#ITS GETTING LATE LITTLE MOON. FINISH THE SONG | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sst0rmm · 3 months ago

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♡₊˚ a piece of you・₊✧

ft: isagi, rin.

notes: their habits and idiosyncrasies 🫧 𓇼 ೀ

part/series: 1.0 2.0

wc: 1809

yes i named this after the song u have to listen to it its utter perfection

makes me feel like the world is ENDING but you're in love, so it's okay ;)

taking a tiny baby little break from the in the mornings series to write this one (shameless plug, go check it out bcs rin and isagi r everything)

i have been gone for a while, SO SORRY life happened :(

god listening to the song makes me cry for a love (i never had)

okay isagi my lover's up first

isagi yoichi 💙🧿🫧

isagi will cook and clean and prep everything for your arrival back home. when he's not at a game, far, far away, with only the isolated moon as his company (he wonders how he ever slept alone in a bed before), he basically becomes a doting house-husband.

when you're about to come home, he'll have prepped everything and made everything as neat and perfect as he will. because in his heart, your happiness comes first.

if the sun didn't shine at your workplace, or wherever you were out, he'll bring the sun back home.

"you didn't need to do this- isagi-"

"i wanted to, baby." he holds a finger against your lips and gives you that soft, sweet, slow kiss that never hesitates to make your world spin and clouds disappear and a garden of love bloom in your heart.

"now, let's eat."

AGHAHAHGHAHGH house husband isagi is best isagi and i will not believe otherwise

this isn't the only thing he does...

isagi will also get in his little sentimental moods. he'll spend his days scouring images of you, walking around the house, and one time even smelling your shampoo.

it's a fondness that grows in the utter core of his being when he's with you, and without you, he feels a little alone. like a neglected plant in a vast, vast field, he'll grow again when he's with you.

and he's also a little frightened. you wouldn't believe that one of the best strikers in the world'd be frightened, but these inner voices that whisper in his mind, a hypnotizing siren's song, tell him "he's not good enough."

when you're not there, only the voices remain, eating at him from the inside.

after all, he's not the most athletic, the best technique. he just has his mind, and when that starts to fail, what else does he have?

you come home to no warm meal one night. rain plops steadily with a thunk-thunk noise on your roof, and you see isagi staring vacantly at an empty TV screen.

you call out his name, but he doesn't respond. keeps on staring at that TV, blank as can be. you feel a soft shiver down your spine, but you shake it off and creep on the couch next to him.

"isagi, are you-?"

you don't finish your sentence before he wraps you up in a hug. it's crushing, like if he lets go of you you'll leave, and he'll be surrounded by the torrent of his own emotions.

he'll drown in them.

blue eyes look down at you wide and you can see the tinge of anxiety.

"listen to me," because you've seen this mood many a time before, "you are good enough, isagi yoichi. the glue that holds the team together- it's you. you're perfect the way you are."

and the wan smile that he had on before explodes into a defeaning, perfect crescendo. isagi's real smile, reserved for truly joyous moments with his team or simply whenever he's with you, is blinding and beautiful to behold.

"thanks, y/n, i really needed that." now, he presses a soft kiss onto your lips, and you're met with the heady taste of chocolate (you glimpse discarded wrappers in the corner of your eye). his lips are so soft, so pillowy that you can feel your heart stop and your body become fully aware of him.

you melt against him, souls intertwined, then take him by the hand. "now, let's go make dinner."

oh my goodness okay okay isagi fever is real

next blue lock dream man is up!! (they're all dreamy perfect beautiful but still)

rin itoshi ˖𓍢ִ໋🍃✧°.💚

rin is caring, no doubt about that, but also a victim of his own genius. sometimes, he stays late at the field, practicing kicks and plays with undying fervor.

it's like a light has switched on his mind and it refuses to be switched off- it's hard to understand the inner workings of rin's mind, sometimes.

tonight is one of those days that he's just completely fired up. for whatever reason, he stays two hours after practice. no texts, no calls, and he leaves you staring at the clock anxiously. by now, dinner has gotten cold, and the only thing you can hear is the rhythmic tap of your fingers on the kitchen counter.

like, silence has never been so loud.

rin walks in around ten minutes later, face sweaty and hair a mess. he reaches out to hug you, but you decidedly step away and cross your arms.

you're a little bit more than mad. "where have you been?"

your boyfriend's brows furrow. "at the field, where else would i be?"

you scoff. it's not like you want to start an argument, but he needs to know where to draw the line. "well, i don't know. i called you like, three times but you didn't pick up."

"it's not the first time this happened," rin sighs, scratching the back of his neck, teal eyes downcast at the floor. normally, you would've left it at that, but you realize if you don't put your foot down now, this perpetual cycle of anxious worry will continue.

you gaze straight at his face pointedly. "yeah, it's not. which is why i'd like it to stop before it continues."

rin groans. "come on, y/n. i know i messed up, alright? i promise not to do it again."

"that's what you said the last time, and the time before that too." your voice is calm, measured, carefully controlled. then it breaks. "i'm just worried about you, rin."

he opens up his arms in search of another comforting embrace. you're not sure if it's more for you or for him. his teal eyes cloud over a little bit with sadness.

"i'm sorry, okay? i shouldn't have left you hanging like that."

"yeah, you shouldn't have."

"but-" rin's eyes alight with a determined fire, that very same fire he gets when he's on the field, that very same fire that can melt your heart into a puddle and make you weak in the knees, before he opens his mouth, "i'm done making excuses, y/n."

you don't even realize that you're crying until you look down and see the bottom of your, or rather rin's hoodie, slightly damp. rin's at your side in a flash, cupping your face with warm palms. the warmth of his skin on yours threatens to set your heart aflame.

"y/n, you're the end goal," he promises, while staring deep into your eyes. your vision is full of him- the slightly curved bow of his lips, hair pointing every which way, but most of all, his eyes, which seem to send an unspoken message to yours.

you can feel all your nerves sparking alight with the intensity of his gaze.

his lips press on yours decidedly, insistently, with no disguise of softness. you surrender immediately and throw your arms around him, and they nestle on the curve of his neck while he presses you flush against him.

it's electric, and you think you'll never quite have enough of rin itoshi. his tongue gently slides into your mouth, meeting yours, and you sigh.

"i love you. so much."

your head can barely come out of the kiss-induced daze. "i love you too," you respond, and the two of you melt against each other.

outside, the night is young, and the stars wink brightly down, as if to foreshadow a good omen. you smile against rin's lips and kiss him, this time is soft, sweet, and slow.

YESSS this made me rememberr how much i love writing on tumblr loll

you know what's coming next.. ;)

rin is also very possessive. maybe it's because he's used to getting what he wants, where he wants, when he wants it. especially in football, he basically always gets what he wants with how hard he works.

you were actually the exception to the rule- unlike the population of the rest of japan- you didn't fall for him at first sight. of course, that only made him love you more, and make the wait worth both your whiles.

anyways, if he sees another guy's hands on you, it's game over for the guy. in your case, your friend's slinging his arm around your shoulders while you two are walking down the street after getting coffee.

"and like, she totally cussed him out," your friend stage whispers, and you laugh.

"oh my god, really? but like-"

rin rounds the corner just then, smiling in a way that would be uncharacteristic to anybody else except for you. "hey, babe, i brought you some coffee-" then he sees your friend's arms around your shoulders, and his eyes darken.

your friend, however, doesn't seem to notice. "is that your boyfriend?"

before you can respond, rin interjects. "yeah. i'm her boyfriend." he says it so matter-of-factly, so aggressively, that you wonder how your friend doesn't realize rin's intentions.

because your friend probably doesn't have a death wish, and also because you don't want to see your boyfriend behind bars, you step out from underneath your friend's arm.

"hey, rin," you press your hands against his chest and peck him softly on the cheek. he relaxes, but instead winds an arm around your waist, pressing you close to his side. you almost blush in embarrassment at his clearly possessive behavior.

your friend seems to take the hint. "so, i'm just gonna go now..." you wave goodbye, while rin just looks at his retreating form with a glare.

secretly, you're kind of more amused than anything. also, it's kind of endearing to see how much he cares. you roll your eyes. "what was that all about?" knowing full well what it's about.

rin grumbles. "i didn't like his arm around your shoulders."

you bat his arm playfully. "so what? it's not like i'm dating him or anything..."

rin's eyes spark with that very same fire again. thankfully, you guys have moved past the stage of your relationship where rin would actually argue with you about this sort of thing. "that's right, cause you're dating me."

to prove his point, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you tight to him. he's only wearing a tank top, and you can feel the hard press of his muscles, warm through the thin fabric.

rin kisses like he plays football- all or nothing- and the heady, intoxicating sensation is enough to make you forget where you are, why you're there. a passerby wolf-whistles, but the two of you barely register it.

all you feel is the way your body slots perfectly against his, the sensation of his lips sending a wave of heat coursing through your body all the way down to your toes, and the soft press of his fingers, one on your cheek, the other rubbing soft circles on your hips.

then, he grins mischievously and pulls away, leaving you standing there for a second before clearing your thoughts and catching up to him.

"you did that on purpose," you complain. rin simply smirks as if to say i did, didn't i? and winds his arm around your shoulders this time, as the two of you walk forwards together into the sunlight.

YAYY THANKS SM for readingg

i lowkey forgot about this tumblr acc im not even gonna lie... life happens grrr but i'm back again!! divider creds today go to @attxnt tysmm 💖

(two more pics bcs y not lmaoo)

OK LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING! pls lmk who u might want me to write next in the comments :)

#bllk #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x y/n #isagi yoichi x y/n #rin itoshi #isagi yoichi #rin itoshi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock

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forgeofthenine · 1 year ago

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This is a request @wisteria-songs sent in! As the ask has two requests I'll be posting the ask with the second request. Hopefully everyone enjoys, and you can thank Wisteria for being the push I needed to write for Rolan! :)

Bachelors finding a sketchbook with drawings of them

Dammon

Dammon tries to never pry into things you don't want to share

He's an open book but he understands wanting to keep some things to yourself

He knows you sketch but if you decide not to share your art it's not a big deal to him

The way he'd find your sketchbook is while cleaning your shared room, picking up a stack of clutter it happens to be on top of

As it lands on its spine, the only thing it can do is open to reveal sketches filling the pages with the now blushing blacksmith

Dammons quick to close it and return it to you, bashfully admitting he saw some pictures of himself

He's so flattered, and lets you know how talented he thinks you are

Honestly, Dammon would be absolutely over the moon if you decided to show him some of your drawings

Zevlor

Another man that tries to let you have your privacy

Zevlor is definitely curious about what it is you always seem to be drawing, but if you tell him it's a secret then he'll respect it

Though, if you do show him you'll see an especially flustered tiefling, face completely flushed with his tail near wagging behind him

If you don't show him, he'd likely find you curled up in his little office, asleep with a half finished sketch of him on your lap

He can see the other page full of depictions of him and it makes him blush furiously

You'll wake up the next morning tucked into bed with the sketchbook sitting safely beside the bed

Zevlor will tell you that he closed up your book but did see a few of the pictures, and you can bet he's going to compliment you on them too

He loves getting to see how talented you are, and would love for you to share your work with him

Another thing Zevlor loves is the thought of a whole notebook of sketches showing how much you love him back

Rolan

This man is such a tease

He'll constantly be teasing you and making snarky remarks about your 'oh so secret sketchbook'

One thing he won't do is purposefully go through it

But, a tired Rolan is a careless Rolan

It's late, been a busy day, and with how close your sketchbook is to his spellbooks it's an easy mistake to make

He idly flicks through a couple pages before it actually registers what he's looking at

Then, he drops the book like it's burnt him, cheeks overtaken with a rosy blush as he carefully tucks it away

The thought of it is on his mind all night though, the excitement of seeing your hidden affections for him

You'll know the next day that he read it purely because he's terrible at hiding things from you

Rolans eyes are shifting, his tail can't stay still, when he looks at you he flushes like a schoolboy with a crush

It's when you pull out your sketchbook that an apology bursts from him

Honestly, it's so adorable it's hard not to laugh

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader

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sevencolorsatlast · 2 years ago

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Archons Reacting To Their Creator Singing Pt. 1

Hello, peeps! This is my first SAGAU post! :)

Part 1 [Venti, Zhongli, Ei and Nahida] (You're Here!) || Part 2 [Furina]

Author's Note: The Creator is singing this song specifically (or any of The Crane Wives' songs, honestly). It's such a good song.

Also, I had a few headcanons of mine thrown here and there. You can figure them out as you go and feel free to take inspiration! :D

Author's Note 2 (8/26/23): I'll be adding Furina soon!

Author's Note 3 (11/12/23): Added Furina! :D Check the link above! I also fixed minor things here!

Content Warning(s): None

Other Notes: Default SAGAU / GN!Reader / Drabbles - Different Scenarios / 1.9k+ Words / Ao3 Link

[ Venti ]

" This house says my name like an elegy

Oh my, oh my

Echoing where my ghosts all used to be

Oh my, oh my "

After a long day entertaining your followers and finally alone, the Traveler takes you to Windrise for you to rest and bid farewell as they used the Statue of the Seven to teleport who-knows-where. You remember they prefer working on commissions late at night but you worry they aren’t getting proper sleep.

You sigh, tiredness caught up to your body, but your mind is wide-awake. A crystal fly perches on your shoulder, basking in your presence. Its glow never ceases to amaze you; you can feel your eyes twinkling as you gently caress it with your fingertip.

A distant tune chimes in your mind - like the gentle light of the moon and the soft earthy smell of the ground. You hum the song's intro quietly; the crystal fly takes flight to join its kin, circling you from the air with their slow elegance.

You start singing, your peripheral missing a certain bard stopping in his tracks when he hears your voice and hides in plain sight. The grass sways beneath your feet, and the fireflies glow brighter as you gain the confidence to sing a little louder. He floats by and rests his feet on one of the tree’s branches, adoring the sight below him.

