AU where Zemo gets kidnapped by pirates, since it’s said a merman is part of the key to the long lost treasure. Reader is the captain’s daughter, but she goes against her father’s orders and secretly befriends Zemo during their voyage/quest for the treasure. She sets him free, even if she knows she’d be punished for it. What irony would it be if she’s the only one from the pirate crew who lays eyes on or comes in possession of the long sought after treasure. Pirates of the Carribbean inspired type thing. Could be dark or not.

10. AU where Zemo is a Nøkken/Fossegrim who uses his music to lure people to their drowning. But maybe reader is different. Maybe reader becomes his new muse/obsession and he wants her for himself, as a bride. That scene where Zemo sings Baa Baa Black Sheep to the kids just makes me want AUs of him as a singing mythical creature. Dark or not. “Stories also exist wherein the Fossegrim agreed to live with a human who had fallen in love with him” “a tale from the forest of Tiveden relates that a father promised his daughter to a nøkk who offered him great hauls of fish in a time of need; she refused and stabbed herself to death, staining the water lilies red from that time on.”

11. Pirate AU where Zemo/Bucky was once a pirate captain and is now a vengeful ghost disturbed from his centuries long sleep under the sea. Long ago, in the 1700’s he killed a ship’s crew full of members of the Royal Navy. He and his crew donned the dead men’s uniforms and kidnapped a countess on board, intending to hold her for ransom. Occasionally, Zemo/Bucky would permit the countess above deck. One night, she threw herself overboard and attempted to drown herself, but he dove in after her and pulled her back up. When the countess fell sick with fever, he nursed her back to health himself, not trusting anyone on his crew. This was the start of their love story. A love story which ended with his beloved countess murdered on their wedding day in a failed rescue attempt by her family, and he sent to the gallows for his crimes. Before the lever was pulled, he cursed them all and swore revenge. Now he’s crawled out from his watery grave, back as a vengeful spirit. He kidnaps the reader, a museum curator with a striking resemblance to his countess. His new obsession: Resurrect his love from the dead and make his countess remember who he is.

12. Possibly Dark Frankenstein AU with some Apsulov: End of Gods inspiration, where Zemo doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms for his grief and is totally unhinged, becoming a mad doctor. He wants his family back through any means necessary. Carl was too small to bring back, but he can try to bring back his wife, Heike. His attempts instead create the reader, a woman with some of Heike’s parts. Whatever was left of her body that was still salvageable, that is.

You wake up on a strange surgical table in an unfamiliar room. You hear a man’s voice speaking over you, as if taking notes for a medical exam. “Some movement. Her responses and cognitive abilities seem to be working as intended.” The man’s voice then speaks directly to you, but you still can’t find where it’s coming from, no matter wherever which way you look.

“Good morning, my dear. Still a bit weak, I see. Not very surprising.” You try to ask any of the millions of questions you have, but it comes out as only a pathetic rasp. “Your throat muscles need time to recover. I’ll fix that for you later. Let’s hope this whole procedure wasn’t a waste of my precious time and resources. For now, don’t speak. I want you to go over to the table you see in front of you and show me who you are.”

You see a table with a single lamp and many headshots of different women, their names written underneath. There’s no mirror anywhere, so you don’t know what the right answer is. You’re so confused but the longer you hesitate, the more impatient and agitated the voice gets. You’re not sure what he wants, so you choose…. And the angry, frustrated shouts of “No! No! I can’t believe this! You failure! Is this all I have to show for my years of devoted research? My years of sleepless nights and grueling work? A pathetic little husk that has forgotten everything I’ve given her?! An imbecile that’s forgotten the entire history of us?!” tell you you’ve chosen wrong. Very wrong.

You try to speak again, but — “Shut up! We’re past the point of no return, we can’t give up on you now. I’ll come back for you, so don’t you dare move. I’ll fix you later.” The voice is gone. It seems you’ve been left alone for now. You don’t know what he meant when he said he’ll fix you, but you don’t want to stay to find out. You need to get out. Now.

[savvythepirate]

Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Hector Barbossa x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @personlovinganime

The Request:

hi, can i ask “was this all a joke to you?” and “Please, (Y/n)… open the door.” with Barbossa? Good ending too, if I may.

