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albed-hoe · 1 year

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i have finally arrived 🤭🤭

OKAY I’LL GIVE U A FEW SCENARIOS I GOT IN MIND AND YOU’RE FREE TO EXPAND ON WHICHEVER ONE YOU WANT TO (idm gender neutral reader but was hoping for male :D )

REVERSE COMFORT: m!reader comforting poor lyney after the most recent 4.1 archon quest. (SPOILERS: after freminet has been moved the the medical area)

so lyney is really worried for his brother (it takes place before he’s fully up) and we’re jus hugging him and reassuring him that he’ll be okay bc we’re husband material like that 💪🏻

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

FLUFF: i was thinking maybe the m!reader is a popular fontainian singer/popstar/dancer or anything that gains him popularity, and hence builds up a mass fanclub of ladiessss (if yk where i’m goin w this🤭)

so maybe we could get some jealous lyney up in here and m!reader feels bad for him so after the performance he takes lyney up on stage and gives a smooch on the cheek 😭

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

ANGST (with comfort bc my heart cannot physically take angst with no comfort): OKAY KINDA INSPIRED BY SOMEONE ELSES IDEA BUT KINDA DIFFERENT!

m!reader got those richly rich strict ass parents who don’t approve of him dating someone as low as a magician (he’s also a guy but i’m taking this down a different root) and they aren’t abusive but they are pretty neglectful and strict on him.

reader finally had enough of their bs tho and him and lyney (with lynette & freminet ofc) run away to snezhnaya and have the reader work for the house of the hearth w them.

AND (bc i never shut up) then a few years pass when lyney finally takes over for the knave they waltz back into fontaine together with m!reader being his 2nd in command (once again, alongside freminet and lynette bc wherever he goes they go)

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

PERSONAL FAVOURITE (i think abt this idea a LOT)

FOUND FAMILY /W COMFORT (heavily with freminet bc i love him sm HSNFEMCJEM)

basically m!reader went for a lil dive to get lyney some new flowers for his magic show later and he runs into freminet crying under the water

and ofc big brother instincts kick in 💪🏻 and we take him above shore and coddle him like how lyney would to freminet

AND THEN WE TAKE HIM HOME AND WE MEET UP W LYNEY AND HES JUS LIKE “OMG IF THIS MAN DOESNT PUT A RING ON MY FINGER RN IMMA LOOSE MY SHIT” because he adores the way m!reader looks out for his siblings the way he would.

(I HAVE ANOTHER VERSION OF THIS RQ WITH LYNETTE IF YOU EVER WANNA HEAR IT BTW)

˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊

SPICY 😏😏😏:

i actually don’t have anything to much for this category but some simple spicy hc’s with a sub!lyney would be great (let’s be real this man isn’t dominating anyone). (he also has a breeding kink GOODBYE)

Found Family (Freminet ver.)

Characters: Freminet & Lyney x M!Reader

Summary: After bringing his younger brother home, Lyney thinks he’s found his husband for life

Warnings: Slight angst to comfort, Freminet crying, Lyney being hopelessly in love and shyyyy

Word count: 767

A/n: Okay first of all I’m so sorry for disappearing for like a year and a half… I totally lost motivation and finished university in the meantime and now I’m looking for a job but no one is hiring me so yay? TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST LY LOTS🤩 I might write some of the other ones too? Might make a poll for which one to do next cuz I’m undecided… Anyways THIS ONE GOES OUT TO THE MALE READER COMMUNITY!!! I fell in love with Lyney and still (I think?) have yet to come across a Lyney x male reader fic😫 So here is my contribution! I ALSO HAVE REQUESTS OPEN SO FEEL FREE TO REQUEST LYNEY X M!READER STUFF PLS AND TYYYYY

It was a warm afternoon as you got your scuba gear on, preparing to dive in the depths of Fontaine on a mission to look for flowers for your beloved boyfriend, Lyney’s, magic show tonight. You latched in your helmet and dove below the surface, sighing in satisfaction at the cool water enveloping your body after having been sweating all day. The fish danced around you happily and the rays flapped their wings gracefully on their way to find places to float around.

You reached the seabed, swimming around and beginning to collect the flowers that your boyfriend had requested. You stop after a few seconds to listen to a sound you could not initially identify. Listening closely, you follow the sounds of what seem to be sniffles over a ridge of sand. Peeking over the edge, you see a little blue form with a diving helmet on, balled up with his head in the pit of his elbow.

“Freminet?” You swam up to the form, recognizing Lyney’s younger brother, a sad expression on the screen of your diving helmet. You begin to rub circles into his back as he sniffles, embarrassed to have been found crying alone. “What happened?” You offer him a warm smile, encouraging him to confide in you.

“*Sniff* I- I made a fool of myself in the Court of Fontaine today… I- *sniff* I fell and dropped a whole basket of peaches…” Taking pity on him, you ask him if he wants a hug, then you pull him into your arms and rub comforting circles on his back.

“Wanna go back up? I’ll walk you home.” The boy nods and you swim back up with him in your arms.

Arriving on the beach, you take off his diving helmet and reveal his red, puffy eyes. You internally coo at how cute he looks but remember that he is in a vulnerable state and mentioning what he looks like would likely not be appropriate at the moment. So, after cupping a comforting hand on his cheek, you take his hand and walk him home.

Arriving at the triplets’ door (I know they aren’t all related, but for simplicity’s sake…), you knock and wait for the light pads from inside to reach you. The door swings open to reveal Lyney in his pajamas with a surprised expression.

“Y-Y/n! And Freminet!” He blushes slightly at having noticed you before his own younger brother and at having been seen in pajamas by someone he has been trying to impress. You gently push Freminet in front of you, handing him over to Lyney who hugs him shortly, ruffles his hair, then passes him on to Lynette who takes his hand, nods at you thankfully, then takes him into the home. Lyney steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind him.

“Uh… Thanks for taking my brother home. He can disappear better than myself, sometimes…” He rubs the back of his neck, a little embarrassed at the situation. You had only declared each other officially boyfriends about a month prior, so the whole relationship thing was a new concept to the ‘suave’ Lyney the public knew. It pleasantly surprised you to discover that he was actually very easy to fluster, making for a very cute boyfriend to tease occasionally.

“Yeah, no problem. I found him on the seabed crying while I was looking for your flowers, so I comforted him and brought him here. Oh, here you go by the way.” You hand him the flowers he needed for his show while smiling warmly at him. The tips of his ears immediately reddened, both at his immediate thoughts of marriage and at what the offer of flowers looked like. He knew this was not a love confession or anything of the sort, but the current situation could have fooled an outside observer.

He stepped forward and threw his arms around you, sandwiching the flowers between the two of you. He buried his face in your neck in an attempt to hide his face exploding with heat.

“… I love you…” That was all he managed to say after a few moments. You laughed, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you too, but… Watch the flowers.” He pulled himself away from you immediately, realizing he was damaging his precious show flowers.

“AH! Sorry! Uhm… Did you wanna come inside for a bit?” He looked into your eyes with a shy smile on his face, his cheeks and ears still red from before.

“I’d love to.” You said, your eyes locked on his.

Aur my gawdddd this was my first fic in a loooong time I’m so sorry if it was ass… THIS WAS CUTE AND I LOVE FREMINET TOO, PLS LEMME HEAR THE LYNETTE VERSION OF THIS😎

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #lyney x reader #lyney x male reader #lyney x y/n

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quixoticall · 2 months

Text

To Hell I Go

MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE

Suggested Listening: Anything Zach Bryan but particularly, “Open the Gate”, "Nine Ball" and “Oak Island”

WC: 6.9k Chapter Warnings: Gun violence, injury, a bit of Billy redemption I'm sorry idk how that happened, major character death (not really tho) p in v smut, oral (f and m receiving), barn sex, Steve and Sunshine being sassy with each other, parental death

Author’s Note: Hi!!! First, I want to say how grateful I am for the positive feedback. I love writing this story and I am so glad you enjoy reading it so far!! I wanna give a quick disclaimer, I did minimal historical research and am mostly going off vibes and the fact that I’ve spent most of my life in the American Southwest/South and come from a long line of cowboys and ranchers.

Reblogs and comments are always cherished and they are incredibly motivating!

“Excuse me, Miss, I’m hoping you could help me.”

The seat next to you shifts, bringing your attention away from the blurs of jagged mountain edges and gnarled Joshua trees you were watching from the train’s window.

You turn towards an unfamiliar face: angular and delicate, framed by tawny hair that’s cut much too short to be decent on a young woman.

You know better than to call attention to yourself so you just nod politely and hope this interaction is brief.

If your demeanor comes off cold, the girl does not seem to register because she launches into a flurry of words.

“I’m with the Sheriff’s office and few towns over, see, and there’s been a slew of train robberies recently. Have you heard about them?”

You shake your head minutely, your eyes stay trained on the cabin door, hoping Max comes back to pull you away from this interaction.

“Really? You haven’t? It’s all anyone can talk about! There’s been a series of train robberies around Fairbanks and Wilcox. Passengers have been robbed of their valuables and once they even robbed the safe onboard. We reckon it could be the Creel gang but we don’t have too much evidence—“

“Pardon me, but what Sheriff are you working for exactly, Miss…?” You cut her off.

“Buckley. Name’s Robin Buckley and I work for Sheriff Hopper, of course, have you heard of him at least?”

“Can’t say I have. What exactly do you do for Sheriff Hopper, Miss Buckley? It’s unusual for a young lady to be working for a sheriff is if not?” You query. But then again, the girl, herself was unusual, dressed in a man’s shirt tucked into a patchwork skirt with a pair of trousers peaking out underneath and talking fair more than appropriate.

“Well… I’m his secretary of sorts and his deputy’s too.”

