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illumity33 · 2 months ago

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Drawn-out Argument

tags : hospital au, kunikuzushi x gn!reader, they're both kids here, fluff AN : i've actually written a few drafts for this au a few months back but I suddenly gained motivation to rewrite and finish one of my few drafts. I'll probably start a masterlist for this series soon(still trying get used to posting on tumblr), so comment if you're interested to be tagged!

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The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and clean linen, the kind of sterile scent that clung to everything, making it impossible to forget where they were. The only sounds filling the space were the occasional beeping of medical monitors and the faint murmur of nurses outside, their voices softened by the thick walls. The days had started blurring together—marked by meal trays with tasteless food, checkups, and the sheer frustration of not being able to go anywhere.

But in the past week or so, something had shifted.

Kunikuzushi still thought hospitals sucked. He still hated sitting in this wheelchair, his legs wrapped in heavy casts, the weight of them making him feel trapped. But the other kid in the bed next to his? They made things a little less unbearable. Not that he’d ever admit that.

They weren’t exactly friends. At least, he wouldn’t call it that. But they talked. More than he expected to, anyway. Sometimes about serious things, sometimes about completely pointless nonsense—anything to fill the dragging hours.

Like right now.

“I’m just saying,” Kunikuzushi muttered, arms crossed, “if I had to choose between being a cat or a dog, I’d be a cat. No question.”

The kid in the bed across from him blinked. Then squinted. “…You? A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No way. You’re, like…a little chihuahua.”

His eyes snapped toward them, immediately offended. “Excuse me?”

(Name) grinned, propping themselves up on their elbows. “You’re always mad, always making noise, and if you could run around right now, you’d probably be nipping at people’s ankles.”

“That’s not—” He scowled, looking down at his hands on instinct. “I’m not even shaking—”

“You are shaking.”

“That’s because I’m angry.”

(Name) just laughed. “See? Chihuahua energy.”

Kunikuzushi groaned loudly, tilting his head back against the pillow. “I regret ever talking to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

They just smiled knowingly. “Then stop talking to me.”

“…No.”

They chuckled, and the conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Kunikuzushi tapped his fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair, eyes flickering toward the ceiling.

Then (name)’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Hey,” they said lazily, pointing toward the bedside table. More specifically, the small leather-bound book resting on it. “What do you even write in that?”

His eyes flicked toward his journal, then back at them, immediately narrowing. “It’s not a diary.”

“I never said it was.”

“You were thinking it.”

“…So it is a diary.”

Kunikuzushi shot them a glare. “It’s a journal.”

“Right. So can I draw in it?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s mine.”

(Name) groaned dramatically, flopping back against their pillow. “C’mon, I’m bored. You won’t even let me read it—at least let me draw something in it.”

Kunikuzushi crossed his arms, giving them a skeptical look. The idea of letting someone touch his journal felt…strange. Like handing over a piece of his brain for inspection.

But after a long pause—and an equally long sigh—he reached for it.

“Fine,” he muttered, flipping to a blank page before shoving it toward them. “Don’t ruin it.”

(Name) grinned in triumph, taking the book and snatching a pen from the tray table beside them. They immediately got to work, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

Kunikuzushi watched from the corner of his eye, arms still crossed, as they carefully sketched out two figures. It didn’t take long to tell what they were drawing—one was a kid with an IV drip in their arm, grinning brightly. The other stood next to them, scowling with his arms crossed.

It wasn’t hard to guess who was who.

He huffed. “Really?”

“What?”

“Why do I look emotionally constipated?”

(Name) grinned. “Because you always are”

He scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he rested his cheek against his palm and watched as they added little details—his sharp eyebrows, his messy hair, the slight puff of his cheeks like he was pouting.

After a moment, (name) leaned back, tilting their head. “Hmm. I don’t like how I drew myself.”

Kunikuzushi raised an eyebrow. “Looks fine to me.”

“No, I look weird.” They grabbed an eraser and hovered it over their own face.

He glanced at the condensation on their drink sitting on the tray table, some of it dripping onto the page earlier, though neither of them had noticed.

The second they dragged the eraser over it, the ink smudged.

(Name) froze.

Kunikuzushi blinked.

“…Why do I look like I’m dissolving?” they finally asked.

Silence.

Then Kunikuzushi slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Pfft—”

“This is terrible,” they whined.

He snatched the journal back before they could do any more damage. “Too late. It’s staying.”

(Name) gasped, reaching out for it. “Wait, let me redo it—”

“Nope.” He shut the book with finality, tucking it back onto the table. “You ruined it. It’s permanent now.”

They groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Kunikuzushi just smirked, arms behind his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

Kunikuzushi didn’t immediately look at the drawing again after reclaiming his journal. He had spent most of the afternoon keeping it out of (name)’s reach, just in case they got any ideas about trying to "fix" it.

But later, when they weren’t paying attention, he cracked it open.

His gaze flickered over the sketch—his own tiny, scowling face, the little details they had added like the messy strands of his hair and the way his arms were crossed, as if he were mid-complaint. (Name) was standing next to him, beaming with an IV drip attached to their arm. And then there was—

Kunikuzushi squinted.

Something wasn’t right.

He flipped the book around and jabbed a finger at the drawing. “Why am I standing?”

(Name) blinked, then tilted their head. “Huh?”

“In the drawing,” he said, pointing again. “You gave me casts, but I’m standing.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at their own work.

Then they shrugged. “Wheelchairs are hard to draw.”

Kunikuzushi let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You just skipped that part? My entire situation? Just—poof, nonexistent?” He flailed a hand dramatically toward his actual wheelchair. “That’s, like, the most important part!”

“I dunno, you look fine standing,” (name) said with an amused smile, resting their chin in their hand. “Maybe it’s foreshadowing. Y’know, for when you finally get out of that thing.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Well, you can't know if you don't try!”

Kunikuzushi groaned, shutting the book again with a thump and holding it to his chest as if protecting it from further artistic inaccuracies. “I can’t believe this. I trusted you.”

(Name) stifled a laugh. “You’ll live.”

He just lets out a scoff.

Still, despite all his complaints, he found himself flipping back to the drawing later, staring at their scribbled figures for much longer than he meant to.

He traced a finger over the smudged ink of (name)’s face, then over his own legs—completely intact in the drawing, as if nothing had ever happened.

And for some reason, he didn’t really hate the idea.

taglist : @algrimmammon @wateredfay @featuredtofu @bittersweetmiko @scaraenthusiast1 @0kauy @kunikissr @mellowberrie@ysabelyaps

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanart #genshin fanart #scaramouche x reader #fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x you #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #wanderer

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battlekidx2 · 1 year ago

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I'm making this post purely to shout out some incredibly talented fanfic writers from the Hazbin Hotel fandom and my favorite works of theirs.

Did anyone ask me for this? No. Will I post it anyway? Absolutely. The writers in this fandom are too good.

The first fanfic writer I want to shout out is @prince-liest (ao3 link)

I absolutely love their get cared for idiot (Alastor) series (not the official name but they called it that in one of their asks jokingly so it's now the default in my head).

Knock, Knock! It's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! (this fic gets it!!!! This is what I meant when I said Alastor is growing a heart and part of him is raging against it. He still has ulterior motives and a massive amount of pride and part of him feels like that growing fondness is getting in the way, but he can't stop it. I need to stop before this becomes a long ramble. I've written a couple thousand words on this idea, but this fic is just a better use of your time than any meta I could ever write and way more entertaining :D )

Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy

The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding (Please look at the tags for content warning. Angel and Alastor body swap story.)

They're amazing at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor where there's a heart in there (really deep) and he's unintentionally growing attached to the hazbin crew, but he doesn't lose his edge. He's still manipulative and an asshole and can easily be the scariest guy in any room. He's in hell for a reason. A+ characterization at all times.

They're so good at writing the complicated dynamics he has with the residents, especially Charlie, and I enjoy how they expand on Alastor's potential dynamic with Angel Dust.

Anything they write from Lucifer's POV is gold too! My favorites are:

Take Two and Leave a Voicemail!

The Care and Keeping of Homo Angelus

I am also 100% here for their Aro!Alastor agenda and I'm enjoying their fic I Love Her, I Love Her Not so far!

The second person I want to shout out is @grayintogreen (ao3 link)

Their series Red Roses and Dead Things consistently gut punches me.

Just like Princeliest, they are also fantastic at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor. A+ characterization for everyone and I love how they write HuskerDust. It's so soft, especially in the aftermath fic for Learn that Even Death May Die called If My Love Is Tomorrow, I've Forgotten Yesterday (that fic hurt in the best way).

The way they explore the aftermath of Learn that Even Death May Die is incredibly impactful. They capture the unique grief that comes from the reality that there are some things you won't get closure for so well that it's painful.

I can't say enough good things about their series. Genuinely go read it.

I found @lediz-watches (ao3 link) before the first season of Hazbin Hotel dropped (I've been a fan of the hellaverse for a few years now and have been enthralled with the Hazbin Hotel pilot since I first watched it in 2020) and I really enjoy their fics.

My favorite is Suffering Kindness. I love the Charlie and Alastor dynamic they explore in this story. I think I'm just a sucker for the Charlie and Alastor dynamic in general, but this fic hits all the right notes for me. (written pre-season 1 but man is it good. 100% recommend)

LeDiz also has a lot of one-shots/collections of one-shots that are very fun.

The Cure for Inexorable Boredom

Dollface (one-shots about Alastor theories. My favorite is the 3rd one. So fascinating!)

Choice Words (one of the few explorations of Alastor and Vaggie's dynamic that I've found in the fandom)

Don't Say It

I have to shout out @ckret2 (ao3 link) and their phenomenal fic You’ve Got a Face for Radio. This is such an amazing aroace!Alastor fic. (Embarrassingly it was this fic that made me realize I was most likely aroace myself. I’d had fleeting moments of suspecting it but it wasn’t until I saw my experiences laid out in a character explicitly written to be aroace that I put the puzzle pieces together. -_- some of these passages were too relatable.) I cannot express how much I love this fic.

I also like their fics Dumpster Baby and Bitter Grapes.

I have one last writer I want to mention because this is getting really long (whoops). The last one is tiredoflofteranditsshit and their Assume He Has a Heart series (because my favorite character and how I interpret them was not obvious enough already with the fics/authors I've recommended. I had to make it more obvious).

These fics are massive (17k and 26k words) and so much fun. Definitely worth the read. Yet another series that follows up season 1 and explores Alastor’s growing connections and how he lies to himself and pushes against it. Love this series and there’s a lot to sink your teeth into :D

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel fics #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #angel dust #husk #huskerdust #charlie morningstar #I love all of these fics #these writers are all so talented

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pepperonijem · 6 months ago

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II. the song's about to start (can you feel it?) || to.you

"... I'm about to fall for you."

summary: Creative constipation. That's what Levi calls the feeling he gets when he realizes he wants to write about how he feels about you. What does he feel about you? That's... inconclusive, he thinks. pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: alcohol consumption, levi is a bumbling mess of feelings, cursing songs mentioned: partners in crime - finneas, (only) about love -grentperez, buzz - niki || the title of this chapter comes from the song buzz

A/N: I've never written anything that made me blush and twirl my hair the way this chapter did. why am I the one catching feelings rn. should I post the playlist?

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter

Hange Zoe is the worst person to have in the car when all you want to do is think.

The thought popped into Levi’s mind as he swatted at a wandering hand reaching for the volume dial on his dashboard. A groan sounded from beside him and Levi rolled his eyes in return. Hange was a regular in the front seat of his car, and to his dismay, felt much too comfortable touching everything they could on the dashboard. Their chair was leaned back absurdly far and the vents on the air conditioning seemed pointed in every which direction.

“Levi, I like this song,” they huffed as they reached forward to mess with the volume again. With a sigh Levi gave in and looked forward to the drive home in silence.

He tapped his fingers against the wheel as Hange sang along. Croaked, more like. Hange had a melodic singing voice, but that wouldn’t be obvious to anyone hearing them right now. But Levi was used to this, and although he pretended to be annoyed by it, he really didn’t mind. He liked this song too and he hummed along, quiet enough that Hange wouldn’t notice.

“You couldn’t look any more like a lover Or a partner in crime Or something of mine”

The song ended and Hange reached over to turn the volume down. Levi was thankful, but realized if the radio volume went down, Hange’s would have an inverse effect. They looked over at Levi whose eyes were trained on the dark and empty 3 a.m. freeway ahead of him.

“You know,” Hange began with a smirk in their voice and Levi tensed, steeling himself for whatever nonsense would escape his friend’s lips. “Miche said he saw you dragging Eren’s friend upstairs earlier.” Levi’s hands grew tighter on the wheel and Hange didn’t miss the flush of red that appeared on his cheeks as Levi remembered the brief feeling of your skin on his. Hange’s laugh is grating, Levi thought.

He chose not to say anything. A mistake, really, as now Hange had found an opportunity to fill in the blanks on their own.