As a bard, Barbatos wants to play along but doesn't want to interrupt you; that would be impolite of him. He pays attention to the lyrics you’re singing and makes sure to ingrain them in his mind and inspire him to make another tune similar to yours. He knows it doesn’t match your divine, but he will try to please you with his hymns. The God of Wind can see you smile while singing to yourself, and your surroundings dance in delight, making his heart skip a beat.

Due to his starstruck mind, he didn’t realize that you had finished singing, and you glanced up to see the crystal flies; your eyes met his. You suddenly feel conscious, heat rising on your cheeks. He drops from his hiding spot, kneeling on one knee when he lands.

“Your Grace,” He looks up at you, slight regret upon his emerald eyes, “I apologize-”

You’re honestly tired of your followers apologizing to you for every little thing they do.

“It’s not a big deal, Venti.” You say so casually, your tone firm yet smooth as silk, “As I said before, treat me like any other normal Teyvatians. Or like a fellow Archon.”

He is quiet for a while as he contemplates, which is highly unusual for him. You mentally take a note before he stands up, manifesting his lyre, and smiles at you.

“Well then,” He says, his fingers plucking the strings, “Can you teach the song of yours to a poor ol’ bard like me, Y/N?”

You can’t help but grin when he says your name. “With pleasure.”

[ Zhongli ]

“ All my aching bones are trembling

And I may yet fall apart

Won't you stay with me, my darling

When the war starts in my heart? “

It is a hot afternoon when you visit Nantianmen, with Zhongli accompanying you since he knows his region at the back of his hand. He built it from the ground to impress you and continuously fight off threats to prepare for your arrival.

But he never thought you would arrive after his "death", yet he welcomed you when you sought him out at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You agreed to have a contract with him that states that you will never expose his true identity as Morax. After all, you know his lore and backstory, so you stir clear from Adepti territories as much as possible despite the condition not written on the contract.

His gaze never leaves you as you hum and randomly point your finger to something new; he willingly gives you its story and you listen to him intently, eyes sparkling with curiosity. As he finishes, both of you stand before the area where Azhdaha was imprisoned.

You sing your tune while brushing your hands against the flowers, blossoming under your touch. His golden eyes widen, turning to you as your surroundings come to life. The leaves sway to your melody; the sunlight emits a glow that Zhongli himself cannot explain. The birds chirp along, and the rustle of the grass compliments your melodies.

The song's lyrics are breathtaking enough, and your voice is divine to his ears. He is more than happy to have you sing in his presence.

He realizes he is holding his breath after you’re done singing; you turn to him and smile bashfully.

“I hope you liked it.” You say, “And I may have messed up the lyrics a little.”

“I enjoyed it, Your Grace.” He says to you, pleased, “And, I assure you, I will not mind if you explain the ly-”

“Oh boy, I’m really glad you can lend an ear, Zhongli!” You beamed. “You have no idea how much I want to discuss the lyrics with someone!”

He blinks in surprise, his pursed lips melting into a genuine smile. “I'll be listening, Your Grace.”

[ Ei ]

“ Every word I say is kindling

But the smoke clears when you're around

Won't you stay with me, my darling

When my walls start burning down, down, down “

Beelzebul is built for fighting. You are well-aware of that.

But, as a Creator, you are bold enough to ask her if she can sing, and she turns to you with a dumbfounded look. You didn’t mind if she didn’t answer your inquiry, but she insisted anyway. Of course, she can, but some of her notes are off-tune. Regardless, you’re impressed that the Electro Archon herself can sing and that's enough information for you.

Ei didn’t tell you how embarrassed she was when she tried to sing in front of your divine presence. She airs this predicament out to her dear friend Yae Miko. The sly Yokai obviously never going to live it down.

Weeks later, you are invited to a gathering where you need to entertain people and can’t deny the request since you are this world's Creator. You are looking for someone to get comfortable with singing the tune in your head. You do not feel as safe with any of your followers except with Ei but she already has a nation to deal with, and you don’t need to disturb her from her endeavors.

Even without speaking, Yae takes notice of your behavior and notifies Ei as soon as possible. Knowing that sly Youkai, you had no choice but to rehearse in front of the Archon since you would rather hide behind Ei while she deals with a Thunderhelm Lawachurl than Yae shooting you cunning looks and teasing you despite you being her Creator.

You temporarily borrowed the Traveler’s Serenitea pot; they don’t mind since they are taking bounties and finishing their remaining commissions. There’s a kitchen inside the teapot, so you had prepared her favorite dessert as a token of thanks for her presence. She says there’s no need for you to be so polite since you are her Creator but you insist that you appreciate her having her schedule cleared just to see you sing.

You take a deep breath, calming yourself before starting to sing. Ei’s eyes widen when she hears you sing, stopping her from eating the dessert she’s holding. The sky above you delightful showers you with its light, and your hair glistens radiantly. The water from the nearby waterfall matches your tune, and a gentle breeze hugs your body.

She just stares in awe after you’re done singing.

“Uh, how was it?” You ask her awkwardly, her gaze unchanging. Her purple eyes remain on you as if she is studying your stance.

She gains back composure a second later after registering your question and clears her throat, “It’s impressive, Your Grace. And I wouldn’t mind if you could sing for eternity.”

You freeze at that thought as she chuckles at your reaction.

[ Nahida ]

“ This tired old machine is a-rumbling

Oh my, oh my

Singing songs to the secrets behind my eye

Oh my, oh my “

Nahida is a gentle and intelligent god by nature.

Meanwhile, you are already an intense person in your world to protect the weak. As a Creator of this world, you want the Sages to pay like any other sane person and punish them accordingly and mercilessly. They will face your wrath like any other enemies who dared to lay a finger on your favored acolytes.

But she begs you not to, and you have no choice but to comply with her wishes. She’s the God of Wisdom… and an adorable one that you can't resist her pleading emerald eyes. Despite your rough facade, Buer sees through you and appreciates you - as her Creator - wanting to protect her. You huff and glance away, saying she deserves more than being treated like nothing for hundreds of years.

You wonder how such a god can be kindhearted; you even acknowledge quietly that there’s not even a bad bone in Nahida. You trade your knowledge with her about your world, and she trades off the knowledge she learned from the Irmunsul and Dottore. She does this in order to distract you from your violent tendencies - you will give a piece of your mind to whoever bad mouths her and your followers.

One day, she accompanies and leads you to a place where small creatures live to ease your mind from harming the Sages. They call themselves the Aranara, and they are… tiny. Tiny and cute creatures, you thought to yourself. You notice they speak in such an odd manner, but you don’t mind.

One Aranara requested if you could sing for them, and you blinked rapidly at the sudden request. What kind of question is that? You look confused and turn to the Dendro Archon, who encourages you to answer. You sigh before saying that you can, but you warn that they should not expect your voice to be pretty and all.

The Aranara in front of you tilts their head and gives it a little scratch with its tiny hand; they said they haven’t even heard of your voice. You finally cave in and straighten your back to sing the first song that comes to your mind.

The forest around you lights up as if cheering and basking under your divinity. The Aranara around you follows your tune, and they are good at picking up the notes even when they aren’t familiar with the song you’re singing.

Nahida watches you out of curiosity, and admiration, relieved when you finally let loose, and she grins when she sees you smiling. She claps along when you hit the second chorus of your song, humming along with the tunes she’s familiar with.

When you’re done singing, the Aranara folk cheers. One floats above you to put a flower crown on your head. You feel slightly embarrassed with all the attention you’re getting and you see Nahida clapping her hands in delight.

“That was delightful, Your Grace.” She says, coming down from her projected swing.

“It’s nothing, really.” You lied but, surely, she had already seen through you.

Nahida chuckles and hands you her signature dessert, “Have a snack! I’m pretty sure you’re hungry from all that singing.”

You let out a small, amused laugh, “...Thank you, Nahida.”

Damn it, you’ve grown a soft spot for this gentle god.

And both of you know that you wouldn’t stop protecting her when the time comes, no matter the cost.

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #venti #venti sagau #zhongli #zhongli sagau #raiden ei #raiden ei sagau #nahida #nahida sagau #as you can see i've used the word 'eyes' for each one of them #i love how expressive eyes are - as a writer and as an artist #i was also able to use their current names and demon names ;)#seven's tag #500

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faun-the-fawn77 · 3 months ago

Note

hello lovely!! i was scrolling through x reader (as girlhood demands in the middle of the night) and i was hoping i could do smth about your empty hp!masterlist!! leaving everything up to you but i would love love love a soft!tom riddle fic with slytherin f/gn!reader (whichever you're comfortable with!!) maybe in 2nd ppov but that's personal preference 😭😭 thank you!! have a lovely day 💐💌

"𝓕𝓞𝓡 𝓨𝓞𝓤"

Soft!Tom Riddle x F!Slytherin!Reader

Genre: SO MUCH FLUFF!!!!

Word Count: 765

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Tom being OOC but that's okay.

Desc: Despite being strict towards other house students for breaking curfew, Tom just can't seem to apply the same rules to his girlfriend when she wants to sit and watch the stars by the Black Lake. A comfortable silence soon broken by the soft voice of his Slytherin Princess with questions about the future.

Notes: AHHH MY FIRST REQ/FIC OUTSIDE OF HELLAVERSE STUFF!!! Now, please don't come after me if make Tom OOC. I'm going to try my damndest to make him...him? And if you don't know, most of my fic titles are based off a song that either inspired this or was something that fit the vibe. I was listening to "For You" by Angus and Julia Stone and it just spoke to me. I love this song and if you happen to know what show it's from then please be my friend:( I need some to talk to about it.

Note 2: So....I got this request forever ago and I just now got around to completing it(work is kicking my ass) and I thought: Why not work on some things while sick? So here we are! I wanted to finish this req cause I have been feeling SOOOOO guilty for not completing upon receiving but I have done it! I guess my req's will take time to come out since I work 5-6 days a week:( But I get them done!

Waiting for Tom to come back from Head Boy duties was like watching paint dry. He was always meticulous about the things he did.

You sat by the vibrant green fire of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room with an abandoned book next to you. Your (E/C) eyes lit by the fire, were staring out into space as you thought about what to say to convince Tom to sneak you to the Black Lake.

Despite the fact that it was lightly raining outside, you had wanted to go outside. Certain thoughts about the future have been racing through your mind for the last few months. You and Tom were in your last year of school before being thrust into the lives of adults. Job interviews will take up your time along with apartment/house hunting. Did you want to go back to America? Do you want to travel first? So many questions and all of them you had to discuss with your stoic and unmovable boyfriend.

The entrance to the Slytherin chamber scraped open and a quiet set of footsteps walked up to you. Tom was usually (Or unusually) as quiet as a mouse when moving about the castle but when he knew you were awake then he'd be a bit more loud to notify you of his presence which you greatly appreciated.

"Is it raining cats and dogs or is it light enough to sit out by the lake?" Tom turned to you with curiosity swirling in his dark eyes.

"Sprinkling. Why on Earth would you want to sit out in the rain anyway?" You turned your body to face him and grabbed one of his cold hands.

"I have a few things to ask you but I am sure that we have a few pests lingering about this late in the evening." Tom turned to look but you raised a hand to his cheek to guide his eyes back to you.

"We'll talk about that later but for now, show me the way, Head boy," you cheekily smiled and stood up brushing the little dust that clung to your skirt. Tom stood as well and led you out the chamber and down the halls that he knew had less activity.

"Reminds me of home, you know?" You murmured while looking up at the moon with the light rain sprinkling down on your head. Tom knew where you used to live and that being transferred to Hogwarts took its toll on you considering you came in halfway through 4th year. You always talk about Alaska and how beautiful it was. You wanted to travel with Tom through your state starting with your home town and going from there.

"Are you leaving when we graduate?" The look Tom had given you after asking broke your heart. You knew his financial situation, how hard it is to get through with just a pocketful of change to last the school year.

"I want to go home, but I'll only go if you come with," Tom opened his mouth to protest when you clasped a hand over it, "And I will pay. I want to show you where I grew up. And we'll give you more happy memories so you can work on conjuring up that corporeal patronus!"

Tom gently removed your hand from his mouth. His face was blank but you could see the different emotions flickering in his eyes. You pulled him into a hug, resting your chin on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, "You will always hold a special place in my heart, Tom. If you wish to stay here and pursue a job at the castle, then I won't stop you. You are welcome to join me for the year I go and travel Alaska so when I come back here I'll remember my home forever."

Tom squeezed your waist a bit tighter, like he didn't want to let you go or like he was going to lose you. You knew he was dabbling in dark magic. You have tried everything to get him to stop without him knowing the you knew. Maybe travelling for a bit will help? Or if you guide him in the right directions that he'll completely abandon it altogether.

What you didn't expect was Tom to agree to come with you.

"You're the brightest star in my universe. I love you with all of my heart and I will love you till death do us part. My star..."

What you didn't know was that Tom was born under the Amortentia potion and while those who are cannot feel love, this was the closest Tom has felt to that feeling and he will never let it slip from his grasp.

If you wish to request more then don't hesitate to fill up my inbox!