This catches your attention and once again your eyes glaze over the peculiar girl. If she was here it was likely Steve or Hopper would be too and if that was the case, you had to lay the lowest of lows. Your eyes scan the cabin of the train, looking for any sign of the sheriff or his deputy.

“What is it that you do, Miss?” She stutters out, blushing under your gaze.

“I’m a governess,” you explain, smoothly, rehearsed. “My ward and I are traveling to California currently.”

It’s the role Creel had assigned as part of his plan. You the governess and Max your ward.

It was a deceptively simple plan: you and Max would board the train, disguised as harmless members of society. Then, once on board, Max would sneak off and make sure the luggage carriage was unlocked from the inside giving Tommy and Carol the opportunity to sneak on during the train’s first stop.

The two would have the opportunity to loot through passengers’ luggage and then Billy would be waiting for them a few stops later, to help them escape.

Against your own doubts, the plan had worked three times thus far but with you’re not sure how much luck you have left with what the Buckley girl has just divulged.

Almost as if by summons, Max appears at the carriage door, face calm but eyes panicked. Behind her you spot the source of her distress: Deputy Harrington.

He’s taller than you remember, you can see that now that he’s standing. Broader too, but undeniably, impossibly him.

“I’m sorry Miss Buckley, it was real nice talking to you, but I’ve got to be going now,” you say hastily picking up your skirts to step around the girl.

Stumbling into the aisle, you hurry to the opposite vestibule door, hiding your face as best as you can.

You’re almost out the other end of the carriages when something posses you to look back, perhaps habit or something worse.

Eyes lock, recognition flashes and yells erupt.

“Stop!”

You are out of the train car in a flash and onto the open vestibule. Knowing you have no place to run but the engine room at the front of the train, you decide to climb upwards onto the flat top of the traincar. You’re not too far from where Billy is meant to be, if you could stay hidden until then you had a chance.

You launch yourself at the thin, metal ladder, weighed down by your pretty, impractical traveling clothes.

You struggle onto the roof and crouch low to brace yourself against the destabilizing wind and rattling movements. Heavy bootfalls trail behind and you rush towards the next car, bracing yourself to either fall or jump.

“Sunshine? Is that really you?” You turn around once more—Orpheus cursed yet again—and for a moment time has gone backwards.

Steve looks equal measure heartbroken and confused.

“What are you doing here?” He bellows over the clash of scrapping metals and whipping winds.

“What are you doing here?” You shrill back.

“I’m… I’m the deputy,” he says as if that’s explanation enough.

“Well la-di-dah.”

He is unaffected by your sarcasm and inches closer, a little awed, a little stunned.

“What are you doing here?” He repeats.

What are you doing here? In this unrecognizable life with the weight of the world on your shoulders?

You could tell him. It’s Steve after all: your life-long confidante, the keeper of your sins. (What’s a few more sins and secrets between the two of you?)

There is no “two of you” anymore though and this is not your Steve either, standing in front of you, brandishing a badge. This is a stranger, an enemy even. This is the bastard who killed your horse and who is working with your most loathsome foe.

You edge away from him, towards the end of the roof.

“I’m robbing a goddamn train,” you finally respond before gathering your skirts and leaping.

You land, just barely, in a piled heap of frills, then right yourself in a rush before taking off running.

He doesn’t follow.

_______________

You trailed behind Steve into the stable.

“Steve I’m not going to hold you to a promise that we made when we were sixteen, if you don’t want to marry me, just tell me, I won’t be mad,” you yelled after him. And you loved him enough to make that true.

Your words stopped him dead in his tracks in the middle of the straw-strewn floor.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he said, eyes sparkling but mouth downturned in a frown. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was thirteen.”

Your heart softened at this.

“Then what was all that about?”

You had agreed that you would finally reveal your courtship to your family when you got back from finishing school. The two of you had been loving each other in secret for three years now— seeing each other in the cracks of time between your schooling when others wouldn’t suspect. It hadn’t been something you had outwardly discussed, the secret. It was just something both of you were too shy to bring up. It had seemed so good, so pure. Something you didn’t want to be questioned over or given grief about or held against you. But once you were done with school, it felt like adulthood began and you could start loving each other in plain view. Get married even. It was time to tell your family, the two of you had decided together.

Except before you could’ve broached the subject at dinner that night, Steve excused himself from the table, suddenly. There was a mare with a broken leg he desperately needed to check on. Bullshit.

“Your father started talking about setting you up with that Carter fella and I lost my nerve,” Steve sighed. He looked at you with an apology etched in his warm eyes.

“He was only saying that because he didn’t know about us,” you soothed. You drew closer, reaching a hand up to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows.

“No, he was saying that because he wants you to marry you off to someone with money, someone in ‘society’. They didn’t send you to that fancy school just to end up with some ranch hand orphan,” Steve argued back but there was no heat left to him. He just sounded despondent and defeated.

You knew there was some truth to what he was saying. The expectation for you to marry well had always existed, unspoken but present still. And while you would hate to disappoint your parents, it wouldn’t be for nothing and there wouldn’t be anything lost. Your family had money of its own, your sisters’ future did not rely on you securing a rich husband and you let Steve know as much.

“Plus, Daddy’s a good man, he’ll want me to be happy and you make me happy, Steve.“

He smiled at you for the first time that night and it felt something like sunshine.

“You’re right,” he admitted, finally and he took your gentle hand in his work-worn one. One, two, three kisses dotted your cheeks before he pulled you close lips slotting hotly together. His hand gripped the stiff fabric of your bodice hungrily, the pressure drawing soft moans from your mouth.

Your back was against the wall the next instant and Steve’s lips were burning a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hand traveled from your waist to your thigh, hitching it high around his hips and his lips found yours again. You tightened your leg around him to pull him closer, chasing the sweet friction of his body against yours. He whined into your mouth lowly in response. The next moment, he had pulled away from you and you whimpered at the loss. He was in his knees, his hands wading against your voluminous skirt.

He found your stocking-clad thighs underneath the fabrics and wasted no time in finding the edges of your undergarments.

“Can I?” He asked, earnest and hungry.

You nod feverishly.

“Words, darlin’. Give me your words.”

“Yes, please, Steve, yes.”

Steve disappeared underneath your skirt and you gasped when you feel his hot lips against the soft skin of your stomach. Your underthings were gone in an instant and his mouth traveled lower. Your legs parted and one thigh ended up on his shoulder.

This was new. Something you and Steve had never done, not for lack of wanting and now that you were here, it was sloppy and fervent and perfect.

His mouth locked onto where you need him the most. His lips, soft and malleable, latched onto your hot cunt and his tongue moved to circle your clit.

Your head rolled back against the weathered wooden wall.

“So sweet, so pretty,” you felt him mutter against your skin.

“More,” you pleaded and suddenly you felt his hand circling your slit, so close to where you needed the pressure.

“Inside, Stevie, please.”

“You want me to fill you up, darlin’? You want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Yes, please,” you moaned.

“Tell me who you belong to first,” he ordered. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, I’m yours, Steve,” tears welled in your eyes from the desperation.

“Damn right, you’re mine, sweet thing. No one else’s.” As he said that, a finger breached into your tight heat and began to slowly pump in and out.

The stretch became even more delicious when Steve added a second finger. You vaguely thought to yourself that you wanted to feel like this forever and you felt a sense of release approaching.

You cupped a hand against your mouth, stifling the moan that rips through when the rush finally hit you. Your legs wobbled, nearly giving out. Steve peppered a final set of kisses around your body before reappearing from underneath your skirt, eyes heady with lust. You trailed down the wall to sit across from him, eyes fixed on the bulge in his pants. You crawled closer, while Steve watched you with eyes transfixed. You placed a hand on either thigh parting them slightly so you could sit between them.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” you told him, thumbing his waistline.

“Yeah?” He said wantonly while his head lolled against his shoulder.

“Will show me how you like it?”

He nodded eagerly as you unclasped his belt buckle. He helped you undo his pants and free his cock from the confines of his pants.

You had heard things about sex, at school, from your more adventurous classmates and knew the basics well enough to put some into practice.

You reached out to palm the length of his cock, a gentle, experimental tug caused Steve to hiss in response.

“Put your mouth on it, for me darlin’,” his drawled.

You obeyed readily and took his tip into your mouth.

Groaning, he leaned back on one palm while the other threaded itself through your hair. You bobbed your head a bit and with his encouragement your movements grew and became more fluid. You tried your best to navigate the sheer length of him. He was larger than you had ever imagined and you could feel his tip pushing at the back of your throat while you used your hand to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

He watched you with lust-filled eyes, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Wanna keep you there forever,” he muttered as he pushed your head lightly, making you gag which elicited another moan from him.

“That’s it, honey, gag on it.”

You could feel him throbbing inside your mouth as you sped up.

“C’mere, I need your sweet little pussy around my cock, right now,” he urged suddenly, pulling your mouth away. You obeyed, eagerly, and he guided you onto his lap legs straddled on either side and skirt bunched up around your middle.

He rubbed circles on your thighs as he eased you down onto his cock. The stretch was foreign but not painful, however, with every inch burned a little more. It was delicious. With some coaxing on Steve’s end you had managed to take him fully and your thighs were flush against his. You felt so full, tears were beginning to dot the corners of your eyes.

“Doin’ so good for me, honey,” he praised, cupping your face to wipe the tears away. “Now, I just need you to ride me.”

His hand moved lower, digging into hips as you began to rock against him. The burn had given away to a delicious friction and you wanted more. Your hips moved quicker against his drawing out a deep groan from Steve. He then pulled you close, capturing your mouth in a searing, wet kiss.

You rocked against him, finding a steady rhythm, whining keenly as a heat grew in your lower stomach.

“Hush baby, someone’s gonna hear,” Steve muttered, strained, before placing his hand over your mouth while only made you burn even hotter.