“Mr. Ackerman, I never took you for the frat-party quickie type,” Hange continued, laughing to themselves. “Especially not with people you write songs about.”

“Shut up,” Levi huffed. “It wasn’t a quickie, I was–”

“Oh so you took your time,” Hange cut him off with a playful slap to his shoulder. Somehow he felt his face heat up some more. Thankfully, they weren’t too far from Hange’s home.

“We were looking for those two other brats that hang around Eren,” Levi tried to speak up over the sound of his friend’s guffaws.

“I’m just teasing, you grump,” Hange finally relented. They waited a beat before continuing. “But that new song of yours was definitely about them right?”

Levi thought for a second before answering, even though he knew Hange already knew what he’d say. He simply nodded in response.

“Knew it,” They spoke again. The teasing lilt in their voice was replaced by something softer. “It’s been a while since you’ve written anything new. It felt new.”

“What do you mean?” Levi asked curiously. He’d always had a particular style when it came to writing songs, and Hange had known him long enough to see it become what it was. He didn’t particularly intend to write anything different, he just… wrote as he always did.

Hange leaned against the window, thinking to themself. “I’m not really sure myself,” they finally answered after a beat. “It just felt more like you, I guess.”

The last time Levi wrote a new song was when Erwin was still part of their band.

Last spring, right as the trees were beginning to turn into various shades of light pinks and pastels, Erwin asked them all to stay after practice to talk. It was an unusual rehearsal from the start, and Erwin seemed nervous much unlike his usual calm and collected self. His blonde hair was ever so slightly disheveled and he wore sweatpants instead of his nicer trousers that he usually wore to save time before heading to his office internship after practice.

Erwin clumsily missed notes that he had never missed before, and Levi was more shocked than anyone else to see the founder of their band fumble around like he’d never held a bass before. So when it came time for them to talk, Levi was intrigued and surprised again when he finally spoke.

“I’m getting married,” Erwin blurted out without his usual level of tact.

“You’re–”

“What–”

“Married–”

Hange, Miche, and Levi all spoke at once and Erwin let out a sigh of relief that melted into a soft laugh, as if a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

“Married?” Levi asked again.

Erwin nodded with a sheepish smile before explaining. “You’ve all met my girlfr— fiance before. We’re both graduating next semester. She got accepted to a music conservatory overseas and my internship offered me a position at their branch in the same city, it just feels like the stars were aligning. It all feels like a sign.” In the many years he’d made music with Erwin, learned his cues and learned his melodies, he saw that Erwin spoke with a twinkle in his eye that Levi had only ever seen when he spoke about his fiance.

“I’m sorry to announce I’m leaving the band like this,” Erwin continued. “But I’ll help you find a replacement before I leave. In fact, I already have someone in mind.”

That’s how they found Eren, a friend of Erwin’s fiance who played in the university orchestra with her. They watched his end of year recital and sat through his flawless performance of a cello concerto by Saint-Saëns. It all happened rather quickly after that and without even auditioning, the passionate but impulsive brat had become their new bassist.

After going out for a round of drinks at the local pub to celebrate Erwin’s news, Levi found himself outside on the patio, resting his elbows against the railing and thinking about all of this until a voice cut through his thoughts.

“Levi,” Erwin called as he moved to stand beside him. “What’s on your mind?”

He turned around to glance over at his friend. Erwin looked happier now, like he was constantly basking in the glow of something bright, and Levi supposed that in a way, he was. “What does it feel like?” Levi asked vaguely, but Erwin knew, as he usually did.

“It’s… hard to explain,” Erwin replied. Levi looked at him and waited for him to continue. “At first, it felt like… well you know, right before a show when we first turn on the amps? There’s a buzz, but it feels electric. It’s a little bit like that, anticipation because you know something good is about to happen.” Levi nodded thoughtfully at Erwin’s response as he continued. “Now it feels so big… like exploring space, if space was safe and warm.”

After a slight chuckle, a wave of silence washed over the two of them until Erwin spoke again. “Are you going to be okay?” Erwin glanced over at his friend.

“I will be,” Levi answered. “Will you?”

Erwin turned around to face the window and smiled to himself as he watched his fiance laugh at something Hange was saying. “I think so,” he said quietly. “But I’m happy to be here right now.”

“Yeah,” Levi agreed. “Me too.”

When Levi came home to his apartment that night, he reached for his guitar. He strummed quietly as he felt the familiar wash of inspiration take over him. A soft melody seemed to untangle itself into something that made sense in his head and soon, lyrics came along with it.

“Take my hand and come with me to another place We can walk around the universe tonight.”

He hoped he understood what Erwin had told him. Love as a concept was simple enough to put into an analogy, but difficult to really get, but for his friend, he’d try. He sent Erwin off later that spring with the lyrics and sheet music folded neatly in an envelope, a gift from Levi to the happy couple and felt satisfied leaving it at that between the two of them. And so it was, until Erwin asked him to play it at his wedding six months later. It was his first time singing a song without the rest of the band, but it didn’t feel as scary as he imagined it to be. It was like having a conversation, or writing a letter to his best friend. To Erwin.

He hadn’t written a song since then, not until he met you. Hange was right and the realization had heat seeping into his cheeks.

“Something something Halloween party,” Hange recalled the lyrics to his song. “That line about living in a VHS was pretty cute, what did you say to them to make you think of that one?”

“Nothing,” Levi replied and that was an answer enough on its own.

“Oh Levi,” Hange cooed as they pulled their glasses to sit on top of their hair to find a more comfortable way to drift off for the last few minutes of the ride, content to let Levi have a reprieve from the teasing.

After dropping off a drunk Hange and driving the hour back to his apartment, he couldn’t decide whether to grab his notebook and pen or his guitar. This was a rather frustrating dilemma to have. Usually, he’d feel something akin to lightning and either a simple line or a melody would come to him and he’d grab whatever vessel he needed to bring it alive.

The song he wrote about you two weeks ago began as lyrics first. He had watched you walk down the sidewalk in your pumpkin costume and groaned to himself as he realized half of your entire conversation was him saying, “cool.” He walked back into the party and through a sea of stupid costumes to find his guitar case and fished out the worn brown leather notebook that he always kept with him and grabbed a pen.

“I want to erase the things I said, but I’ll probably say them again. Wish I could hit rewind and not be so in my head.”

With a few tweaks and a chorus, it had become a song, and Levi was proud of himself. It wasn’t until after he had finally set his pen down and saw he’d written the words “I wouldn’t have let you go leave me,” that he wondered if he really felt that way or if it was just a good line.

At the next party, when you told him you liked the song, the song he wrote about you, he felt something else, and he wondered what to call the flutter he felt in his chest. Attraction, maybe? He learned about the feeling of attraction in class, how the spike in your heart rate and cortisol levels can be read as attraction in the right circumstances… or stress in the wrong ones. With his adrenaline running high after his performance, he decided that the evidence presented was too inconclusive to be labeled one way or another.

Now, he decided to grab his notebook to look back at the page he’d scribbled on, to see if something could give that final push for lightning to strike. He scoured the margins, looking through the various doodles and squiggles and crossed out words. It was incredibly frustrating, Levi thought, to have the desperate urge to write, but not know what to write. It’s probably because he still couldn’t figure out how he felt about you. Anxiety? Attraction? It was something new, but not something he knew how to explain. All he knew was that he wanted to write about you.

Nothing came to him even after flipping through his book, so with a sigh, he gave up and flopped onto his bed. His eyes fluttered shut and hoped inspiration would find him in his dreams.

The next morning, Levi woke up feeling unrested and uninspired. He was expecting to wake up with that familiar whisper of a new melody or a new lyric in his ear, but instead he woke up to the sound of thunder outside. He ran a frustrated hand down his face. Creative constipation, he thought to himself.

Then as he settled into his seat for his psych class, he found himself so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you call his name until you reached out and tentatively put your hand on his shoulder. The contact snapped his attention towards you and he felt a haze begin to clear.

“Levi?” you said his name with concern.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking,” he explained. “Did you need something?”

“I was going to ask if I could sit next to you,” you began before leaning in towards him and lowering your voice conspiratorially. He could smell your shampoo and the perfume you sprayed on this morning. He felt that flutter again. “Some rando took my seat beside Jean. I think they heard we were picking our partners for the project today.” You subtly gestured over to the girl in your usual seat who was staring intently at Jean who was staring intently at a Fortnite stream on his laptop.

Levi let out an amused chuckle before sliding his backpack off from the seat next to him and pulling it out for you to take. He watched you curiously as you sat down, trying to figure you out. Trying to figure out why he wanted to figure you out so desperately. He resisted the urge to look away when you smiled at him. All he could muster up to do was nod back and hope you didn’t notice him staring.

“So what is it that had you thinking so deeply,” you asked as you pulled your laptop out of your bag. Levi paused for a beat, wondering how to reply. He wasn’t particularly fond of letting people into his writing process. It felt too intimate. Even Hange and Miche had only ever looked into his notebook once and then decided it wasn’t worth being on the receiving end of Levi’s death glare (not to be confused with his usual resting neutral glare). For some reason, he felt as though you wouldn’t be too much of a threat to his creative process.

“I have to write about a feeling,” he began tentatively. “But I can’t really figure out what it is.”

“Oh is this for, like, an essay?” You asked. You tapped on your chin as you thought about what to say.

“Yeah, something like that.” “What’s the feeling?” you continued to ask. Levi found himself intrigued at your willingness to help him, but remembered how quickly you relent to offering your notes to Jean and Eren when they miss something. He figured it’s probably second nature for you.

“Honestly, I’m not too sure myself,” Levi answered, nervous that you’d see through his flimsy details. But this was the closest thing he could tell you without divulging his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure how much of a help you’d actually be. Songwriting, Levi recognized, was not something that everyone could do, but it was something he did well. He had a knack for being able to step into someone else’s shoes and write about their feelings. Like some sort of twisted empath, he could write a damn good love song without ever having been in love. He figured whatever higher being created him thought it would be funny to have such a stoic man only be able to express himself through a melody, like he was in some goddamn musical.

The other members of his band had a bit of experience writing as well, but their styles were different from Levi’s. They had a special knack for writing songs that sounded like them. Hange’s songs were always more upbeat and catchy, good for parties, and a little quirky. Miche’s songs were much more focused on the rhythm and had fewer lyrics. Eren, although only having written a couple of songs so far, definitely had a more angsty, grungy vibe. It was only from Erwin’s leadership that they all learned to blend their styles into something cohesive.

Most people outside of the band assumed that the majority of songs were written by Hange or Miche or even Eren now that he was part of it. But surprisingly, Levi was the real lyrical mastermind behind No Name, although he never opts to correct anyone who thinks otherwise.

“Just write it down,” you replied as if it was the most simple answer. “Even if the feeling doesn’t have a name, you’ll get the point across.” When you looked over to see Levi eyeing you skeptically, you continued.

“Not all feelings have a name,” you went on. “Like the feeling when you’re about to turn a door handle into a surprise party you knew about, or like when you get the first cup of hot coffee for the season because it’s finally cold enough outside for it. It’s like you know it’s the start of something new, something good.”

Levi could see warmth flashing in your eyes as he watched you list these feelings. It reminded him of Erwin’s words that night. Something about anticipation…

There it was. Lightning. His head shot up as you spoke and you turned to him with wide eyes. You watched as he reached for his notebook and began scribbling into his notebook. Before you could ask him more about it, the sound of the professor’s voice filled the room. Levi, however, did not lift his head.

“It’s the feeling of the first coffee run in autumn – can you feel it?”

The last part was a question for himself.

Sure enough, today was the day project partners were being assigned and although Levi spent the majority of the class writing madly into his journal, his ears perked up at the announcement.

“Since you’re all adults and there’s over 60 of you in this class, it’s easier for everyone to just partner up with their current desk partner.” Levi turned and met your eyes and you both let out a sigh of relief. He was glad it was you.

He managed to set his pen down as the professor continued to explain the assignment. “This project is about relationships,” he announced as he walked down the aisle to hand papers out to the class. “For the rest of the semester, you’re going to be getting to know your partner and hopefully yourself, quite well. Hopefully, if nothing else, you can leave the class with a new friend.”

The both of you turned your heads at the sound of Eren groaning as he looked over at Jean. Jean looked wistfully at the girl who stole your seat – unfortunately, she was in a separate desk cluster. Levi was thankful that things worked out the way they did.

Levi watched you stifle a chuckle and pass him the worksheet. He scanned over the paper. It was mostly blank, save for a few sentences of instructions and two sections of items to note.

Under the first section were three items: First impressions of your partner? Who do you think you are? How do you think others see you?

The second section simply stated: At the end of this project, reflect on your earlier impressions and see how they’ve changed. What’s changed about how you see your partner? How they see you? How you see yourself? What social theories or effects do you believe may have affected this change?

“You get out of this project what you put into it,” the professor stated. “The more time you spend with your partner, the more change you’ll see in any or all of the criteria. However, if you decide not to spend any time with them after the initial meeting, you still have some theories to write about.” He chuckled to himself as he scanned the students’ faces.