Here is the link to my Ultimate Masterlist so you can see what I write for. Depending on what you feel like seeing from me then got to the specific masterlist there and pick a character on there! If you don't wanna go through all that then just head to my pinned post:)

#harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #hp fanfic #writing #creative writing #tom riddle fanfiction

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kanekoii · 1 year ago

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hear me out.. xsoleil one bed trope 👁

like, imagine reader and xsoleil member on a school trip, and the room they booked had to be changed to a one-bed room :3

lyra’s notes -> i will in fact hear you out on this

pairings -> xsoliel x gn! reader

genre -> fluffy scenario + silly little hotel things cuz lowkey why is staying in a hotel so much fun

song -> pink cheeks - eldon

warnings -> not established relationship, food mentions, reader wears a swimsuit in melo’s but no body types or anatomy is mentioned for reader :), why does this take place in such a fancy hotel lol

VER VERMILLION ->

due to the sudden change in arrangements with your room in particular, it left poor kaichou insanely flustered and wondering what the hell he was to do in that situation. he’d end up walking shyly back into the shared main room in his black and red pajama pants and grey t-shirt, hair taken out of its usual side-swept style and tousled, hanging slightly over his rose colored eyes. in an attempt to make it less awkward, he’d make a small divider using blankets between your bodies. but before either of you went to bed, ver heard your stomach grumble and suggested you go to the small in-hotel café downstairs in your pajamas together. the elevator ride downstairs was full of giggles and some looks from the people around you, wondering why students were at a hotel, not knowing it was for a counsel trip.

the downstairs café was very calm in atmosphere, ver ordering a pastry and a hot tea while continuing to talk and crack jokes with you. god, he was adorable. as the night went on, he quietly encouraged you to head back to your shared room to rest, and you obliged with sleepy eyes and an equally quiet voice.

you had no idea what had went on while the both of you were asleep, but you woke up in the counsel president’s arms as he slept so peacefully, as if you were simply a plushie. you were wrapped in warm blankets and so was he, ver’s warm body drawing you ever closer to him. you couldn’t help but drift into a deep sleep again with his warmth as your company.

MELOCO KYORAN ->

she figured it would be a good idea to go to the hot tub for a bit to de-stress. she invited you to go with her with a smug smile on her face as she adjusted the deep purple silk bathrobe she wore over her swimsuit. meloco was more than happy to have you accompany her, it was just an excuse to get even closer to you. seeing as her hair was very long, it was tied into a loose bun high up on her head so the chlorinated water didn’t interfere with its softness.

you sat in that hot tub with her for what might have been hours as the sun finished its descent under the horizon and the moon and stars took its place. she was so enthusiastic when talking to you, in stark contrast to her usual stern and sarcastic manner.

she would flop down on your now shared bed in her adorable and soft, lavender colored nightshirt that hung over her body like a dress. her long hair hung flat to her head since she had taken a shower after the hot tub. a glance at the clock would tell you that it was far past midnight and time to sleep. meloco wouldn’t mind holding you in her sleep, in fact she would really like it if given your consent cuz consent is hot. you’d wake up with your head on her soft chest as if it were a pillow (booba 🤤).

DOPPIO DROPSCYTHE ->

why is bro so enthusiastic about this. it’s almost like he has a crush on you or something. he’d get pizza or something of the like that you enjoy delivered to your room while you watch reality tv with him. please watch 90 day fiancé with him he will become even more infatuated with you as he munches on his pizza while making the silliest comments on the show. his hair would be tousled and messy, his pajamas would be black sweatpants and a dark pink-purple shirt with a white design on it saying “#1 cheftecfive”. you couldn’t help but giggle at his shirt and how cute he looked in it.

you’d stay up with him late into the night until you fall asleep and end up resting your head on his shoulder. piochan would gently wrap a blanket around you and turn the tv’s volume down until he was ready to go to bed. he’d wrap his strong arms around you and hold you like a little teddy bear.

ugh imagine his deep and slightly raspy morning voice as he wishes you a good morning, holding you so tightly.

KOTOKA TORAHIME ->

she’s so precious. girl will be so excited to share a room with you and watch movies long into the night, so excitedly exclaiming how happy she is to be with you for your time together. she’d eventually decide to keep the movies playing even if she’s about to fall asleep, which ended with you holding each other, fast asleep by the time the sun began riding.

kotoka would wake up first, not wanting to leave your arms or let go of you and letting herself fall asleep. her onesie was so cozy to snuggle her in, you just couldn’t help but hold her tightly in your sleep.

you’d awake so happily in the morning too, just so excited to have kotoka by your side in her adorable cat onesie. she’d get breakfast delivered to your shared room, filled with giggles on the cool morning.

HEX HAYWIRE ->

oughhh he is so teasing about it. he won’t hesitate to hold you and be your big spoon in his sleep, brushing your hair after your bath or shower at night or morning (personally i’m a night bath kinda guy but yk) and saying affirming things to you in his naturally deep and gravelly voice. he’s so. ugh.

hex will wake you up in the morning with your favorite caffeinated drink and something you’ll eat for breakfast with a gentle smile on his face as he adjusts his glasses.

the way he looks when you wake up before him though…god. his hair will be more tousled than usual, his normally sharp eyes closed in soft sleep and the most small and gentle smile on his face as he presumably dreams a happy dream. you can’t help but fall asleep to the sound of his gentle and calm breathing.

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angsty-twihardxx · 2 years ago

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Remember How Much I Love You | T.Miller

~ You thought everything would be perfect when you and Tommy finally moved in together, and when its not the two of you try your best to fix things ~

Warnings: Not really, some angst but I swear the ending is sweet. Mention of pregnancy.

A/N: Had a bit of slump, but I really wanted to finish this, and i have a part 2 of this in the books.. plz let me know what ya'll think. if you like feel free to have a gander at my masterlist <3 xx

It had been nearly six months since you and Tommy bought your home together, in the outskirts of Austin it was everything that you had ever dreamed of. In your old farmhouse the two of you could live out the rest of your days, here you could both get old together.

Transitioning to sharing your space with Tommy had been relatively easy, considering that the two of you were used to spending almost all of your free time together anyway.

At first it felt perfect, the two of you feeling like those corny couples in those rom-coms that always had you cringing together. Swearing you’d never be like that.

You both were basically connected at the hip whenever you were home together, if you were in the kitchen doing ‘literally anything’ then he would be behind you. Distracting you with your tasks as he would drop his head onto your shoulder, his stubbled cheeks would burn the soft skin on your neck as he peppered warm kisses there.

He made you feel like a teenager again, how he managed to get you flustered so easily, just him touching you had you pulling him away from the kitchen and back upstairs in a desperate frenzy to get your hands on him one last time before you would both go your separate ways for the day.

Mornings were always blissful like that, you would both be making breakfast and drinking coffee in a post-sex haze. Filled with laughter and very mediocre dance moves from whatever songs were playing on the radio, leaving you both amused with your distractions resulting in sulking in eating burnt toast.

But now the beauty of it all was replaced with the very harsh and brutal reality, the wool had been ripped from your eyes and only now did you realise that it wasn’t like that anymore. You had recently graduated from college and was offered a teaching job, which you were excited for so you said yes straight away. The only downside was that you were never home, every weekday you were up and out the door before the sun peeked through the rocky valleys beyond your home, and the moon was already out when you got home.

Much like you, Tommy who was now always working, he and his older brother Joel started up their own construction business that took them a lot of work and money. So they were always busy with new projects that always left him coming home exhausted, by the time you were home he was usually asleep on either the sofa or bed. It was a very rare occasion that the two of you would actually run into each other during the day.

Both of you were just too tired to notice how bad it was getting.

Though tonight you had a plan to take a step in the right direction, you had been feeling so flat lately and figured that it was your body’s way of telling you to take a step back and really evaluate what was important in your life. You felt the need to at least try and save your relationship before a simple homemade dinner couldn't fix it.

A smile grew on your face when Tommy’s car pulled up in the driveway, no doubt surprised to see yours there as well. It felt good to surprise him, to do something that felt so foreign. The two of you would always do sweet little things like this, whether it was you knocking on his door unannounced in the morning with a sweet smirk on your face. Or him waiting for you to finish classes for the day to pick you up and take you somewhere special.

“Just in here!” You called out from where you stood in the kitchen finishing up making Tommy’s favourite, your own lasagna recipe. His tired groans could be heard getting gradually louder as he eventually dragged his feet onto the tiled floor, clearly not matching your level of enthusiasm. “Y’aint usually home this early.” He mumbled as his tied eyes caught sight of you during the day time, a sight he was not used to. “I know I got sent home actually, still not feeling well.” You shrugged, sending a tight lipped smile as Tommy leaned against the doorway, an almost confused look on his face.

“Been workin’ too hard.”

“Yeah well, guess we're both guilty of that.” The words came out harsher than you expected, making you cringe as you saw Tommy frown from your peripheral.

“Tommy wait–” You breathed out, ready to apologise but he was already walking towards the stairs. It made you feel uneasy, like you didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore.

Tommy sighed as he felt your concerned eyes burning into his, he knew that all you wanted to was just try and make an effort. But he was just so tired.

“M’just having a shower alright?” He bit back in an almost sad voice, he felt guilty that he was simply just too exhausted to do this with you right now. His fingers were tightly wrapped on the polished bannister, it wasn’t a nice feeling to be annoyed at you for doing absolutely nothing wrong. But yet he was…

He continued walking up the stairs and shutting the bathroom door behind him without looking back up at you, you let out a meek ‘okay’ knowing that he wouldn't even hear you. You wondered where it all went wrong so quickly, never did you ever think that you two could get to a point that you wouldn’t know how to even talk to each other.

You were alone in the kitchen again till everything was nearly ready, the silence was deafening how quiet it was. No longer having your laughter would be bouncing off the walls during Tommy’s attempts to take over you cooking dinner.

Though when Tommy did come back downstairs you were already plating up the food in a huff, already feeling like you ruined everything.

The both of you danced around each other, while Tommy opened the fridge to grab himself a beer, you were already sitting down as you picked away at the food on your palate. Whether it was your stomach or the tense silence that made your stomach churn at the idea of eating anything.v

“So uh, how’s work been? I feel like we haven’t had a night like this in ages.” You smiled sadly, not wanting to—start anything or mean anything by it. Simply just, starting a conversation.

He responded with a sigh, as he shook his head ridiculously as his damp curls danced wildly.

“Yeah well we had a new guy start a couple of weeks ago, he broke his ankle over the weekend so he’s out.” Tommy groaned as he took another sip of his beer, you only noticed now how tired he actually looked. It had been so long since the two of you caught up with each other at the end of the day like this, you missed this. “So what does that mean?”

“Will probably have to pick up the slack for ‘em, at least till we find someone to replace him.” Tommy shrugged matter of factly, his eyes not lifting up from his plate. “God Tommy, you’ll work yourself into the ground.” There was worry evident in your voice, your cutlery clinking against the ceramic plate as you gave the man in front of you your full attention. He was being absolutely ridiculous, you had the right mind to call Joel and tell him to get someone else to help out.

“Well, someone has to do it.”

“Tommy--"

“Why does it matter?” He looked up at you in annoyance, his tone an octave higher than you're used to. He was hoping that you would simply drop it, why couldn’t you just drop it.

He could feel his agitation rising as the conversation continued, even though all you were doing was worrying about him. “Well I know we don’t see each other as much and–”

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned, rubbing a calloused hand down his face, his elbow propping on the table with a loud ‘thonk’. “Can’t you just let it go? You’re the one that’s at work all goddamn day!” His voice rose in irritation as his now red hot cheeks turned to look at you, almost awaiting an answer.

Your eyes shot up to watch him in shock, it was a very rare occurrence for Tommy to ever raise his voice, especially at you. You were taken aback at how annoyed and mad he looked, the vein in his neck protruding after his outburst.

“Yeah you're probably right–I’m so sorry for trying Tommy. It obviously seems like I’m too late anyway.”

Your harsh words cut into Tommy like a burning hot knife, but your lip quivered as you tried to hide the tears from slipping out. He almost expected you to just yell straight back at him, but when you didn't it made him feel worse.

Tommy then let out a frustrated sigh, when his eyes caught onto yours he realised the mistake that he made. “Shit–darlin’ that aint what I meant.” His voice was frantic now, trying to fix his mistake once it was too late. His eyes searched for yours but he couldn’t, your own refusing to look up. Because you knew if you did, you would cry.

“But it is! Jesus, I dont– I can’t do this right now Tommy.” Your head shook in disbelief, how could something so simple that you had planned go so horribly wrong. You tried to ignore the part of your brain that wondered if you both just weren't the same people you used to be.

As you stood up abruptly, the chair underneath screeched under the wooden floorboards. Throwing your napkin on the plate you left the table in a hurry, ignoring the calls from Tommy as you basically ran up the stairs. As he sat in the same spot sulking, you were in your upstairs bathroom throwing up what little remnants you had from dinner.

Your eyes were blurry as you sat on the cold tiles, your eyes continued to water as your eyes drifted on the small silver ring on your left hand. It was the one Tommy gave to you when he proposed to you not long after you graduated, even though you both knew long ago that you wanted to marry him. It was one of the happiest days of your life and now it almost made you want to vomit again.

Surely this wasn't the same man that you just argued with downstairs, your Tommy was soft and kind and had the most beautiful smile– not that you had seen it much lately.

You were basically never home with this new job, but when you brought it up to Tommy he said ‘you’d be a fool not to take it.’ And now he was using it against you, when all you were trying to do was have a conversation. You knew that tomorrow was Friday, you just had to make it through the day and then you would have the whole weekend to try and fix this.

You just had too.

Tommy groaned out in pain when he woke up on the sofa, his back aching from the hard springs poking into him. He figured he deserved it anyway, as a painful reminder from the universe. At least that’s what you’d probably say, he doesn’t get any of that stuff. He figured he'd go upstairs and try and make things at least a little better with you, tell you that he was sorry— because he was.

But when he padded down the hallway he could already tell you were gone, your soft snores were absent to him, your side of the bed was empty.

Usually he wouldn’t mind, but Tommy still felt horrible for the way he talked to you last night. He was never the type to lash out at you in anger or frustration, no matter how tired or exhausted he was. Seeing you get so upset last night made him realise that it was all more than just ‘being at work all the time,’ it was starting to affect your relationship. And the fact that even you knew, and tried to do something nice, and he just basically threw it back in your face.