You felt your release coming up on you again. “Steve,” you panted against his palm, “I’m gonna… “I’m gonna.” You were so wrecked you couldn’t even complete a sentence.

“I know sweet thing, I know, you’re doing so good for me,” Steve soothed in response, “me too.” And with that he began moving his hips up to meet your thrusts with his own.

It had turned into something rough and fast, each thrust reaching deeper than the one before.

You finished, grasping for purchase at his shirt as you rode out the feeling. A few moments later you felt a spasming inside of you as his body went suddenly rigid and then relaxed.

The two of you untangle yourselves, panting as you came down from the bliss.

“Steve?” You probed, a little later when the two of you were propped in an exhausted heap against the wall.

Steve hummed in response.

“Is yours bigger than normal or are all of them like this?”

He was speechless for a moment before breaking out into full guffaws. Your own giggles erupted into full peals of laughter that could not be contained.

Eventually after the laughter had subsided and silence had overtaken the two of you while you became lost in thought, Steve murmured your name.

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna talk to your father tomorrow, man to man and ask for your hand, I promise.”

That was the last time you saw Steve Harrington.

_______________

“Max is missing,” you announce, to no reaction.

You continue, “we need to go find her.”

Deputy Harrington and his lackey had foiled the train robbery.

You had managed to get away along with Tommy and half the loot, thanks to Billy’s good timing. Carol and Max had not been so lucky.

In the days after the scuffle, the crew had hung low and part of you hoped that Max had managed to get away somehow. She was willful and resourceful. But, it had been nearly five days and there had been no sight of the young teen.

“We don’t go back for anyone,” Billy drawls through the cigarette in his mouth, “thems the rules”

“She’s your sister, Billy,” you insist.

“Her mama married my pops and then

they both died, that don’t make us blood,” he grunts.

“Fine,” you huff, disgusted, “I will go back for her then.”

“No you will not,” Creel murmurs from behind you as he enters the small rundown kitchen and both you and Billy shrink back a bit involuntarily.

Creel—Henry Creel, although you don’t dare call him by his first name—is the head of your entire operation. He is a terrifying type of man in that there was something otherworldly about him, as if one day he’d peel his vest away to expose winding gears in his ribcage or angel wings along his back.

Lifetimes ago, Creel had been a society man, his family’s name well respected in West Texas, but there had been some unknown incident that had resulted in the deaths of his parents and sister leaving him as the sole keeper of the Creel name and fortune.

Soon he had started setting up betting houses, prying on gamblers, cheating them out of money and then running them into the ground when they inevitably couldn’t settle their debts.

He was a grifter among men and a king among grifters. Add to that some bootlegging, a bit of robbery, and a touch of murder and Henry Creel ruled over an empire of crime. Of course, he needed folks to do his bidding which is why he came to collect the members that made up his gang.

Creel collected members for his gang carefully, only picking the most talented and they had to be ruthless but not as ruthless as him because he needed his crew to fear him, to obey him.

He turns to you and speaks, slow and measured, “You are my best shot by far and I cannot risk losing you, especially for such an insignificant cause. So, I don’t want to hear another word about this, understand?”

“Yes,” you agree tightly, fists balled tightly at your side.

“Wonderful,” he smiles, long, unfurling and mirthless.

_______________

Creel seemed to want to make sure you didn’t go after Max because the next day he sent you to pick up some packages for him at the boarder. He had emphasized the value of the items and the expectation for everything to be returned to him speedily and in tact. You didn’t bother asking what the parcels possibly contained, it was better that you didn’t know anyway.

The trip had been uneventful enough, the handoff occurring under the cover of pitch black night somewhere in the Rio Grande Valley. There were three packages, long and cylindrical, wrapped in soft leather that clanged when they moved. You strapped them to the sides of your saddle and set off, whispering a quiet thank you to the young woman that had dispatched the goods and riding through the night.

There’s only 50 miles left between yourself and the Creel House when you hear it. A steady gallop coming from behind you, accompanied by the jingle of spurs. You know who it is without having to turn around.

“Excuse me, Miss, but you look familiar,” Steve calls out as he appears at your side.

You ignore him but he continues, “You look like a girl I knew back when I was a youngin’ back home—look just like her, actually. A rancher’s daughter—pretty thing. Last I heard she married some rich fella, left her town and never came back.”

Your jaw clenches.

“You’ve got the wrong girl. I ain’t married,” you hold up a ringless hand for emphasis.

“I can see that,” the deputy next to you muses.

“And I ain’t no rancher’s daughter either,” you add.

Steve chuckles dryly at this, “My mistake then, Miss, must be my mind playing tricks. But y’know who else you look like? One of the Creel gang members that robbed a train out in Wilcox last month.”

“Yeah? Well, you look like the bastard who killed my horse,” you snap back and he falters.

“Apologies for that,” he responds sounding truly ashamed.

You scoff at what little good his apology does you and pull at your reins. He is matching your stride for stride with all the ease in the world, which is making it near impossible to lose him.

You are familiar with this path though, having ridden it dozens of times while working for Creel. You know that while the path may be clear now, there is a patch of brambles coming up that is a difficult maneuver for anyone unfamiliar with it. Anyone who has traversed it before however, would know that there a steep and unseen descent that, if going too quickly, would result in a very painful tumble into a patch of cacti. That was your only chance of escape, you just needed to make sure Steve kept his pace and was distracted enough to not see the trap you were setting.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to surrender, Miss,” he declares, claiming your attention again.

“And I’m gonna have to say no, Deputy Harrington.”

“You can’t do that!” He huffs.

“Says who?”

“Me! The deputy!”

“I’ll make you a deal then,” you call out spotting the briar patch in the short distance, “if you can catch me I’ll go with you willingly. Promise.”

You yank hard at the reigns and dig your heels speeding up before suddenly veering off to the right sharply. Steve had picked up considerable speed and by the time he sees the bramble and cacti it’s far too late. His horse is left struggling for footing and he tumbles downwards into a nest of needles and spines.

“Apologies for that!” You yell over your shoulder before riding off in the opposite direction. You spend the rest of the way back convincing yourself you’re not even a little bit sorry.

_______________

“Steve didn’t show up for his morning chores,” Lottie informed you over breakfast. “You wouldn’t happen to know where’s he’s at, would ya?”

“No! Me? Why would I know?” Your answer spilled out a bit too quickly, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind and conscious.

Hattie wrinkled her nose, “Because y’all are attached at the hip.”

“Right. Well, I haven’t seen him. Maybe check with Eddie?” You suggested to the excitement and delight of your sisters who were enamored with the slightly older ranch hand who had come to employment a few months back.

The two were practically tripping over themselves to go find him. They returned with Eddie in tow and still no inkling of where the other ranch hand might’ve been.

“Sorry, Miss,” Eddie drawled, “haven’t seen ‘im since last night. Seemed like he had a good night though,” he smirked, “was sighing up a storm. But his boots are gone and a few of his other things too.”

You thanked the three and sent them off to continue the search.

Steve had never missed a day of chores in his life, that itself was vexingly peculiar but, your father was also gone all morning and based off the previous night’s promise, you were inclined to believe they’re together, so you didn’t panic, but you were still worried.

When your father returned later that afternoon alone, you rushed to meet him at the door.

“Daddy, Steve didn’t talk to you about anything today did he?” You asked casually as he laid his boots by the door.

“Naw, haven’t seen him all day,” he looked perplexed, “although the girls tell me he’s missing.”

This was when your worry transformed into panic.

Supper time came and went and Steve was still unaccounted for. The same was true the following morning.

By midday, you had plead with Eddie to let you into their shared room to search for any sign for where he might be. Your mind was overflowing with worry and confusion.

Eddie escorted you and you watched, with pity in his eyes as you riffle through Steve’s things desperation mounting with each overturned blanket or skimmed-through book that led nowhere.

“Wait, what is that?” Eddie pointed at the headboard where it seemed like a thick glossy piece of paper was tucked between the bedpost and the wall.

You wiggled it out and extend the edges open for the two of you to see. It was a poster, the type that hung in saloons and public squares.

Cheyenne Rodeo, was printed along the top in thick lettering along with, Winner Rewarded in Cash Prize.

Underneath that, in smaller print and circled in pencil were a series of dates a week away.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered over you shoulder.

_______________

“Shit,” Billy mutters behind you. “It’s that mutton-punching deputy again.”

You groan and turn to look. Sure enough, coming up around the bend was Deputy Harrington and his trusted Secretary Miss Robin Buckley.

You and Billy are tucked behind a barn and while you’re clearly visible he is unseen.

“I’ll handle this,” you say firmly and Billy is quick to protest but you cut him off, “Billy, I swear to God, if you don’t let me handle this I will shoot your weasel off while you sleep.”

He recoils immediately, “I’ll wait here then.”

“Be ready to make a run for it,” you advise nodding to his horse, Pistol.

You take a moment to breathe deeply and straighten your posture in your saddle before ambling into the dirt road.

“Howdy,” you call out to the pair who are fifty paces away, their figures outlined bright with sunshine.

“Hello!” Robin Buckley greets near cheerful with a boisterous wave, “It’s good to see you again!”

“Don’t you have anything else to do besides following me around?” You question, squinting at Steve.

“Got wind of some stage coat robberies along this road and as the deputy, it is my duty to come and investigate,” he responds haughtily.

You scoff, “Duty?” You gesture at the angry red scratches that litter his body, clear remainders from your previous run in. “Was it your duty to get into a fist fight with a barn cat, Deputy Harrington.”

He reddens, tugging at his collar higher pulling your attention to his appearance. It’s the first time you’ve gotten the chance to take him in fully, head on, without having to flee in the opposite direction.

He’s dressed neatly in a blue buttoned shirt with maroon trousers and a fine set of suede chaps. A tan vest showcases his glinting silver, official badge. His hat and boots look worn but clean. He looks good, neat, well-kept.