***

“Was this all a joke to you?”

“No, I think it’s something stupid that shouldn’t have been done.”

You and Barbossa were trudging your way back to the safety of the ship, in the midst of an argument and how this all started was by you saving his life.

Barbossa could be a hard case towards you or literally anyone, but this by far is the worst you have had to deal with. If he wasn’t going to be grateful for your service, then what was the point on being part of his team? You were so close to asking him that yourself, but you had to use everything in you to keep that from happening. If someone strikes the right nerve, a flare lights up within and he had quite the temper.

Before officially joining, you were warned by some of the others that Barbossa could be hard to work with at times, yet you joined anyway, believing it was the right thing for you to do. Thinking that you already knew everything you needed to know about Barbossa and basically everything else that goes. Your crew got caught in a battle during a raid and after seeing Barbossa was losing one to another rouge pirate, that’s when you step in even with knowing you were risking your life. You felt that was the right thing to do, to have been done, otherwise Barbossa would have possibly be a goner, suffering a much different kind of fate. That being of death and yet instead of being seemingly grateful, what you got in return was his sternness and him scolding at you for doing that. It was infuriating, not a single word of gratitude left his tongue. All of it was stern and scolding as if you were a small child getting caught in a lie of stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, in the act of lying.

As Barbossa continues, you could take no more and took off to your small cabin. You needed time to yourself right now, to think of what you wanted to do, did you want to go or did you want to stay? You couldn’t recall on how long it’s been since you stormed off, a couple or few hours at least. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your door, making things feel worse.

“I’m not in the mood!” You snap.

“Please (Y/n)… open the door.” Barbossa’s voice coming from the other side.

You sigh and reluctantly move to let him in, though you were a bit curt to him in greeting and that was to be expected.

“What do you want? Come to talk me down some more?”

Barbossa’s eyes flicker behind you, seeing that you had started packing a bag, having him upset and worried.

“What’s that for?”

“I’m trying to decide where my fate should remain, here or with some other crew I have yet to meet.”

Although knowing he was the cause of this, his eyes widened at the sudden news, he then goes on to persuade you to stay there with him. You were hesitant, but you were willing to listen to what he had to say.

“Please stay, don’t go.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re our best fighter. We need you here with us and not with anyone else. Please stay.”

“You should have said that earlier.”

“Do you think I say that to just anyone? To be honest, you’re really the only one I care about and I was just worried about you.”

Hearing this helped you to better understand the fact that he truly did care about you, and maybe even the way he felt. Turning back towards Barbossa, you give your response.

“This is your final chance, if this happens again, I’m gone.”

Barbossa nods in agreement before exiting your cabin, leaving you to stand there alone.

You saw something in him others didn’t see, and that was a good thing.

Making this a happy ending.

***

Requests: OPEN

@savvythepirate

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence

[sunenjoyswriting]

Reverse self aware!Yuu ideas

Possible warnings: Fortunately, nothing that I know of was found. Please do tell me if I missed something that should be here.

Tag list: Unfortunately, nobody… tragic.

Writers note: Not important right now, but [[Player]] IS NOT the reader. [[Player]] has their own interests and personality (and will get their own post). If you want stuff where [[Player]] is the reader, too bad. Also… I am not adding c^lt stuff. I don’t like that Self-Aware AU type.

I’m keeping the Yuu the same from the OG version of this, so here’s just stuff about the Yuu in case you’re new here (and to start this off before I get into the actual differences):

- The Yuu’s name is Yuune, and he uses he/they pronouns (pref for he/him)

- Yuune is about 12 years old.

- Yuune wasn’t a thing before [[Player]] installed Twisted Wonderland.

- Yuune is pretty neutral about [[Player]].

- Yuune is into scene style stuff.

- Yuune has abilities to go through the games code and change small things (Choices for his dialogue, what [[Player]] is referred to in game, stuff like that.)

- Yuune has something against Leona. It’s unknown what caused this (no, it wasn’t the overblot. This had been a thing before the overblot.) but he stays away from Leona as much as possible!

- Yuune enjoys doing pranks on people.

Okay, onto the main stuff.

- So, when [[Player]] first installed Twisted Wonderland, everything had seemed normal about it.