He didn’t even know if he could fix it…

He felt like the biggest asshole, as he tried to figure out to make it up to you all he could think about how upset you looked, it was burned into his mind. Your side of the bed was unmade and it made him imagine you throwing the covers in a frenzy to get up on time like always, your pajamas laying on the floor in a line to the bathroom where you would’ve stumbled to the shower.

With an annoyed groan he ran his hands down his face as he dropped out and sat on the edge of the bed, he missed your lingering fingers in the morning. Checking his phone he saw that you left him a message.

‘Can you remind Joel he needs to pick up Sarah?

Was sick this morning so I’ll be late..no point waiting up.

His brows furrowed as he read your text, trying to trace back in his memory to when you mentioned you were feeling unwell, besides from yesterday at least. Was he really that bad of a fiancé that could no longer notice these things? Usually he prided himself in noticing if there was something wrong.

Tommy knew that he had to do something, before the two of you began to resent each other—if you didn’t already.

On the top of his nightstand in a handmade shell frame by Sarah, it was his favourite photo of the two of you.

In the polaroid you were crawled up in his lap, arm slung around the back of his neck as you both smiled for the excited Sarah who had gifted her first camera. The two of you had bright smiles on your face, cheeks pinched with genuine happiness. He missed your smile.

The two of you looked so young despite it not actually being that long ago, he remembered that day fondly. The day he proposed to you…

After an entertaining morning opening presents the two of you were sitting outside on the back porch, your elbows propped up on the arm of the lawn chairs you sat on. You were wearing that beautiful white white dress Admiring the view as you watched Tommy strumming his guitar with the new guitar pick you had gifted him for Christmas.

He was happily strumming for sometime, before stopping and turning to face you, a wide smile on his face. "Y'know I almost forgot your present..." Tommy had a playful smirk on his face. "Oh good, and here I thought you forgot about me." You chuckled in amusement, giving him that look that reminded him that you didn't actually mind, you were never one to like anything extravagant for presents.

"Ain't no way I could forget about you. Now, just close your eyes."

"Do you really expect me to fall for that one again Tommy?" Your hands rested on your hip, giving him a suspicious look. Which made Tommys head fall back in laughter, his raven curls bouncing as he chuckled in amusement. "Come on now darlin', just close 'em."

"Ugh, fine." You huff as you then close your eyes, despite the shuffling noises you hear you keep them shut.

Then when you opened your eyes you let out a surprised gasp, not expecting to see Tommy down on one knee. For a brief few seconds you were completely speechless, frozen. You had been waiting for this moment, for so long. As your eyes began to water, he began to speak.

"Now you know i ain't best with this kind of stuff, but do you wanna marry me darlin?"

"Are you kidding me? I--of course!" You exclaimed, your head nodding at him frantically. There was no possible way that you could ever say no to him. You jumped into his arms, instantly connecting your lips with his in a passionate fever.

"Love you so much darlin', gonna make sure you remember that everyday."

God he had to fix this…

Orange and deep purple hues began to pour onto your hands as they shook on top of your desk, the red marking pen falling onto the wood with a deafening ‘thonk.’

You were meant to leave nearly twenty minutes ago if you wanted to be home somewhat early. Yet you still hadn’t dared to move from your desk, any homework to mark was completely lost to you now, too preoccupied with the positive pregnancy test you took during your lunch break.

Your coworker Meg suggested the idea of you being pregnant causally during a conversation of your latest sickness, and now that you thought about it, it made perfect sense.

The constant unwavering nausea that you had you avoiding food like the plague, the fact that no matter how much sleep you had you were still always tired. Then lastly, the fact that you could actually remember when you had your period. For so long you had blamed all of these on your current life changes and stress levels, but no longer could it be ignored…

You were pregnant.

As you let out a shaky breath, running your fingers through your hair you thought about telling Tommy. Usually you would be ecstatic with such news, but after the night before you suddenly weren’t sure.

The two of you had daydreamed about having children together numerous times, but that was also before he had his own business and you had college fees and a full time job. Would it be the same now that it was real or were you simply overreacting? Who knew till you told him.

Maybe last night solidified just how far you both had let this go on, this big wall that separated the two of you in your own home. You were almost surprised that Tommy hadn’t thought you were pregnant yet, usually being so attentive over you. More times than most, he would know something was wrong with you before you even did.

Not that you were any better, you were barely home anymore. Yet you used to spend all of your free time with Tommy, no matter what.

What if the two of you could never change?

After spending a few extra minutes psychic yourself up in your parked car in the driveway, your eyes drifted to the yellow light peering from your open kitchen window where Tommy was probably cooking himself dinner. You could only presume since you would usually still be at work, it made you realise how much you missed his cooking. Maybe not in the kitchen, but despite what you had been told by Joel, the man could and loved his grill.

Eventually entering the home you noticed how oddly cozy it felt, like you had been enveloped into a warm welcoming hug. Which lately, had been the opposite of how you felt coming home. You couldn’t even remember the last time it felt like this, so lived in. That the people that lived here actually had their shit together.

Peeling off your jacket you walked towards the yellow light leaking on the floor from behind the door to the kitchen, you stopped in shock. Tommy stood by the oven, his back to you as he swore over what you could imagine was your tattered old recipe book that belonged to your grandmother. The old frayed edges that poked over on the counter, as he leaned over trying to read the old handwriting.

It almost looked like some sort of fever dream, he was showered, shaved and wearing open of his nice button down shirts. The exact olive green one that you had bought him last year for his birthday, you reckon it was the first time he had put it on.

“Oh hey—“ Tommy chuckled nervously once he turned to see you still in the doorway, a confused and shocked look on your face. “I uh—wasn’t expectin’ you till later.” His voice was chipper, which was the polar opposite from yesterday. He was obviously trying, be nice.

“What's all this for?” You tried not to sound mean, you obviously knew why. But you needed to know…

“Well I wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya. Try and make up for me being a dick, n’not taking care of you like I should be.” Tommy’s shoulder dropped with a sigh, his hands cupping the edge of the counter that leant against, you could tell that he was upset. A deep crease forming between his brows, the way it always did when he was upset with himself, you could see the internal nettle he was having with himself.

Your breathing hitches when your eyes drift to the bouquet of wildflowers in the centre of your dining table, the ceramic vase was the same one that was gathering dust since you moved in. He even tidied up the leftover mess that neither of you had been bothered to put away.

Tommy’s eyes peered up to where you stood in the doorway, your glassy eyes analysing the home. Your cheeks were puffy and stained from pre- existing tears, it broke his heart thinking that you had been crying because of him.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was tired and stressed out—and I know that’s not an excuse.” His large warm hands enveloped your own as he grazed his thumb along the top of your cold knuckles.

“I just wanted to make sure you still knew how much I love ya.” He flashed you the same dorky grin you fell in love with all those years ago, that you were still in love with.

Guilt ripped through you, the fact that you really thought he stopped loving you, after all these years that he could stop just like that. That you doubted that he wouldn’t want a baby with you…

“I was just so worried that we were falling apart.” A sob escaped your lips, your shoulders trembling under your blouse. The feelings you had been harbouring were overwhelming with your newly added hormones, you simply had no more room left, you had to let it all out.

His strong arms envelop you as he pushes you into his chest, his hands slide up your back to cradle to the back of your head. The soft fruity smells of your shampoo filling his nose, a smell that took him back, something that he didn’t realise he could miss so much.

“Baby I’m still just as in love with you as the day I met you. I know I ain’t been actin’ like it lately, but I’m gonna put in more effort.”

You could smell his aftershave as you brought your head into his chest, as your tears darkened the fabric of his shirt. Tommy’s rough hands moved up to cup the soft skin of your cheeks, so he could look at you properly as he spoke, making sure that you knew.

“Don’t— it’s not just your fault. I’m at fault too Tommy.”

“Look, we both are as bad as each other. But I don’t want to feel that far away from you ever again.”

“Tommy I, it’s not just that—“ You let out a shuddered breath, choking on your words as they tried to come out. The entire speech that you had thought out in the car was completely lost to you, your brain went blank.

“What's going on baby? Talk to me.”

Swallowing the lump of nerves in your throat, you dropped a trembling hand down into your pocket. Grasping onto the tiny piece of plastic that you had been staring at all afternoon. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, your arm felt astronomically heavier as you lifted up the test and placed it in his unsuspecting hand.

“I—I only found out this afternoon.” You added nervously, unknowingly holding in a breath as Tommy remained quiet. His brows furrowed for a brief moment till his glassy eyes darted up to look at yours. “I'm gonna be a Dad?” His glassy honey brown eyes beamed down at you, filled with so much happiness. You simply nodded, your own wide smile growing on your face. The nerves that had you anxious all afternoon had dissipated.

“Holy shit, baby this is amazing!” He exclaimed with excitement, bringing you into another tight embrace. His lips pressing onto yours, softly but full of hunger. The two of you were both desperate for each other's touch, after what felt like forever. This felt right, with him, it felt perfect.

“Love you so much darlin’, ain’t gonna ever let you forget it.”

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller angst #tommy miller x you #gabriel luna #tommy miller tlou #tlou

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ann-writes-universes · 2 years ago

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Cassiopeia (AzrielxReader) Angst

A/N: I feel like my blog is slowly being overcome by Az angst and I am HERE for it. This also turned into a bit of a reverse roles thing for “Memento Mori”

Warnings: Angstish

W/C: 2.3

It was quiet here, blissfully so.

Snow had begun to fall weeks prior and the ground you laid on was packed hard with powder and ice alike. The wind caressed the fir branches above you and urged them to dance and sway in the moon’s soft glow. The only light in your little spot was created by the night sky and the shadows of the night enveloped you, effectively keeping you hidden from any prying eyes.

It was unnaturally clear for a night so deep in the throes of winter, and miles below you could spot the city lights of Velaris. You were too far removed from the city to hear it, but her phantom song still lulled your mind and calmed your nerves. After the mourning of the war was over, and the reconstruction finished this had become your routine. The week would slip by with work and meetings, and the weekend would be wasted away on the mountainside- far from the life of your home. You’d lay on the mountainside and point out shapes in the bright copses of stars,

Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Perseus… You had them memorized, found comfort in the way their shine broke up the snow capped canopy above your head.

You drug your gloved hands through the snow at your sides, relished in the cold seeping through the leather covering your hands. The tips of your ears and the points of your face had long since turned red and numb- your lashes sporting a soft coating of ice. The biting cold had not been a bother since your nights spent in war camps and training grounds designed to rip away any sensitivity you had been born with. Now, it served as a stark reminder that you were in fact alive, and not a war torn corpse rotting in the mass graves that had been left in wake of the carnage Hybern had created.

“Its past midnight.” A voice called from the trees behind you. You had not heard him approach, but had felt that tingling thrum from his side of the bond when he had winnowed here from the city below.

“I know.”

“Are you coming home soon?”

“I dont know.”

Azriel’s question was not chidding, nor was it judgemental in any way. He had been so patient with you, so gentle. He had sat through the outbursts with sealed lips, let the blows fall on his own skin when you were sobbing so violently you found comfort in beating your pillows to a pulp, and had not questioned your late night visits to the mountainside.

“Mor made dinner, she saved you a plate.” He spoke, opting to sit behind you, a good distance away. You laid still, staring at the moon through the branches above. It was waning, that strange phase where the light was dying from its full glow. Your eyes narrowed to slits so you could focus on it, though you weren't sure you were really seeing anything as you listened to the male behind you.

“It would be beneficial if you ate something.”

“I ate earlier.”

“Twelve hours ago does not count, (y/n).”

“I know.” Your voice was a whisper against the winter winds breaking through the woods. He had flared his wings to protect your frame from it, that much made clear by the way snow was avoiding your body entirely. “I’ll be home soon, promise.”

You heard his leathers shifting and felt the cold as he tucked his wings and stood. “I’ll wait up for you.” He stated hopefully, tucking his hands behind his back as you turned your head to glance at him.

Your mouth was drawn in a tight line and you took him in, standing there as if you would decide to get up and leave with him. “You dont need to, Az. I’ll probably stay in town tonight anyhow.”

You had been doing that a lot. Avoiding your shared home outside of Velaris and opting for the dusty shelves of your own room at the river house.

Azriel’s eyes shuddered, and his breath caught momentarily before he nodded sternly and disappeared in a puff of shadow and snow. You watched his empty place for a moment, felt a crack of pain down the bond before shutting it off completely. You laid your upper half back into the snow and sucked in a frigid breath.

Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Perseus…

⤧

“How was she?” Mor piped up from her spot on the couch as Azriel slunk through the door of the river house. The rest of the inner circle were splayed on chairs and couches in the living room, sipping wine or talking quietly.

Azriel cut his gaze to the blonde and shrugged, slumping into a free seat by the blazing hearth, “The usual.”

Mor slouched back into the couch, watching the fire with saddened eyes. From beside her, Feyre patted her leg and frowned. “This is not normal behavior.” Feyre spoke to no one in particular as her gaze found the flames as well. They were licking warm tones onto the walls of the darkened room and left hard shadows falling across Azriel’s downturned features.

“I dont think normal exists anymore Fey.” Cassian spoke, shifting carefully as not to wake Nesta who had fallen asleep with her head in his lap. Feyre nodded at his words and relaxed into Mor’s side. The women held each other, lost in deep thought as the room fell quiet.

Azriel sat in his own silence, mulling over your words and that distant look in your eyes. This happened every week. You would stay with him in your shared home, eat with him, share a bed, hell you would even joke around. But when the hustle and bustle of the week faded away into the slowness of the weekend you would disappear to that cropping of trees in the mountains and lay there until the sun was threatening to break over the peaks and beg you to come home itself.

Time passed slowly, and no one moved. At some point Amren bid her goodnights and headed off to her own apartment- but there was some silent understanding that tonight, they would wait for you to come home.

They had all, of course, heard you entering in the early hours of the morning only to trudge to your room and remain there until the following afternoon. They had watched you waste the weekends away without Azriel. And yet it had been months and none of them had stayed up long enough to see you enter, to see that glistening tears on frosty lashes, or the hunch in your shoulders that would right itself the following day.