A clear contrast to your mismatch, threadbare clothes and your wind beaten face and unkempt hair. No wonder he barely recognized the first time you crossed paths.

His eyes rake over your body, as if he’s read your mind and suddenly you drowning in self-consciousness and struggling to keep yourself from running a hand through your hair.

Twinkling laughter cuts through your tense regard for one another. Miss Buckley seems amused by the exchange.

Steve glares at his partner, “Robin, c’mon.”

She puts her hands up in guiltless surrender. “Sorry but you never mentioned she was funny.”

They divulged into a low argument that you only catch pieces of.

“—said charming not funny, she’s definitely both—“

“—find my suffering amusing—“

“—never tell you anything—“

“—thats fine, Red will tell me—“

Your ears perk at the last statement from Robin.

“Max? You have Max?”

The two exchange an uneasy gaze.

“Miss Mayfield is currently being detained at the county jail for suspected involvement in the Wilcox Train robbery.” Steve declares, inciting your outrage.

“She’s a child, Harrington!”

“She’s a suspect and besides, you can see her soon enough because you are under arrest.”

This elicits an eye roll from you.

“Not this game again,” you grumble.

“This isn’t a game,” he argues and to prove his point, unsheathes his pistol.

You stiffen at the sight but keep firm.

“Deputy Harrington,” you start, tone measured, “you and I both know that Henry Creel will not take kindly to his best markswoman being detained and he is not someone you want to make an enemy of, trust me, you won’t survive it,” you emphasize for his benefit, not your own, “so why don’t we part ways here and maybe you two find something more your speed. Maybe there’s a child nearby cheating at a game of jacks you can arrest and—“

A shot rings out, loud and disorienting, making your ears ring. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Billy, who had since appeared from behind the barn, that unloaded his gun, not Steve. He hadn’t hit either the deputy or his secretary, however he had managed to spook their horses enough to cause enough commotion and confusion for the two of you to slip away.

“C’mon!” You hear Billy shout, snapping you out of your stupor and with only final glance back, you urge your horse forward leaving Steve in the dust, once again

_______________

The news came, as all terrible news does, on a raining Sunday afternoon.

Up until that day, you had maintained your hope that Steve would come back, protecting it like a tepid flame in a storm.

But all hope was extinguished when your father handed you a torn news article. It only had four words printed on it: Cheyenne Rodeo Claims Casualty. Above was a photograph of a young man rough riding a bull. It was grainy and small but the photo was undeniably him. Steve. That four word title and photograph were all that you were afforded, the only thing that had been ripped out of the Wisconsin Tribune.

“No, no,” you shook your heard frantically, “it can’t have been him. Where’s the rest of the article? I need to see the rest of the article,” you demanded.

Your daddy sighed, grievously, “that’s the only thing Uncle Tony sent me.”

“Steve’s not dead, Daddy! He can’t be!” You shrill, “He’s the best bill rider to ever be.” Steve wasn’t supposed to meet the same end as his father, he was better than that.

“I’ll go to Wisconsin,” your father soothed, “I will find out myself.”

“Can I come with you?” You asked.

“I’m afraid you’ll slow me down, darling and besides it’s far too dangerous. But don’t worry, I’ll do what needs to get done.”

“Will you bring him back?” You pleaded, sounding like a petulant child.

“As long as he wants to come back,” your father warned back, watering the seed of doubt that had been growing in your chest since the morning Steve had disappeared.

Your daddy was back two weeks later. Alone. One look at his apologetic and grievous face and you collapsed onto the soft mud.

Steve was dead. Your father had confirmed it. He hadn’t been able to track down the newspaper but he had seen the certificate and he provided a singular printed death announcement to show you.

Steve was dead.

He had left and died with no explanation or reason. You would never know why he had done what he had, perhaps it was pride or recklessness, no one could say.

He had the privilege of living and dying by his own whims and follies and you were left behind with the messy work of grieving him and putting all the pieces back together.

_______________

“I appreciate what you did back there.” The words come out stilted and uncertain when you say them aloud. You can’t even look at Billy when you speak, instead your eyes face forward, focused on the terrain in front of you instead of the man riding at your side.

You’re not used to thanking Billy and it doesn’t seem like he’s used to being thanked based either.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, as he shielded his eyes away. He looks like he wanted to say something else but the words were stuck.

“Out with it,” you urge, “whatever it is you wanna say.”

That was all the permission he needed to ask his totally unabashed question.

“Did you and the deputy fuck?”

“Billy!” You chastise, heat rushing your cheeks.

He shrugged, “You said ‘out with it’. And it just seems like you two know each other… well, is all.”

“We don’t know each other,” you answer hoping he drops this as quickly has Max had months before.

“C’mon darlin’, don’t bullshit me.”

You sigh.

“We may have crossed paths once or twice before.”

“Is that it? If you ask me, there’s some history there. Does he owe you money or something?” He presses, laughing.

“You sure are goddamn stubborn, y’know that?”

He smirks at you, a perfect picture of roguish handsomeness, “I’ve been told, yeah.”

Shaking your head disparagingly, you choose your next words with care,

“We knew each other when we were kids. And kids say things they don’t mean, they make promises they can’t keep and eventually those promises get broken but that doesn’t mean the world ends.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit dramatic?”

You laugh, “Max used to say that all the time.”

He joined into your laughter, “Yeah, kid was a pain in the ass but she had a way of keeping you humble.”

It was true. In your deepest moments of self-pity and despair, Max always managed to bring you back to reality in her unique, biting way.

You sober at the thought of her, imprisoned, “You really don’t care that she’s locked up?”

Billy exhales heavily, “it’s all the same to me. I told you we ain’t kin.”

“Bullshit,” it’s your turn to call. “If y’all ain’t kin, why didn’t you just leave her behind when your parents died?”

Billy stiffened. “I was fourteen scared shitless and she wouldn’t leave me alone. If I woulda known how things shook out, I woulda dropped her at some orphanage to keep us from this mess. Maybe she’s better off where she’s at.”

“You don’t truly believe that, do you?”

“I dunno,” his tone darkens, a previously unseen vulnerability on display, “is this the life you would want for your kin? Or yourself for the matter?”

The conversation dies after that.

_______________

You had spent three years trying to mend your grief following Steve’s death.

Nothing quelled your spirit and everywhere you looked, you couldn’t help but be reminded of him.

You stopped riding and shooting. You gave up reading. You would ruin your chances with every suitor that your daddy sent your way by refusing to talk altogether, no matter how much your parents tried to convince you that it was time to declare yourself engaged. You weren’t ready, you kept insisting to your parents despite their attempts to find you a match, perhaps you would never be ready.

It had taken three years for the Steve-shaped wound to finally beginning to scar over, you couldn’t stand another heartbreak. Regardless, one came anyway.

Your father was dying. An illness had set in that was eating him away. In the span of a few months he had become bed-bound and weak. It was just a matter of time, was what the town doctor had told you.

You did your best to be a solid pillar for the rest of your family, braving your father’s bedside care when the others couldn’t stomach it, taking over the ranch’s books and ledgers when your father fell to delirium. Grief was familiar enough that you knew how to manage around it.

The day your father died, it was sunny and bright which seemed like a cruel joke. Your sisters cried while you organized the funeral. Your mother refused to leave her room for three days, finally coming out in time for the service, hair impecable and wearing her best dress.

The funeral was well attended, of course it was. Your father was well known and respected in your community and you recognized everyone that came through the church doors that day in one form or another. Except for one man.

He was tall, imposing. Well dressed, but not showy. He stood in the back, the entire service, and then after that too. He waited until it was just your family left before he approached.

“Hello,” he purred, reaching out to kiss your mother’s hand, “my name is Henry Creel, and I’m here to talk about a debt that needs settling.”

Men were rotten. It was a fact truer than the blue sky. Most rotten men had the shame to be upfront about it, but not your daddy, it turned out.

No, he turned out to be the worst kind of rotten—the kind who hid all his ugly behind a gleaming veneer of false honor and integrity until all the rotten caught up to him. And then, he had the audacity to die and leave the consequences to you to deal with.

Turned out, your seemingly pious father had a penchants for gambling and, according to Creel, he was quite bad at it because he had left an outstanding debt the size of the moon. What made it worse was that he kept pushing payment off in a strange dance the two had: Creel would demand payment, your father would barter for a bit more time, claiming he was waiting for some money he had in the works, the money would inevitably never appear and then they would go back to the start. Henry Creel was angry, he had made clear. And he would be receiving his rightful payment, regardless of your father being six feet under.

“Hand the ranch over to me,” he offered your mama, “and all the debts will be settled.”

“Not a chance,” you challenged, “the ranch is worth more than what my father owes you.”

Creel regarded you for the first time, and you could see the machinations of his brain whirring.

“There has to be another way,” you proposed, trying to sound sure and steady when you felt neither of those things.

“Perhaps,” Creel began, “Perhaps, we could come to a different arrangement. Tell me girl, do you have any skills of note?”

You swallow thickly at the question, unsure what answer to give.

“She can shoot,” Lottie volunteered, “real good, too.”

“And she a fast rider,” Hattie added.

“She went to this fancy finishing school in El Paso, too. They taught her how to be a proper lady and a wife,” Lottie supplied.

“And she’s pretty—“

“Hattie,” you interrupt, “that ain’t a skill.”

“ I know but I couldn’t let Lottie say more than me!”

Creel chuckled, unamused, “ The little one is right, if yielded correctly, beauty could be a skill.”

You blanched. The way he said that paired with his lecherous smile didn’t sit right with you.

In the end, you were given a choice: you could sell the ranch and let your family fall into a sure poverty, or you could work for Creel, doing the rotten work that men like him needed done.

The choice was made and you were once left paying for the sins of another man.