He continued on. “There’s no criteria for how much or how you spend time with your partner outside of being safe and respectful. But I suggest you do things together that mean something to you. Be intentional with the time you spend together.”

Levi’s previous feelings of relief had suddenly dissipated as quickly as they came. This was a rather intimate project, and although the questions seemed simple enough, being in this class for the semester taught him nothing was ever psychologically simple. He snuck a quick glance over at you, busy writing your name on the top of your paper and writing down quick reminders to yourself in the margins of your notebook where you had neatly organized your notes from class. Your cheeks were pink, and so were the tips of your ears. He was sure his were too.

He looked down at his own notebook, filled with nothing that could help him on an exam. But he had half a song written down.

It wasn’t until the professor had dismissed the class and Levi was setting his things back in his bag that you finally turned up to look at him with your phone out towards him. “Before you head out, can I get your number?” you asked.

“Sure thing,” Levi reached out for your phone, accidentally brushing his fingers against yours in the process. There was that flutter again, but Levi was ready to chalk this one up to stress. Until he caught a glimpse of your tinted cheeks and suddenly he was at a loss once again. He focused back on the phone long enough to put his number in before handing it back to you, letting his fingers brush yours once again. For research purposes, he had said to himself. Results still inconclusive.

That afternoon, Levi sat at his desk with the worksheet in front of him. The first question seemed easy enough to answer. He didn’t need to think too hard before writing a response.

First impressions of your partner:

He thought back to his first time seeing you in class. Did that even count? All he ever saw was the back of your head and the way you would raise your hands to rub at your temples at the end of class as you slid your notebook for Jean to take pictures of. He picked up his pen anyway. Begrudgingly kind, he wrote.

The first time he really saw you was that night at Eren’s party. You were quick to laugh at his jokes, and quicker to add on. And later, he watched as you danced with Jean, who Levi watched get shot down by a blonde girl who was clearly more interested in the girl with her, even in your stupid pumpkin costume that stood out like a sore thumb. There was something about you that drew people in, he realized. Charming, good friend, obnoxious.

He thought about when you finally left that evening to go study. Hard-working, warm.

The next questions were a lot more difficult to answer.

Who do you think you are?

“Annoyed, mostly,” he muttered aloud as he forced himself to try to think. Although he had a knack for writing about other people, he wasn’t a huge fan of introspection. A musician, he wrote simply. I’m good at what I do, and I do what I’m good at. Simple. Blunt. Clean. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, he thought.

How do you think others see you?

This was such a dumb question, Levi thought to himself. He never really cared about how other people saw him. Hange always said it was one of his charms, especially on stage, and he agreed. His Twitter DMs seemed to agree as well. But a question was a question, and he wasn’t going to hurt his stellar grade over a dumb question. Charismatic, quiet, intense, cold.

He finally set his pen down and picked up his phone to see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey Levi, are you free this evening?

Before Levi could feel confused at who the hell would be so bold as to message him like this, you quickly sent a follow up text with your name and Levi scoffed. He was amused. He saved your number before replying to you.

Levi: Sure Levi: Did you want to do something?

He didn’t wait long for a response as you quickly texted him an address and a time. The campus cafe, which thankfully was near his apartment, at 7 p.m. so he still had a few hours before he had to meet you. He pulled out his lyrics notebook and looked back at what he’d written during class. It felt like it was coming together and Levi felt content as he grabbed his acoustic and began to strum absentmindedly, trying to figure out what his words sounded like in a melody. It was something simple, but he was happy with it. Hange was right, this song felt like him.

For the first time in a long time, he was writing about himself.

When Levi walked into the cafe promptly at 7 p.m., he let out a soft sigh. The smell of pastries, cinnamon, and coffee wrapped around him like a comforting embrace and he took a moment to appreciate the smells of autumn. He scanned around the cafe and found you sitting at a booth by the window, staring out at the street. Now that October had passed, the jack-o-lanterns and skeletons had been replaced with the warm glow of fairy lights and other various holiday decor. As he walked towards you, he found himself catching his breath at the warm glow the lights left on your skin. Pretty, he thought to himself. When you finally turned your head and caught his eye, you smiled at him with a wave. As pretty as he thought you were looking away from him, it had nothing on the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Hey Levi,” you greeted as he finally made it to your table. He unwrapped his scarf from his neck and slipped out from his coat, setting them both neatly beside him on the leather seat of the booth. “I went ahead and ordered a little bit before you got here. Figured you’d look forward to something warm to fight the cold.” You gestured at the cream colored mugs that sat on the table and Levi cautiously inspected the one in front of him. The steam still rose from its contents and the smell of Earl Grey tea made his shoulders relax. He wasn’t a coffee person.

“Thanks,” Levi replied softly. “How’d you uh, how’d you know I prefer tea?”

You blushed as you looked away. “I was a little nervous,” you began, your attention once again on the sights outside. “I texted Eren on the way here and asked what kind of drink you preferred.”

Levi felt himself blush and was thankful that you weren’t looking directly at him. He scoffed before taking a sip of his tea. Seems like Eren pays attention. “Nervous, huh?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as teasing as it did.

You finally turned your attention back to him. “Yeah,” you chewed your lip. “This is kind of an intimate project. Did you see the questions? It felt like some sort of first date survey.”

He nearly choked on his next sip. You were right, and now that you had pointed it out, Levi couldn’t help but fixate on the idea. A first date, he repeated to himself. He hoped the mug hid his blush.

“We don’t have to think of it that way,” you quickly added. Levi let out a soft chuckle at your panic. “I mean, not that it would be terrible, but this is for class so I think we can keep it professional and then be friends, which I guess would not really be prof-”

“You’re rambling,” Levi cut you off. He felt relieved that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous about all of this, but he also took note of how you said it wouldn’t be terrible for this to be a date. He let out a sigh and set his mug down. “There’s no pressure at all. We can spend as much or as little time together as you’re comfortable with, and how we spend that time doesn’t have to be anything in particular. We could study, talk, or just sit here in silence too, if you wanted.” He hoped of course, that he’d see you more often, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. He knew people saw him as somewhat unapproachable. Even people who scream his name at performances seem to tense up and freeze when they see him on campus. He didn’t want you to be one of them.

To his credit, his words did seem to have an effect on you and he watched your shoulders begin to relax as you reached for your own mug to take a sip. “Thanks,” you began. “Sometimes I get too in my own head. But you’re right. No pressure.”

Glad that you were finally more relaxed, he let a beat of silence sit comfortably between the two of you. When he first met you at that party, you seemed a lot more sure of yourself, not that you seemed unconfident now, but more that you handled interactions with new people in a charming, easy way that he couldn’t. It made him relax knowing he wasn’t the only one who tends to overthink things. He made a mental note to write that down for his assignment later.

It was much easier to just talk after that. Levi felt he had finally redeemed himself after that night where all he could say was “cool.” He was a man of few words… but not that few.

You told Levi about how you’d met Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. How Armin had come up to you at recess in elementary school after you had just moved to town and asked about the book you were reading. He was the first to speak to you, and Mikasa was the first to drag you along to their adventures. Eren, who was your next door neighbor, had declared himself your older brother when he found out you didn’t have one. “Everyone should have a big brother,” he had decided at 9 years old.

Levi told you about the band, why it was called No Name in the first place. He had started the band in high school with his best friends and kept it going since they somehow ended up at the same university. Hange wanted to call themselves The Titans “because it’s funny. Because you’re short.” And when Levi pounced across the table, Miche suggested The Walls which Levi hated even more. It wasn’t until Erwin dragged him back to his seat on the couch of Erwin’s apartment that Erwin decided, “If we can’t decide on a name, then we go with No Name.” And that was that.

Levi had found himself smiling at the memory, and chuckled at how long ago that was. Now, somehow, he had become the leader of the band, filling in Erwin’s role as a singer and at times, a mediator.

It was easy to be nostalgic with you, but maybe it was the tea, or the fairy lights that set him up. It wasn’t until both your mugs were halfway empty after a refill that Levi remembered to ask. “So why a cafe?” he asked curiously.

Your eyes lit up as you began to speak. “Oh, right,” you began. “Remember how we were talking earlier about feelings that don’t have a name and I mentioned the first coffee run in autumn?” Levi nodded. “Well, I finally had some time today, and I thought I’d invite you to join me so you could feel it firsthand.”

Now that it was November, it was well past Levi’s first run to the cafe. In fact, he’d been here at least twice a week since September.

“I know that it’s really late into the season,” you spoke again as if you knew what he was thinking. “And I’ve had plenty of coffee since September. But I’d just been so busy that I hadn’t had a chance to actually sit down inside a cafe and enjoy a cup of coffee.” You smiled as you looked down into your mug.

This is nice, Levi thought to himself. “So what are you feeling?” Levi probed as he recalled your words from earlier. Something new, something good. This was definitely that.

“Like life is about to fall into place.”

Later that evening, Levi found himself itching for his phone to text you.

It had only been an hour since the two of you parted ways after he walked you to your car, but he already found himself thinking about when he would see you again. You were easy to talk to but you didn’t mind when he only had a few words to say either. It felt easy. He hadn’t been on many first dates but he knew that none of them had him feeling this way afterwards.

Levi: Hey Levi: Are you free tomorrow? We can meet again if you want.

Tomorrow? My place?? Levi had sent the message before he could think too hard about it. He shoved his phone under his pillow and walked out to the kitchen of his apartment. He grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the island, running a hand down his face. He took a sip and began to pace back and forth.

“Like a phone toss when it's risky and you hit send.”

He ran to his desk, momentarily forgetting about the phone, and wrote down the line. And another one. And another one. Until finally, he had a song. He took a deep breath before reaching under his pillow for his phone.

Coffee Addict (psych): I’m not busy :) where do you want to meet?

He thought for a second before an idea popped into his head.

Levi: You know the music studies building? Meet me on the basement floor.

And so the next day he found himself sitting on the floor across from you in a cramped practice room with his hands clasped on his lap. He’s not really sure what had come over him last night after asking you to meet him, but he can’t say he regretted inviting you either. In fact, he woke up bright and early, feeling that flutter again as he thought of seeing you.

“This is cozy,” you joked as you looked around. The room really was cramped, and with a standing piano against one wall of the room, it made it feel even smaller. He wasn’t used to sharing this space with other people, but he didn’t really mind sharing it with you.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry it’s cramped, I know,” he acknowledged. “I just… I wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?” you asked. “What is it?”

Levi looked up at the piano before standing up and offering his hand out to you. A buzz in his fingertips. A flutter in his stomach. He sat down on the piano bench and patted the space beside him to his right. The bench was wide enough to fit both of you, but Levi didn’t miss the feeling of your leg pressed against his. Before he could overthink himself into a panic, he stretched his fingers over the keys and began to play.

“It’s the anticipation when the amps turn on Just cables and crackle. It’s the first flicker of the neon sign It’s the words stuck in your Adam’s apple.”

He glanced over at you before continuing on to the next verse. Your hands fidgeted in your lap, but you watched as his fingers moved across the keys.

“It’s a bumblebee on a blossom The first coffee shop run in autumn.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide as you recognized your own words.

“The song’s about to start, can you hear it? The door’s about to open, can you feel it? The flower’s about to fruit, can you see it? I’m about to fall for you.”

A buzz. A flutter. He knew what this was.

“About to fall for you.”

a/n: some more fun facts! This chapter was so fun to write. 1) Eren, who'd never admit it out loud, actually knows all his friends' go-to drinks. He often brings his bandmates drinks as apology for being late to practice 2) Armin is the biggest social butterfly of the group. He's just really kind and disarming. 3) I gave myself butterflies writing the scene where Levi is playing on the piano with you beside him.

#levi ackerman #levi aot #captain levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x you #attack on titan #aot #aot headcanons #aot x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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mvskedxrtist · 1 year ago

Note

Let’s take a crack at a Hazbin request:

Reader (whatever gender you’d like) x Lucifer, I feel like he’d have some fun kinks? So maybe the reader giving Lucifer a reward after he was instructed not to touch himself for the last few days, being constantly edged to an orgasm but just barely not getting to and quickly becoming a mess.

I’m thinking specifically edging, praise, maybe some light degradation about how pathetic he’s being, getting oral and fingering

(Everything else I leave to your capable hands :3)

-💜

Such a Good Angel

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Edging, Mommy Kink, Praise, Fingering, Light Degration, Oral (M Receiving), Cockwarming, Nipple Play

Nᴏᴛᴇ: Another request means another star in my sky of smut. Thank you for requesting! I'm surprised at myself that I've had so much motivation to post but it just means y'all get this earlier than expected. Also: requests are open! I take 3 requests at a time, please read the rules and how to requests, also remember that I don't just do Hazbin so please look at other fandoms I've written for. Last but not least, I'm starting a tag list!! So if you want to be tagged for all posts just comment! If you want to be tagged for a specific fandom, just comment that as well!

Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @hobbylobbyy

AFAB!Reader x Lucifer Morningstar - Such a Good Angel

It was a few days before the infamous call Charlie gave to her dad to visit the hotel. And in the days before, you had made a cute bet with Lucifer. If he could go a week without touching himself or trying to get off, then he'd get a large prize that'd last the whole day. If he didn't, well there would be a punishment in store for the big boss of hell.

And he was doing ok for the challenge. There were a few times he almost lost himself in the pleasure an came but he stopped himself which impressed you quite much. And then the day that Charlie called him, was actually the day before the end of the challenge. And you decided to just add one last thing for this challenge because of Charlotte's call. If Lucifer did rekindle his relationship with Charlie, the challenge can end right there and he'd get his gift.

So when Lucifer came back very giddy and excited but exhausted, that just told you all that you wanted.

You led Lucifer into bed and kissed him passionately as you slid his shirt up and started rubbing his nipples gently. "So cute under me, baby~" You chuckled and squeezed his nipples gently, hearing his soft high pitched moans. "H-hah~ mommy~" Lucifer held your arms gently until you released his nipples and pushed him down onto the bed more.

"My sweet fallen angel~ so sensitive already~ You're doing amazing for such a needy boy~" You teased him and chuckled softly, taking his pants off. Lucifer looked completely flushed but smiled at you, squealing gently when your mouth enveloped his entire length. "M-mommy!~" He could feel his eyes roll back and released his wings out quickly out of the stimulation.

You looked up and chuckled, pulling his cock out of your mouth but sliding your fingers into his asshole. "My, my, Luci~ crumbling like a little bitch in heat~" You taunted him and started fingering him faster, looking at his already teary face. "N-nghh~ t-too much Mommy~" He panted heavily and looked like he wanted to stop you but he let you continue the immense pleasure.

Lucifer looked like he was about to cum all over himself but whimpered loudly when you pulled your fingers out of him. "What was that for, Mommy?!" "I'm not done yet, Lucifer.~ And don't you want to be a good angel for me?~"

#my writing #smut #top reader #mvsked.writing #fem reader #femdxm #top fem reader #dom fem reader #dom reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #vivziepop #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel

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lovetaroandtaemin · 7 months ago

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Kinktober 2024

Day 5: Lingerie

Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul x Reader

Word count: 752

THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: A little bit of dry humping, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Ten gets a little bit rough, a little bit of biting. If you think I missed a warning, let me know!

A/N: This one is on the shorter side compared to what else I've written so far, but I still hope y'all like it! If you would like to be added to my Kinktober taglist, you can send an ask, send a dm, or comment on any of my Kinktober-related posts with the username that you'd like tagged. Happy reading!

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

It was an ordinary day, except for one thing. Your boyfriend Ten was returning home from a two-month tour. Since you had missed him so much while he was gone, you decided to do something special to celebrate. You decided to go shopping for lingerie. It was something that you had considered doing before, but you wanted to wait for a special occasion so that you had an excuse to get all dolled up. You figured that his return from touring was a special enough occasion, so off you went.

When Ten walked through the door of your apartment, he had no way of knowing what would be waiting for him in your bedroom. So, the sight of you in a black lacy bra, matching panties, and a sheer purple robe made him stop in his tracks. When the two of you made eye contact, he smirked and said, “What’s all this, baby?”

“I just wanted to dress up for you,” you replied. “I’ve missed you so much lately, I wanted to do something special to celebrate you coming home.”

“Baby, I love you, but I really hope that this wasn’t expensive because it is taking every ounce of self-control I have to not rip it off of you.”

“Why the self-control, honey?”

When you called Ten “honey,” he snapped. It drove him crazy every time you did, and you knew that. Before you could process what happened, you were pinned to your bed and his mouth was on your neck. You moaned when you finally felt his lips on you, and it drove Ten even crazier. Without even meaning to, he started to move his hips against yours.

“Fuck, baby, I need to be inside you,” he said with a moan, “Please?”

“Fuck me, honey.”

That was all Ten needed to hear to let you up just long enough to take your panties off and pin you down again. He was insistent that the bra and robe stay on when he fucked you. He slowly lined the tip of his cock up with your pussy and gently pushed his hips forward, moaning as he felt your walls around him.

Ten was still for a moment, giving you time to adjust. Once you gave him the “okay” to start moving, however, he showed no mercy. He had a lot of pent-up sexual frustration due to being away from you for months on end. He also loved the way the bra you were wearing made your tits look when they bounced, which gave him another reason to fuck you harder than he usually did.

The way Ten pounded into you drove you crazy, and it made you consider wearing lingerie more often. He was typically hesitant to be rough with you, but something about what you wore made him throw restraint out the window. You loved it, and if his moans as he fucked you were anything to go by, he loved it too.

“Feels so good, honey,” you moaned, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said before he kissed you. You kissed him back, and it only slightly muffled the noises coming from both of you. Between the moans that fell from your lips, your bed creaking, and the headboard occasionally hitting the wall, your neighbors could definitely hear the two of you. Neither of you could find it in yourselves to care, though.

“I’m close, honey,” you practically screamed as you started to rub your clit.

“Cum for me baby, I wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

It didn’t take long for you to cum after that, a strangled sob falling from your lips as you did. Your orgasm brought your boyfriend’s even closer. He always wanted to last as long as possible when he fucked you, but he didn’t know how much longer he could. A few minutes later he pulled out, his cum making a mess all over your brand-new bra.

As the two of you caught your breath, you looked up at him and smiled. When the two of you made eye contact, he said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey.”

“Don’t call me that unless you want a round two.”

“And what if I do, honey?” you asked with a laugh. When you saw the look of hunger in your boyfriend’s eyes, you realized it was going to be a very long night. You weren’t one to complain, though. You were just as insatiable as he was.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #nct x reader #wayv x reader #kpop smut #nct smut #wayv smut #ten x reader #ten lee x reader #ten smut #ten lee smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kpop kinktober

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mmelete · 1 month ago

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Hi! Thanks for the tag @sprite-and-the-bunnydragons!!

How many works on ao3? 30.

Total ao3 wordcount? 166k. That's a lot more than I thought!

Top 5 Fics by Kudos?

Twilight Loves his Kids! (Goat kids. baby goats) - this kind of surprised me. This was my first fic in the "Who has Kids Again?" series, and I was nervous about posting it. Then I remember checking it an seeing that it had so many kudos and I was like WHAT.

The 'Wise Old Man' is actually not Old (Or Wise) - First time-centric fic of mine, I enjoyed writing it.

As Ancient as the Sky Itself - ugh. This fic...I don't really like this one at all, I took so long to finish it (barely), I honestly could NOT figure out how to end it....the fic ended up bleeding into the Four-centric one...askjdhksaljhf. no comment.

Four (Young) Mice - ASDKAHSFHSAJ THIS IS THE FOURTH ONE. I'M DEAD SERIOUS. this fact alone made me smile sadfhashdf well deserved. I love my four fics <3

Legend and the Baby Rabbits - my least creative title, but my proudest work. I loved writing this, it was so fun and reading everyone comments made my entire week!

4. What fandoms do you write for? Linked Universe and Legend of Zelda.

5. Do you respond to comments? I used to be pretty diligent about it, but then I got busy over the holidays and just...stopped. There's so many unread comments in my inbox now...sigh. I still appreciate every single one! I love comments <3

6. Fic with the Angstiest Ending: Ooooo...the first and last chapter of my Febuwhump. First chapter is Malon hearing about Time's death, and the last chapter is Legend getting teleported to an alternate reality where Marin and his Uncle are alive, he can't stay and has to leave them, again.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: umm....er maybe...Number One Hero? Ravio is mistaken for Legend, and the town throws a party for him. Lots of fluff and brotherly bonding.

8. Do you get hate? ...i wouldn't call it hate, but I unfortunately am a panster and often I forget what I had planned, so details get jumbled and i update sporadically, so I've had like maybe one or two comments about that. I also didn't understand how to moderate comments earlier and got a hate comment and I just deleted the chapter and reposted it 💀

9. Do you write smut? No.

10. Do you write crossovers? ...not yet. FMAB is rotting in my brain and i have an idea for an LU x FMAB crossover but it's going to stay in my drafts for a while lol.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? ...not that I know of lol.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet, but I wouldn't mind at all as long as the person credited me!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? No. I'm not a very good planner, so I feel like it would be difficult to collaborate on that, but I'm not against it though!

14. All-time favorite ship? Uh...of all time? Serena x Ash Ketchum (coughs). But in loz...MALINK!! My beloved. And Spirit Track Zelink, SKSW Zelink...lots of zelink lol.

15. WIPS you want to finish but doubt you ever will? ...I don't have a good track record for this, but I'd like to finish all of them before I leave the LU fandom (which probably won't be anytime soon).

16. Writing strengths? Unlike real life, my dialogue is very banter-y and witty. It's easy for me to write.

17. Writing weaknesses? ACTION. SPECIFICALLY BATTLES. ohh my god...I don't undersatnd how people write such fantastic and epic imagery while I stare at my docs like "swords. blood. sweat. ok monsters are dead now"

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? I like it. Not in giant paragraphs that I have to google translate, but the occasional phrase can be fitting for a particular character or situation.

19. First Fandom you ever wrote for? Linked Universe!

20. Favorite Fic you've ever written? Oh...Number One Hero did not get as much love as I expected but I loved that one and enjoyed writing that...and Four (Young) Mice is good (it's LU Four, so obviously lol). I also loved And You, My Prince (fable/legend <3)

phew that was a lot! No pressure tags! @poposusz @fithesworddweller @crazylittlejester @readingismyhobby24 @kilgoreontralfamadore @raycatz and anyone I forgot!

#tag game #my writing #lu fandom #lu fanfiction #ao3 #lu fic #linkeduniverse #linked universe #fic writing

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this-is-a-podcast-fanblog · 11 months ago

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welcome to night vale kind of sucks

I can't believe I'm doing this again but here goes: I'm writing a call out post for the behaviors made by my favorite podcasters. I love Night Vale. Let me make that clear. My whole blog is Night Vale. I've cosplayed Night Vale. I've been in this fandom for eight years, and I've been holding out hope that the show will become "good" again for a long time. I've been a fan while simultaneously acknowledging some of their very harmful behavior. But this last episode just really cemented for me how the issues with their writing are not just failures of plot and theme, they are actively harming the communities that support them. Night Vale has turned from the show that canonized a queer relationship in 2013 and celebrated its thousands of fans, to something devoid of passion and almost unrecognizable in its messaging. These issues have been present for a while, but now they are everywhere in the show. They're completely overwhelming.

Why did an abused person not only forgive their abuser and say that he was "doing the best he could"? No, really - we had an entire season about generational trauma, a deeply personal topic for many people, and then you paint an abusive father as "misguided"? It's a slap in the face. Why do prominent female characters, particularly antagonists, always get either killed off or written out of the story by... ascending into the stars I guess? (So Lauren's the most powerful foe ever but then she's defeated by six people telling her they don't like her. Cool cool.) Why did the writers deradicalize a Black woman whose original story was about her courage and opposition to authority? Why was Tamika's role this season to be a caretaker for The Boy instead of her position in local government? Why is there only one recurring trans character in the show?

The worst thing of all for me though is the partnership with Betterhelp. Betterhelp, which sells people's data and has been called out for it time and time again. There was no excuse for them to take this sponsorship, especially when, oh yeah people were calling it out for endorsing conversion therapy. There are doctors on Betterhelp who have OFFERED CONVERSION THERAPY, and that's who they're promoting to their majority queer audience. But there's especially no excuse for this sponsorship when BetterHelp is collaborating with the Israeli Occupation Force. When Betterhelp is publicly associating itself with the army that burns people alive, that bombs hospitals, and is actively colonizing Palestine.

And before anyone says, "Mercury, why are you only writing a call out for the Betterhelp thing now after you didn't like this episode?" Well, I've been publicly calling them out for MONTHS over this. I've replied to almost every episode's Q&A to tell them they need to stop this partnership as well as replying to them on their socials asking why they're still working with this company.

Plus, this isn't just me disliking this episode - I'm seeing posts on the wtnv tag from abuse survivors who got extremely triggered by this and it just breaks my heart. Genuinely, why did they do that? This arc had such beautiful and introspective writing about parenting and it feels like they just threw it all away.

I don't know what note to end this on. I really hope they take their hiatus to reassess some business practices and write a better season. And mostly that they stop partnering with Betterhelp.