- But… something had been weird. Despite [[Player]] naming themself Yuki, the characters kept on referring to the MC as ‘Yuune’. Weird, but it’s probably just a bug… right?

- That was, until the game glitched out one the screens for them to choose some Yuu dialogue, and a choice changed text. Nope, definitely NOT just a bug!

- Meanwhile, Yuune may or may not have had a mental breakdown once he realized this was just a game. JUST. A. GAME. Yuune wasn’t real…!!

- But Yuune quickly managed to get over it… and started using it to their advantage.

- Yuune started having some fun with [[Player]]!

- He was changing plenty of stuff, and watching [[Player]]’s reaction to it~ All so amusing!

- In the end, there’s plenty of fun for Yuune~

———————

[itsohh]

Hello! I hope you are doing well! When you first started writing here on Tumblr, did you hesitate or were nervous and if so how did you deal with it? Or did you just power through it and fuck it I'm putting my writing out there and I don't care what people say?

Long story short I'm really wanting to write on here just to do something different but I'm hella nervous and just wanted an opinion. Because I really love R6 but I have a very hard time getting out of my shell. Obviously you don't have to answer if you are uncomfortable! Till then I can't wait for your next post! 😊

hmmm I think way back when I first started writing I was a lot more care free at the time back when I was like 13.

I don't think I was ever focused on like anyone hating it or anything like that. Like I've legit never got hate for writing in all the years I've done it. Either people will hit the like button or they wont. Back then I was writing for like supernatural and marvel then eventually overwatch and a bit of Sherlock. In the case of I guess it was 'whats the worst that will happen' in all reality most of the time people who don't like x reader have the tag blocked and so only people who like said thing will find it (so long as u tag correctly)

I've sorta just got to the stage where posting doesn't really phase me in nervousness or anything, like sure for somethings I lose interest or motivation at times but when I started posting I didn't really get any like feedback at all? Like it was very rare I would get anything that wasn't a like or a reblog and requests didn't happen much. I think the fact that Tumblr is so anonymous really helps, like its almost a mask. No one actually knows who I am, worst comes to worst I can legit just delete the blog and start anew.

I think also fandom size is a huge thing, is reconising your audience, there's no point comparing like notes to another fandom cause honestly it just reflects how popular said thing is. After I realised that I sorta don't worry anymore? I used to freak out a bit about people not liking my posts but now I'm just like 'eh R6S is tiny' and it is.

Honestly yeah so long as you tag correctly you should be alg. In the R6S fandom at leat people are pretty chill. (Idk there's some hate to oc's or something but as long as u don't tag as x reader u should be alg)

Anyway I'm rambling a lot but honestly yeah just go for it hun, upload. Nothing bad will happen, might feel a bit anxious or whatever but its like, yeah. You feel me? that being said if your going to write please remember capitals and new speaker new line theses are so important, as someone who breaks a lot of grammar rules those two shouldn't be broken in writing. I know a lot of people aren't a fan of first person so if you do write first person your audience would be smaller than per say second or first

Some people may have different ideas or interpretations of character but I feel as a tumblr collective (speshly this fandom) people won't like hate on you for it.

ANYWAY I went off again, yeah give it a go. eventually you will get used to it and it will become a second habit to upload, frankly so long as you ultimately always write for your enjoyment your always good. uploading writing is pretty much like the same as watching a movie with a friend id say, or like running a dnd campaign sorta vibes. kinda. but yeah just hit that post button and off u go. I guess yeah just power through it, hitting post the first time is def the hardest and you just gotta rip that bad boy off.