You rode off behind Henry Creel into the unknown night a few hours after your father’s funeral, reminding yourself the entire way that you had made the right choice and hoping you’d be better than your father at being rotten.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #steve Harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #Cowboy!Steve Harrington #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington image #stranger things imagine #outlaw!reader #Steve Harrington Smut #steve harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington x reader smut

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heartf4iry · 1 year

Text

💘 hihi! :) it's been a long while... but i finally decided 2 write something! ellie plays the guitar 4 u! i wrote this a while ago n just revised, so... ermmm, enjoy! mwaaah 💋

cw: none!! :D my first fluff piece on tumblr tho, like. ever. beware.

ellie’s room is dim, lamp casting a honey glow that warms the poster-filled walls, a comforting air swimming about in the mellow atmosphere. her room has pretty much become your room, too, things like clothes and underwear and tiny trinkets littering themselves around her space.

tonight was just another one of your sleepovers. you’d watched movies, ate bag after bag of stale, yet buttery popcorn, raged over stupid board games, and even went for your nightly can’t-sleep-walks down the block and back.

ellie’s bedside clock reads past midnight, but you’re sure it’s beyond that with how tired and restless you are. luckily, the two of you remain alone in the home, so, curfew was out the window.

…well, there was joel asleep in his room down the hall, along with his thundering snores, but he didn't count.

it's one of those nights where neither of you can sleep and the nuisance by the name of boredom keeps you awake. now in your last resorts, ellie's sat in her desk chair facing you, eyes on her guitar while you admired the scene before you.

her freckles wink in the toasty light. her fingers work skillfully against the strings that sound an unknown, yet delicate tune. she hums lyrics under her breath of a song that lie unfinished in her journal, but, you remember her ticklish whisper against your ear referring to the words being about you one dazed, giggly night.

you’re laid on your stomach on her bed, fiddling with a tiny astronaut figure she's named neil, or space guy, or… whatever. you’d stick to neil for now as you listened to her play.

she then stops, exhaling a deep, dreadful sigh. she rocks side to side in the chair, lifting her eyes to study you. taking in your eyes, your soft, in slight parted lips. you pretend not to feel her gaze that makes you burn all over with a bashful smile, focusing on tiny neil in your hands.

“stop staring,” you mutter, flashing hot all over when her eyes don't shy away. ellie was always the type to gawk at pretty girls wherever, whenever. whether it was a double take (to see some ass) or just a simple and purely, unintentional perverted stare, the action was just an ellie thing to do. it was something that she knew would be deemed as problematic, or just fucking creepy, but—fast forward a few years later, and a few motivational pep talks from trusty wingman dina, here she was with one of the pretty girls she caught herself staring at the most. not even that, but currently in her room, on her bed, and ellie thinks she just might burst.

ellie shakes her head, placing her forearm on the body of the guitar to rest her chin atop her arm.

“can't. you're too pretty not to,” she rasps, voice low and teasing that urges a plethora of tingles to rise in your stomach. “literally shutup.” you groan, masking the complaint with a breathy laugh.

she chuckles, “what? can't look at my girlfriend now?”

“no you.. creep.” you break into a sudden yawn, the woozy sensation of sleep begging to bury you in its blanket of slumber.

“tired?” ellie notices, yawning right after you. so it really is contagious, she thinks. your lazy nodding is simple confirmation of her question.

“well, i could… play a song for you? anything you want.” ellie begins, grinning once your eyes catch hers. “got any suggestions?” you hum in curiosity, not even a second passing before a song appears in your mind.

“oh! the glue song!”

ellie’s eyes narrow, brows dropping when the words slip from your mouth. “the... glue song?”

you roll your eyes in obviousness at her confusion. “yes, the glue song. by that girl? umm... beabadoobee?”

“…beabawho?”

“ellie, the one! that’s like, i’ve never known someone like youuu… huuu...”

silence. the room was so still you could hear the crickets outside chirping in the grass. ellie just stares at you with an anticipating smile when you stop singing the line, and under an instance you feel shy and embarrassed and small under her burning gaze.

“okay, yeah? ...go on.”

“noo..”

“keep going! babe—“

you huff out a sigh, rolling onto your back. your head hangs off the edge of the bed now and everything, even puzzled ellie, is upside down. “c’mon, will you just play it already? m’tired… and… y’know the song right?”

ellie snickers, her feet swinging back and forth under the chair in subtle amusement. “of course i do. but you’re definitely singing it to me someday. no take backs.”

you blow your eyes out in playful annoyance. “yeahyeah. whatever.”

as if she was going to start, she looks down at her guitar before her eyebrows raise, “anddd what do i get in return?”

you smile, a sly one, “hmm... a thousand kisses and, a trip inside my space exhibit.”

ellie freezes. “holy shit! babe? you own a space exhibit? sounds sick, we should go sometime.”

“i meant my—ellie.”

“okay. okay. bossy. anything for my girlfriend, yeah? my favorite girlfriend,” ellie peeks at you through her lashes, green eyes twinkling a blend of silvery emerald in the low lamplight. she grins at the way your expression melts into warmth, though it's hard to tell when you're upside down.

“el, i think... i’m your only girlfriend.”

“yeah, but... you're my favorite. there's a difference, babe.”

“ell-“

“the song. i know.” she exhales a dry chuckle, “justtt messin’ with you.”

ellie adjusts her posture and drums her fingertips against the strings to develop a familiar feel.

you're quick to flip on your side and plop your head against her pillow, shimming around to get comfortable for your own personal late night show—staring the talented and sexy, ellie williams.

ellie shuffles in her seat before grabbing the neck of her guitar, the other going over the body. her brows pinch inward when she tries to recall the tune, nodding in confirmation to herself once the familiar notes appear in mind.

she then halts to look at you, “ready?”

“yep. song's been stuck in my head all day.” you break into a smile out of pure excitement, and ellie chuckles at the sight.

finger antsy against the strings, she takes a deep breath, as she always does before she plays; especially for you. “whew, okay. uh, okay.” ellie’s played countless times in a setting like this, in her room with you, home alone while she sat on the bed and you watched in the chair or vice versa. yet, she's still found herself jittery, unsure, doubtful, of her own abilities. even in the comfort of your presence. one of ellie’s fears: failing to impress her girlfriend.

as if you had read her mind, your soft line of reassurance sucks her out of her busy, crowded mind. “ellie, hey, s’okay. promise i'll love it.”

ellie looks down at her feet, then up to you. “you sure?”

“so sure. i always do. ever heard of... wasshisname... jimi hendrix? you're like him.” you giggle, and ellie flashes a sheepish grin, looking down to her leg she didn't even realize was bouncing. it stops. “oh shit—uh, jimi? definitely not him babe.”

“mm, well i think so. c’mere.” you lean forward with your hands planted on her bed, lips puckered. “kiss for extra promising.”

ellie breaks into a warm smile at your mumbled words and reciprocates the action. not once, but twice, just because. in all honesty, your lips against hers did help simmer a few bustling nerves. even if she was backstage of an awaiting, roaring crowd, ellie thinks the tiny, feathery kiss would root away every bit of anxiousness.

after a moment of stillness, she begins, and the first few strums make your heart flutter. you grow all warm and fuzzy, similar to the first time she's played guitar for you. the urge to melt into mush right then and there and pool at her feet is strong when she was playing like that.

all you can do is watch her, hearts practically pumping in your eyes. ellie catches your lovesick expression, her lips twitching into a smile as she continues. the tune is cozy, and you didn’t know if it was ellie's playing lulling you or if it was past midnight—the dimly lit room failing to do you any good as your eyes became heavier, and heavier.

when ellie begins singing, oh so gentle and velvety sweet—i've never known someone like youuuuu, her eyes don't dare to leave yours, singularly singing to you like you were the only one in the whole wide world.

a cheesy smile spreads onto your lips, your cheeks rising in romantic warmth before ellie's the first to look away, eyes on her fingers that pluck the strings, carefully going over each note so it could be perfect, just for you, her "favorite" only girlfriend.

you don't remember much, other than ellie... and ellie being cute and the best girlfriend on earth and... oh yeah, ellie, before your eyes closed. when she’s nearing the end, you’re already softly snoring.

with one last strum, ellie sets the guitar down against the desk, and can’t help but smile fondly at the sight. your breathing slow and your expression peaceful, a silky golden glow resting over your features.

ellie doesn't know if she's ever loved a person as much as she's loved you. what she does know, is that this will be a thing she'll forever look forward to. as sappy as that sounds, she believes nights like these with her guitar and favorite person would be cherished in her heart, endlessly.

she’s glad she was able to get you to sleep, knowing you'd say something about her being the perfect lullaby when you wake tomorrow. a silent chuckle leaves her lips at the thought.

ellie leans down to place a shy kiss on your forehead, switching off the lamp and whispering, “night babe, hope you loved it.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams drabble

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amethystfairy1 · 6 months

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What’s your writing process? Like do you do outlines or just jump right into plot etc… I’m a young writer (14) and really admire your work and want to get better myself. Ty!

✨WRITING PROCESS✨

...

this.

this is my writing process.

OK TO BE REAL THO

Firstly, I don't do outlines.

I KNOW THAT'S BAD BUT I JUST DON'T

What I usually do is word vomit whatever idea I have for a fic into a notes file.

For example! Here's a little random nonsense I just copied verbatim from my notes file that might look familiar!

Tango and Z in sky, blue cracks, Z decides to drop a container with info and his phone number into the rift. He wants to talk to the hybrids, maybe he’s some sort of researcher, he went AWOL from the biotech Institute, something like that. But he is human. Then, tango finds it, or it is brought to him, because he is a direct aid to doc in the labs. Tango ends up deciding to call Z, and they end up becoming really good friends, but only over the phone. Have some fun stuff, where both Z and tango are getting a crush, but how can you crush on someone you’ve never even seen? Tango is freaking out, because he’s not the type of hybrid that can pass as human. he knows he’ll never be able to meet Z face to face. But Z is a little more determined that he gives him credit for. Also have X be a side character in the labs, voidwalker, something like that! Maybe Z is an AWOL scientist, and scar, picked him up to work in his hot guy lab, with cub.