A key sounded in the lock.

Tired eyes turned towards the door and hunched postures righted themselves as you kicked your boots off by the door and made your way to the stairs. You paused by the archway leading to the living room, not entirely different from the image of an animal caught in a hunter’s sight.

“(Y/N)?” Azriel spoke first, leaning towards you in his seat.

Slowly, you turned to face them all, paling at the wideness of their eyes.

“You guys are up late.” You whispered in reply, starkly aware of the wetness on your cheeks. Willing the tears to stop you leaned against the archway, crossing your arms over your chest.

“We wanted to make a pillow fort but Nes told us that was a stupid idea.” Rhysand jested, a lazy smile curling the corner of his lip. Despite yourself you chuckled at his words and relaxed a bit.

“Why are you really up?”

Your question was pointed at Azriel who merely shrugged and patted the arm of his chair. Slinking over you sat, allowing his arm to curl around your waist and pull you into his lap.

Nesta was awake now, leaning into Cassian and she was staring at you. Her head was cocked to the side and her fingers were wringing themselves milky white. No one spoke.

“Well if no one else is gonna fucking say it I will.” The words tumbled from her mouth messily, panicked. You stiffened in Azriel’s lap and his arm tightened. Rhysand sighed and rested his head in his hand, the others mimicking the noise almost painfully.

“Say what?” You questioned, looking between them all but finding no one able to look you in the eyes. You made to get up but Azriel pulled you back down, a worried crease in his brow.

“(Y/N)-”

“You're freaking us out.” Nesta stated plainly, wiggling out of Cassian’s grasp to brace herself on her elbows and stare at you with unnervingly calm eyes. “You act normal and then you dont. You speak to us and then night comes and you're on that damn mountain until the sun comes up. What’s up there?”

You stared at her, nerves steeling. She was worried, they all were. But damn her for trying to make you feel bad about escaping for a while. “Nothing, Nesta. Nothing is up there.”

“Then why spend hours there?”

“Because there is nothing there.”

Azriel shifted beneath you, suddenly uncomfortable with how the Archeron was staring at you. He curved his other arm around you and pulled you further into his chest.

“I think what Nes is trying to say is- we are concerned with how you're feeling.” Feyre added cautiously, gently pushing her sister back into the couch by her shoulder. Nesta huffed and relented, training her gaze on the fire before her. You scoffed and writhed free of Azriel’s grasp. Standing before them you crossed your arms over your chest and watched as they beheld you with bated breaths.

“I feel how we all feel.” You began, warding off the tears that threatened to spill, “And just like you guys Im not going to talk about it. I sit on the mountain to clear my head. Its no different than Feyre painting alone, Rhysand holing up in his office, or Cassian drinking himself to death.” The wounded look in Cassian’s eyes and the far off stare Rhysand held almost made you feel bad, but it had to be said.

“Maybe we should talk about it.” It was timid Elain, who had yet to speak that added her thoughts from her chair in the corner opposite of you. You cut your gaze to her and you were almost certain she cowered in her seat, terrified she had said the wrong thing. Everyone looked to her, even Nesta as pissed as she was softened at her sister’s demeanor.

“Maybe we should.” Rhysand spoke then, voice strong and smooth as ever.

Everyone began to nod in agreement, but you just watched them. When they turned your way you began to shake your head, lips thinning into a tight line, “No.” You whispered.

“No?” Azriel questioned softly.

“No.” You added once more, firmly this time. That crevice in your chest you had kept so tightly sealed began to crack open and you gripped your chest as though you could hold it closed from the outside. You stepped backwards towards the stairs, and let your hand find the bannister as they watched you.

“Im sorry- but I cant.” You whispered, turning to trudge up the stairs. Their voices became muddled as you climbed the flight and the tears began to spill when you heard Azriel’s voice break in a gruff sound of anguish.

You weren't ready to be touchy feely about the war, weren’t ready to stop feeling the bite of guilt and pain when you thought about the things you had done. They were. They had been ready to lay it out on the living room floor if it just meant that you would feel seen. And somehow, you realized as you rounded the corner to your room, that made it so much worse. Worse because you didn't want to be open like that with them, with your family. Worse because they were offering you a glimpse into how they had been feeling - so you wouldnt feel alone - and you couldn't bring yourself to light that candle.

You slammed the door on their voices below.

⤧

He entered your room an hour later, after you had already crawled into the sheets and found yourself in a fitful sleep. Silently, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched you. He had always found your sleeping face so serene. He would lay awake for hours at night when you first mated to watch the steady rise and fall of your chest, you were so beautiful, yet so unaware of the world around you.

You stirred as he slipped into bed beside you, sharing the space of your room in the river house for the first time in years.

“Az?” You whispered sleepily, allowing his arms to lock around you and pull you into his strong chest. He stroked your hair away from your face and rested his chin atop your head. He felt bad- guilty almost- for the bombardment you had come home to. He hadn't facilitated it, and yet he had let it happen as you sat there on the verge of tears.

“Im here.” He replied, “You don't have to talk to me, but I'm here.”

And you curled a fist around his tshirt, sunk into his chest and laid there. He had always been close, always watchful and ready to listen. Even when you shut him out he stayed, waiting patiently for you to be ready.

He knew, better than anyone, how you felt. He had lived through two wars, had felt that guilt and pain so many times that it had become second nature. He knew it was new for you- fresh in a way that had the anguish ripping at your skin until you threatened to disappear completely. And so he laid there, letting you grip his shirt until it was nearly shredded, and held you as your body shook and you began to cry.

You cried for the family downstairs you didn't know how to talk to, for the friends you had buried, and the people (innocent in their own right) you had slaughtered.

And he laid there, stroking your hair and staring out the window of your bedroom into the fading night beyond, and watched the stars you loved so fondly.

Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Perseus…

TAGS:

@brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @younxii @momlo @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @highladyofillyria @crimsonandwhiteprincess @purplevitagen @isthataknuck

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idolatrybarbie · 1 year ago

Text

lust for a vampire

for my fifty follower celebration! @heareball asked: max phillips and prompt no. nine— "you look so pretty like this." title from the song. i am so sorry this ended up being like, gross. and long. thanks to @wannab-urs for the reassurance and beta. if you recognize the horror movies referenced in this fic i love you.

rating & word count: 4k words | explicit

warnings: very briefly mentioned drug use, sexually explicit content, more plot than porn, dubious consent question mark, supernatural stalking, blood and its consumption, pussy slapping (like once), orgasm denial, spit play ???, background sex work/stripping, physical altercation (not with max), vaginal fingering, pet names (sweet thing, honey, sweetheart), i changed how vampires work from bsb because my writing, my rules.

It’s late now. Another thirty minutes and you get to flick the switch to the overhead lights—on and off, on and off again. Closing time. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Then there’s bar cleanup, a little sweeping, some heavy mopping. Assuring that no one’s upchucked on the stone bust of sexy Dracula out front, or making one of your coworkers clean it up if they have.

You can’t say that this is exactly what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life: living in the slimy suburbs of a tourist trap border city, doubling as a bartender and host at a vampire-themed titty bar. Whatever. You suppose there are worse things. The patrons are usually so distracted by the girls that are actually naked that they leave you alone. The most you get is a grunted drink order, sometimes with an accompanying snort if the man ordering has just spent a little time in a bathroom stall with a bump of Big C.

Usually. Tonight, there’s a man at the corner of the bar who seems to be paying you attention in particular. He’s eyeing you more than Kali, the dancer spinning half nude on the main stage pole as crimson-coloured corn syrup slides down her body in waves.

You noticed him right away. He looks nothing like your regulars; usually sex and death goth chicks and their annoying boyfriends, or black metal listeners who could use a good shower…or three. No, the man at the bar is unlike anyone you’ve ever seen walk in here before. A tailored suit jacket strains slightly against the breadth of his shoulders, waistcoat unbuttoned as he sits sipping at his third whiskey and coke. His hair is slicked yet stylishly tousled. The glint in his eye tells you that he knows he looks good. Cocky, then.

Mercy saunters up to him with a sway in her hips, skin as pale as the moon outside. She bleaches her hair to white twice a month, keeping it shorter to handle the damage. The woman is a vampire in the flesh if you’ve ever seen one, clad in crimson lace as she lays a hand of finely manicured claws on his shoulder.

Mercy leans into him, whispering something softly into his ear. At first, you can’t gauge his reaction, watching the exchange out of the corner of your eye. You’re torn between him shaking his head and telling her to get lost, or happily obliging to let her take him for a private show.

He seems to be considering it, too, eventually nodding with a bright smile. You can’t look at his mouth as he does, teeth too bright for the low light. It looks like they almost glow. He and Mercy disappear to the back, finding one of the empty private rooms to take their business. You finish polishing another rack of glasses before a customer flags you down for a refill.

You don’t see the man when you announce last call, or again before you’re locking the doors behind the last couple of stragglers. The girls are in the back already, taking off their makeup and packing up to head home. You give the bar another good wipe down as Martin and Phil take the dirty glasses to the back. When the bar is adequate in its cleanliness, you get started on spraying down the tables. Louis is mopping both stages, the sudsy water of the industrial pale turning black from the sweat, spit, and fake blood.

Closing at three o’clock, the lot of you get out at almost four-thirty in the morning. The light of dawn hasn’t quite hit the horizon, the moon missing from the sky behind clouds of city smog. The streets are truly dark. You navigate through the alley behind the club, passing a twin pair of Dumpsters.

It must have rained while you were inside, the sidewalk wet with remnants of it. Puddles pool in the corners of the road. If you were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, this scene might be a little concerning. This is the part where the killer emerges, silent but deadly behind the wisp of a girl as she walks the streets alone. The situation isn’t exactly safe, per say. Definitely not ideal. It isn’t your fault that the closest lot with free parking is four blocks away.

You are no wisp, and this is no monster movie. This is a Saturday night like any other.

Or, well, it’s supposed to be. Turning another corner, you come upon Mercy standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Still clad in her outfit from the club, she notices you almost immediately. You stop yourself, processing what it is you’re looking at. Darkness stains half of her silky lingerie, and in this lighting you can’t tell if it’s real or fake.

Mercy sways where she stands, eyes narrowing the slightest before her face softens, an agreeable smile pulling at her lips. Her six inch heels clop against the concrete as she closes the short distance between the two of you.

“Mercy?” you ask. “What are you doing out here?”

“Hey baby,” she drawls.

“Is everything okay?”

“Much better now,” Mercy smiles. Her teeth are stained red. All of this blood…is it hers?

“What happened? Did someone do something to you?”

Your pulse is racing as you dart your eyes around the street. It remains empty spare you and her, your eyes telling you that the coast is clear. Still, the situation feels off. Mercy is still smiling as your stomach roils in your gut. When she sways a little too far to the right, you grab ahold of her arm, looping it around your shoulder.

“We’ll get you back to my car, okay?” you ask.

Mercy takes a couple of steps with you before the axis of the world changes. No, wait. Only the axis of you. The dancer has you pressed to the hard, clumpy brick of a building. Her arm sits over your neck, putting pressure on your windpipe. You claw at her arm, scratching at the milky white of her skin. It’s no use. Mercy is putting those self-defense classes to good use trying to choke you out right now.

She moves in closer to your face, nosing at your jaw down to the side of your neck.

“Smells so good. I just need…a little bit,” Mercy breathes into your ear.

“No,” is the only word you can press past your lips.

“It’ll only hurt a little, honey,” she continues, voice dripping with sweetness. It’s the one she uses with clients, a tone that’s pulled thousands of dollars of cash from the eager wallets of horny bastards. “Then, it’s going to feel so, so good.”

As your vision speckles, Mercy licks a long, wet stripe along the skin of your neck. Something about the action sets you off; the pre-emptive finality of it activates your survival instincts as you bring a knee up to her gut. The blow winds her. Mercy pushes herself off of you to clutch at her stomach, a frustrated growl ripping itself from her throat.

“That wasn’t very nice, bitch,” she mutters.

You take off down the street, praying to whatever god that Mercy’s newfound kink for street violence hasn’t instilled in her the ability to sprint in Pleasers. You’re so close now; the lot where your Chevy sedan has been parked and baking since dinnertime is finally in sight. Air isn’t quite reaching your lungs as fast as you need it, the world around you hazey as you continue to run to your car.

Blinking, the parking lot is gone when you open your eyes again. Someone’s dropped a black curtain in front of you—or so you think. When you collide chest-first with a man on the sidewalk, you recontextualize. You were staring at the shoulder of his suit jacket.

Another moment passes as you realize just who the man is. Three-piece, from the club. The man who sat at the bar making eyes at you all night long. Tonight must be a cosmic punishment.

“Hey, whoa there.” He holds his hands out, almost in surrender. Concern blankets his features as he looks you over. “Everything alright?”

“Look, I really don’t have time—”

You stop yourself, sucking in frantic gasps of air. Grabbing onto the nearest wall, you brace yourself as you cough and choke on oxygen. The stranger watches you, then glances down the street the way you came. It seems his critical thinking skills have kicked in.

“Is someone following you?” he asks.

“My crazy fucking coworker…” you start, “has taken up casual street assault.”

“Let’s get you out of here, alright? Is your car nearby?”

You nod, pushing yourself up and off the wall. He guides you across the street to your car, standing with you as you sift through your bag for the keys. When you find them, you turn to the man.

“Well, thanks.”

“Not a problem at all,” he says. Slowly, he turns to walk away. Then you remember how many drinks you served him earlier.

“Hey, do you want a ride home?” Bad idea. Bad idea.

The man turns around and faces you once again. “I’m alright,” he says.

Three whiskey and cokes, a couple of shots, and whatever might have gone out to his private room that you hadn’t been able to keep track of.

“It’s not a hassle,” you shrug.