[cerisetial]

rise and shine sweeties!

hello, and welcome to my writing blog if you do manage to make it here <3! my name's cerise, a fairly new writing blog, though not inexperienced that's for sure! how about a quick introduction before we begin this journey? don't worry the cookies will arrive later!

information about me and some quick words ! :

yahallooo! the name's cerise, as you can probably tell. the pronouns i go by are she/her. when it comes to nicknames i'm not particularly against them, so long as they're not offensive or meant to be an insult.

i don't exactly have a proper updating schedule, since most times i usually just write when motivation comes to me, but i will try to update at least once a week, probably even more depending on how motivated i'll be

i do accept anons! so if you'd want to be one just send an ask with whatever name or emoji you'd like to be associated with and i shall let you know if it is taken or not

i will be doing my best to keep this blog friendly for everyone! i want this blog to be considered a safe space for others to indulge in their heart's and imagination's desires as well as a space where we can just chat! so please be nice not only to me but also to each other!

seems like that's good enough for now, onto the writing tidbits!

fandoms i will be writing for:

danganronpa

mystic messenger

(recently added) genshin impact

for danganronpa, the games i will be writing for are:

danganronpa trigger happy havoc

danganronpa 2: goodbye despair

danganronpa 3: killing harmony

what i can write:

fluff, hurt-comfort, platonic, and angst

character x reader

one shots, headcanons, comfort letters and fluff alphabets (though mostly headcanons)

what i will not write:

nsfw

anything that revolve around the topics of pedophilia, racism, sexism, incest, abuse and gore

character x character (i'm still learning, please bear with me)

rules and some clarifications :

will be limiting the amount of characters per request to around just 5

do be sure to specify a gender when you make a request. if one is not specified i shall be writing it with a gender neutral reader instead :)!

if you'd like the reader to act a certain way (eg. be extremely shy or boisterous, etc.) do specify this as well

for danganronpa requests: you may request for a reserve course student reader or a reader that is part of the ultimates (feel free to request for a specific ultimate talent too)

some things to add:

recently i have been watching some playthroughs of danganronpa another: despair academy as well as super danganronpa another 2, so i might consider writing for it once i've gotten everyone down!

although i am alright with writing about every character from the fandoms above, there are a few characters that i am not very experienced with writing such as characters like teruteru hanamura, hifumi yamada, junko enoshima, mukuro ikusaba, ray, rika, and a few more, so if ever they are not written very well (although i intend to do my best to do them justice), please do excuse me, i will try to get to know all of them more as time progresses!

things to add about the love letters in case it's a bit confusing~

love letters — oh, what's this? seems like there's a letter at your door from . . . oh, no name, but that's cause we're still teaching you a bit about how these letters work haha! you may request for some special letters written by your favorite characters, whether it be a letter proclaiming their love, or a letter expressing their sentiments, the choice is yours! all that is asked for is the context you'd like as well the character you want to send the letter to you! an example perhaps if it's still confusing, "jumin sending you a letter while on a business trip", or maybe even "sayaka maizono sending you a letter about a concert she's holding on a different state". whatever you want, your wish is my command! well, as long as it falls within the line of the rules of course

tags!

#cerisetial - general tag

#cerisetialwrites - tag for every written work

#cerisetalks - tag for interactions

#cerisetialanswers - tag for answering questions

#masterpieces - tag for reblogged artwork/written works

#cerisesthoughts - tag for random thoughts

i will be sure to add separate tags for all of my anons (if ever anyone is interested)

pretty sure we got all the important bits down, so thank you very much for reading till the end if you have, i appreciate you a lot sweetie ♡ don't forget to take care of yourself always. and before i forget, here have your cookie 🍪! i love you to the stars and beyond!!

- cerise

[thedarling]

Puritan.

8:08 a.m. I'm not awake for this. At all. Just looked over my 'What'd I Miss' section of Reddit and saw a post about readers getting pissy over fanfics and fanfic authors railing against them. In summary, some readers are extremely vocal about what fanfic authors publish, with subjects that range from underage sex, CSA overall, self-harm, etc., for which, YEAH, I get it. I am definitely one of those readers who look for tags and avoid the ones I know will be harmful. I'm not here to relive my own traumas nor do I want to put creators on blast who's intention was NEVER to speak to me directly about those things. As long as the author has been conscientious about their fic and marked it accordingly, then I don't read that thing. I WILL SAY, however, that (just as I've always said), if you build it, they will come, and I mean the people you wanted to avoid. Artists and authors used to cause RIOTS with what they presented to the public, decades before this (centuries even!). People should never, ever think that this behavior is anything new. People catch it coming and going even when you create something 'safe' or 'vanilla'. Regardless, no matter what, write the effing tags. Do not stop, do not stutter, WRITE THE EFFING TAGS. Last thing I'll say is I do think (fanfic authors or otherwise) creators bear some responsibility with bringing fictional scenarios into the real world and seeing real people react to them. Say an author publishes a fic about a character causing violence in a school or public space, you can neither prove nor disprove that that work may or may not have inspired a real person from attempting that very real thing. All I'm saying is, be careful with what you present to the real world. You may get some feedback, you may get none at all, but whatever the case, be careful and don't be surprised or set expectations for your readers. Otherwise, you're doing the thing you're railing against. Classic irony.