@nightvaleofficial

#wtnv #tw abuse #please please listen to me and don't take this the wrong way #please don't twist my words #I'm saying this as a fan!!!!#welcome to night vale #wtnv spoilers

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panelshowsource · 5 months ago

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my IMMEDIATE thought is judi love, right?? her and roisin 1000% not even one show each, A SHOW WITH THEM TOGETHER 😍 and it's called JUDI & ROISIN'S DOUBLE DATES 😍

hahahaha absolutely! do you remember the stationary shop / pun guessing task that tim vine did on taskmaster s6? i always thought victoria would have enjoyed every single thing about that, just my intuition...

hahahaha this is so cute! they got married not to terribly long ago, so no worries. don't you love how sweetly they speak about each other 🥹 you know, when i saw richard at his last book signing in new york, he told a quick story about how ingrid had recently written for a doctor who publication and that she is super engrossed in & proud of the doctor who world 🥹🥹🥹 (made me so happy!!! bc i'm also a massive dw fan (i make those gifs on my main!) 🥹)

this is my modest richard and ingrid tag 🥹 i hope to flesh it out even more over time hehe

yes i've been listening to these!! they keep teasing a nish kumar one coming up that is supposed to be very special in some way?

anyways the richard osman one was very sweet because there was tons of kitten talk (LOVE) and you can tell how much richard adores david — which means he had a lot of fun teasing him hahaha that's what makes richard such a good podcast guest: he's such a comedy fan!

also enjoyed the eps with ivo and sam campbell, and i'm gonna listen to at least ed gamble, rose matafeo, and amy gledhill this weekend!

are you guys liking it??

i've def seen it (i saw the comedy blogs advertising the pilot) but i'm gonna be sooo honest and say i haven't had time to give it a listen yet TT have you?? i'm obsessed with both of them and will DEF listen to it this week! i'll post my thoughts :)

honestly, i think there are more comedy writers and comedy actors than proper comedians that i would like to read bios of. simon pegg comes to mind first! i also think it would be fascinating to read a kind of day-by-day journal of a proper circuit comedian, someone who could humorously and truthfully document the lifestyle. did you have someone in mind who hasn't written one?

as for books that are already published, i really want to read bonkers by jen saunders as well as richard e grant's semi-new autobiography (i'm worried it's going to be exceptionally sad since he'll always be dealing with the passing of his wife and he's very open about grief 🥺), so hopefully i get around to those before too long!

i haven't, tbh i never watched miranda, not going out, or even call the midwife — so even though i've obviouslyyy seen her around, sometimes on panel shows, and absolutely acknowledge how big she was/is, i don't carry enough nostalgia to read her whole bio. THAT SAID, i agree she was so so touching on graham norton and i think her stories both about her health and about finding love were SO LOVELY 💜 but if you tell me it's a must read then i'll definitely check it out!

and for anyone who's interested i added the audiobook to my drive :)

okay this scared me HAHAHA because as much as that is obviously not true if one uses a single modicum of common sense i am so easily fooled—

anyways it was a sweet episode! i don't really listen to that show but i was hoping to hear more about joe's particular approach to parenting, and even though he is clearly very private it was endearing. i love how much he loves birmingham (as someone who doesn't really have a hometown it's something i'm always fascinated by and envious of in others), and he really put his foot down about his sexuality! he was like "bi is bi, pan is pan, it's on you if you wanted to call me gay anyways" and PERIOD KING !! anyways, super happy for him. i have a feeling he won't post very much about it or even talk much about it in general, but i selfishly hope he does 🥹

it was a cute episode!! highlights for me include rob being extremely new to the concept of kimchi, rob claiming he doesn't understand why people care so much about seasoning (my fellow americans, have fun with that one), and rob roasting steve coogan lmaooo also i never get sick of the alan bennett impression i love how it's almost tom courtenay it's hilarious to me

i've loved a lot of the recent eps, especially the ones with matthew macfadyen and richard e grant (funniest man alive)! and i watched the gordon ramsay episode like 5 times, it was sooo interesting and soooooo sweet to hear about his relationship with angela!

one thing i really like about this show — besides how awesome angela is — is that nick asks the genuine questions someone who isn't big into cooking would ask. like, when they were eating the rib eye, he was like, "if someone wanted to make this at home, what would they ask the butcher for? is this a specific cut of meat?" and even though it's like 'lol yeah nick...rib eye...' people who aren't familiar with cooking beef wouldn't have known that! he asks about cuts, measurements, cooking times, that sort of thing in a way that feels genuine and curious, which i appreciate (as someone who doesn't cook a lot lmao)

for sure!

hello anon! these are always posted on reddit every single night that they air, i recommend sending a polite "hello would you kindly add me to the sub?" message (you don't need to get fancier or more specific than that; they have to keep the sub private for obvious reasons so no need to feel intimidated) to r/TV_NCA so you can snag those links each week

sure anon i'll work on that for you this weekend xx

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / ASK

#a #ohneweiterbedeutung #homoerotisch

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sequinsmile-x · 10 months ago

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Coup de Grâce

Something had to give, she knew that, and she couldn't let it be her family.

-x-

Note: Tags aren't working properly because *tumblr* so I can't do the tag list currently. For context - I have to type the list ON MY PHONE and even that isn't working beyond the first 5 tags. I'll figure out a long term plan - but if you want to be notified for now maybe turn on post notifications for me!

-x-

Hi friends,

This is very much sponsored by my recent insomnia and a recent re-watch of Grey's Anatomy from the start. As with every fic I've ever written in the middle of the night when I can't sleep this has a LOT of feels.

The 5 + 1 fic I've been talking about is coming I promise <3

Please let me know what you think about this, it's been a hot minute since I wrote something sad so I hope I've still got it.

-x-

Warnings: Alzheimer's

Read over on Ao3, or under the cut

She’s slow to wake up, her body heavy as she rolls onto her back, groaning and pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

She opens her eyes, her lashes almost glued together by sleep and exhaustion, and she looks at her husband, unsurprised to find him already awake and dressed sitting on her side of the bed. His hand is on her waist, his thumb tracing slowly back and forth across the edge of her ribcage.

“Morning,” she rasps, and the sound of her voice makes her wince, thick and rough and another indicator of how tired she was, “I’m sorry I got home so late.”

Aaron and the kids had been asleep when she got home. She’d checked in on Jack as she walked past his room, leaning down to kiss his forehead and tuck the covers back around him from where they’d slipped down in his sleep. She’d done the same for Hazel, taking a moment to tuck some of her dark hair behind her ear, staring at the 7-year-old’s features in the low light of the room. She felt a brief flash of panic when she found her youngest daughter’s room empty, but when she realised that the bed hadn’t even been slept in, still as neatly made as it had been that morning, there would only be one place she’d find her.

It had eased some of the tension in her chest that was ever present these days when she walked into the master bedroom to find Aaron and Ivy fast asleep, the 4-year-old tucked up against her father, her tiny fingers tangled in the neckline of his t-shirt. Emily had barely remembered to take her make-up off before she changed into her pjyamas and climbed into bed with them, curling herself around her husband and her little girl, seeking out the comfort that only they and Jack and Hazel could bring.

“It’s okay,” he says, squeezing her waist, pressing his love into her through the callouses on his thumb and fingers, the slight roughness of his skin against hers drawing her back to herself a little, “I’m sorry I had to wake you up, I let you sleep in as much as I could but Garica just called about a case.”

She sighs and she sits up, immediately sinking into the embrace he always had ready and waiting for her. Her cheek presses against his suit jacket and she smiles when he kisses her forehead, “Are the kids okay? Ivy was in here when I got home.”

“They’re fine, they are all downstairs eating breakfast,” he assures her, running his hand up and down her back, “Ivy asked if she could sleep in here and we both know I can’t say no to her.”

She hums and pulls back to look at him, “She knows that too.”

He smiles and she can’t help but cup his cheek, her thumb against his dimple as she tugs him in for a kiss, the press of his lips against hers warming her from the inside out. She rests her forehead against his after she pulls back, desperate to have a few moments of solitude with the man she loves, something that had always been rare but was close to non-existent these days. It left her on edge, uneasy in a way that she hadn’t felt in years, and she could feel her long buried instinct to run clawing its way out where she’d buried it.

“How was your mom last night?”

His question makes her sigh, her eyes drifting shut as she holds him a little tighter, her fist creasing the material of his freshly-pressed jacket, “Like she always is,” she pulls back and looks at him, her smile sad, “She thought I was a nurse, which I guess is better than thinking I’m the sister she hasn’t spoken to in 30 years,” she sighs, and it catches on a humourless laugh, her chest aching with it, “At least this way she actually talks to me. She was mostly talking about me to me though. And the kids.”

When she looked back on it, the early warning signs had been there for a while. Her mother had become forgetful, missing dinners they’d planned and Jack’s birthday, his card and gift arriving a few days late after Emily had prompted her. It had been easy enough to dismiss as a sign of just getting older, nothing more nefarious than the forgetfulness that came with still leading a busy life. Emily had tried to talk Elizabeth into retiring, or at least pull back on the amount of work she was doing for a while, but she’d always refused, claiming that staying busy kept her healthy. It was only when the personality change had started, when she’d show disinterest in her grandchildren, that Emily realised something was wrong. Things had deteriorated quickly, and only a few months after her diagnosis, the world Alzheimer's and its impact still reverberating outwards, the ripples of it still leaving the ground beneath them shaky, Elizabeth was now living in a home.

Even though she no longer recognised her, Emily went to visit her every evening after work. It felt like her penance, like she deserved to sit opposite the woman who had barely shown her affection even when she did recognise her, because she should have seen what was happening sooner. No matter what Aaron said, no matter how he tried to assure her that this wasn’t something she could have changed, she was sure that if she wasn’t so caught up in her own life, if she wasn’t so busy basking in the beautiful, ordinary happiness she’d found she would have seen the change in Elizabeth before she had.

“She talked about the kids?” Aaron asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her neck afterwards, the beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips.

“Yeah,” her smile shakes and she looks down, “She told me she has a grandson called Jack and a newborn granddaughter called Hazel,” she presses her lips together as her eyes meet his, “She doesn’t seem to remember Ivy at all.”

Her mother may not have ever been the mother she’d wanted or needed, but she’d been a fantastic grandmother from the get-go. She’d lavished Jack, and the girls when they came along, with the attention and love Emily had always craved, what she’d looked for in all the wrong places for most of her life. On her worst days, Emily envied what her children had with Elizabeth, hated that it took becoming a grandmother for her to soften in the way she’d always refused to do for her own daughter.

Aaron sighs, something she feels pass from his chest to hers, “Em-”

“We should get going,” she says, her smile tight as she removes herself from his grip and stands up. If she let herself fall apart, if she let him comfort her like she so desperately wanted, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to slot all the pieces of her back into place. The weight of it all was too much. Her job, her family who she missed even though they were right here with her, her mother and the illness she couldn’t save her from, “I haven’t even showered yet.”

She can feel him watching her from where he’s still sitting on the bed, his gaze unrelenting as he weighs if it’s worth pushing her to talk to him or not, but he relents, he stands up and walks over, his touch ghosting across her waist as he kisses her temple.

“I’ll go make you some tea and something to eat.”

She smiles her thanks and watches him go. Her smile falls the moment she’s alone and she closes her eyes, breathing out a slow breath, the taste of sorrow thick on her tongue, before she shakes her head at herself and starts the day.

___

She’s grateful when the case is local, that she won’t have to go across the country on top of everything else.

She only half listens as Penelope briefs them, embarrassment burning up her neck when she asks a question she realises has already been answered during the briefing. It’s one of many tiny mistakes she’d been making lately, another question she usually wouldn’t ask, another moment which made her feel like she was failing at everything. Aaron cuts Derek off as he tries to tease her with a stern look and a clearing of his throat, and it’s forgotten by everyone other than her.

No one knew about her mother’s illness. It was one of the last promises Emily had made to her during one of their last conversations when Elizabeth was lucid, her reputation and image important to her until the end. It meant that not only did the team not know about what was happening, but that Emily and Aaron were actively lying to them. They turned down pasta nights and nights out, their life now a pattern of work, visits to the home and far too little family time for Emily’s liking.

Emily knew it didn’t stop there, that Aaron was covering for her with the higher-ups too. She’d been making errors in her paperwork that he was correcting for her with no comment, something she’d only found out when she overheard Strauss talking to another Section Chief in the bathroom. She hadn’t mentioned it to Aaron yet, not sure if she was angry or thought it was sweet, or if it was somewhere between the two, but it was just another thing that was falling at the wayside whilst her life collapsed in on her.

She’s trying to read a crime scene report when she hears it, a voice she hasn’t heard in years pulling her out of her work as she looks up, a friend of her mother’s, a fellow ambassador, walking toward her.

“Emily Prentiss, it’s been a long time,” she says, smiling widely as Emily stands up and shakes her hand.

“Ambassador Diaz,” she says, her eyes flicking over to Aaron standing just a few paces behind the woman in front of her, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh please, call me Claudia. And I was just helping Agent Hotchner with some details about the case you’re on,” she says, her smile wide, and Emily wonders when she’d missed that detail about the case, if it was something Penelope had explained to them that morning, “I understand he’s your husband.”

Emily chuckles and nods, knowing that Claudia’s curiosity would have been piqued by the pictures she would have seen on Aaron’s desk, “Yes, he” she replies, smiling at Aaron, “You don’t get much chance to date outside of the BAU, so there were limited options.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, the joke a familiar one, something she’d made at countless events of her mother’s that they’d gone to together over the years. It was her way of fighting back against the intrigue, the underlying implication of what it meant to not only be married to her boss, but to a man they’d consider beneath her.