This is better. You would rather drive to a stranger’s house at dawn and drop him off than have him pass out somewhere in the street—or worse, let him try to drive home and end up hurting someone.

You tell him your name. He says his name is Max. The two of you get into your car. Buckling your seatbelt, you ask, “Maxwell? Or Maximillion?”

“Just Max.”

You hum. “Straight to the point.”

“I try to be.”

The car starts with minimal fanfare and you pull out of the parking lot. You scan the streets for any sign of Mercy, but come up empty in your search. You’re too tired to think about her or the odd encounter anymore.

“So what draws someone like you to a place like that?” you ask, referring to the club.

“Someone like me?” Max asks.

“Come on, look at you. The suit? You look like you’re fresh off the trading floor.”

“Not quite. Mergers and acquisitions,” he says.

“Point still stands,” you say. “What brings you to a gothic striptease?”

Max shrugs beside you. “Reminds me of college, I guess.”

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your mouth. The strange answer does nothing to satisfy your lingering curiosity, but you focus back on the road. Max tells you when to turn and which streets to take, leading you out of town. Twenty minutes into your drive, you realize he’s guiding you past the university and over the connecting bridge.

“Lewiston?” you ask, glancing at him. Max is already staring at you, eyes softening when they meet yours.

“It’s quaint,” he says.

And he’s right. When you pull into the driveway of his house, you momentarily wonder if you’ve arrived at the wrong address. Max doesn’t share the hesitance, getting out of the car and rounding the front to meet you at the driver’s side window. You roll it down, letting him duck his head in the slightest bit.

Max leans his forearms against the opening in the door. “Thanks for the ride,” he says. And then he’s offering to let you come inside, grab a coffee before you hit the road again.

You want to say no—should, considering how late (early?) it is. Glancing at the clock on your dashboard, you look up at Max to politely decline, but can’t summon the words. There’s something about his eyes, dark and wondrous as they stare. He doesn’t blink, waiting on your answer.

“A coffee couldn’t hurt,” you say. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

Max steps away from the door to let you get out. It closes with a solid thud, and then he’s leading you up to the front steps of his home. He doesn’t reach for any keys, simply turning the knob and pushing the door open. You barely make note of this, too distracted by his presence and the walls of his front hallway.

Everything in here seems perfect, the cutesy makings of a home somewhere in the countryside. And yet that’s what makes it totally out of place; the floral wallpaper, the simple wooden frames holding photos of faces you can’t quite parse in the dark. Maybe you’re letting outdated stereotypes get the better of you, but someone like Max would usually be living in a sleek, stainless steel cavern—not Little House on the Prairie.

Like he can read your mind, he says, “This isn’t my usual decor. It was my grandmother’s house.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Sorry for your loss.”

Max shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave as he turns left and mills about a small yellow kitchen. “She was old. It happens. I’m in town to settle up some things, see what ends up happening to this place.”

“So you aren’t from around here,” you say.

Back turned to you, the laugh he lets out shakes his broad shoulders the slightest bit. “You caught me,” Max says.

“Between condolences and meetings with lawyers, you find solace watching naked women cover themselves in blood?”

He’s facing you again. The coffee has started to brew, steam rising from the machine as the warm smell of arabica greets your nose.

“Something like that,” he says. “What about you? The bartending life all that they say it is?”

“It’s alright.” You lean in the doorway, never quite stepping into the kitchen. “Not as terrible as other places.”

“But you aren’t fulfilled,” Max says for you.

“Things could be worse.”

“Hm,” is all he gives you.

Max gets two mugs out of his grandmother’s cupboards, filling them both when the coffee is done a few silent minutes later. He closes the distance between the counter and where you stand to hand one to you. Then he sits at the short table wedged in against the wall. The implication to sit down with him settles over you, but Max doesn’t say anything.

He’s waiting because he knows that you will. Deep down, you know it too.

When you cross over the threshold into the room, the world shifts. Only slightly, barely noticeable with the porcelain burning in your palm. You take the seat across from Max and set the coffee down.

“How is it?” he asks, nodding at it.

“Good,” you say. Neither of you have taken a sip of the stuff.

Max’s hand is on the table, resting on a doily next to his own mug. He asks, “What’s got a woman like you walking the streets at night all alone?”

“Free parking,” you say.

His lip twitches. “That all?”

“Fourteen dollars a night adds up when you work six times a week.”

“No, I mean,” Max says, “that can’t be it.”

His hand is closer to your own now. You aren’t sure when it moved. The proximity of his skin to yours sets your pulse racing again; instinct kicking in once more.

“Small town, lots of tourists. People from all over the world in and out of there all the time. You’re sure to come across some scary characters.”

“When you’re the one plying ‘em with alcohol, it’s a little different. Don’t wanna bite the hand that feeds,” you say. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” Max agrees. He uses his pointer finger to draw a line along the length of your thumb. His touch is ice cold. The contact makes you shiver.

“I don’t scare easy,” you continue, heart in your throat now.

“Is that right?” he asks.

You can’t tell what he means by that. You move to grab the mug before you, finally taking a sip to avoid answering the question. The brew is acrid. This close to your nose, it smells like lemons and bleach. Frowning into the mug, you look up at Max again. His chair sits empty.

Your brain can’t catch up with your eyes. Suddenly, something is pressing into your back, and for the second time tonight you find yourself pinned to an unfamiliar wall. Max is gentler than Mercy, a single hand at your shoulder to press you against the peeling paint behind you.

You open your mouth to say something, anything at all. Please don’t kill me. The coffee’s fine, I swear.

“Aw, don’t be scared,” he says, low and close to your ear. The words rumble in his chest, something like a purr against your ribcage.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whisper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Max says. “You look so pretty like this.”

“What do you want?”

“What do you want?” he asks, turning the question around. “I’ve watched you… I know you, sweetheart. This isn’t the life you want, is it? Certainly not the life you deserve.”

Despite yourself, you start to lean a little into his body; aching cold against your broiling warmth. Your neck and forehead are damp with sweat.

“I can give you all you’ve ever wanted,” Max says. “Remake you and your life. Never grow old. Never die.”

It’s fun to be a vampire. Yeah, you’ve seen that nineties movie too.

All night, you’ve been missing the forest for the trees. Mercy and her frantic, violent behaviour; the stains that soaked her lingerie. Max sidling up to the bar again, out of place and yet perfectly suited to the grimey, bleeding environment.

“Max…” you breathe.

“All you have to do is say yes,” he says.

This man is overwhelming, breathing down your neck and nosing along your jaw. He’s not pinning you to the wall anymore. You’ve elected to stay here. Thoughts are hard to manage, everything covered in a thick fog. His presence is intoxicating, and you have a feeling that’s on purpose.

All girls don’t want bad boys, and yet you feel yourself caving. An answer sits on the tip of your tongue. If only you could spit out the goddamn words…

“Please,” you say.

“And she’s polite with it too. Sweet thing.” Max’s cool thumb drags across your cheek. “What do you need?”

“Anything. Everything, please.”

God, this is pathetic. In your right mind this scene would make you sick, but at this moment you can’t help it. You are a wound all over, easing into Max’s soothing touch. He can fix this—fix you, needy and wanting in this lovely little home. It’s all you want; all you’ve ever wanted.

Max kisses your neck once, twice before he pulls away. His right hand wraps around your ribs to support you, the other trailing up and over your stomach, your sternum. He splays his fingers across your clavicle, feeling the heat of your skin. His touch is bleak, sapping the warmth from your body.

You can’t tell if it’s his voice or your own echoing in your ears. What draws someone like you to a place like this? But what kind of place is this exactly?

Max shreds the front of your shirt, the sparkly white logo of the strip club torn in two as the fabric hangs limply off your body. With no bra underneath, he has free access to fondle your breast. His cold hand over your heart makes you shiver.

Kissing down your chest, he still holds your side, even as he crouches in front of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch as Max kisses at either of your hips before making quick work of the button and zipper of your jeans. You pull at his hair, needing him up here. Truly, you need him everywhere; to consume you and warp you beyond identification. Go ahead and make you something new.

“Max, please,” you whine.

He licks a line from your stomach to the dip between your neck and collarbones, cold air catching at the saliva in the absence of his tongue. Then he’s face to face with you again, smiling. Max slides his hands into your pants and tuts lightly. You’re wet, and he can feel it. Embarassment floods you, making you squirm.

“Oh honey, relax. It’s only natural,” he says.

Max rubs at you over your panties, lightly grazing your clit through the fabric with each pass. It’s gentle. It isn’t what you need.

You grip his arm harshly. No matter what he is, it hurts. A little bit of something flashes in his eyes, coming and going too quickly. Something you need.

“Give me what I want,” you demand softly.

“This what you want, huh?” Max asks.

He shoves his fingers past the band of your panties, the pads of his fingers brushing hard against you. Two of them find your clit, circling over it deliciously. Still, this isn’t enough. You whimper with a shake of your head.

“Oh no, sweetheart. That’s not it,” Max says knowingly. He’s teasing and it’s killing you. “Want these, huh?”

As he asks, Max bares his teeth at you; long and intimidating, the enamel looks sharp and pointy. Seeing them has you canting your hips up into his hand.

“Bite me,” you gasp. “Bite me, bite me, please.”

His fingers on you move impossibly faster, hedging you towards the edge at a lightning pace. Heat spreads from between your thighs outwards, creeping up through your stomach, your arms, your fingertips. It’s a struggle to keep yourself upright against the wall.

Max returns his mouth to your neck, sucking and licking at your skin. You close your eyes and wait, expecting the heavy hammer of pain to fall on you soon, orgasm just out of reach. Instead, he tugs your underwear down a little further in your jeans, cupping you in his hand. He slaps your cunt once, drawing your attention back to him.

“Look,” Max says. “Pay attention now.”

Then he continues his ministrations, fingers on your clit again. You open your mouth to groan. It’s then that he bites you, catching you off guard. The pain is searing, so hot that it’s cold underneath your skin. You can feel the length of his fangs where they dig deep into flesh.

Blood rushes from the punctures immediately, trailing in a thick stream down your body. Max gulps as he drinks it down, hand still working you over. Your orgasm drowns you, an unforgiving wave. It hurts, stomach clenching at the sensations that wrack your body. There is no air left in your lungs, all of it punched out by the pain. He’s holding your head underwater.

What kind of place is this? A very, very bad one. Strawberry Shortcake’s den of iniquity. You’re bleeding out surrounded by dainty floral wallpaper and a man—monster—that’s going to eat you alive.

You slump between the wall and Max’s chest as he withdraws his teeth from you. Blood pumps out of your carotid artery in a steady pace, another gush with each beat of your heart. It pools on the white tile of the floor. Everything is red and slippery.

Max bites into the flesh of his wrist and brings it to your lips. With the little strength you have left, you grip his arm and hold it against your mouth. You drink what slowly flows from his veins. Max’s blood is cold against your tongue, going down like a shot of cheap tequila.

“There you go, sweetheart. That feel better, hm?” he asks.

When he’s sure you’ve swallowed, he tips your head back gingerly. His face over yours, Max purses his lips. He lets spit gather between them before pushing it out of his mouth, pulling yours open with his thumb to catch it. The saliva, mixed with your own blood, slides coolly against your tongue.

You’re dying, probably. Maybe you’re already dead. Doesn’t matter, really.

Max is here. He has remade you.

#pedrostories #max phillips #max phillips x reader #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips fanfiction #pedro pascal #50 followers

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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A night with you

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Tag list

ThrawnxF!reader

You’re at the Opera with your suitor when you receive a text from a certain someone later that night...

You hide your mouth behind your hand, letting a single tear stream down your cheek. A silent sob gets caught in your throat and shakes your shoulders.

He takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, squeezing it reassuringly. He turns his gaze on you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, sniffing your sobs away, you nod your head to reassure him.

“Everything alright?” He asks in a tone of confidence.

“Yes! Yes, it's just… It’s beautiful.” You manage to say without your voice cracking completely.

“I knew you would love it.”

You gaze back on the stage where the Opera singers finish their song. It is the last one. It is about the region where your planet is from, about the war, about its conquest by the aliens, a story about courage and treachery, a tragedy. You wipe your tears away and rise from your seat to clap like the rest of the audience. You clap with all your might and shout hourrays and praises. You’re moved beyond tears, you felt it down your bowels. You made a good call to come see this opera with him. He puts your fur coat on your shoulders, squeezing them gently.

“There is supposed to be a soirée after, but I want to steal you away from them.” He chants.

You feel your cheeks heating up, you nod once again and take his gloved hand to exit the Galaxies Opera House. The fresh air hits you and you shiver in your furs, you thank him once again for gifting you such a pricey item, that and the dress and the jewelry…

“Do not worry about it.” He kisses your knuckles. “You wore it perfectly, I could swear it was tailored for you.” Wrapped up in his own black fur he delicately guides you away from the crowd of other rich people to his limousine. "Come. There is a place I want to show you.”

___________________________________

“Don’t walk so fast! I can’t keep up with my heels!” You protest.

“Sorry! I’m just so excited to show you!” He laughs without letting your hand go.

You walk with difficulty between the branches and the thorns, you already find it surprising to find a forest on Coruscant. You knew some parks, but a forest? Never heard of.

You finally arrive and he gestures to you proudly. You are in awe, before you is a clearing of wild flowers with a wonderful lake where the moon reflects its light in delicious reflections. In the middle of the opened nocturnal flowers is a tablecloth with a basket and a candelabra. You can’t contain your laughter.

“You really planned all this?” You ask incredulously.

“Well, you told me you were feeling down lately and I thought it would be a great change of atmosphere after an evening with all those stuck up people.” He says. “I wanted to make a nice gesture.” He approaches you with his beautiful smile, his bun a little unmade.

“Thank you, Governor Satlove.”

“What did I told you before, (y/n)?” He chides you lightly, grazing his finger against your lips “Call me Nather.”