[deadlysoupy]

Would you do a basic tutorial on how to create your fanfic on AO3? without a user from Latin America getting exhausted from being without a guide trying to make a fanfic @_@

ye sure! ao3 may be hard to get used to, but all the "?" in the sections do help a lot, and there's a detailed faq page on ao3, check this one if you have any questions. i'll do one anyway though

first, you'll want to click on the "new work" button here (assuming you already have an account!)

then you'll see this section, we'll gradually get into each one, but for more info you can just click the "?" button

honestly the rating and warnings are a bit of a doozy for me too, but the general ideas behind them are explained in the help buttons. if you've read fics on this website before i think you'd have a foggy understanding of ratings, they aren't too complicated. i really can't explain it any better than the help buttons do, it's just spitballing a lot of the times for me

but! fandoms! i've seen people who list their fandoms in relation to how prevalent they are in a story (ie when you have a mostly, idk, cyberverse-related fic with lots of references, you should put it first), with or without the general tag for all media, that depends, i guess, on the audience you want to attract, or in case some things reference other things from a media. the tags DO auto-fill when you type a few words (be careful about the spellings and wording in general)

categories are pretty linear and expected, dunno how to even describe them. again, the help button helps lmao

relationships is an important part - they can be skipped, but a lot of people browse for specific relationships and not fandoms. i put them in a tier-list of sorts to the importance in the story - similar to that of fandoms. don't overdo it tho! it gets muddy fast (you'll be able to see stuff better once we finish making everything pretty). again, most of this can be auto-filled!!! in case it's very obscure and rare

characters shouldn't be listed wildly - put only the ones you KNOW are important, a tiny cameo may not count, it gets kinda annoying when you look at a character tag but it's just one line (speaking from experience lmao)

additional tags are what people usually call regular tags. you can list a genre, what people could expect beyond a summary, a few popular tags that fit (hurt/comfort, angst, that sort of stuff). don't overdo it tho! ao3 does have a limit, and it's easier for the reader to read short and concise tags. you can see a list of most popular tags here, in case you get stuck

now then! the preface! just learned what it's called and that's pretty cool!

work title is pretty self-explanatory - the name of your story. das it

co-creators are a thing for people who make works with someone else - don't tic it if you aren't doing that (i have no experience so i have no idea how it works)

summary is a short description of your story. shouldn't be too long, but i've seen people do long ones, that's not the topic of this post

notes are the creator's place to yell, tell something cool, promote stuff, whatever. i love to talk to my readers through there, explain some out-of-story context or aus in mind. it's not mandatory and can be totally skipped

this weird stuff

collections and challenges are wacky. i'm not explaining that, there are way more knowledgeable people out there for this section

"gift this work to" is used for... gifting a story to someone! who knew! but for real you just type a username and in the title it would say "(work name) by (username) for (username)", it would appear in the giftee's profile. or something

these other things are... complicated.

i've never filled this cause i never did this, but it seems pretty straight-forward

part of a series is easy! it's like collections but so much simpler. your personal hole to put stuff in. order doesn't usually matter. if you have created a new series, you can put it there, or you can create a series, its literally two buttons

multiple chapters is a thing in case it's not a one-shot. if you don't have an idea about how many chapters there could be, you can just leave it with a question mark. no need to name the chapters, either, they'll just be listed as "chapter 1, chapter 2" etc, or name it whatever you want

haven't used the publication date i have no idea what this magic button does!!!!

choosing a language is mandatory. just pick a language from their list and that's it!