This is the blurb that spawned the Zedango arc in TTSBC.

In case you can't tell I use the dictation function in notes because like 90% of the time I have ideas while I'm driving so I'll just tell my phone to write down whatever I'm thinking and then talk it out

So yeah! I do this, which I dunno is kinda like an outline? I do it for more or less all of my fics.

As far as other stuff, I think the best advice I can give about being a "better writer", which has to do with your question about 'jumping into plot' is to know about your characters and your world , even if you don't plan to share that information in the piece you are writing, or even like, ever.

It's the way you make your characters feel like people. I was actually talking about this with @honeylashofficial not to long ago! You should know why your characters make the choices they do, even if that information never comes up. You should know what they like and dislike and why, if they have traumas then how would those traumas affects them in small daily ways?

Jimmy in TTSBC grew used to being threatened for his wings, so now he has a love-hate relationship with them.

Tango spent a long time without a truly safe place to sleep as a child, so now he has insomnia because he has an internalized fear of falling asleep/being vulnerable.

Zed was treated very poorly at his previous workplace, and he had a terrible experience where his professional lifes work was torn to shreds in front of him, so his self-esteem is very low, and he tends to be very self-deprecating even in a joking fashion.

Cub has sensory issues that severely impact his mood because of his warden hybrid traits, so he typically keeps himself very low energy as a baseline to avoid seeming like he has mood swings.

Even little stuff like what characters notice about their surroundings! Again in TTSBC, Jimmy pays close attention to the weather and the sky, Scott notices people features and expressions, Cub has more detailed thoughts about sounds than he does about sights, stuff like that!

Also I'm gonna give ya the piece of advice no one wants to hear when they're just starting. Just write. Write a TON.

Write even if you only have half an idea. Write even if you think it's gonna be bad. Write if you have even the slightest smallest bit of a motivation to do so, just WRITE WRITE WRITE.

And I will say while I could just be one of the lucky ones, I have been posting on various fanfic websites since I was 13. And in all that time I can count on one hand the amount of hate/negative comments I have received. Over a DECADE of writing and posting and I’ve written and posted A LOT and I have only ever been met with kindness, excitement, and encouragement.

Also, the delete button exists for a reason. You curate your experience on these websites. Especially on A03, with the ability to reply to comments, you can make very clear very quickly what sort of comments you want, which ones you don't, and the vast vast vast majority will be people who are excited about your work and want to encourage you!

If you need a mood booster or some encouragement, you can find my old old stuff on FF.net under the same penname, Amethystfairy1. Just promise you won't come back over here and send asks laughing at me for how bad those stories are, ok? 😆

My point is, you learn best by doing. As you write you will get a feel for your characters, for how they interact and react, for what your specific writing style is going to be and what you enjoy writing the most. And write what you enjoy! Of course you should stretch your writing style, but also make sure you never feel like you're slogging through your writing, especially if it's for fun or creative!

OH ONE MORE THING! 👏

I HIGHLY RECCOMEND DOING A WRITING CHALLENGE!

Stuff like Whumptober, Febuwhump, Novemcomfort, AU-gust, or different fandom weeks that come up, you can find them all over tumblr! Try to participate in one of those and get in as many days as you can! It'll make you write a lot in a short period of time, and you won't have time to overthink it, which I believe is really helpful for finding your writing style and getting comfortable with writing and posting content! It'll also give you a connection to a community of other writers who are participating, especially if you plan to post your updates to tumblr like I do!

Whatever you do on your writing journey, I hope it brings you much joy, fun, and creativity! You'll create something beautiful, I just know it! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #writing advice #fanfic writing

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ariicandy · 1 year

Note

Hihi! I found you through this event that you're doing, and I wanted to contribute! Sorry for another Rui prompt, but could I get Rui from Project Sekai with the Hurt/Comfort prompt 3 please?

“You make me feel safe”

HII! Dont worry abt it being another rui prompt I do need to practice writing abt him! This is the first prompt of hurt/comfort so enjoy!

A/N: Hopefully I did rui good I haven’t been keeping up on character development && from lack of motivation 4 prompt (╥﹏╥)

Rui has been at hard work in making new inventions to show at a school contest. He has never been this excited or amazed by his own invention he has created. He has brought the invention to school with the help of tsukasa carrying it together, rui started to feel down not because of the weight of the robot. But the people around saying things not even trying to hide it as a whisper. People in the hallways start low-like voices on his robot saying, “careful he has a robot again” “the weirdo is here.” etc etc. The usually things he hears but, it hurts. This project had give him motivation and excitement on showing people how proud he was working on this. He can’t help but make those negative comments stir in his mind.

Tsukasa has saw how his facial expression is down from hearing all the comments people are saying. “Rui don’t listen to those comments! You are the greatest inventor!!” Tsukasa shouts, it did get rui’s attention out of that dark fog in his head. He smiles a bit from tsukasa’s remark, “Thank you tsukasa.”

Even tho Rui cheered a bit, tsukasa doesn’t fully believe he’s alright. He decided to text someone close to rui ever since he was little. You, tsukasa decided to message you to atleast Check up if he’s fine from all the things people have said.

Tsukasa: “[NAME]!! CAN U PLEASE CHECK UP ON RUI (｡•́︿•̀｡)“

You: “Sure! But what happen (・・ ) ?”

Tsukasa: “people were saying rude comments and he’s looking very down from it(｡•́︿•̀｡)”

You: “WHAT DON’T WORRY ILL GO SEEIF HE’S OKAY｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д <)*ﾟﾟ･｡ SEND ME WHERE U GUYS ARE AT!!”

Tsukasa sent a message that they were at Kamiyama High School for the school contest. With that, you were off running to go see if your boyfriend was doing okay, it worried you on what types of comments people have made while they saw what he has made. Rui’s creation always interest and amaze you everyday from his inventions he creates. What’s one thing he has never told you about his creations is that you give him motivation to think and create what he loves to do while you are there to support him.

Mini time skip to where u found where they are at

“Rui! Tsukasa! Hi!” Walking towards them at their little stand. “[NAME]!! Just in time!!” Tsukasa exclaimed. “Oh [Name]! I didn’t expect such a lovely person to be here!” Rui said. “Rui! Anyways can we chat somewhere i wanna ask you something.” You asked Rui, to which he replied with sure and a nod. Tsukasa took over the stand while you both went somewhere private to chat. “So what did you wanted to talk about??” Rui asked once u guys finally settled on a quiet area where nobody is around to spy. “Rui are you alright from earlier? Tsukasa has told me people were saying mean things i just want to check if you’re okay, I’ll be with you the entire day if u want.” Rui was shocked a bit tsukasa calling you just to check up on him because you’re the only person he will open up to. He sighed and decided even if he told you he was fine, you’ll be keeping an eye on him the whole day so might as well give in. Rui started to open a bit on the comments made him doubt himself if his inventions were really weird and all. You hugged rui as he accepts it need the comfort from you. Ever since he met you by mizuki he has never felt so loved and accepted by someone, wanting to spend his every second with you. You made a connection with him, loving him, caring for him, and he feels safe in your arms not caring if anyone comes by and sees you both. He likes being in the comfort of your arms

#project sekai #colorful stage #hatsune miku colorful stage #project sekai rui #project sekai rui kamishiro #pjsk #pjsk rui #project sekai x reader #colorful stage x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #rui kamishiro #kamishiro rui #kamishiro rui x reader #pjsk x reader #project sekai fanfic

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allhopeislost · 3 months

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I have been disillusioned with amc iwtv and i am Sad about it.

I liked s1, even with all the changes (some mattered less, some more) i was happy to give it a go, i know firsthand that adaptations have to change things!

But last 4 eps of s2 have been just- bad, on that front. There has been some incredible moments, yet they refuse to engage with larger existential themes from the books, replacing them with mortal pettiness and showy violence. I might have let it slide too, if the issues with writing have not been bearing their fangs.

We are on to final episodes of season two and still, show failed to establish reliable way to determine objectivity or point out fallacy of the pov for the audience.

And i DO find this lazy writing! I HAVE A DEGREE IN SCREENWRITING! I WISH I DIDNT, BECAUSE I CANT TURN OFF THE CRITIC! THIS PISSES ME OFF! The motivations of the characters this season are so muddy and unclear! Its somehow became more of a mess from s1!!!

I get the premise, but this feels like holding your audience hostage, dangling the "truth" in front of them, never delivering. Its fine for characters to have secrets, to have their subjective view on events but when there is no indication for the audience where the to find the distinction... It is just disrespect. Everything is to be taken as false, unless actively revisited and edited to be the "truth" on screen. It sucks :(

i also started getting severe TJLC flashbacks witnessing fandom DM theories, and i do NOT like it. i hope they deliver proper DM in the future, i really really do. it seems so, but my trust is low rn...so many sherlock bbc parallels in a way they approach building tension and ~mystery~ aagghhh

It pisses me off, BECAUSE i do think this is a GOOD show. There is so much potential for greatness!!! Some writing, scene to scene is superb, dialog is also good on s2, the incredible acting and casting choices, soundtrack, cinematography and design are reeeaally good.

Yet i do not believe they have time to clean up the mess they made this season, maybe just untangle some leftover from s1.

and with ep6 i really dislike how they use sa as a shortcut to get you to sympathize with a character, that's not it. it is not a proper characterisation, to victimize someone as if it would be an explanaition of their resilience--- 1 time, 2 time i'll let it go. but 3 - nope.

on a different point, the ooc louis is just. too much, even for me. crossed the line. do not believe this is louis anymore. the character is still interesting tho! just the first one to fall, for me.