“Alright…” You look down at your feet, suddenly shy, before meeting back his eyes. “Nather.” Your voice got low, like a secret.

He nods approvingly, holding your face in both of his hands, eyes in eyes, he kisses your forehead. He guides you to the basket and takes out two glasses and a bottle of Calamnsi. You both sat down in front of this gorgeous moon.

“Tell me rather, how’s everything going?”

You sigh.

“Oh, it could be better…” You clink your glasses and take a sip. “I’m drowning with work and the little time I have for me I dedicate it to you.” You confess.

He raises his glass.

“And I am honored.”

You smile, playing with the trim of your dress.

“It’s been a while since I got to see my different friends and my family, and I think it started to down on me.” You sigh."That, and these pirates we can't get our grips on…Are you sure none of the ships coming from and around your planet were never attacked ?" You inquire

He takes a sip, fixated on your eyes.

"I've never heard of it in any reports, nor have we received any call for help by any helpless ship." He responds.

You lower your head, a bit discouraged. You'd hoped he would have more information on his hand. It's been years now that this group of pirates is wandering the universe freely and the Captain Marttilf is really displeased by it. The only constant you picked on is that they will appear near Nather's planet, Tirahnn, at random and unpredictable times and disappear just as quickly. For you they are clearly doing business with the local underworld and you wanna know what deals it is about.

"We've augmented the patrol on our own, but we can't do much more for the time being, I'm afraid…" He takes your hand with "sorry" spelled in his eyes. “Tell me if I can do anything else to help you. I only need to pass a phone call…”

You shake your head, you’re grateful for his eagerness to help but you can’t really do anything for now. It is useless to place a ship in ambush for a target that might come in several months or a year.

"We will get them." You look in his gray eyes with resolution. "In one way or another… We will get them."

He looks at you in silence, like he is in his thoughts, but raises his glass once again.

"Then we will drink to your success! And your long awaited promotion." You smile at the prospect. You figure Marttilf would get most of the glory, but the idea is nice. "I can do something about that, you know? I can pull the right strings to speed up the process, no problem."

"No!" Your sudden firm tone surprises him and he gets back a little. You smile and sweeten your voice. "No. If I have to advance in this career, I want to advance by merits alone."

He shake his head.

"You're an idealist, (y/n). You cannot advance by merits alone. It is the slowest and least effective way."

You know he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it, not yet at least. You’ve raised one rank and are now a junior lieutenant, so really low in the chain of command and you know your next promotion will come in years. You will need patience and abnegation.

"I know, but I would rather prevent politics from intervening in my career as much as possible."

"Politics already mingles in your career, whether you like it or not. You should take full advantage of any ressources you have, as soon as possible." He puts his head on his fist, laying lazily on his side.

"So you are a resource now?" You ask laughingly.

"I can be so much more." He says, eyes fixed on your lips, caressing your hand with the tip of his fingers.

"What can you be, then?" You bend over, getting closer.

"Anything you might desire…"

You're close, you feel his breath on your parted lips and his heat emanating from his body. You shiver in anticipation. His eyes travel between your lips and your eyes. His hand comes caressing your cheek, sliding lightly to your chin to bring you closer.

The kiss is tender, slow. It sends shivers down your spine. It’s the first one. You savor it, like a rare delicacy with your eyes closed. Your hand gets in his bun, that you undo to let his long hair fall free and hold the back of his head, his hand slides back on your cheek, his thumb caressing it with gentleness.

You part with regrets, forehead against forehead. You're breathless and panting, your shoulders raise as you breathe air.

"Was it really reasonable ?" You ask with swollen lips, under your breath.

He laughs a cristalyne laugh with gleaming eyes.

"Is anything fun ever reasonable?"

You sigh, putting your head on his shoulder.

"Maybe you're right…"

His hand comes grazing your temples. Away, a firework is lit. You observe the colorful wonders in silence, well wrapped in your furs between the fluorescent open flowers. Your mind is racing but calm and organized at the same time. You bury your head in his neck, enveloping yourself in his scent, you sigh, content.

___________________________________________________________

You climb up the stairs to your apartment with your heels in your hand. Nather drived you back, his limousine really out of place in this rather modest neighborhood, you would have come back in a cab but you didn’t feel like leaving him yet, so you hugged on the bench seat on your way back. The cold cement against the plant of your feet keeps you awake.

Finally you reach your floor, your door slides and you're home. You lean against the door, touching your lips, remembering the feeling of his mouth against yours. You smile to yourself, moistening your lips. Your face heats up with the memory of this moment.

You walk toward your room with an idiotic smile, putting down the fur coat delicately in your closet, putting your pajamas on and removing the different pieces of jewelry. You slump on your bed with a satisfied sigh, you take your comlink to check your messages, you got several: some of your family members asking you to finally come see them, some of your friends proposing you a drink after all this time. You check your agenda and your orders and answer them no with a pinch of the heart. Captain Marttilf is demanding you to shorten your leave to come back at soon as possible on the Zéphyr. You pout. You had little time to yourself and now you had even less. You scroll down the rest of the messages until you come across a name you haven't seen in years. Thrawn.

You stare his name in silence for a minute, unsure of what to do. You click on it to see the message with a beating heart..

"Good day junior lieutenant (y/l/n), I require your services."

Good day? Good day?! After 3 years, that's how he greets a friend? Granted, you didn’t have much contact during these 3 years but your friendship didn’t wither that much, right? Your finger holds its place over the screen as you think about those shared moments that keep getting more and more rare until they disappeared completely, to those messages that keep getting more sparse… Maybe what you had wasn’t as strong as you first thought.

You hold your comm unit and stare at it for a while, not knowing how to carry the conversation, you start taping a friendly reprimand, a frustrated opener, the joyful salutations. You erase them all, opting for a more cordial and professional tone.

“Good day to you too, Lieutenant Thrawn. How may I assist you?”

You reread your message several times and send it. You put your comlink on your heart, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You realize your fling didn’t disappear over time like you hoped. Just having his name resonate inside your head sent your heart racing. You gulp in discomfort, you now doubt to be able to get over it. His face draws itself under your eyes on your ceiling, floating in the dark with the memory of his voice coming back like an old melody. You close your eyes to chase it from your mind but his image persists behind your lids.

A buzz sound pulls you off your thoughts. He responded despite the late hour.

“I must inform you I am no longer a lieutenant, I recently ascended to the rank of captain. I need to use your connection to the underworld.”

You blink.

He’s captain? Already? But it takes a decade to be promoted to this rank! You whistle, whatever he’s chasing, he has his eyes on the prize. You who felt proud about your promotion will seriously need to review your objectives upwards. You’re getting outrun, and by far.

Now to the less pleasant part of the discussion, he wants you to get in contact with the underworld? But your parents cut ties with that part of your family years ago and you’re not sure you want to get back to that. You barely know them anyway.

“My congratulations. It will depend on my abilities, why do you need to enter the crime world?”

You don’t have to wait long for the answer.

“Thank you. I need intel on the black metals market and information around a name I suspect to be highly influential in the milieu.”

What is he on about? Does he dream of himself as a blacksmith?

“Find everything you can about an individual that names himself Nightsawn. Union, lobby, mafia, search every environment susceptible to birth protest and rebellion. You must also find details around the mining guild.”

You stare at the screen, concerned. It’s a true investigation he asks of you. You can’t possibly just pop up at the door of your former family with a smile and such a mission… On the other hand, getting closer to your family and their network could help you with your situation with those pirates…

It could work. You will just need to be convincing.

Really convincing.

“I will see what I can do. I will keep you informed.”

“Thank you.”

You scroll back and reread the conversation. The tone is cordial and professional but desperately impersonal and cold. You sigh discouraged, it’s your first contact after several years and it didn’t go as well as all your planned scenarios. You didn’t expect hugging and kissing but still something warmer than this arid conversation.

You stare in the void, screen in front of your face, burning your eyes. It vibrates once again in your hand.

It’s Nather.

“Good evening my pearl. Prepare a proper suit, I will bring you to a nice place next time. In hope it cures you from your loneliness.”

Strangely, you only feel a black void at this news.

It should brighten your mood and bring a smile to your lips, but at this moment you can’t be helped. It only sharpens the dark needles in your heart.

You go to your contact and modify Thrawn’s profile to a more professional and stern “Captain Thrawn”.

That’s all you’re gonna be able to call him from now on, anyway.

You put down your comlink and bury yourself under the cover with your eyes shut close.

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar

#thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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happysaddca · 8 months ago

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CONTEXT! This is a drabble of sorts that originates from a pizzaplex rp server. "You" used to work at a different location when the Afton virus hit and affected all locations. You had spent 8 years with your Sun and Moon before the virus. And now you're starting over at a new location, where you've already started feeling protective over this Sun too. Context over I'm too proud not to share

---

It’s late, very late, the kind of late that leaves your mouth feeling like it’s been partially replaced with cotton, tongue barely able to fit behind your teeth. Your fingers pluck at the thread you’d been knotting through slivers of bamboo for the past… six hours? No wonder you’re tired.

Sleep has never been your strong suit. Even as a child, you found yourself struggling to go to bed at the “proper” time and being extra grumpy when you had to be up at five to catch the bus. Your parents (let’s be real, your mother. Your father barely exists in your personal narrative except as the occasional villain), blamed you reading books and took them away. You just laid in bed instead, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts overwhelm you.

It’d been a point of contention between you and Moon. Your end of shift naps had come about as a compromise. It helped with your janitorial duties and you’d sleep for the last couple of hours before getting ready for school. Your use of Moon as a bed came from it threatening to burrito you like a cat and you not taking that seriously. Neither of you had put serious thought in how dependent you’d become on that little routine.

You sigh and put aside the su. The idea of making a massive sheet of paper taller than (most) of the animatronics at the plex was tantalizing, but there are no sugeta big enough for what you’re wanting, and you don’t want to think about the *how* of forming the sheet once you’re done weaving the mat. The muscles in your left arm twinge as you stretch, and you flinch, rubbing at the scars cut deep into your face. The partially finished su and its materials are put aside at the foot of the bed, and you fiddle with your headphones, turning up the music. Sinatra croons in your ear, reminding you again that you should sleep.

The pill calendar sits in plasticy judgment on the overly modern black quartz counter. You dump the rest of your coffee from last night into a mug. It’s bitter and cold, but it washes away some of the cotton building in your mouth. The numbness in your fingers and at the top of your head lingers, so, reluctantly, you pull the calendar closer.

Most of this stuff you’d started before. You flip open one of the nights, poking at the little pills, scooping out most and avoiding the smallest tablet. You’d forgotten to take the day too, so maybe that’s why you feel so cloudy. If you doubled up, well, then you’d feel twice as sharp in the morning. *It is morning*. So twice as sharp after a short nap.

Everything is downed with a swig of coffee. You’re not tired yet (that’s a lie). There’s a box sitting in the living room, waiting for you to get to it. No time like the present, so long as you’re quiet. You thumb through your playlist, skipping the next few songs, and grab a butter knife to cut open the tape.

It’s a frame for Sunny’s print. You’d ordered it right after he sent you the size of his poster, wanting it to match the frames of the other art Lilly's let you hang in the living room. Mostly from classmates or ordered online from artists you admire. It’s a very eclectic collection, and there’s not much space for Sunny’s work unless you start a second gallery wall by the window. But then you’d need *more* work and more frames and the only ones you have available are Sun’s.

Your Sun.

You pull down a *Bioshock* poster and hang Sunny’s piece instead, snapping a photo. There’s a notification from Ellis, a picture of a cosplay they’re thinking about making. You clear it without opening the text. Your feelings on *them* have become complicated, and you’re not dealing with complicated right now. You’re hanging art and making a sugeta and learning how to create the perfect mirror glaze and

Your fingers slip and you drop the old poster on your toes.

You’re exhausted. And you can’t call out, not to your internship. You haven’t missed a day yet, and you’d rather not set a precedent. You can’t take your sleeping pills. They’ll leave you groggy for days. And you can’t take your painkillers for similar reasons. Your body aches. You should shower and stretch, but it’s late and you can’t wear headphones and you play your music too loud without them. Lilly and you have a tentative agreement right now. You don’t want to mess that up. And you can’t *not* listen to your music because then your thoughts will come back and swirl around you until you’ve been pulled under and you’re not doing complicated right now.

Sinatra comes back, and you know it’s Moon telling you to go to sleep. The coffee took the edge off, but removing the edge of a cliff still leaves a cliff. You sigh and rub at your eye and push away your bangs from your forehead. And snap a picture of the poster. You can show Sunny later, when it’s not three in the morning. You’re not certain he would understand.

No, that’s not right. Sunny would understand. There’s two photos of the poster. That’s the problem. You should delete the duplicate photo. It’ll disappear forever.

You don’t delete the duplicate.

“Okay,” you say, voice inaudible to yourself. “I get it. I’ll sleep.”

You change out of the jeans that left deep red imprints against your belly and the binder that leaves your ribs aching. Everything hurts now, masking the pain from sitting bowed over your work for far too long. Your bed is soft, a pile of overly fluffy mattress toppers and pillows and blankets that you never properly remake, preferring to crawl into the nest and fish out the charger for your phone and headphones. You have to turn down the music for Lilly’s sake, but it keeps going as you yawn and snuggle into your favorite plush. It’s the DJ, shaped like a cube, something you very strongly suspect Moon hadn’t won so much as fished out of the claw game. *Well, it wasn’t cheating. I do have claws.* It’s the only FazCo branded item you keep in the open.

You snort and sigh. Things have been so *complicated* lately. Why did you seek out this Sun and Moon? Why did you come back to FazCo at all?

Okay, maybe you can do a little complicated. You pick up your phone, pausing the music. Silence tastes like cold, burnt coffee. You scroll through your archived videos, tutorials and recovery and exercises meant to help keep the muscles in your face and arm mobile. You stop in the middle of 2017, thumb trembling. The choice is taken away from you with an involuntary flinch.