i have no idea how work skins work

privacy is filled unless you're anxious about a guest (an unregistered ao3 user) seeing your work (sorry that's just a description of me. my bad). it's pretty clear though

now, let's get into the m e a t

html version of the text is the one where everything is filled with a command, but it's really complicated and i'm not a programmer, so i always use the rich text version

now, you can write your fic in the ao3 textbox, but if your website crashes - say bye-bye. people write in different apps i'm not listing here, so you can copy the text over and edit there however you please

there are a lot of nuances regarding the text editor, but you can test it yourself with anything, a bunch of things do cool stuff, like italics and bold text that can enrich your writing. i rarely use it for.... reasons (a bit of a ramble but i want my text to convey all these choices without me using them, but sometimes italics help)

the final stretch!

i always preview my works before they get published. period. you never know when an italic messed up your spaces, you forgot to delete a space inbetween paragraphs, and whatever

previewed works go into drafts, which you can publish once you check if everything is a-okay. if you take too long though..... ao3 will think that the date you made the draft is the day you basically published the thing. so be careful with that! don't rush it, but don't leave it for more than a few hours, you'll have to start over. maybe it's a me-only glitch, maybe it's not, i'm not willing to check

and there you go! once you do all that, and you've checked your tags and the text (preferably more than once lmao), you're ready to post it! should take about 5-10 minutes to appear in the tags and fandom. you're all set!

i do hope this was somewhat helpful bc i'm not a tech-savvy person and i just do things my own way. there are a bunch of posts on tumblr to help you post on ao3, so look for those in case there are questions

[pastafossa]

could you please do a rundown of all the thread colors and what they mean?

Needed a break from editing so yes, I can! Except the ones that are spoilers, for now.

Threads colors we know:

Yellow - Orange - Red: these three are connected. These colors illustrate the mutual care and affection you have for and with another sentient being (including, say, dogs and cats).

Yellow is generally restricted to acquaintances and very new friends who haven't gotten to know each other all that well. You'd be a little sad and bummed out if something happened to them or you never met them again.

Orange is much more solid - you would be upset if you lost contact or something happened to this person, sometimes heartbroken if the orange is particularly dark. Some friendships never progress past this point, and that's ok. That's normal. A lot of friends have threads like this.

Red is where it gets tricky, though... because you need both halves of the connection to be aware of and acknowledge to themselves that they care, very deeply, for the other person. If only one person acknowledges that they care, the thread stays orange. It must be mutually acknowledged. Once a thread turns red, it's very hard to undo. These aren't just for lovers, either. They're also for your beloved pets, bffs, long-term romantic partners, and close family members. If you lost this person, you'd grieve, deeply, and it would take a very long time to recover. This thread color can be used by the Man in the White Coat to track Jane, though she's unsure how at this time.

Blue signifies an attachment to an inanimate object or item, something without soul or sentience. Some people have blue threads with their cars, a family heirloom, or even a stuffed animal. Sadly, the way you know someone has passed is if a thread turns blue.

Green signifies a one-way connection - the person on the other end either doesn't care, hates the carer, or may not even know the person who cares exists. The emotion is entirely one-sided but that doesn't affect the level of care. Somewhere out there, a dog you've never actually met has smelled you or walked by you and thinks you're the best person in the world, so never doubt you have one of these.

Brown is strongly implied to be a connection to the land or a particular area, whether that's one beach you love to visit or, in Matt's case, the city of Hell's Kitchen.

Purple signifies abstract worship of some kind. When touching a purple thread, it can feel like anything from the roar of an adoring crowd, to the scent of incense and the whisper of paper pages. Celebrities, religious leaders, buildings, texts, and even forests can be connected to someone by a purple thread.

White light contains every color in the spectrum, which is why a white thread embodies every one of the connections above. These threads are very rare, because they require a deep, fervent connection and love for everything and everyone in a given area. Matt cares so much for the people of his city (yellow, orange, red, green) and for the city itself (blue, brown) that he's essentially formed a connection with the very bones of Hell's Kitchen.

Thread colors I've only hinted at:

Black is something a lot of people guessed but since we haven't delved into it, I'm not coming out with it just yet. Tends to absorb light, and feels seething and hot. Frank Castle has a lot of these.

Grey is our most mysterious color. It's exceedingly rare, it tends to look dull and charred, and it gives off little flakes of ash when touched. There is no feeling when it is held. Just silence.