Well. We are close to larger plots of tvc, like qotd and they shot themselves in a foot before it even started, with how they handled the lore this season 💀

sad hours open :(

#iwtvspoilers #for the ep6 mention #Sad hours about the vamp show #The show where vampires drink alcohol for some god forsaken reason #I think i should have trusted book people earlier and now i am sad #Still gonna watch because i love tvc and this is still a good show #Just the potential lost is real sad :(#I am bitter #And i really hope shows audience likes it for what it is #I just really wanted to be a part of that audience #And now i am not

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paracosmicparadox · 1 year

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So, I'm falling back into the FFXV kick, and I have decided that I disapprove of how little complex character development Square Enix has given the guys?? Like where is the emotional depth beyond surface-level cutscene angst?? So I took matters into my own hands and have compiled a handy little list of headcanons / expanded canons that I think make sense.

Noctis: Has clinical insomnia and frequent lucid dreams (sorta a given, but bear w me bear w me)

Feels the weight of having to take so much on from such a young age much, much more than he lets on

Loves to argue

Would've been happier if he and Luna stayed as childhood best-buds rather than betrothed fiancés (controversial, ik, but it just didn't seem like he cared that much for her romantically to me?? Like he obviously cared about her, but it seemed like a really strong penpal vibe rather than a "We're-gonna-get-married-and-be-the-next-hotshot-couple" vibe. If you disagree, coolio, I'm not gonna debate w you on this one)

Has a natural sadness to his eyes regardless of what he's feeling

Went through an anime phase (possibly still in his anime phase, idk)

Social anxiety for the win

Severe RBF

Prefers tea over coffee (black tea is best---particularly lavender earl grey)

Can play the cello (practicing tho?? Don't know her)

Writes the most beautiful poetry when The Motivation™ strikes him (usually when he's home sick and half-delirious)

Prompto: Has ADHD and clinical anxiety, but is undiagnosed and doesn't take any meds for either of them.

Is legit like SO SMART, but can never focus, so not many people take any notice

Wears contact lenses (he had glasses as a child and I refuse to believe he had some high-tech corrective surgery to eliminate the need for them when lenses are cheaper and less risky)

Doesn't drink caffeine because it makes him jittery

Doesn't drive the Regalia when the guys are around because having other people in the car distracts him from the road. Also he tends to drive like a speed demon, which worries Ignis to no end.

Sunburns insanely easily

Could legit become a hitman if he wanted to with the amount of gun-knowledge he has. It doesn't matter what firearm you put in this boy's hand---pistol, SMG, sniper, rocket launcher, you name it. He can and will hit the target every single time.

Addicted to adrenaline

Pansexual

Has a lot of self-loathing (we see a bit of this in Ep. Prompto) and talks with an online therapist about it via text whenever his lows hit him. He's making great progress in learning how to heal and how to accept himself for who he is beyond the mask he wears for others

Ignis: More than a little bit of a control freak, and works very hard not to be too overbearing or critical about his friends' misgivings

Hypochondriac

Wants to protect everyone all the time and mentally kicks himself when he doesn't get there fast enough

Is SO PROUD of Noctis's journey and felt a stronger hatred towards Ardyn than anyone else in the group for what he forced Noct to go through (he stayed up at night sick to his stomach with hollow rage and baked nonstop to take his mind off of it)

Can verbally obliterate a man, but only rarely chooses to do so bc he's classy like that

After losing his eyes, he notices so much more beauty in the world than he used to (the sound of rain on the Regalia's roof, the specific gait of each of his friends, the smell of salt on the wind in Galdin Quay, the flawless feel of one specific silk tie he has in his repertoire, etc)

His internal compass is never wrong

Regularly takes antacids for his stomach

Has the straightest teeth you've ever seen

Demiromantic

Gladio: Hates being wrong: it's his way or the highway

Actually so much smarter than the musclehead jock front he puts up

A little vain and easily jealous (this man has a Jealous Face like no other)

Thunderstorms are his favorite; his ideal place to be is at a campsite, during a storm, with a well-worn book and a mug of Irish coffee in hand

Would throw himself in front of a bus for any one of his friends

Would beat up kids for the folks he cared about in middle school and spent the time he wasn't training to be a Crownsguard sitting in detention with the most unrepentant, smug, and-I'd-do-it-again look scrawled across his face

Can make a better smoothie than anyone (except maybe Iggy)

Spotify junkie

Had a dinosaur phase as a kid and can still name random facts about them whenever the opportunity presents itself

Avid technology-hater and only has a phone to make calls and join the others in playing King's Knight since they begged him so profoundly (he's sure the thing's going to be his downfall)

Gets most of Prompto's pop culture references

#prompto #noctis #ff15 #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #ffxv #headcanon

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kimakento · 4 months

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tired

synopsis: your overworking habit does not go unnoticed by your group leader. and masaya knows he has to interfere, even if it ruins your guys’ relationship in the process. ⌙ 3.0k

pairing(s): kimura masaya x 12th member!fem!reader

genre(s): angst (with comfort), general

warnings: overworking, low self-esteem (more of that nature), swearing, emotional instability, scenes of lashing out/anger, can be seen as platonic (?)

author’s note: i kinda love and hate this i’m not sure. i rlly need to write more for ini tho…. ily masaya (even tho im a nishi oshi)

kimura masaya was aware of the ‘extra practice’ sessions you held at night in seclusion; he also understood that this was just your way of overworking, and didn’t like it one bit. it certainly didn’t help that your younger members were becoming more skeptical with each time.

“one, two, three, four.” masaya clapped, signalling you and nishi to start your dance segment together. “i think you need to take a step farther to avoid bumping into him.” he finished.

in serious thought, you nodded and complied. but you couldn’t stop the overbearing thoughts as throughout the practice you’d noticed that masaya had picked out several mistakes which only made your expression fall.

observing his watch, he clicked his teeth, grabbing both you and nishi’s attention before speaking.

“we probably should head back now. let’s finish this tomorrow?”

masaya met the other man’s gaze as nishi yawned and nodded. when his eyes raked to yours, you shook your head which made the dance leader shoot you a quizzical look.

“i’ll stay behind to work on this.”

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words couldn’t describe the fatigue that overtook your body. nor could it describe the bubbling feeling of frustration that swelled in your chest.

you didn’t understand. why were you never good enough?

“fuck.” hands cover your face as you sigh loudly when you collapse onto the cold, marble floor. “why can’t i get this down?” heaving yourself up, you did what you do best.

you tried again.

sweat dripping down your face, your head pounded as you repeated the steps over; one leg out, the other in and, and…and?

shit, you’ve already forgotten it. confusion etched your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, temporarily tuning out your overwhelming and intrusive thoughts. frankly, you didn’t know how long you’ve been at this, it was half past midnight and here you were; dancing your ass off.

no matter how many times you went through the moves; you just couldn’t seem to get them down. exhaustion consumed your body and your legs felt as if they were going to give out any second; but you mustn’t stop, you scolded yourself. memories of all the comments that your dance instructor spewed carelessly at you about your dance abilities.

‘that’s the wrong leg.’

‘how were you able to even debut with an inability to perfect a simple two step?’

the harsh commands remained ever the fresh in your mind like they were actively taunting you knowingly each time they’d echo on your conscious.

it never helped that it wasn’t just a one-off. to say the least, it hurt to hear that every single day. tears welled up in your eyes as you breathed raggedly from all the repeated steps.

with newfound motivation, you trudged your feet towards the remote and restarted the music and tried again.

when thirty minutes had passed, your phone buzzed. making your way towards the bench you observed that you had a message.

leader :< (masa!) where are you? answer, i’m getting worried. sent 1:03am

hastily, you texted a quick response and turned your phone off in hopes of finding solace and concentration. as you took a seat on the bench, you felt a random urge of frustration; you wanted to scream, to cry. the anxiety clawed at your throat and consumed your entire being.

you just weren’t good enough. you never were.

were you really going to disappoint your fans with a lousy performance? that question remained on your mind as you heaved yourself up and practised again. this went on until you felt on the verge of passing out fifteen minutes later, and had quite literally collapsed on the floor. as much as you tried to get up, your legs had failed you. heaving loudly, you placed an arm over your face while eying the kaleidoscopic lights of your group’s practice room.

just a few minutes of rest. you thought before your eyes slowly fluttered shut; the fatigue catching up to you.

back at the dorms, masaya had his finger caught between his teeth as he watched his phone anxiously. there had been no sign of any other response from you leading him to become visibly antsy; even getting up to pace around the room.

he had to go and get you.

wrapping a scarf around his neck, he grabbed his jacket and walked out; making his way over to the company practice rooms.

falling asleep in the practice room wasn’t something you had planned but masaya barging in wasn’t either resulting in you recoiling from the loud noise and shooting up.

the man wore an expression of worry as his voice expressed a firm tone.

“get up. we’re leaving.”

shock took to your face as you scrambled up and shook your head.

a stern answer, “i’m not done with practice yet, masaya.”

two fingers pinches his bridge as he breathed in loudly and sighed.

“it’s one in the morning. how on earth are you practicing? i was worried sick, anything could’ve happened to you.”

a glint of regret flashed in your eyes but was quickly replaced with determination as you reminded yourself of all the negative comments you’ve had to endure about your dancing.

as you looked at him, you couldn’t help the frustration that had seeped into your chest slowly build up.

raising your voice, you chided him, “well, i have to be perfect. i won’t be able to achieve that if i just sit idly.”

“you’ve been acting weird.” masaya cringed internally at your tone, it made him feel uneasy. “why are you suddenly so obsessed with practice? you can do it tomorrow. this is unorthodox.”

your face conveyed your sense of disbelief.