Claudia smiles politely, “How is your mother by the way? I haven’t seen her in a long time, is she on assignment?”

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room and her lungs burn with it, the seemingly innocent question one she should have anticipated but hadn’t. The team's curious gaze that mere seconds ago hadn’t bothered her makes her skin tingle, and she swallows thickly, well aware that she had to give a suitable answer that wouldn’t draw attention to everything she’d been hiding for months.

“Yes,” she replies, looking at Aaron again, the empathy and love she can see in his eyes threatening to overwhelm her, “She’s in the Middle East.”

“Oh,” Claudia replies, her smile still endlessly polite, “Well, next time you speak to her tell her I send my regards.”

Emily nods, shaking her hand again as she turns to leave, their polite interaction, something her childhood had been stuffed full of, at an end, “I will.”

She excuses herself from the bullpen as soon as it won’t draw attention to her. She sneaks down a hallway that is always quiet, the supply closet at the end of it rarely used since the one with all the best stationery was closer to their desks. She leans against the wall, the lie about her mother still sitting on her tongue, the weight of it pressing on her lungs. She crosses her arms over her chest and blows out a shaky breath, her eyes closed as she rests her head back against the wall, the slight thunk of it echoing throughout the empty hallway.

Her solitude is brief, the clicking of Penelope’s heels on the floor giving her away a second before she speaks.

“Em, are you alright?”

She suppresses a bitter laugh, “Yeah,” she says, standing up straight and turning to look at her friend, “I’m fine, I just needed a minute.”

She tries to step past Penelope but she stands in her way, her hands on her hips in defiance as she stops Emily from even asking her what she is doing, “If you think that’s going to satisfy me you have another thing coming,” she says, her tone as fierce as it ever got, “You and boss man have been shady for months,” she wraps her arm around Emily’s shoulder and starts to lead her down the hallway, “At first, I thought you might be making me an aunt again to one of your gorgeous children.”

Emily laughs as she lets herself be led towards Penelope’s office, “Pen, I’m 48. I don’t know if another kid would be more of an inconvenience or a miracle.”

Penelope hums sympathetically and closes her office door behind them, only letting go of Emily once they are alone, “And when it became clear that wasn’t what was going on…” she clears her throat as she sits down and encourages Emily to do the same thing, “I…did some sleuthing.”

Emily’s eyes go wide, anger burning through her quickly, so hot and fierce it burns out before she can express it. It’s chased by anxiety, forcing her to swallow thickly, “What did you do?”

Penelope has the decency to look embarrassed, her cheeks tinged almost the same shade of pink as her cardigan and she clasps her hands together in her lap, “I want to make it clear everything I did I did out of love and concern. The last time you were acting like this was when Doyle was after you and-”

“Pen,” she says, cutting her off, not needing the reminder of one of the worst times of her life on top of everything else, “What did you do?”

Penelope sighs at the repeated question and she sighs, her lips briefly pressed together before she answers, “I know about your mom.”

Even though she could see that this was where the conversation was going, it still feels like a kick to the gut. She stares at her friend for a moment, conflicting feelings of anger and relief that someone knew mixing in her gut, “How did you find out?”

“You were disappearing after work so frequently, and I heard Ivy say she missed you tucking her at night the last time I saw her. And I know how important that is to you so I knew something was wrong,” Penelope says, and Emily somehow feels worse at the mention of her youngest, guilt that her little girl was missing her threatening to drown her, “So…I tracked your phone one night and saw you were spending your evenings at a nursing home out in Arlington,” she wrings her hands together in her lap, “After that, it wasn’t hard to put together.”

She chuckles, the sound catching in her throat and she shakes her head, “Most people would think I was cheating on my husband or something.”

It’s a bad joke, but it makes Penelope smile, and it’s enough to make Emily feel more comfortable.

“Well, if you weren’t so disgustingly in love with Hotch I’m sure it would have crossed my mind,” she says, reaching out and placing her hand on Emily’s arms, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

She shrugs half-heartedly, “She said she didn’t want anyone to know. And even though…even though she’s not really there anymore, and everything that made her her has been stripped away, I didn’t want to betray that.”

Penelope squeezes her arm, “I won’t tell anyone,” she says, “I haven’t told anyone,” she adds, “But I wanted you to know that I know, so you have someone else to talk to if you want.”

She still isn’t sure how she should feel, if this was an invasion of her privacy she shouldn’t let slide, but right now, still unsteady from her encounter with someone from her mother’s life, she was grateful for it.

“Do you know what she has?” She asks, and Penelope shakes her head.

“Only that she’s been a resident there for five months.”

Emily nods, “She has Alzheimer’s, it’s advanced. She no longer remembers who I am, and she doesn’t really know where she is,” she swallows thickly, her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she tries to stop herself from crying, a humourless laugh escaping as she tries to relax.

“Oh, Peaches, I’m sorry. It’s an awful disease.”

“It’s also completely removed her filter. So she’s finally saying every awful thought she’s ever had about me,” she smiles sadly and purposely avoids her friend's gaze, her sympathy burning through her skin, leaving behind marks Emily was sure would be permanent, her emotional trauma on display for everyone to see in a grim pattern painted across her face, “Except, she’s not saying them to me. She’s saying them to my 7-year-old daughter who she thinks is me,” she hears Penelope’s gasp, as if her imagination could conjure up just how awful it had been to hold her little girl as she cried and begged to know why grandma had said all those horrible things. Hazel had fallen asleep pressed up against her that night, her face warm and sticky on Emily’s neck, her daughter’s grief and confusion a vice around her heart that even Aaron hadn’t been able to loosen. “So now I don’t take the kids to go and see her because I won’t put them through it. Aaron stays home with them and I go and see her alone and it’s awful. And part of me wonders why I go at all because she doesn’t know me, and even if she speaks about me it’s not kind. But…”

She drifts off, the rest of her sentence stuck in her throat, bitter and cloying as she struggles to say it. It’s like she’s drowning on dry land, pulled under by a riptide of grief that was pre-emptive and too late all at once. Grief for the relationship she never had with her mother. Grief for the one she did have that was now gone. Grief for when she’d lose her entirely, when her children would lose her too, when they’d lose the grandmother who, until recently, had done nothing but shower them with the love and kindness Emily had craved as a child.

It would be Hazel and Ivy’s first brush with death and Jack’s second, something Emily had hoped to spare them for a little longer.

“She’s still your mom.”

It’s only when she looks up at Penelope that she realises she’d looked away at all, her focus having unintentionally fallen to her wedding rings as she twisted them around her fingers. A nervous habit that had long replaced picking at her cuticles, the touch of the metal against her skin, the spin of it as the diamonds of her engagement ring knocked on the neighbouring fingers, a well-needed reminder that she wasn’t alone. That she hadn’t been in years.

“Yeah,” she pressed her lips together to contain the shake of them, “She’s still my mom.”

___

It’s late when she gets home.

She sighs as she steps into the house, her shoulders slumping the second she closes the front door and shrugs off her jacket. She’s nothing short of relieved when Aaron appears in the hallway, his socks dulling his footfall against the hardwood floor, because the thought of not speaking to him, of having to make do with falling asleep next to him and hoping his warmth would make her feel better, almost too much to bear.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says as he makes it to her side, his lips against her forehead, “Did you eat?”

She nods, thinking idly about the takeout wrappers stuffed in the door of her car, and she places her hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she unzips her boots, “Yeah, I had dinner on the way home.”

He drops his hands to her waist, holding her still as she switches to her other boot, “Do you want something to drink?” He asks, and she nods, “Wine or hot chocolate?”

She smiles as she lowers her foot back to the floor, “Hot chocolate,” she says, tugging him closer as he tries to step away, pressing herself against his chest, using the height difference now she was no longer in heels to tuck her head underneath his chin, “Can we do this first, though?”

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, his embrace firm and soft all at once as he tilts his head just enough to drop a kiss on her hairline, “Of course,” he replies, “Want to go sit on the couch for a bit?”

She nods and they walk towards the living room together, their arms still wrapped around the other, tangling them like vines. She practically sits on top of him on the couch, her legs over his lap, her arms wrapped around one of his as she hugs it to her chest, and her cheek on her shoulder. She was trying to leach all the comfort out of him, all the love and affection she knew would make everything better if it was possible, if him loving her was enough to make her mother better, if it could stop the inevitable, she knew it would.

“How was it tonight?” He asks softly, his spare hand heavy and warm on her thigh, his thumb tracing back and forth on the seam of her pants.

“I told her that I saw Claudia,” she smiles sadly, pulling back to look at him, “She lit up like she hasn’t in weeks. She told me about a time when they were on the same assignment back in 1978,” she presses her lips together, “She said something about me too. Said her daughter was wild and unruly,” she shakes her head, her laugh sad as it bursts past her ribs, “But I would have been Hazel’s age…and just a normal 7-year-old. Then she asked if I have kids.”

His eyes drift closed as he sighs, his grip on her leg tighter for a second, and he kisses her forehead, “Em, if you took a break from visiting no one would judge you,” he pulls back to look at her, I know it’s not easy.”

She shakes her head, already dismissing the suggestion he’d tried to raise before, “No, I can’t. It wouldn’t feel right,” she licks her lips before she bites the lower one, her teeth sinking into the flesh of it as she gives herself a moment to prepare herself for what she’d wanted to say for weeks, “I do think something has to give though.”

He frowns, his hand leaving her thigh, the phantom feel of it still lingering, so he can tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “What do you mean?”

“I feel like I’m failing at everything, Aaron,” she says, shaking her head as she looks at him, “I’m failing at being a daughter, at being a mother, a wife. I keep making mistakes at work and…something has got to give and it cannot be this,” she says, her hand thrown up as she indicates their home, what it represents, “It can’t be our family.”

“Em, sweetheart, you aren’t failing at anything, least of all being a mom and a wife,” he says fiercely, protective of her even when it was her he was protecting her from.

“I feel like I hardly see the kids at the moment,” she says, shaking her head, “And I know you’re covering for me at work with some things,” she adds, her lips twitching into a smile when he frowns in confusion, “I heard Strauss talking about the paperwork.”

He clears his throat, “Em-”

“I’m not mad,” she clarifies, reaching for his hand and tangling it with hers, “I know you’re just trying to help. But…I’ve been thinking about it and I think I should take a leave of absence from work until…” she trails off, the fact that the thing that would bring this stressful season of her life to an end would be her mother dying a painful reality she didn’t know how to face.

“Until things are a little easier,” he finishes for her, always in pace with her and what she was thinking.

She nods, “Yeah,” she replies, her voice thick as tears she’d been suppressing all day push at the back of her eyes, “I could go see Mom during the day, the nurses say she’s a little more lucid then anyway, and then I could be here in the evenings,” she wipes her cheeks as tears splash down onto them, “I could pick the kids up from school and pretend I’m not going to take them for doughnuts on the way home,” her smile shakes as he smiles at her softly, his thumb delicate against her skin as he wipes her tears away for her, “And I could put Ivy to bed, help Jack and Hazel with their homework. I could just be their mom again, instead of the daughter of someone who doesn’t even know who I am.”

He nods, pulling her closer as he rubs comforting circles on her back, the warmth of her tears burning against the skin of his neck, “I’ll support you no matter what, sweetheart,” he turns his head to kiss her cheek, “You know that. I’ll go to talk to Strauss with you tomorrow if you want.”

She nods and pulls back, “Yes, I’d like that.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by a tiny voice in the doorway, “Mommy?”

They both turn to see Ivy standing there, her hair and pjyamas wrinkled, her favourite toy, a stuffed sloth that Penelope had bought her, hanging from her hand and dragging along the floor.

“Hi sweet girl,” Emily says, “You should be sleeping.”

“Bad dream,” Ivy replies, still rubbing at her eyes, her lower lip trembling a little. Emily pulls back from Aaron and holds her arms out.

“Come here, sweetie,” she says, smiling when Ivy wastes no time in running over, all but throwing herself into her mother’s arms after she clambers onto the couch, “Mommy’s got you,” she kisses her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her little girl, “Want to tell me and Daddy about the dream.”

“There’s a monster in my closet,” she says seriously, a frown that was all Aaron fixed across her face as she looks at her parents, “He got you Mommy.”

The ache in her chest is palpable, hollow and full of grief at the knowledge that her daughter’s subconscious would have picked up on her increased absence at home. She holds Ivy even tighter, and feels Aaron do the same as he loops his arms around them both.

“I’m right here, baby,” she says, “And you know what Daddy is really good at?” She says, fake enthusiasm wrapped around every word, “He’s the best monster chaser in the world.”

Ivy’s eyes go wide as she looks between the two of them, “Really?”

“Really,” Emily confirms, looking up at her husband, “He chases mine away all the time.” It’s an all too brief moment of sincerity between the two of them, hidden in the pretence of calming down their daughter, but she knows he understands, his hold on her briefly tighter before he unwraps himself from around them.