*”And here we see the Moon in its natural habitat.” Your old voice comes through overly loud and tinny, and you turn the volume down as you flinch. Did you really sound like that before? “Being an absolute menace.” The camera sweeps over the ceiling outside the glamrocks’ green rooms, following a pixelated swath of nothingness.*

*“Here to serve.”* Blue. *Its voice is as loud as yours and the phone drops, camera catching a glimpse of blue and green and your own startled face before focusing on the ceiling. Moon’s hat dangles in the camera, and you can hear your old self giggling. “You need to work on your videography skills.” Moon bends over, hiding its face as a paw-like hand scoops up the phone. The world spins and it focuses on you. Younger, unscarred, trying very hard to grow out a mustache despite being only a couple weeks on T. “Here we have the overnight janitor, absolutely not doing his job and trying to keep me from doing my own as well.”*

*“Please, you do that plenty without my help.” The old you reaches for the phone but Moon holds it out of reach, still angled down to catch you trying to climb it, fingers digging in its shoulders. “I don’t let you pick out the playlist one night, and you have to pout about it. You’re a child.”*

*”Takes one to know one.” You’re still giggling in the video, but it gets muffled as Moon is dragged down to your level. You can’t see what’s happening, the angle is bad, but you remember. You’d kissed the silly bot’s face. Its giggling starts up, hands lowering, one cupping your cheek. You get a glimpse of you both, faces close as Moon pushes forward once more.*

The video ends abruptly, leaving you to stare at your own reflection, distorted over thumbnails over your past.

It’s not really that complicated, you suppose, flipping through the videos to find another. Most of them have been saved to an external hard drive, but you’ve kept a few for days like this. Days when you need to remember. When you need to cry.

You keep telling yourself it was easier away from the plex but the truth is, you aren’t sure that’s true. You lost six… eight months to recovery, then finished school and immediately started a residency. You’re still healing physically, and outside of a monthly check in with your psychiatrist to make sure you’re taking (most of) your meds, you’ve been ignoring your mental health entirely. Most of the time it’s “okay.”

You close out the videos, locking your phone. It’s dark and quiet and you feel so tired. It’s time for a nap, you decide. The swirl of thoughts settle over the sound of Moon’s laughter, and you try not to let the thoughts expand past that. Just the sound of laughter and the taste of silicone and coffee, fingers cramping as you stretch them out.

#constellations au #kinda #dca #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf daycare au #the most normal pizzaplex in ohio #most normal pizzaplex in ohio

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romanomomano · 7 months ago

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hades 2 thoughts as someone who only has 18 hours

The game is incredible, but i have some things that i have complaints about that i dont think just get chalked up to early access woes.

VA and Music and Environment design are top notch as always. However, there isn't (as yet) a song that grips me the same way that Good Riddance did. Scylla's themes are banger for sure, catchy earworms, fun to listen to, etc; but they dont make me stop and listen like Good Riddance did the first time i heard it. to an extent the level theme of Oceanus made me stop and listen more than Coral Crown or I'm Going to Claw. I love that Supergiant games always have one or two songs that just make you Feel Things: Build That Wall, In Circles or Paper Boats, Never to Return, In The Blood. Granted, we only got In The Blood with the full release of Hades 1 so there's still time for the ending theme of Hades 2 to punch me in the heart.

Gameplay is a solid evolution of the first game, but I think the weapons are... odd? The staff and the knives seem the most well thought out to me, with a nice fusion of range and melee, speed and deliberation, they feel good. I've had a couple good runs with the torches but they're slow and don't feel particularly good. The Axe is Big and Slow, and in a game that requires as much speed as the late game does, once again it feels a little bad. The Skull is NOT the Rail no matter how much I wish it was. I haven't played around with too many of the Alt Aspects, but they don't seem to change the gameplay nearly as much as the H1 Aspects did.

Boons. I expect a lot of balance and changes to boons in the coming months, but theres like, half of them that are just Bad. H1 had some boons that you didn't want to take, and that were bad, but I feel like there's just so many more right now that are just... eugh.

The Artstyle. It's clear to tell where things are placeholder art, and where things are early drafts of art, and where things are 'finished' art. Flatter shading and less dynamic poses compared to the first game in some instances like on the Gods, but also some portraits that are very similar to the first game like Moros and Hecate. So who knows. Chaos' glow up is mindblowing. Bathtime portraits are wild. Heracles.

Too Many Resources. I appreciate the fact that you don't have to do Heat runs to get more boss mats, but comparing h1's resources to h2's is insane. Darkness, Gems, 3 Boss Mats (Blood, Diamond, Ambrosia), Nectar :: Bones, Ash, Psyche, (currently) 6 different Plants, Seeds, and Minerals, Nectar, Ambrosia, Fishing Lures, Shadow, Moon Dust, (currently) 6 Boss Mats (Cinder, Pearl, Tear, Sand, Wool, Apple), Star Dust, Nightmare... I think thats it? who knows. That, paired with that half of the resources can only be gained by an underworld run and the other half can only be gained by a surface run, As well as the fact that you have to pick the Shovel OR the Pickaxe means that sometimes you go on a run more to get to a certain point than to actually clear the run, and sometimes you're doing upwards of 4 runs for one upgrade. I get that the game is meant to be played again and again, but like, i wanna play the game to play the game and not to grind for the stuff for upgrades. I guess the retort is that if you play enough you'll get all the upgrades eventually, so it's whatever.

It's still a fantastic game. Incredibly fun. 10/10. I am eager to see what changes throughout the early access period. it just falls into one of those things where its so good that all the minor annoyances are blown out of proportion.

#hades 2 #ramblings #long post #but its under a read more so its fine #i dont expect anyone to actually read all this but i had to put my current thoughts into words somewhere

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bananakarenina · 1 year ago

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20 questions writer meme!

Tagged by the wonderful @breakaway71! A little Friday night break to help me jumpstart some writing, hopefully?

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 26

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 219,077

3. What fandoms do you write for? Julie and the Phantoms, though I have a CW Nancy Drew fic percolating!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

our hearts can speak ourselves unseen (first collab with @where-you-go, peterpatterlina + modern cyrano de bergerac)

complications you could do without (remix of crescent moon, peterpatterlina)

for love's sake only (the fake marriage historical/regency au, rulie)

want your midnights (the OG! new year's eve 1994, hint of peterpatter)

heaven above and closer (the other collab with @where-you-go, the 90s road trip coming of age au, julie x luke x reggie x bobby, willex)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Oh gosh. i try, for real, y'all. i often put it off because i want to get a good grade in commenting/responding, which is something real you can achieve, and then i end up not doing it at all. but i love each and every one i receive! i'm just so inconsistent about actually replying.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? hmmmmm. excellent question; even if i write angst i tend to veer toward a happy or at least hopeful ending (example: leave the light on)

actually you know what, heart like a wheel is probably the angstiest if you think about it. it's just that the main character doesn't know it, lol.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? oh gosh. i love a happy ending, so pick one. they're mostly all varying degrees of happy, lol

8. Do you get hate on fics? i have been very lucky so far in that i don't get outright hate, no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? it's not the thrust (heh) of what i write, generally, but i have: for love's sake only and its sequel, to love's self alone, are both in the vein of a paperbook romance and are written as such. i do have a carrie x reggie smutfic in the queue though...

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? i can't say that i have! i might nod to another fandom but full crossovers seem so ambitious to me--two different worlds to track, two styles of story. i love reading them, though!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? if i have i'm not aware of it...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? i have not!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? @where-you-go are now on our third collab (she, through some sorcery and witchcraft, got me to round robin on a luke x bobby fake dating story one week on here, and we're expanding it to a full fic, hopefully out before the end of the year!) and @daintyduck99 and i have put on that old song, aka the "i can't believe you married a rodeo cowboy" au, also hopefully coming soon! also maybe i'll poke @breakaway71 again about some dialogue i sent her ;)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? i am a proud multi-shipper and you can't make me choose lololol

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? lol is "all of them" a valid answer? kidding. i have been struggling with getting over the finish line with WIPs this year so.

16. What are your writing strengths? dialogue, def. that's my theatre training/playwright classes coming through. i can always tell when i'm tired because my drafts devolve into dialogue only, haha.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Oh gosh. endings! i can never seem to wrap things up in a snappy way! also lately stakes. like figuring out what the characters have at stake to lose in terms of the story.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? i'll do it sparingly but i generally avoid whole conversations. my grammar in spanish is terrible and that's the only other language i'd feel comfortable writing any dialogue at all in. maybe i'd ask family about tagalog.

19. First fandom you wrote for? oh man. hahahahahahahaha the real answer might be "self-insert o-town fanfic in which my friends and i fell in love with the band members"? but i think it might be gilmore girls. i do want to archive all my ff.net and livejournal (well, the stuff i can find :( ) things so you may see them on an ao3 near you

20. Favorite fic you've written? oh gosh. i love them all because they're mine! maybe for love's sake only because it really feels like i finished a full novella with that one. or heart like a wheel because i love tertiary character explorations. or want your midnights because it started this whole thing. see, i can't choose. don't make me

Tagging @innytoes, @jmrothwell, @daintyduck99, @invisibleraven, and anyone else who sees this and wants to participate in the fun!

#writing games #tag games #myfic #ourfic

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takiisieju · 1 year ago

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Sunset in Koral

The second part of @spacestephh 's ASK

Thank you for the prompt. I may be very slow with my writing, but you are very welcome to send prompts from this list. Or, well, your own ideas!

Check out my carrd for links to the info about SWARM.

taglist: @roofgeese @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @scentedcandleibex

Writing under cut!

When the sky turns pink and the sun descends into the Green Sea, life in Koral slows down, ready to come to a halt once the night falls.

Avaritie’s shift is long over. For hours now, he’s been patrolling the city streets, looking for a soul begging to be taken away. But this day is lucky. The people he meets are all as honest as it gets, not a single liar, crook or thug in sight. Every now and again such days make him hope that his cleansing of the city is over, that every sinner has been captured and is now in search of atonement. But every now and again, he finds another soul to harvest, another red marble to swallow.

But this day is not one of the latter so Avaritie returns to his communal apartment, to the other guild members. They laugh happily, surprised at the smile adorning his ever-strict features. The water tastes better and the wooden cot feels like a good bed. The crown is taken off his head, and he lies down, ignoring the heavy weight of all the souls in his stomach. The sleep comes to him quickly, and his dreams are pleasant, just this once.

On the opposite side of the city, Royal Deluxe walks Kali Kali home. The tiny woman had finished all of her work before the sun had reached the zenith, and spent the rest of the day with her boyfriend and his other girls.

Kali Kali’s prosthetic leg hits the uneven road in sync with Royal Deluxe’s cane. They walk in comfortable silence, having talked for quite a while today already. Kali Kali holds his hand, happily leaning on him, and Royal Deluxe smiles. For a moment, they both forget their love isn’t real.

Torophya and Neela are both home. Neela had returned first, her house just a few minutes away from the agency. She visits Royal Deluxe’s mother, making sure she’s feeling well. The old lady beckons her, and Neela just can’t resist the sweet herbal scent emanating from the kitchen. She joins the Fortune Teller for a cup of tea, then helps her with the dishes. It reminds her that she’s still alive, and that her life is beautiful. She smiles, staring at the now empty sink.

Torophya has no reason to hurry. Her work for today is done, she has no places or people to visit, and all she wants is to get to her little basement flat. Once there, she warms up the water, slowly and patiently. She feels so tired, but the water calms her down. She pours the flowery salts into the water, humming a centuries-old song, so old its words remember the bombs and the bullets. Torophya knows nothing about that, just singing about a faraway land, erased from the humankind’s memory, of its trees and rivers long turned into coal and deserted valleys. The song is over, the tub is full, and Torophya climbs in, finally relaxing.

Royal Deluxe returns alone, well into the night. He travels to Hynoon, then Mariah, meeting no more than a couple of late walkers like him. A lantern in his hands scares the shadows away, and the moon above provides some extra light as well. When he’s home, his mother is already fast asleep, too tired to wait for him. He covers her with a second blanket, looks over her fondly and returns to his room. The deceitful candlelight makes his reflection flicker, distorting his beautiful features. The mouth on his neck whispers something unintelligible, not a single soul to charm. There is a long list of names with quick portrait doodles near them, all of them highlighted – except the last four.

Swarm returns home even later.

“Had a nice walk?” Renata asks, chopping the vegetables for a simple salad.

“Was viewing the sunset”, Swarm answers, closing the door behind him.

“Did you draw it?”

“Of course”.

Swarm opens his notebook, carefully hand-made from the insanely expensive Big Land paper, holding it up to her. The sheets are all colorful, filled with beautiful drawings. A dozen portraits of Renata. The many sights of Koral, from the main square and the belltower to the many sculptures and ruins of Hynoon. It is a little dirty, with splashes of colored ink turned into funny small doodles.

One of the latest drawings catches her attention.

“Who’s that?” she points to a profile of a beautiful woman, dark-skinned and with the most perfect nose Renata’s ever seen.

“Fatima, from the Greenhouses”, Swarm answers nonchalantly. Renata sighs, a pang of jealousy in her chest. “I was there today. The strawberries should ripen soon.”

“Is that so?”

“I thought you wanted to dry some for the winter”.

“I’ll collect them myself”.

“If you say so…”

Swarm sits down on the straw-filled pillow in the corner, closing his violet eyes, unwilling to leave Renata to eat alone.

“At least he doesn’t wait for Fatima like this”, Renata thinks, hiding a triumphant smile.

The salad is all finished. Swarm takes the bowl to the sink. Renata inspects her plant-filled shelves and nods, bidding Swarm goodbye and leaving for her room.

As she closes her eyes, ready to drift to sleep, hundreds of beetles exit the neighboring window, wings glistening in the moonlight.

#swarm #takii writes #original story

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