“unorthodox? you wouldn’t know anything about that since you’re amazing at dancing, you’re literally our dance leader. what the hell would you know about this?” you scoffed in reply.

it wasn��t like you to blow up on anyone, you’d always been the one who’d take everything quietly. masaya was genuinely confused, he didn’t know what had led you become so annoyed.

“i understand you need to practice, but you also need to sleep and rest. it’s not right on me or the others and especially you.” he tried to reason, but that only seemed to escalate the situation.

you covered your face with your hands. “no you don’t.” your voice was small and inaudible — almost fragile, mimicking your sense of state at that current moment.

“huh?”

taking a step closer, it really felt like this was your last straw. “no, you don’t understand what it’s like to be constantly insulted everyday under the guise of it being constructive criticism. you don’t understand what it’s like to feel constrained and suffocated every single day because you feel like you can’t perfect one simple move.” you noticed the look in his eyes as he processed every word of your rant.

another deep sigh escaped your mouth as you parted your lips to continue. “so tell me. but i bet it feels amazing to have everyone praise you as the oh-so-great and naturally-talented dance leader that is kimura masaya, with his exceptional dance skills and all-rounder qualities too. you’re just so perfect, i doubt you can understand anything.”

you felt frantic. thoughts raced around in your mind and scattered your brain, your heart thumped as you tried to ground yourself.

a feeling of hurt flashed on masaya’s expression and guilt wracked your body.

“just listen to me.”

“look, if i don’t practice i’ll fall behind—” you debate.

“no, you won’t.” he cut you off.

“—but if i do practice, you and the others get worried and tell me to stop practicing so much.” you continued, ignoring the older boy’s interruption. “so what am i supposed to do, masaya?”

“i can’t—“

just as he was about to answer, your heads snap to the sound of the door opening and hiroto emerging from behind it. his head alternates between looking at you and masaya; noticing the energy being off. he couldn’t help but feel like he had interrupted something.

“i can’t believe i had to trek here at two in the morning just to collect you. i don’t know what’s going on right now but i’m sure you can sort it out in the morning.” hiroto sighed. “you both are apart of the eldest, i would expect you to be more responsible.”

animosity radiated off the room, and also off of you too. armed with frustration, you huffed in agreement and began to collect your things. in your peripheral, you noticed masaya grumbling incoherently, annoyed at the interruption. for you, it was the opposite; you didn’t know what else your frustration would’ve caused you to say to the older man that would’ve hurt his feelings.

a part of you wanted to resolve the situation and hug it out — but the other was just blind with emotion, it sucked that one of your best friends couldn’t understand what you were going through right now and was refusing to meet you in the middle.

not looking back, you walked out of the almost-suffocating room alongside hiroto with your belongings.

the blonde cleared his throat, and pointed a finger to the room you both just left. “what happened?”

“oh, it was nothing. just a little disagreement. that’s all!” a small smile made its way to your face, trying to convince him; yourself too.

hiroto turned to you while giving a look showing that he was was definitely not convinced but still left the matter alone, not wanting to push boundaries.

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‘a little disagreement.’ you had said. bullshit.

perhaps you had fooled yourself in the process of lying to the eldest member. what happened between you and masaya was definitely not ‘little’ or just a ‘disagreement’ — quite far from it.

a yawn escaped your mouth as you greeted the five boys at the breakfast table, three of whom were rowdy—when were taji, takumi and jin not?—one peacefully eating his food—this was quite and a new side to hiroto—and masaya.

taji had been laughing at his phone for a quite a while, grabbing the attention of takumi and jin. they both gathered around taji’s phone, snickering in the process. hiroto had been peacefully eating as you raked your hazy gaze along the table, you observed masaya picking at his food; refusing to even look up.

“g’morning.” the second your light voice disturbed the busy air, the dance leader perked his head up. groggily rubbing your eyes, you walked over to sit next to hiroto.

weird. you’d always sit next to masaya during breakfast. hiroto sighed internally, recognising that what happened between you and the dance leader last night was definitely still going on.

the argument from last night replayed in your head as you bitterly pick at your food as well. losing your appetite, you get up from your seat at the table — making a little more noise than you should’ve — which caught the attention of masaya. confusedly, he looked down at your plate and back at you; observing that you hadn’t even touched the pancakes that they had prepared.

“finish your food.”

in surprise, you snap your head towards the man.

“i’m not hungry.” a bitter taste took over your mouth.

it didn’t help that the other members had coincidentally become immersed in the show-off you both were having. the tension was so thick in the room, you could cut it with a knife. his gaze never left yours as he remarked.

“all i ask is for you to take care of yourself. why do you make everything a big deal? you know, i don’t get you.”

“and all i ask is for you to mind your own, i can take care of myself. i’m not a child, stop treating me like one for once.” it was like he was trying his hardest to not understand you.

while thinking, you feel someone nudge your elbow; it was nishi. after catching your attention, he nodded over to jin, who had a worried expression on his face. shooting a sorry look to the man, an exasperated sigh left your mouth.

“whatever. i’m out.” pushing your chair out, you got up and returned to your room in isolation.

masaya ran his hands through his hair and huffed.

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practice was even worser. the air crackled with tension as all other eleven members were red-faced and tried to catch their breaths. this session had been extra exhausting and had drained all their energy. as they all conversed lightly, you could be found on the other side of the room still walking through the steps.

takeru spoke up, disturbing all the other members’ hushed conversations.

“guys, let’s go out to eat this time.” typical, takeru would seize any chance to go out. you giggled to yourself. “chinese, maybe?”

everyone nodded and agreed as they looked to each other. a certain man with a playful but adorable look sneaked up behind you and tapped your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin.

“mj, you scared the shit out of me.” with a hand over your heart, you scolded him.

he snickered in response, “we’re going to get chinese. wanna come?”

shaking your head, he only nodded in frustration. jin only wondered when you were going to stop this. he could see it consuming you.

the bags under your eyes, your restlessness, the burden that weighed heavy on your shoulders; they were all proof of it. and jin despised it; he only wished it would get better—you deserved solace as much as he did (much more than he did). as he walked away, he only cursed his incompetence.

a few minutes later, your group-mates had scurried outside after packing up and left you to your own devices. unknown to you, your dance leader had offered to stay and talk to you.

the music boomed in your ears as it replayed over as you repeated the choreography you’d had just been taught for a new comeback. there’d been a specific move that you couldn’t execute perfectly so you went through it again and again.

“enough, please.” the voice sounded weak.

turning around, you were met with the pleading eyes of your leader.

fatigue flashed in your eyes, “i have to get this down, masaya. i really have no time, we’ve only got weeks before we perform live.”

kimura masaya knew this wasn’t what you wanted.

“do you know how this has been breaking us apart? did you even see the look on jin’s face when you had declined his offer? this ‘habit’ is not simply that; this is an actual problem.” emotion spilled through his speech. he so desperately wanted to get through to you. “this hasn’t only been consuming you, it’s been eating away at me...”

“i appreciate the concern but—“

“before you bring out another excuse, i encourage you to think about how this affects everyone else.”

as your comeback edged closer, you’d become more antsier. the group had been tasked with five new songs to learn with all choreography as well. this wasn’t like any other of your albums or singles; it was more songs that you had usually.

so naturally your ‘habit’ of asking your performance director to stay behind had been a rare occurrence. but rarely became sometimes and sometimes became every time.

“i’m not incapable of thinking for myself.”

the exasperation that took over your mind made you completely irritable and unreasonable. yet you couldn’t deny the anxiety that clawed at your throat or the sob that you wanted to let out in frustration.

the taller man walked closer to you and wrapped his arms around your body, providing warmth. a direct contrast.

“i really want to help you. just tell me everything.”

perhaps his soothing voice cracked at your cold exterior. you melted in his embrace and buried your face in his neck.

“i’m tired.” you couldn’t push back the sobs that threatened to escape now. “i’m just so tired, masaya.” you repeated again, voice muffled by his shirt.

a gentle hand ran up and down your back in comfort, encouraging you to speak your heart out until you’re content. pulling away from you, he weaved a hand through yours.

“i know.” he whispered softly to you. “i know.”

the thoughts that consumed your head and tainted your heart terrified you, “i can’t rid myself of this feeling, it’s tearing me apart. it’s like i can’t even breathe. everywhere i go, everything i do; no matter what it’s with me.”

“you should’ve told me. i didn’t know it was this bad.” masaya couldn’t help but feeling it was his fault. he was the leader, and still you were always the one who would listen to everyone else’s problems; including his. but he never made an effort to return the favour.

“i so badly did, but i didn’t want to burden you.”

“burden me? oh, you could never.” placing a hand on your cheek, he used a finger to wipe away the tears that ran down. “you’re supposed to come to me about anything like this. it’s partly my fault; i should’ve never let you go through this alone.”

with a hand still placed on your back, masaya walked you towards the bench against the wall and tried to calm you down. amidst your sharp intakes of air while passing you a bottle of water, the leader broke the silence and interrupted your incoherent train of thought.

“i think our first step is leaving this room. you need to break away from this pressure-filled atmosphere. let’s join the others?”

you weakly nodded your head at the thought of being reunited with your other members.

that’s how you found yourself surrounded with laughs filled with genuine joy. the group had been waiting for their order to be served and your nerves seemed to slowly seep away with more of the jokes told to lighten the atmosphere. you still had a long way to go but for the first time in a while, ease filled your mind as well as smiles adorned your expression. unbeknownst to you, a certain dance leader sat next to you on the restaurant table observed you with a hand under his chin and a grin.

kimura masaya thought believed you looked prettiest when you had that signature smile on your face.

likes and reblogs are heavily appreciated :D

#ini x reader #ini angst #ini jpop #kimura masaya #kimura masaya x reader #masaya ini #masaya imagines #jpop #ini #ini drabbles #ini imagines #jpop x reader #jpop imagines

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