“I also make the best hot chocolate in the world,” he says, winking at Ivy when she smiles widely, delighted by the idea of her favourite drink, “I’ll go chase away the monster and make some hot chocolate,” he drops kisses to each of their foreheads, “You two sit here and look pretty.”

Emily hums, love for him filling the gap in her chest, allowing her to forget, however briefly, just how complicated life had become recently.

“Good thing we’re excellent at that, huh Ivy?” She says, smiling when the little girl nods as she settles in her lap. Ivy’s smile fades and she presses her hand to Emily’s cheek, her fingers touching drying tear tracks.

“Mommy, are you sad?”

She sighs and grabs Ivy’s hand, pressing a kiss to her tiny knuckles, “I’m a little sad, baby. But I’ll be okay.”

Ivy frowns and leans forward, stamping a kiss on her mother’s forehead, something Emily did for all of her children when they were sick or sad. When she pulls back she has a serious look on her face, and the expression makes her look so much like Aaron it makes Emily ache.

“Better?”

In reality, she knew nothing had changed. She still needed to get her leave of absence approved, still needed to figure out what she wanted to do long term, how she’d balance looking after her mother and everything that came with it and her family. But right in this moment, the phantom feel of a kiss from her daughter still tingling on her forehead, the press of her little girl's innocence passing from her skin into her own, she lets herself feel better.

“Yes, sweet girl,” she says, hugging Ivy to her chest, “I’m feeling much better.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #emily prentiss fanfiction

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asukiess · 4 months ago

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writing year in review ✍️

tagged by the spouses. 🫶

what a year it was for writing.

JANUARY

annotated (felinette)

Félix and Marinette share a quiet moment together in the shared space of Adrien's bedroom.

FEBRURARY

time marches back (loveyblanc)

“But you and me, I think we could have a lot of fun together!” it's the last thing she remembers before chat blanc hurls her against a wall.

MARCH

the secrets we keep (post s5 adrien character study)

In the wake of a summer that Adrien never wanted to end, all that he wishes to push away comes back to haunt him when the school years starts again: self-doubt from identities that feel no more real than anything else; ghosts of parents who still talk to him; and most all, a fear that the people he loves will leave him in time, too. however, maybe the person who can relate most to him is the one he's never far from.

JUNE

cordially yours, nathalie sancoeur (nathalie character study)

the letter is addressed formally in a way that suggests unfamiliarity, and nathalie appreciated this. it eased the irritation. an apology bookended by 'madame' and 'très cordialement'. or: nathalie receives an email from her parents and reflects.

I love this fic. I love this fic forever.

AUGUST

for the hope of it all (eminath)

"in five years, there’s a house on the water. adrien’s fumbling with the rope knot keeping our sailboat tied to the dock. you’re watching him from the sand.” a pause, and then: “alive, i might add.” or: nathalie tells her boss's wife just how she plans on stealing her away.

SEPTEMBER

the light that throws itself on everything (eminath)

the light that throws itself on everything, stretching twice, at dusk and again at dawn, agrees to stay, but only for a while.

this was a really exciting experience for me. I'm really, really happy with this, and happy for what it has done for me creatively.

NOVEMBER

as the wren sheds her feather (emilie & adrien)

Just as he had been born for her, she’d been born for this. Looking down at the creation of her own making, her own desperate wish manifested, she praised how well he lied. So human, he told with his pricked-purple skin and ten toes and ten fingers, his golden hair thickened with tissue and blood. So human, and yet there was a palpable thrumming in her wedding ring, a hummingbird’s heartbeat around her finger that now made her more than a wife—it made her a mother. So human. From viscera, with love. Just like any other. or: everyone comes to terms with adrien's arrival.

one of my favorite things I've ever written. this is it.

wips under the cut that fill in the missing months: emma dupain cheng horror fic, you should be happy series, as well as a whole lot of eminath, including one where they're teenage runaways.

APRIL

you look like...

here's a fun one. emma dupain cheng, notable theater kid, puts on her school's production of Hamlet. she begins to begins to think Emilie is the ghost. she begins to develop a kind of god complex. she begins to believe her girlfriend, Marcie, playing Ophelia, won't make it out of the play alive.

MAY help you clean (the blood off your paws)

part three of the you should be happy series. adrien contemplates snapping himself. it's a shame that felix is always looking out for him.

they fight for a while. ladybug shows up, adrien tries to punch felix, misses, accidentally punches her in the mouth.

JULY

circa 1995

I have 10k words for this fic. I was obsessed. I have a WHOLE outline. Emilie runs away from London, aged sixteen, and bumps into Nathalie, who picks up a summer job in Paris to leave an ex-girlfriend back in the French countryside.

it's about queer love. it's about summer romance. it's about losing a friend too quickly.

AUGUST

here, I also want to commemorate a gabrieminath wip I was working on in august, called no room in frame, if not just for this section:

OCTOBER

sacre coeur

nathalie nightmare fic. emilie is unwillingly turned into a deity who cannot die, so she causes a lot of trouble in nathalie's dreams.

DECEMBER

I've been working a bit on the sentiemilie au between the holiday rush. here are some wips:

#miraculous ladybug #my writing #my wips #ml fics #eminath

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haedia · 1 month ago

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WIP/Last Line

Have I mentioned lately that I forget to do tag game stuff even though I like them? Yeah, that happened again. These tags were from nearly two weeks ago, I just realized. Woo!

I'm just gonna treat it more as a WIP tag 'cause I've been flitting about on a "sketch" and don't know what was the actual last line plus my brain is pudding, so.

Anyway. I was tagged by @corvus-frugilegus,, @rook-de-rivas, and @zwitter-iconic to do this awhile ago. Sorry. As always, please don't hesitate to tag me. I just may brainfart for...a long time. And, if I don't do the thing you tag me on, just assume that I completely forgot or something. It's absolutely never going to be an intentional thing. <3

Below the cut is my current WIP written "sketch" I've been fiddling with. Putting it under the cut since it references casual sex and cunnilingus.

So, at some point in the future, I will finish the comic that goes with these sketches, which I've posted before but I'm putting them here for reference:

It's a Modern Thedas AU where Illario and Nera have been having a few booty calls recently-ish. Illario wakes up pretty early in the night (maybe he was trying to be a Good Boy and get an early night's rest. who knows) and kind of waffles about whether he's going to message Nera. He finally does, she replies, and he goes to her. The comic will be like no dialogue just visual storytelling of a guy Down Bad and the woman who could get him to do whatever she wanted, if she wanted (she does want, but she's not an asshole about it, which is good for him).

After the comic ends (and they're both tastefully fucked out of their minds), there will be a written bit, followed by at least one more piece that takes place the next morning, after Illario has made Nera breakfast.

But here's part of the written bit that I have in anything close to a readable state:

Illario woke first, head cushioned on an unfamiliar pillow. He breathed deep and slow, bringing in the combined scent of clean laundry and sex. Blinking slowly, lazily, the events of the night before seeped back into his consciousness. The drive, the walk to her door across damp city streets, Nera in that nearly transparent lace teddy. Their frantic rush to the bedroom, hands everywhere, to get him out of his clothes. And then. And then. The taste of her, the sound of her, the feel of her. Nera stirred beside him, her back arching, causing her to brush further against him but instead of waking, she settled back into sleep with a sigh. Her movement drew his gaze – her touch along his side, his arm trapped under her pillow – and Illario regarded her as a surprising fondness began to bloom in his chest. He’d stayed. After. With gentle hands, he’d helped clean her of the mess he’d made. And, seeing Nera laid bare before him, fuck-drunk and senseless, Illario couldn’t help himself. He fell to his knees and, using a gentle tongue, brought her to orgasm one more time. Weaker, yes, but still she cried his name and threaded her fingers through his hair, gripping his silken strands tightly, nails raking his scalp, as she bucked against his mouth. The memory brought a smile to his face. A realization solidified in his mind: He hadn’t even really considered leaving. Nera had reached for him when he returned to the bedroom after cleaning himself and he’d gone to her. She’d folded him into her embrace and they’d fallen asleep that way in a tangle of limbs.

I love them, your honor.

Anyway. I don't generally tag people in these 'cause I don't want anyone to feel left out or that I forgot they exist. And since my brain is swiss cheese when the fatigue is bad, I will almost certainly never remember who I have already tagged for these.

SO. That said. If this is something you wanna participate it, take this as me tagging you specifically. And, when you do your version of it, tag me back so I can see it c:

#wip #work in progress #haedia writes #sometimes #tag game #last line tag game #sort of #illario dellamorte #illario x oc #illario x rook #nera aldwir #illario x nera #art and writing #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #modern thedas au #ntwfl comic

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hurricanek8art · 26 days ago

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Nightmares and Memories: a Legacy of the Sith one-shot

In which I am apparently posting fic now? I DON'T KNOW. I've had this drabble written since the rumors about a certain someone's return started a few months ago as a "just in case" and now it's really relevant and I'm hopped up on Celebration excitement and frustration over not being able to solve that art problem. SO FIC. I GUESS. *INTERNAL SCREAMING*

Agent Chrysali Vidoi is used to nightmares, what with all the ghosts from her past and skeletons in her closet—but some are worse than others, and this one might be the worst of them all, because he's the only one left that she's genuinely afraid of. Set somewhere around the beginning of 7.5's story. Spoilers for that and some of 7.6 obviously abound. Sticking most of it under a read more because of that, and also because I'm slightly terrified and it's less of a jumpscare when I open the SWTOR tag. 🙃

...I need some kind of divider graphic for summaries for if when i post more writing instead of just a line of these (~~~) thingies i forgot what they're called...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This wasn't right.

She was on the deck of his flagship. The Eradicators were outside the viewport. This wasn't right. This was all space flotsam.

This wasn't right.

This.

Wasn't.

Right.

"Hello, Agent."

Chills went down her spine. The air flew out of her lungs. She turned, trying to draw her blades, her blasters, something, but it was too late. In a heartbeat, she was in the air though nothing was touching her, pinned to the bulkhead like an insect. She couldn't struggle. She couldn't even move.

"It's been a long time," he said, unreadable behind the featureless mask. His hands were folded behind his back, she could feel his eyes upon her. Sweat rolled down her face. Tears poured from her eyes. Don't, please don't, don't look at me, don't—

"You have changed in our years apart. Grown stronger, I think. You have something to lose now, something to fight for. It's emboldened you. Made you even more dangerous."

No, please, no, no—

"Oh, do not concern yourself with that. I do not come seeking revenge," he said coolly, taking a few steps forward. The pressure in her lungs, the fear in her mind, increased with every micrometer. "At least, not yet. Not now. I wanted to see how you've changed before I make my move."

Her heart pounded in her chest, in her throat, in her ears, but still she was trapped, and he grew ever closer, faces centimeters apart now.

"I have waited all this time. Planned. Strategized. Looking for the perfect moment to finally strike. I believe that time grows close now. So close I can almost taste it. I am coming, Agent. I shall return."

Her voice struggled to leave her throat. "Why... tell... me?"

"I chose you all that time ago, did I not? You and I are alike. Made unique from our peers. Alone in the galaxy because of it." His mask was almost touching her face, it was so close. She couldn't breathe. "You defied my offer before. But I am generous. I will extend the offer to stand by my side once more, and once more only. I trust you to make the correct decision, when the time comes. Goodbye, Agent. Until we meet again..."

Chrysali's entire body shuddered and jerked as she awoke, gasping for air. Strands of hair stuck to her face with sweat, loose pajamas clinging to her skin, and her heart hammered and thudded against her ribs. Chills went up and down her bare arms, the soft red light of the cybernetic nodes studded along her arms and shoulders steadily blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark in the bedroom, and awareness of where she actually was began to sink in. She was safe, she was home, he wasn't here—

"Chrys?" Theron mumbled sleepily. He must've been woken up when she sat up so suddenly and shifted his arm around her. "Everything okay?"

She fought to steady her breathing, still searching the room. "I—the flagship, the Eradicators—Jadus, he was there, he spoke to me—"

He groggily sat up with her, awake but not quite alert. "What do you mean?"

"He was—was talking about returning. He wants me to serve him again. I can't—I won't—I—"

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," Theron said quietly. He put an arm around her, rubbing her arm soothingly. "Sounds like another bad nightmare. You've had these before."

"This one was so real," Chrysali breathed, panting slightly.

"But it's gone now," Theron soothed. "C'mon, let's go back to sleep, we've got a busy day tomorrow." He glanced at the chrono on the opposite wall and groaned softly as he laid back down. "Today. We have a busy day today. In about five hours."

Right. They were still tracking Shae, however poorly that was going. And Chrysali was still putting feelers out with her old network to dig up more dirt on Heta Kol, see if they could tackle that part of the problem from a different direction. Lots to do.

"The human cost is acceptable. The only alternative is to let Jadus escape—and do worse down the line."

"The human cost isn't acceptable to me!"

She shuddered at the old memories, trying to push them away. It was so long ago now. And Lana had tracked Jadus briefly during the Zildrog incident, he was somewhere in the Unknown Regions, minding his business on his own little planetoid. He wasn't an active threat. They were okay. They were safe. She was safe. Theron was safe.

Chrysali settled back in, head in its usual spot on Theron's chest so she could listen to his heart, hand rested against his ribs and over the scar tissue from Nathema. Theron was already back asleep, arm instinctively back around her and settled just right so he could feel her breathing.

They were safe.

It was just a nightmare.

It had to be.

Slowly, uneasily, Chrysali drifted off back to sleep

#swtor #swtor 7.6 #swtor 7.6 spoilers #swtor spoilers #(seriously if you haven't seen the trailer from last night and want to go into 7.6 unspoiled just scroll RIGHT PAST THIS)#K8's Writing #(HOLY %@$!ING %!$@ THAT IS A TAG I JUST USED. THAT IS A TAG I HAVE INTENTED TO USE FOR *checks watch* SEVERAL YEARS. AND I JUST USED IT)#I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO TAG THIS BUT HERE I GO #K8 Rambles about SWTOR #swtor oc: chrysali vidoi #darth jadus #theron shan #swtor ship: state of grace (chrysali/theron)#(...hey that actually looks better than i thought it would!)#(and i don't even feel that awkward typing it!)#swtor fanfiction #swtor fic #star wars fic #star wars oc #swtor imperial agent #oc x canon #i guess? I DUNNO #...should i tag it main star wars tag? that's a lot of eyeballs on my writing #...i'm gonna do it #star wars #*collapses in heap because oh my gosh i posted fic after all these years of wanting to and chickening out*#(been tinkering with my kotxx/zildrog conspiracy drafts since yesterday afternoon so posting happily married chrys/theron feels weird 🤣)

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sinsandsuccubus · 2 years ago

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SUNDAY NIGHT - Jack Harlow

Context: “Somethin tell me that a relapse comin.”

Genre: angst

Word Count: 2.2k+

Pairings: Jack Harlow X Ex!Fem!Reader

Warnings: n/a

a/n: Okay, so this concept was based on a story post written by the wonderful @lcandothisallday , called “Promises”, which I have linked at the bottom of this post. Thank you so much for allowing me to recreate your story, I greatly appreciate it.

Also, sorry for any spelling or grammar errors, I kept disassociating when I was reading this back over.

Masterlist ☽☾

☽ ☾

Please don't let nothing get back to me

I've been trying to detach from you

Deep down though, I wanna know about what the fuck you been up to

Old him could have seen that coming

Fuck you I don't need nothing from ya

I was doing pretty good without you

But something tells me that a relapse coming

It was like high-school all over again. Seeing the school in similar shape as it was when you left brought back nostalgic memories. They had painted the lockers and had given the cafeteria and auditorium, as well as the gym, new looks. Of course, new desks were due, and better spirit and decor were all over the place, but overall? The place was a mirror image of memories. You traced the painted gaps of the brick walls with your finger, getting that same smooth feeling on the tip of your finger. Just as you were rounding the corner to the main hallway, you ran directly into a friend.

“Y/N?” You heard a voice speak, their hands landing on your shoulders to steady you. You looked up at the individual only to see someone you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Well, you’d seen, but not actually seen.

“Urban?” You exclaimed, almost jumping into his arms when he nodded his head.

“Holy shit! It’s so good to see you! You look gorgeous, as always.” He spoke, embracing your body in a tight hug. The black, thin-strapped dress that adorned your body as well as the matching black Louis Vuitton pumps and small diamond necklace. A beautiful tennis bracelet sat on your wrist, your hair styled to perfection, almost looking like you walked fresh off the runway.

You had made a name for yourself in your career field, which had put you in a pretty stable financial bracket.

Besides, it was always best to one-up the hoes of your old high-school at your reunion.

Especially since the Jack Harlow was in attendance.

You reflected back on those days when you both were smitten with each other, two teenagers in love. You, actually, often reflect back on it every time he posts on Instagram.

Not that you follow him on Instagram or anything.

No, you totally only see him through Urban’s account, which tags his account in things.

Right.

You and Jack had broken up shortly before his debut album, That’s What They All Say, Jack allowing the fame to take over his personal life and relationships. At least, that’s how you see things.

“Y/N, I swear it means nothing. You know that you’re everything to me, it’s all a part of the game baby. I’ve gotta remain a heartthrob for all the fans.”

“But you had to say you were single during that interview?! You couldn’t have diverted the question? Gave a different answer?”

“Like what Y/N?!”

“Oh, I don’t know Jack. Maybe ‘That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.’ Or, or! ‘I’ll leave it up to y’all to think and decide the answer.’ Anything that didn’t scream “Hey, I’m totally single and out for grabs.”

“You know that’s not it works baby. I have to follow a script.”

“Yeah, and I have to follow my gut.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want to break up.”

Sure, you had broken it off, but if Jack hadn’t played the part, you’d still be together.

Maybe.

“Yeah, and you still smell like weed Urban.”

“Seriously, it’s that bad? I thought that cologne I bought would hide the smell good enough.” He pulled up the collar of his shirt to smell himself, looking around the hallway you two were standing lone in. You laughed at his jester, slapping his shoulder.

“I swear you don’t change.”

“And neither do you Y/N.” He looked around again. “I swear Jack was just around here, he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Mm, I don’t think so.”

“Come on Y/N, don’t think like that.”

“Urban, how can I not? I broke up with him when he needed me.”

“Y/N, you and I both know that wasn’t the case. You got out before the fame got to him, which I don’t blame you for. It’s a little too much for me sometimes if you really wanna ask.” He put a hand on your shoulder, sliding it down to rest on your bicep.

“Look, 2fo and the rest of the guys are throwing an after-party after the reunion and I want you to come.”

“Urban, I don’t-“

“Don’t worry about Jack, don’t come for him. Come for me.” He looked you in the eyes, firm in his word.

“Fine. Only for you Urby.”

“I love it when you call me that.”

It was a house party. Urban had let you know before he gave you the address, and you thought it was a good idea to make a pit stop home to change the look.

Designer heels at a house party? In the backyard? Not a good idea.

Urban greeted you at the door and handed you a wine cooler, guiding you to the backyard where everyone surrounded the fire pit.

“Are there marshmallows?” You asked Urban, whispering in his ear.

“Yup. Some of the chocolate is infused though.”

“Of course it is.” You and Urban laughed before catching the eyes of a few of some other people.

“Y/N! Whatcha doin here?!” 2fo ran up and gave you a hug, squeezing you in his embrace.

“Urban invited me, figured I’d stop in.”

“Stop in? You’re staying. Come sit with us by the fire.” 2fo practically dragged you towards the pit, plopping you down in one of the free seats.

“Yo Y/N, how’s it going? How’s life?” Copelean spoke, giving you a fist bump as you set next to him. Sunni tipped his hat, proceeding to continue roasting his marshmallows.

“Pretty damn good. I made a name for myself after I graduated uni, I flew in just for the reunion.”

“How long are you here for?” 2fo asked, taking a hit off the blunt Urban passed.

“Another two days. I’m catching up with a couple of my girlfriends before heading back out.”

“And you weren’t gonna stop by?”

“I didn’t think Jack would like that.”

The area got silent, tension slowly filling the area. Before Sunni cut it with a knife.

“Y/N, I don’t think it was your fault at all. Yeah, you broke up with him, but you wanted out before the fame.” He spoke, taking a long sip of his beer.

“Yeah, and I can respect that. You never seemed like the type to be attracted to the spotlight. I remember when you got published for an article and you wanted to be published as “anonymous”. Cope spoke, laughing as he passed the blunt back to Urban.

“Listen, I was embarrassed-“

“It was good work.”

“Never said it wasn’t. I just didn’t want everyone to know it was me who wrote that long-ass paper.”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever. Either way, I don’t blame you. We all don’t. We just wish you would have stayed in touch with us at least.”

You nodded your head at all of them, them smiling in return.

“Well. Enough of that! Pass me a s’more, without the special chocolate.” Everyone laughed, Urban passing you the unopened bar of Hersey chocolate. An hour passed as you caught up with them all, sharing stories.

“Yeah, so then he thinks it’s a great idea to race with no shoes on in the dorm lobby. So then, as he rounds the corner, he slips and slides smack into the pole. That’s when I learned he was a lightweight.” Everyone laughed at your story, Urban turning his head as a figure appeared.

“Hey, every- Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jack spoke, his voice changing from happy to annoyed. You stood up, turning to face your ex.

“Nice to see you too Jack.” You folded your arms over your chest, Urban placing an arm over your shoulder as he stood.

“I invited her. It’s been a while since we’ve all seen her, I thought it would be good to catch up.”

“Yeah, without telling me. I greatly appreciate it.”

“Not everything is about you Jack.”

“No, it’s not. But I would have appreciated it if someone had told me my ex was coming.” Once again, it was silent.

“I texted you.” Urban spoke, eyeing Jack with narrow eyes.

“Yeah well, I obviously didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, and I obviously shouldn’t be here. If you’re gonna act like that.” You spoke, grabbing a napkin to wipe your hands of the remaining s’more.

“Y/N, don’t go.” Sunni spoke, now sitting up in his lawn chair.

“Actually, I think it’s a good idea.” Jack spoke, making your eyes widen.

“Okay, I get it, you’re hurt by me breaking up with you, but I’d expect you to be more mature than to hold grudges Jack.”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong. How did you think I would react after you left me?”

“And how did you think I felt when you went on that interview?”

“You’re still on that?” Jack sighed.

“Yes, Jack! I am because that’s the main reason we broke up! I couldn’t live like that knowing I was your dirty little secret.”

“Yeah, well maybe I should have stayed single. Wouldn’t have to deal with you bitchin'.”

You stared at Jack in silence, tension higher than before. You clenched your fist, close to slapping him across the face.

“Say that one more time, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, maybe I should have stay-“

“That’s enough Jack.” Urban spoke sternly, dropping his arm from your shoulders to look at him.

“What? Y’all act like she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Because she didn’t. We all saw how you acted during that interview, and we all can see how your fans are with you now. Y/N’s not cut out for that, and you know it.” Copelean stood up, moving to stand next to you.

“Damn, so y’all really gonna do me like that?” Jack spoke, glaring at his friends.

“Don’t worry about it guys. I’ll take my leave.” You spoke firmly, spinning around and heading for the patio doors.

“Y/N, wait!” You threw your hand up in response, grabbing the keys to your car off the counter, all the while Urban took to Jack.

“Are you fucking serious dude? You couldn’t have been more of an ass?”

“What? Y’all seriously thought I’d be okay with my ex at my party? Especially that ex.”

“Look, we get it, she broke your heart, but think about it Jack. How would you feel if she went on an interview claiming she was single for the world to see?” Sunni questioned, now folding his arms now his chest.

“I would say it’s for the business.”

“Bullshit. You were furious when Jason Rudolph asked her to prom. And she rejected him right in front of you.” 2fo spoke, raising an eyebrow.

“Face it Jack, you’re upset because you let a good one get away.” Urban spoke, angrily.

“You don’t get.”

“Oh no, I think I do get it. But what you don’t see is the other side. Y/N is my friend too. I was there when she cried after she broke it off. I was there when she felt guilty about it. I was there those nights she texted you and you never responded. And I was there when she decided to move so she wouldn’t have the reminder of you constantly there. You don’t know how bad she felt. She did it to protect herself. You can’t blame her for that.”

Jack was silent. He was taking in all of the opinions of his friends. And truthfully, he believed it. He knew he was in the wrong. He truly hadn’t looked at the other side. And truthfully, he would have done the same.

You had began to start your driving playlist before Jack appeared at your window, scaring you before you chose to roll it down.

“Yes Jack?”

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said out there. I was out of line.” He moved as you stepped out of your car, looking him dead in his face as he spoke.

“I get what you did, why you did it. I understand why you broke up with me. You were only protecting yourself, putting yourself first, and I honestly don’t blame you for it. Now that I see it, I would have done the same.”

You looked at your ex, his curls shining in the, now, moonlight of the night. His crystal blue eyes stared into yours, sending shivers down your spine. Yet you stood firm in your word.

“I’m not stupid Jack. I know you probably listened to what the guys said and brought yourself out here to apologize.” You making air quotes around the apologize.

“Y/N..”

“I get it. I get it why you’re upset. I broke your heart. Trust me, I understand. But what you don’t understand is that I broke my own as well. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to see you succeed. I wanted to be there when you made it big, don’t you get that? But that interview was just a preview of what our lives could look like if we stayed together. And I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want to put myself in that position. Can you seriously hate me that much because I needed to put myself first?” You paused as you looked at him, waiting for him to say anything, anything at all.

But it was silent.

“Exactly what I thought.” You opened your car door, lowering yourself into the vehicle.

“I hope everything goes well for you Jack. And good luck with your new album.” And with that, you sped off into the night, tears in your eyes.

Please don't let nothing get back to me

I've been trying to detach from you

Deep down though, I wanna know about what the fuck you been up to

Old him could have seen that coming

Fuck you I don't need nothing from ya

I was doing pretty good without you

But something tells me that a relapse coming

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